Broken: Part 2 of 3: A traumatised girl. Her troubled brother. Their shocking secret.. Rosie Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ first month with us we had it down pat, arriving at Millfield Primary, on Friday 30 January, more than five minutes before the bell was due to ring. The morning was bright but very cold and I stamped my feet to try and warm them up as we stood in the playground. Bobbi copied me, her heart-shaped face crumpling into a grin when I picked up speed. She struggled to keep pace, giggling as she lost balance.

      It was as I reached out to stop her from toppling over that I noticed a couple of mothers looking at us askance. I straightened, Bobbi pulling on my hand and hopping from foot to foot as she tried to get me to copy her. As soon as they caught on that I’d seen them they turned away, but as I joined in Bobbi’s game I was aware of their eyes on us again. I wasn’t sure whether it was the same mothers I had seen last week at the gates, but there was something unfriendly about the jut of their chins, something far more potent than mild curiosity.

      When I returned to the school that afternoon no one seemed to pay me any interest, negative or otherwise, but there was a general frostiness amongst the group of mothers waiting outside the Early Years playground. Even an unfettered rendition of ‘Let it Go’ from Megan as she skipped at my side did little to thaw the tight smiles coming my way.

      ‘Where’s Bobs?’ Megan asked a few minutes later, as the last stragglers emerged from the Reception classroom.

      ‘I’ve no idea,’ I said, frowning. Bobbi was usually at the front of the queue at the end of the day, though I wasn’t sure whether that was through her own eagerness to leave or by Miss Granville’s design. I reached out for Megan’s hand and was about to go to the Early Years’ gate to enquire, when I heard someone calling my name. The voice was vaguely familiar and I wondered whether it might be Lisa again, eager to have another try at bagging some gossip. I turned to see Clare Barnard hurrying across the emptying playground. ‘Sorry, Rosie,’ she puffed, wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself and folding her arms against the cold. ‘Could I have a quick word?’

      I glanced over at the Early Years’ gate where Bobbi’s teacher was standing. Miss Granville gave a tiny shrug and lifted empty hands in an apologetic What can you do? gesture. ‘Bobbi hasn’t come out yet,’ I said, my eyes still resting on Miss Granville.

      ‘No, that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about. She’s running around the PE hall at the moment with the headmistress.’

      I turned sharply to look at Clare. ‘Running around the hall?’ I repeated, frowning. For a second I wondered whether they’d decided to chase her around as a way of releasing some of her pent-up emotions. ‘What, you mean, running around and having fun?’

      ‘We-ell,’ Clare said slowly, pushing her glasses further up her nose. I noticed a twinkle of amusement creeping into her eyes. ‘Bobbi may well be having fun, but I think it’s safe to say that Mrs Cullum-Coggan isn’t enjoying herself very much.’

      I stared at Clare, still not comprehending. ‘Bobbi’s spent the majority of the day in the toilets, I’m afraid,’ she said in explanation, turning towards the school building. I fell into step beside her, Megan’s hand in mine. ‘As you know, we’re not allowed to physically manhandle her out. She emerged a few times of her own free will, but as soon as someone said something she didn’t like she scrambled back in again.’

      I grimaced, waiting as Clare punched a code into the keypad beside the door to the main reception. She pulled the door open and gestured me in, but I hesitated. ‘What about Archie?’

      ‘We’ve sent him to Chess Club. He was happy to go and we thought we could use all hands on deck for now.’

      I gave her a grim smile and walked past her into reception. The plump, round-faced receptionist stood up from behind her glass partition as soon as she saw us. ‘Would your daughter like to play with me for a few minutes?’ she asked, smiling at Megan warmly.

      I leaned down to speak to Megan, who was already vigorously shaking her head. ‘Do you want to play here for a minute, Meggie?’

      She leaned closer to me, regarding the woman shyly. ‘No, thank you,’ she said, with polite firmness. She clutched my hand tight and looked up at me, her bright hazel eyes clouded with concern. ‘I want to stay with you.’

      ‘Oh, that’s a shame. I have an iPad here,’ the woman said, lifting a thin screen enticingly into sight. ‘I thought you might be able to help Mamma Panda find her babies on Panda Pop.’

      Megan bit her lip and looked at me uncertainly. ‘I won’t be long, Meggie,’ I said brightly. ‘I’ll get Bobbi and then come straight back for you, I promise.’ She nodded, unable to resist a request for help and the lure of technology.

      The tiny glance she threw over her shoulder as she walked away made my heart constrict. I gave her a reassuring wave through the glass and she smiled and waved back, allowing herself to be lifted onto the swivel chair that the receptionist had just vacated. Clare opened an adjacent door and I followed her into a long corridor, the walls decorated with brightly coloured paintings and Star of the Week charts, photos of smiling children beaming as they held the coveted Champion’s Cup.

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