Page 88 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

‘Can you collect Sara now? I’ll explain further when I see you.’

Harriet didn’t know whether or not to be furious, and if so, who with. Sara? Or the school? Clearly something had gone seriously awry. If Sarahadattacked another child, her daughter was going to be grounded for the rest of her life. There was no way Harriet was prepared to put up with that kind of behaviour and Sara had to learn that her actions had consequences. However, she was convinced the school must have got Sara mixed up with another child, and if that was the case, she wasn’t going to be happy at being dragged out of work.

After telling Pen that she needed to leave and apologising profusely, Harriet had removed her apron, grabbed her bag and coat, and hurried home to collect the car, hoping there would be a simple explanation. She would be seriously cross if the school had made a mistake – Pen’s Pantry was busy enough at this time of year, without her dashing off – but she would be even more annoyed if Sara had done what she was being accused of.

And underneath her ire was her very real fear that it was true.

When Harriet arrived at the school, the receptionist smiled pleasantly and asked her to take a seat, informing her that Mrs Cooke would be with her shortly. Harriet was left to cool her heels and worry.

‘Mrs Parry?’ A short woman in her mid-fifties, with a severely cut blond bob and a no-nonsense attitude, marched towards her, holding out her hand. ‘I’m the headteacher, Mrs Cooke.’

Harriet took it, wincing at the overly firm grip.

‘Would you like to follow me?’ the woman ordered.

‘Where’s my daughter?’

‘In my office, reflecting on her actions. As I said on the phone, we do not condone physical violence and we will not tolerate it.’

Harriet nodded, her eyes prickling. If Sara was being scolded by this formidable woman, she must be terrified. Harriet certainly was. The headteacher made her feel about twelve, as though it were Harriet who had misbehaved. Or maybe she was being reprimanded for being such a poor parent that she had a child who hit other children.

‘Can you tell me what happened?’ Harriet asked, trotting after the woman, who was striding ahead down the corridor. Harriet hurried to keep up.

‘Apparently, there was a bit of name-calling and Sara reacted inappropriately. She slapped the other child. Here she is.’ Mrs Cooke stopped outside an open door and gestured for Harriet to go ahead of her.

The office was a large one, and Sara looked very small and very frightened. Her daughter was huddled in a seat near an impressively clean and tidy desk, her bag by her feet and her coat resting on her knees. She was holding it up to her face so only her eyes could be seen, and they were red and swollen, and glistened with tears. As soon as Sara saw her mother, she pulled her coat over her head and began to sob.

Harriet hurried over to her and knelt by her side, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. Whatever Sara had done, however badly she’d behaved, she was her daughter and Harriet loved her. She would help her get through this (after suitable punishment, of course), and hopefully, given time, they could put it behind them.

Mrs Cooke sat behind her desk, opened a drawer and took out a box of tissues, which she slid across the polished surface.

Harriet gave the woman a weak smile, took a handful and gave them to Sara, who reluctantly pulled her coat away from her face to wipe her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Mam, I’m sorry,’ was all she said, as she sobbed bitterly.

‘Is the other child OK?’ Harriet asked Mrs Cooke.

‘She’s fine. She’s gone back to class.’

That was a relief. ‘What happens now?’

‘Sara will remain off school until Friday, when she’ll be expected to return. Sara, look at me.’ Sara turned fearful eyes to the headteacher. ‘You will be expected to apologise to Darlene.’

Harriet drew in a sharp breath. The other child wasDarlene?

‘Is that a problem, Mrs Parry?’ the headteacher wanted to know, noticing her reaction.

Harriet shook her head. ‘No.I’ll make sure Sara apologises, but I don’t think we’ve got to the bottom of what really happened. You see, there’s history between—’

‘That’s as may be,’ Mrs Cooke interjected, ‘but violence is not the answer. Sara, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Miss,’ Sara hiccupped.

Harriet got to her feet. ‘Come on,’ she said to Sara, seeing that her explanation for Sara’s behaviour would fall on deaf ears. ‘Let’s get you home.’

Mrs Cooke gave Harriet a penetrating stare. ‘Mrs Parry, Sara knows what she did was wrong. I hope you will support the school in this matter?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she is punished.’

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