‘Her provisional licence.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘Wait. I’ll show you.’ She turns her screen to show me.
I squint at it. Scarlett in a red tutu, cowboy boots and a black top is standing in front of a silver Mini Cooper, arms wide, face beaming.
‘Jesus. That must have cost a bomb.’
‘I can’t wait to have a car,’ she mutters. ‘I can’t wait to drive.’
‘I’m sure you can’t,’ I reply. She’s going to take off out of here the moment she gets her driving licence. Although I doubt she’ll be given a Mini Cooper for her birthday.
5
It’s Friday, and all I can think is,let’s just get through this weekend, and then we will be free.
We are so close. I have to stop myself from being overtly happy in case Max figures out something is going on. My pupils, who are six and seven years old, must have picked up on how distracted I was today because they were more excited than usual, more rowdy, in their own happy, beautiful way.
Just get through this weekend. That’s all. So close.
I return home from shopping to find a letter stuck on the front door.
SINCE YOU WON’T TAKE MY CALLS OR REPLY TO MY EMAILS!!
It’s attached with Blu-tack. I pull it off and open the envelope.
Miss Price…
I scan to the bottom signature:Diana Ashford-Wells.
Ah. Of course. Mrs Ashford-Wells is little Gregory’s mother, one of my pupils. I’ve corrected Mrs Ashford-Wells about my marital status at least three times so far, so I know she’s doing iton purpose. She even met Max once outside the school when he came to pick me up after a parents’ evening, so I don’t know why she insists on calling me ‘Miss’.
Unless she, too, thinks I’m the nanny.
God knows how she got my home address.
Miss Price,
Since I’ve sent you two emails and you haven’t replied to either, I have no choice but to write to you directly.
This is scribbled above the printout of the email, that reads:
Mr Ashford-Wells and I will take Gregory for an educational assessment next week, where we expect to see excellent results. Also, please send me an Individual Learning Plan for Gregory. You will recall that I have asked for this before, but to date, I have not received it.
Again, I ask that you provide us with a letter of support outlining the disciplines in which Gregory excels relative to his peers, as well as a list of special programmes for gifted children in the area.
Mr Ashford-Wells and I believe that Gregory would be well-suited to a chess programme, and we would also like to see him enrolled in a national Maths Challenge.
Also, as previously requested, we ask that Gregory attend reading and maths classes in the year above. He is not being sufficiently challenged.
I look forward to your timely response.
Diana Ashford-Wells.
I shove the letter in my pocket. I teach Year Two at Brookford Primary, and the first time I received anote, as she calls them, from Mrs Ashford-Wells, I was certain I was going to get fired, especially since this is my first teaching position, ever. But Mike, our lovely headmaster, assured me that Mrs Ashford-Wells does this all the time.
‘When Gregory was five years old, she asked that we enrol him in an advanced maths programme,’ he’d told me. ‘I told her, Gregory only just started his first year of school last week. Let’s see how he settles in first.’ Then he helped me draft my reply, which went something like:
