Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

That bitch .

Flora had seen her hurrying Thomas past on the street earlier as she and Beckie were leaving the house.

‘Thanks a lot for your support, Ailish!’ she shouted across at her, like someone on EastEnders .

She didn’t wait for her response. She focused on the cheerful turquoise double doors of the extension, on the cut-out children’s drawings of animals stuck to the safety glass, mutant deer and badgers and foxes.

Then she was pulling open the left-hand door and pushing Beckie inside.

The little lobby smelt of disinfectant and printer ink and glue.

She sat Beckie down in a chair and hunkered down in front of her, wiping her face with a tissue.

‘I’m sorry I shouted at you. And I know it’s very scary, darling, but Daddy and I both love you far too much to let anyone take you anywhere. We couldn’t do without you, you know.’

She thought Beckie was going to stay mute – maybe she’d never speak to Flora again, and maybe she would deserve it – but then, without looking at Flora, she whispered, ‘I couldn’t do without you .’

Tears prickled again at the back of her nose, but Flora managed to smile and push Beckie’s hair back off her face and say, ‘Just as well I’m here, then, isn’t it. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to speak to the policemen, and then I’m going to call Dad and he’ll come and get us.’

‘So I can skive off?’

‘You can skive off. And if Mrs Jenner doesn’t like it, she can lump it.’

They shared a little rebellious smile.

But Mrs Jenner was more than kind about the whole situation, insisting that Flora and the policemen use her office to take the statement while Beckie read a book in the outer sanctum where Mrs Jenner’s secretary worked.

Ushering them into her office, she said, ‘What a terrible stressful time you’re having.’

Flora could only nod.

The ordinary sounds of the school could be heard faintly – a teacher’s voice raised with calm, measured authority; the squeak of rubber shoes on polished vinyl flooring; a distant clatter.

Blinking her false eyelashes rapidly at Flora, Mrs Jenner murmured, ‘We do take security extremely seriously – all schools must, these days, sadly. I’m afraid this sort of situation isn’t unheard of – estranged parents threatening to snatch a child… We have systems in place.’

‘Oh,’ said Flora weakly.

Mrs Jenner nodded briskly. ‘I’m with a class all morning, so please take all the time you need. And when you’re finished, of course you can just take Beckie home – use the phone in my office to call your husband if you like.’

‘You’re so kind. Thank you.’

When Mrs Jenner had gone, the two young policemen looked at her rather helplessly, as if transported back to their own – not very far off – schooldays and a summons to the headmistress’s office. Flora went round behind the desk and sat in Mrs Jenner’s chair, hoping this might lend her an air of authority.

The policemen sat down on the other side of the desk, and one of them produced a notebook to take down Flora’s account of the morning.

But in this portentous setting, after all the build-up, somehow it fell flat when she actually began to tell them what had happened. Three youths had walked behind them on the pavement being loud and sweary and throwing a plastic bottle at a wall.

‘So they didn’t throw it at you or your daughter?’

‘Maybe they did and missed.’

‘They didn’t actually speak to you? They didn’t confront you?’

‘They were shouting things – like “Fucking snobs”.’

‘And this was directed at you?’

‘Well – yes, I’m sure it was.’

‘But there was no actual confrontation…’

And then:

‘And it was the same man you’d encountered earlier – it was Travis Johnson.’

‘Yes, Beckie recognised him too, independently – of course I didn’t tell her who it was. She came out with it; she said it was the same man as before. The muscly one, she called him. Muscles, tattoos and… a sort of little fringe stuck to his forehead. And he had a squashed nose, you know, like it’s been broken… What will happen now? They were just cautioned about breaking the court order the first time, but now it’s happened again despite the caution, what happens?’

‘The Prosecution Service will review the situation regarding the court order, but it’s likely another caution will be issued rather than an arrest being made at this stage, in the circumstances. Meanwhile, I think our colleagues explained about non-harassment orders? Now that there’s been another incident, that’s an option open to you. Or there’s the option of an interdict through the civil courts, which is easier to apply for, but the penalties for breaking its conditions aren’t as severe. To apply for either, you’ll have to contact your solicitor. But there are victim support services that can guide you through it – my colleagues possibly have spoken to you about this already.’

‘Yes. So basically, breaking the court order again is just going to get them a slap on the wrist. And even if we get a non-harassment order, they can’t be arrested until they break it, or – or the whole thing escalates…’

The policeman sat back. ‘That’s up to the Prosecution Service. We’ll let you know what’s happening once the situation has been reviewed. Call us immediately, of course, if you see them again…’

When they’d gone, Flora picked up the phone, staring unseeingly at the Castles of Britain calendar on the wall as she waited for Neil to pick up.

It went to voicemail, and she left a message asking him to come home – she’d meet him there with Beckie. The Johnsons had followed them on their way to school, she said, and Beckie was really upset. ‘We’ll get a taxi. There’s no way I’m walking her back.’

She put down the phone.

Tears threatened again, and as she rummaged in her jeans pockets for another tissue, a slip of paper drifted to the royal blue carpet.

She picked it up and saw it was Caroline’s number.

Caroline answered immediately. ‘Hi, Flora!’

‘They followed us to school. The Johnsons.’

‘Oh God! Where are you?’

‘At the school. I can’t get hold of Neil and I don’t want to take Beckie home just the two of us…’

‘Of course not! Have you called the police?’

‘I’ve made another statement. They said we can take out a non-harassment order now…’

‘What, they’re not actually going to do anything?’

‘They might give them another caution.’

‘Oh whoopy-doo! Listen, Flora, don’t move. I’m coming to get you. Where’s the school?’

‘There’s your next-door neighbour again,’ said Beckie from her station by the window. ‘Mr Hewson. That’s the third time he’s been to look in his wheelie bin. I think he’s maybe suspicious. He could be, like, in league with them.’

‘You reckon?’ Caroline joined her to squint through the wooden Venetian blinds that she’d pulled almost closed against the bright light of the street. ‘How about a break from surveillance for a peanut butter and jam sandwich?’

Beckie wrinkled her nose. ‘Really?’

‘Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’

‘Disgusting enough that you probably will like it,’ Flora smiled.

Beckie shot her a wary look.

Oh God.

She hadn’t meant that as a criticism.

Beckie turned back to Caroline. ‘What kind of jam?’

‘Well, I think I have a choice. Can’t remember exactly what of…’

‘I’ll come and help you.’

Two peanut butter and apricot jam sandwiches later, Beckie sat on the sofa glancing occasionally at the window but more often looking curiously at the huge jigsaw spread out on a special mat on the coffee table. All the pieces were set out, and some of the edges had been started. It was full of bright colours, and Flora thought she could make out eyes and feathers on some of the pieces, but it was impossible to tell what the picture was yet.