All the Little Things Sarah Lawton (red white royal blue TXT) 📖

on her sun lounger and stretching her arms above her head. ‘Please. We hooked up once when my parents were out and I was bored. It didn’t mean anything, and I’m sure he’s exaggerating what even happened and there’s no way anyone would believe I’d touch him with a barge pole, even if he did say anything.’

This I can agree with.

‘Why did you touch him with a barge pole?’

‘Like I said, I was bored.’

‘So much for your virgin status, you liar! I think Tilly would be upset if she found out. And I think Serena is still upset about last week, you and Matt.’

‘What with me and Matt?’ she says, and I look up. She’s got a coy look on her face and it doesn’t suit her.

‘You know what,’ I say, looking away again. ‘I heard you in your bedroom with him, that’s why I left.’ I don’t confess that I watched, and that I think about what I watched. ‘This is why you hurt me yesterday, isn’t it? You thought I was going to tell Tilly about you and Tristan. You thought I knew about him, as well as you and Matt.’

‘You do have a nasty habit of finding things out.’

This is true, but I’ve clearly taken my eye off the ball recently if she’s been managing all this extracurricular activity without me knowing. ‘Who else have you been doing this with? Why?’

She jumps off the lounger, putting her hands on my shoulders and looking down at me. I can see her nipples through the thin white material of her vest top and I think she knows it.

‘Vivvy, Vivvy, it doesn’t mean anything. Serena doesn’t know for sure anything happened, I’m not going to tell her and neither are you. That goes for that piglet Tristan, too.’ She pokes me hard in the chest. ‘And at least they know where to put it now!’ She laughs and I feel angry, again. I think she is being blasé about what Tristan might say, and I worry about what might happen, that this might be the final straw for our group, even as she wraps her arms around me, presses herself to me, and tells me everything is fine.

I don’t believe her. Something needs to be done.

London

Rachel had needed to run to make the meeting, and when she arrived she already felt wrong-footed, and on edge. She didn’t like Vivian’s new year three teacher; in fact, she thought she was a bitch, and probably in the wrong profession. Why teach little kids when you clearly didn’t have the right temperament for it? She shifted uncomfortably on the tiny wooden chair outside the classroom where she was being kept waiting – deliberately, no doubt.

‘Mrs Sanders, would you like to come through?’

‘It’s Miss, actually.’

‘My apologies, Miss Sanders, come through.’

Rachel looked around the room. It hadn’t changed in the twenty-odd years since she had last seen it herself: words stuck on the walls, splashes of colour in paintings, messy handprints with names beneath. Nothing seemed different at all, except the size of her arse on the ridiculously small chairs.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Mrs Sanders,’ said the teacher.

Rachel felt the beginnings of a headache bloom above the clench of her jaw. ‘No worries,’ she lied. ‘You said there’d been an incident you wanted to talk to me about—?’

‘Yes, well. More of a series of incidents, really.’

‘Go on.’

‘We lost one of Vivian’s classmates for an hour today.’

‘I beg your pardon? You lost a child?’

‘Not quite. Vivian had locked him in the PE cupboard. She didn’t tell anyone this, despite us clearly looking, and asking the class where he was. We were very worried.’

‘It took you an hour to find him? Was he not shouting?’

‘The sports hall is kept locked outside PE lessons. Vivian stole my keys from my handbag and lured him inside on the pretext of pulling a prank. She locked him inside the cupboard, locked the hall again, and put my keys back in my handbag. He was extremely upset by the time we found him. He was on the verge of wetting himself.’

Rachel pressed her lips together to stop herself laughing with shock. The little madam!

‘We’d called his parents – can you imagine how worried they were? I have given Vivian lunchtime detention all this week, as we do not suspend year three children. But this isn’t the first issue we’ve had. We had the biting incident last year – which we chose to move past – and it’s not the first time Vivian has taken things that don’t belong to her.’

Rachel felt aggrieved on behalf of her girl. ‘Look. She’s only seven, and she’s highly intelligent – you’ve said so yourself. Do you think maybe she’s bored? Obviously I will be speaking to her about this, and we’ll come up with a suitable punishment at home, but I do think there’s something you need to work on here. The biting clearly has nothing to do with this, I don’t see a connection.’

‘Mrs Sanders, I really do think you should consider taking Vivian to a child psychologist – I—’

‘It’s Miss! And you’re joking! A psychologist, for pulling a prank? That the boy was in on, from what you’ve just told me.’

‘The boy wasn’t aware that he would be the “prank”, Miss Sanders. It concerned me that Vivian thought it was funny to leave him for so long. She is still denying having anything to do with it, though obviously the victim has identified her.’

‘Victim! They’re children, not murderers! Look, this was clearly unpleasant for the little boy who got locked in, but it was obviously a joke gone wrong. My daughter does not need to see anyone. Is this victim one of the children who has been bullying her, per chance?’

‘We haven’t seen any evidence of bullying. I have been watching. I wonder if Vivian’s idea of bullying and actual bullying are the same thing. We’ll be keeping an eye on her.’

‘How do you even know for certain it was her?’

‘Well,