Page 35 of A Manny for Christmas

‘We’re practising for our nativity play.’

‘That sounds like fun. Who are you playing?’

‘I’m a shepherd.’ Another sigh.

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Shepherds have good costumes, don’t they?’

He pauses. ‘I don’t know what the costume is yet, but Tristan is a shepherd too.’

I frown. ‘Who’s Tristan?’

‘He’s a big boy,’ Daisy tells me, ‘who’s mean to Toby.’

What the fuck? ‘Is that true, Tobes?’ I crane my head to get a good look at him in the mirror. ‘Is he in your class? What does he do to you that’s mean?’

Toby fiddles with his glasses, and I turn down the volume on Slade so I can catch whatever he feels prepared to tell me.

‘Yeah. He’s in my class, but he’s really tall and big. And he makes fun of me.’

I wait to see if he elaborates, but nothing is forthcoming.

‘What does he make fun of you for—what does he do, exactly?’

Toby’s silent.

‘He laughs at Toby’s glasses, and he pulls them off and tells Toby he’s gonna stamp on them,’ Daisy says. This kid is well-informed.

My hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel. ‘Is that right, Tobes?’

‘He pulls them off, but he doesn’t stamp on them,’ Toby says in a small voice. ‘He just says he will, to scare me.’

Jesus fucking Christ. ‘Who knows about this? Have you told your mum?’

‘Mummy went into school and spoke to Mr Pratt and he talked to Tristan and told him not to do it anymore, but sometimes he does it at playtime when the teachers aren’t looking,’ he says.

The hands gripping the steering wheel are now sweating. ‘Who’s Mr Pratt—is that your class teacher?’

‘Yeah.’

Clearly the name is well-suited. The guy must be a total prat if he’s been made aware of bullying and his response has been to make the aggressor and the victim both shepherds. I mean, what the fuck is wrong with this guy?

I indicate and pull over at the side of the road. Twisting around, I take hold of Toby’s little hand and run my thumb over his knuckles. ‘Listen to me.’ I hold his gaze. ‘Nobody gets to make you feel scared at school. Nobody gets to make you feel bad or less than for being in any way different from them. Nobody gets to take your glasses and threaten you. Andnobody, and that includes teachers, gets to ignore what you say when you tell them that you feel threatened. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

His little face is white and pinched. ‘But I don’t like being a snitch.’

I nod. ‘I get that. And it’s a hard judgement call sometimes, I know. But both of you need to remember that it’s not snitching if you’re telling an adult because you feel scared, or vulnerable, or threatened, or you see any other kid in that position. In those situations, telling an adult is therightthing to do. Got it?’

They both nod, eyes wide, faces solemn. God, it’s shit being a kid. Especially a kid like Toby, who clearly feels things deeply and already has the weight of the world on his shoulders. His dad ran out on him, for fuck’s sake. How the hell is it fair that he also has to deal with shit at school, the place that should be a safe haven? A reprieve from everything that’s gone down in his home-life in recent months?

I take a deep breath and urge myself to keep it together.

‘Now. If Tristan does or saysanythingto you today that makes you feel uncomfortable, whether in the playground or during rehearsals, I want you to tell Mr Pratt, and then I want you to come home and tell your mum and me, too. Okay? And your mum will go in and speak to the school.’

Or I will go in, I think,and cause fucking mayhem.

Fuck’s sake.

This is why I didn’t want kids.

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