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“Excuse me,” Billie said.
The child didn’t look up from her book.
Billie took a step closer. “Excuse me?”
The child did look up now, her hair in blonde angelic curls and her eyes wide and blue. “You’re excused,” she said with a dimpled smile.
Billie frowned suddenly feeling like the kid might have the upper hand here. So she tried again. “What’s your name?”
“Ag.”
Billie was unsure whether this was actually a name or just some sort of random noise that might precede being sick or coughing or something else that she wasn’t equipped to deal with. “Um, Ag?”
The child beamed. “Ag is short for Agatha like Agatha Christie. I’ve got a brother called Dash like Dashiell Hammett but he’s too small to do anything interesting and he only eats books and doesn’t read them. But mum said that’s enough babies and she’s not going to have any more because dad just goes around policing all day and then she can’t have the shop turning into a daycare because people want quiet when they read. But I don’t really mind, do you? It’s not quiet here and I can read.”
Billie had to take a second to catch up with all of this. Before she could speak, someone else did.
“I know where babies come from,” said a serious looking boy.
“Where?” asked another little girl.
He looked around as though to make sure either everyone or no one was listening and lowered his voice and Billie was about to have a heart attack until he said, “the hospital.”
Jesus. That was a close one, Billie pulled the whistle around her neck, preparing to blow it.
“No they don’t,” Ag said, putting her book to one side. “Babies come from people like—”
Billie blew the whistle just in time. “This is a music lesson,” she reminded the class, who had now gathered around Agatha. “You’ll need to put your instruments away now.”
There was a collective groan of disappointment.
“Come on, hop to it, we haven’t got to the singing part yet.”
The grumbles turned into chirpy chatter as the kids lined up to put their things away. Ag jumped up to join them.
“Just a second,” Billie said.
“Yes?” asked Ag with eyes so innocent that Billie wondered whether she’d actually have to audition for the role of angel in the nativity or whether it would just be given to her by default.
“We don’t read in music class.”
“What about the words for songs, we read those.”
“No,” Billie said. “Because you’re only in reception and many of your friends can’t read yet. We’ll learn all our songs by heart.” She gave Ag a stern look. “And that’s not what I meant and I suspect you know that. You’re a clever little girl, aren’t you?”
Ag nodded solemnly. “Mum says I’m too clever for my own good but Aunt Ant says that’s what she gets for bringing up children in a bookshop and—”
“Ant ant?” asked Billie in confusion.
“No, Aunt Ant. Like Auntie Ant except her name is Anthea and she’s my mum’s best friend so she’s not really my auntie even though I call her Aunt Ant and she’s married to Aunt Ad which is confusing and Ad doesn’t like it when I call her Aunt cos she says it makes her sound old. Except she is. Old that is. Like at least twenty I think. And anyway they’re married because they’re both girls and that’s okay even though my mum and dad are a boy and a girl, you’re allowed to choose.”
“Right,” Billie said faintly.
“I think I’ll probably choose a girl,” Ag said nodding. She picked up the tambourine that had been sitting next to her. “They smell nicer than boys, don’t they?”
And she skipped off to put her tambourine away leaving Billie feeling slightly like she’d been hit by a tornado.
THE WINDOW IN the corridor looked straight out over the playground and Billie paused for a moment on her way back from the bathroom to watch the kids playing outside. The morning hadn’t been a bad one, the job was hardly challenging. Still, it brought in a little cash, and that was what she needed.
