Page 40 of A Class Act

‘I don’t want to betakenanywhere,’ she muttered. ‘I just want to go home.’ She began to make for the door, but I put a warning hand on her arm.

‘I have to take assembly,’ the head said again, moving back towards his office, pulling at his tracksuit top as he did so. ‘But I can speak with you straight after that. I’m sure Sally here will make you a coffee.’

‘I think we’re a bit coffee’d out actually.’ I managed to smile as Sorrel scowled but made no further attempt to remove herself. ‘But thank you, I’m very grateful.’

‘Robyn, I really have to get off,’ Jayden said, looking at his watch once the head’s door closed on us. ‘It’s a good seven-hour drive up to Aberdeen and I promised Jess I’d call in at the hospital to see your mum.’

‘How are we supposed to get home?’ I snapped. ‘I can’t walk anywhere with this knee!’

Jayden reached into the leather bag slung across his jacket, peeling off a wad of notes. ‘Get an Uber,’ he said. ‘Once you’re back at your mum’s place, her car is there.’

‘It won’t be insured for me.’

‘It’s both taxedandinsured,’ Jayden said patiently. ‘I told Jess to insure it for anyone to drive – that van of hers she insistson going around in is knackered – and sent her the money to do it. It’s there for you to get yourself and Sorrel about in.’

‘I can’t walk – I can’t drive – with this knee, Jayden. I need some help here.’

‘Robyn, if I’m to keep on sending money for your mum and for Sorrel, I need to work. You know that. Look, I know all this has blown up in your face and the last thing you were expecting was to have to quit your job, but I can’t afford to quit mine into the bargain.’

‘OK. OK!’ I snapped crossly, holding up both hands, wanting him gone. Jess and I would sort things – we always had.

‘Sorry, love, I have to go. I’ll tell your mum you’re back home and looking after Sorrel, and not to worry…’ He trailed off and then appeared to cheer up somewhat. ‘He seems a decent bloke.’ Jayden nodded towards the closed door through which the head had gone.

‘Because he recognised you?’ I scoffed. ‘Because he likes reggae?’

‘Because he was wearing a tracksuit.’ Jayden grinned. ‘In all my years in all the damned places they put me, I never once saw a head teacher out of a suit and not sitting behind a great desk, peering across at me as if I was some specimen they wanted to stamp on.’

‘You do exaggerate…’ I began, but he was already out of the main door and gone. I knew it would be some weeks, months even, before he deigned to grace us with his presence once more. We were on our own – again.

‘Do come in, both of you.’ Forty minutes later, Mason Donoghue’s face reappeared round his office door. Whilewaiting for the head teacher to see us, despite my trying to engage Sorrel in conversation to find out just what was going on in her life, she’d clammed up and spent the whole time on her phone. In the end I’d joined her in the silent but addictive scrolling on my own phone, desperate for something from Fabian, but also from Carl Farmer at The Mercury to tell me he was waiting for me to return as soon as my knee was up and running once more. Up and dancing even! Fat chance. I could hardly walk without it hurting.

There was nothing from either of them.

‘So, what was up with Beddingfield High?’ Mr Donoghue asked as soon as Sorrel sat in front of him. ‘It’s a great school, from what I hear. Got more facilities than we have here at St Mede’s.’

Sorrel shrugged, refusing to look at him.

‘Sorrel, I won’t be able to judge if St Mede’s is the right place for you – if we’re the right match – if you won’t talk to me.’

‘Sorrel,’ I started irritably, but Mason Donoghue held up a hand in my direction and, censured, I sat back.

‘What do you like about school?’ he went on.

‘Nowt.’ She sniffed. ‘I’veneverliked school.’

‘That’s not true, Sorrel,’ I interrupted once more. ‘You loved school when you were in the juniors. You did really well in your SATS and you were in all the school plays.’

‘Sorrel, I can’t offer you a place here unless you’re willing to work with us.’

‘Up to you.’ She sat back with folded arms.

‘OK, let’s go,’ I snapped, all the tension of the past couple of days rising to the surface and finding release in an explosion of anger. ‘I’ve really had enough of this. If you want to ruin your life by not going to school, then that’s totally up to you.’

‘The thing is, Ms… Allen, is it? The thing is that if you’re acting in loco parentis?—’

‘Acting inLoco Parentis?’ Sorrel scoffed. ‘She’s acting inDance Onat The Mercury Theatre in London’s West End, not in something calledLoco Parentis.’

Well, this was a turn-up for the books: my truculent little sister not only knowing what and where I was performing, but obviously prepared to blow my trumpet for me into the bargain.

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