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A Little Word about Darcey-Mae
The sun shone brightly on the playground of Saddleton Primary Academy at the end of the first week of the autumn term. Amy had found herself a place to stand in a patch of sunlight on the right-hand-side of the playground, by the hopscotch grid. Nobody had yet claimed that spot as their own. She was early, one of the first to arrive. The Reception parents came first, eager to collect their little ones after their very first week at school, and they congregated around the Reception play area, trying to see through the window what their children were doing. Next came the football crowd, already in an uproar because the season had started this week and nobody liked the team the coach of the under-10s had put out on Saturday. I mean, Kai O’Neill in goal? And him nearly the smallest child in year 5! What was the coach thinking? Then it was ladies of the dance school, all of whom had matching pink T-shirts this year, proclaiming in golden sequins that Miss Katy’s students were ‘Regional Acro Champions’. They posed proudly, tilting their chests towards each new arrival on the yard, as their sequins glittered in the sun.
Amy was beginning to think for some reason the P.T.A. had found somewhere else to stand this term. Perhaps over the summer money had been raised to build them a special executive waiting area away from the peasants like herself and the dance moms? But, eventually, here they came in a large group from the direction of the main reception. It must have been the first meeting of the term; they were out in force. Darcey-Mae’s mother led the way, the others fanning out behind her. Mrs. Fenton made a beeline for the new parents with a polished smile and a polite handshake for everyone, the other P.T.A. members mingling with the newbies.
‘… wonderful, wonderful. Do come and join us, the more the merrier, we’re a happy little band at Saddleton Junior Academy P.T.A. and everyone is welcome …’
Amy took a deep breath and walked over to Mrs. Fenton.
‘Excuse me? Nessa? Could I have a word, please?’
It took Mrs. Fenton a couple of seconds to take in who was speaking to her.
‘Ah, it’s Harry’s mum, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘What can I do for you? Did you want to access the free school uniform cupboard?’
‘No. I wanted a little word about Darcey-Mae, if you don’t mind.’
‘Darcey-Mae is my daughter. She’s the president of Year 4,’ Mrs. Fenton explained to the lucky Reception parents who were within earshot. ‘Did you want to ask her to raise something at the school council, perhaps? Did Harry come up with some ideas for her fundraising drive you’d like me to share with her?’
‘No, nothing like that. Harry’s quite capable of speaking for himself,’ Amy said.
'Indeed, he is.’ Mrs. Fenton flashed a knowing smile at the P.T.A. members who stood beside her.
‘No, I wanted to raise some of my concerns with you about behaviour at this school. As head of the P.T.A. I know you’re keen to eliminate bad behaviour.’
‘That’s right. Saddleton Junior prides itself on its behaviour standards, which, as chair of the P.T.A. I’m proud to uphold. How can Darcey-Mae help?’ She raised her voice to make sure all the new parents could hear.
‘We can go somewhere less public, if you like?’ Amy suggested.
‘Oh, deary me, does this mean Harry … has there been another incident?’ The way she turned and looked at her fellow P.T.A. members could leave no-one in any doubt about how she felt about Harry. ‘He hasn’t been found meddling with other pupils’ belongings again, has he? Or locked anybody else in a cupboard?’ She turned confidentially to the Reception parents. ‘A most unfortunate incident at the end of last term. Harry locked another little boy in a cupboard, and if it hadn’t been for my Darcey-Mae —’
‘It would never have happened in the first place.’ Amy folded her arms and stood back, waiting for Mrs. Fenton’s reaction. There was a momentary pause.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t …’
‘I don’t like to use the ‘B’ word, but I think I might have to.’
‘The ‘B’ word?’
‘Bullying. Darcey-Mae, I’m afraid to say, has been bullying Harry.’
‘Ridiculous! Of course she hasn’t! Darcey-Mae is such a good girl, whereas your Harry … I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but we all know he’s prone to telling fibs, don’t we?’ Some of the other P.T.A. members murmured assent, but for the first time Amy noticed it wasn’t all of them, only Mrs. Fenton’s particular friends. Some of the others had started to slide away, back towards the main yard.
‘He’s not a liar, Mrs. Fenton. I know sometimes he doesn’t always do the right thing. He’s impulsive — but he’s not devious enough to lie about what he’s done. But Harry didn’t tell me anything. Oliver Sutherland did.’
‘Oh, I see. Poor little Oliver. He does get rather confused, sometimes. You see,’ she turned to her audience, ‘Oliver Sutherland is a delicate little soul. Lost his mother last year, you see. Terrible tragedy. The big ‘C’ you know. My Darcey-Mae likes to look out for him.’
‘It was Darcey-Mae who told Harry to lock that cupboard. He didn’t know Oliver was in there, and Darcey-Mae told him there was a rat and she was scared. She deliberately tricked him.’
‘I never … well, if Darcey-Mae said there was a rat in the cupboard then I’m sure there was.’ Even though she asserted it strongly there was something about her voice that suddenly wasn’t so firm, an underlying quaver which suggested uncertainty.
‘Darcey-Mae knew Oliver was in there, and she told Harry to lock the cupboard so she could rescue him.’
‘She wouldn’t …’
‘And it’s not the only time. Oliver told me they made Harry lose his temper by calling him Hamster Face, then they’d get sent to the front of the dinner queue for telling the dinner nans that he’d lost his temper. There’s more than one kind of bullying, Mrs. Fenton.’
‘I’ve never heard anything so …’
