Chapter Forty-Four

Don’t forget to tell the teacher that you’re having school dinner today,’ Anita said, releasing her daughter to the school gates. Sophie kissed her mum before running inside, her long dark pigtails slapping against her backpack. Funny how she had inherited her father’s dark hair when her own was so light. Anita smiled as her daughter paused to blow a kiss. She dreaded the day when Sophie would become embarrassed by public displays of affection. She treasured their time together, and still held her hand as they walked to school, telling stories on the way. Anita would start the story with one line and Sophie would continue it with a couple more. Back and forward their stories would go, leading them to some inexplicable situation involving monsters, sticky sweets, animals that could talk, and of course, the moral of the story. It was like something out of a Roald Dahl book, and Anita was always up for cultivating her daughter’s vivid imagination.

Today Sophie had swimming lessons and was slowly overcoming her fears. The leg braces she wore as a toddler had straightened her bowed limbs, but she still carried the stigma of being different to her friends. While they started school in knee-length skirts, Sophie begged to wear trousers. The thoughts of their swimming trips had struck her with fear. In the beginning, her teacher encouraged her to dabble her feet in the water as she watched the other children at play. Now she had gained enough courage to wade in.

Anita watched as the lollipop lady ushered the late arrivals across the road. The drooping socks, the unwashed hair – she could have overlooked the children’s less than perfect appearance. But sending them to school on their own? She tutted under her breath. There was danger everywhere. How could their mums care so little to allow them to find their own way in? Anita stayed on the corner until she was sure the children had safely made their way inside the school gates; the same way she did every morning. Their mothers had most likely gone back to bed, if they got up at all. Each morning Anita told herself not to be so judgemental, that perhaps she was the one with the problem, not them. She had always been overprotective, but, as she said to her husband she had lost one daughter. She could not live through losing another.

She peered at the red sports car as it crawled past the school. Was this another instance of her paranoia? The concern was real enough to deliver a chill down her back. It was the fourth time she had seen it this week, and it always slowed as it passed. She had yet to see a child being dispatched from the passenger seat, and each time it drove past it turned around and returned the way it came. Anita could not help but be suspicious. Next time, she told herself. Next time she would bring a pen and paper and jot down the license plate. Perhaps she could pass it into the local police officers, who might check to see if it was known.

Sometimes she thought she would be better off living in blissful ignorance. But how could you protect your child if you were not aware of the monsters on the prowl?