began ramming things into a backpack. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately. Surely she doesn’t think a neglected hedge takes precedence over a neglected kid?’
‘I agree but good nannies are hard to find,’ he said diplomatically.
Emelie rolled her eyes and hugged him goodbye.
When it was time to leave for school, he wrangled a squirming Maria into the buggy, ignoring her protests of ‘No! Walk!’ and they made their way past Georgian sash-windowed three-storey houses like theirs with big rooms and narrow gardens. Josie paused to converse with a ginger cat on a garden wall, then they strolled around the corner to Barrack Road.
Josie’s steps slowed. The wet-cement feeling in Nico’s stomach returned and though he kept up a flow of easy conversation to distract her, when the bell sounded he followed Josie to where Mrs Calcashaw waited at the door to see her class inside. ‘I’m Josie’s dad,’ he reminded her pleasantly. ‘I’d like another word about how Josie’s settling down, please.’
Mrs Calcashaw was no ogre but she wasn’t a smiley-smiley teacher either. Her face wore lines of resignation and her clothes were as tired as her eyes. ‘Of course. We can set up a meeting.’
‘The way the schools have been amalgamated hasn’t worked for Josie,’ Nico persisted as children began to stream past and Mrs Calcashaw kept most of her attention on them.
‘If it’s a matter of school policy, you could always see the head, Mrs Watts,’ she suggested pleasantly.
He nodded, understanding that her job at that moment was to attend to an entire class full of eight-year-olds not one parent without an appointment. ‘OK. I’ll go round to reception. I’ll pick you up later, Josie.’
Josie sighed, ‘OK,’ then kissed Nico and Maria goodbye and followed the others, Maria calling, ‘Bah-bye, Yozee!’
Nico went to reception, through the double doors that opened automatically, easy to manoeuvre the buggy through. The young man on the front desk tried first to funnel him back in the teacher’s direction with an appointment to meet Mrs Calcashaw but Nico had now decided Mrs Watts was his mark, and resisted. ‘It’s a matter of whole-school policy,’ he said and the young man went off to consult Mrs Watts.
Maria passed the time by kicking until one of her red boots came off, then looking at Nico expectantly. He’d just restored the boot to her foot when the young man returned. ‘Mrs Watts can see you in ten minutes if you don’t mind waiting.’
‘Great, thanks,’ said Nico.
Maria kicked the other boot off.
Nico made a mock-scary face at her and laughter gurgled from deep inside her. It was impossible not to be enchanted so he passed the wait making Maria laugh. In Mrs Watts’s room, Nico parked the buggy and took a chair. Mrs Watts, tall and thin with short black hair, smiled from behind her desk. ‘How can I help you today, Mr Pettersson?’
Nico kept his tone genial, expressing his concerns about Josie being unhappy at school.
Mrs Watts smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s early days yet—’
‘Two months,’ Nico reminded her. ‘Josie has never been unwilling to attend school before.’
‘There’s bound to be a little settling down when schools merge,’ Mrs Watts said, comfortingly. ‘Josie seems a happy little girl in school. We see nothing to concern us. And, of course, whenever things are unsettled in the family, children do make excuses to stay at home because they want to check everybody’s still around.’
Nico realised he should also be making the school aware of Loren’s troubles but felt it would only justify what the head had said, making it easy for her to further deflect him. Instead, he said, ‘This is a direct request to put Josie back in Mrs Symonds’s class.’
Mrs Watts tilted her head. ‘The decision to put Josie in Mrs Calcashaw’s class has been made, I’m afraid. Classes were decided with a view to what’s best for the whole school, bearing in mind all the factors. It was considered that Josie’s people skills would make her just the little girl to make a success of mixing with new children.’
Waning patience made Nico blunt. ‘She’s unhappy. The children from both schools should have been mixed up in every class. Surely you can see that?’
‘Out!’ Maria demanded, from her buggy.
Mrs Watts’s expression was sympathetic enough but she didn’t budge. ‘We’re not under that obligation, Mr Pettersson. Once the building at St Kits became an issue we had to make prompt decisions with a view to the smooth running of the school. I’m afraid if I let one