Jo blinked and looked in front of them, where a gorgeous woman, fresh from the Amazon, rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. He was wearing a killer suit and a pricey-looking watch. Really James Bond-y. He kissed the woman on the top of her shiny hair, like they were at the opera or something. She’d bet that family could do 24 minus 16 in six different languages. Bet they shot long division and history questions at their kids all the time. Over every dinner (up at the table) instead of on the couch laughing hard at SpongeBob SquarePants and eating nuggets. Like her and Seren did most nights.
Lee was picking his nose, as if being in the back row put him in some sort of invisibility bubble. She nudged him hard and slipped him a tissue under the desk.
‘Ta,’ he smiled.
He had beautiful teeth. She’d thought that the moment they’d ordered their first Meat Feast in Pizza Hut on that first date. When he smiled as they brought it out and slung it in front of him, she’d thought wow. He cleans his teeth really well. He’s hygienic.
She jumped when the classroom door suddenly rattled open and swung wide on its hinge.
‘Showtime.’ Lee slipped his phone away.
The head teacher swooped in, riding a whoosh of air, with a hefty mane of permed white hair that bounced as she moved. She sprang up and down on the balls of her bright-red prostitute boots like she might blast off into the ceiling at any moment. She was clapping her hands repeatedly, eyes wide. A seal on ecstasy.
Lee whispered, ‘Someone throw that woman a fish.’
Jo sniggered.
‘Helloooooooo Class! I’m Mrs Walmsley and I’m delighted to welcome you to Menham Lower School.’ She was wearing a blue knitted shawl over her shoulders, covered in red butterflies. So many bracelets, jangling. ‘Mums and dads! Carers and guardians! It’s a privilege and a pleasure to see you all here at our Open Day. I hope that you’ll feel as much a part of Menham Lower as your children will. Unless you send them to Newker School, of course, in which case … good luck …’ She pushed her hip out and slapped herself playfully on the hand. ‘Better not say that, or I’ll get put on the naughty step.’
Lee’s jaw clicked open.
Jo however, smiled. Because this woman reminded her of a CBeebies presenter and despite the eye-rolls and tuts from the other parents, she thought that was a good thing.
Walmsley nodded to a young girl in the corner who wheeled a table over with a sandbox on top. ‘This is Lauren, everybody. One of our teaching assistants. Say hi, Lauren.’
Lauren didn’t speak. She half-smiled. She looked about twelve, but was probably twenty.
Walmsley waved her hand across the sandbox like it was a prize fridge on a gameshow. ‘Here at Menham Lower we understand the function of fun, the energy of education and the unapologetic priority of play.’
Jo felt her breath flow out. Maybe this is going to be okay.
‘Your children can read about velociraptors in a textbook. Other schools do that. But it’s quite another thing when they become a palaeontologist themselves … and feel the past in their precious little hands …’ She turned to her assistant Lauren, who was staring up at the skylight, oblivious. She cleared her throat and fed the line again, only louder. ‘And feel it in their precious little hands!’
Lauren jerked like she’d been hit by a cattle prod then she plunged her hand into the sand, scrabbling around for a few awkward seconds. She pulled something out. Walmsley leant forward, eyes wide with manic excitement. The look that primary school teachers and serial killers have. ‘Oh my goodness, Lauren, what do you have there? Is that what I think it is?’
When she finally spoke her voice was stilted. Mechanical and monotone. Like someone had just pulled a cord in her back to make her talk. ‘Mrs Walmsley. It is what you think it is. Look … an amazing diplodocus.’
‘A diplodocus! Wow!’ Then in a sharp whisper, through teeth, ‘Hold it higher, Lauren.’
Walmsley quickly pushed the sandbox aside and motioned for the adults to stand. ‘And with that … let the tour commence.’
Seats scraped back and everyone went to stand. For one jumpy second Jo thought her backside was trapped in the chair. That she’d have to do the entire tour bent double, with a red plastic seat wedged onto her bright yellow arse. But Lee grabbed her hand and helped her shimmy free. She glanced back through the window, at Seren’s preschool one last time.
‘Come on, you,’ Lee said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. ‘Seren’s going to love it here.’
She smiled at him, at the way he squeezed her.
The tour was lengthy but excellent. The school was clean and well looked after. The lottery grant had clearly bought some decent paint. When she was a pupil here, back in the day, the place looked more like a concentration camp, with a few Rugrats posters for emotional balance.
Best of all, though, the pupils looked happy. Really content. They were amazingly polite too. All in uniform. Grey skirts and trousers. Bright-red jumpers with white shirt collars sticking out. She could picture Seren wearing that. The two of them on that first morning next September. The morning that was racing toward her like an out-of-control Tube train. Her in her yellow cleaner’s uniform, Seren in her red school uniform and the little lunchbox they’d especially buy for her first day. Which was the first day for both of them, she knew that. The new stage.
Jo had this naive hope that she’d keep her sobbing in until after she’d dropped Seren off. She didn’t want to freak the kid out. She’d save her implosion for the car, but she’d drive round the
