Anthony was drilling into Mr Ahmed’s lower right incisor while Vanessa held the suction hose in his mouth. She was glad to finally be back at work—she’d been so sick that she’d even missed the Redbacks final against the Parkdale Panthers at the weekend. Sadly, the Redbacks had been thrashed, but it helped that Jackson and Lachie’s team, the Collingwood Magpies, were playing in next Saturday’s AFL grand final. Like virtually everyone else in Melbourne, Jackson and Lachie were in the grip of grand final fever, and Vanessa was observing her annual ritual of pretending to give a rat’s.

Mr Ahmed was making polite noises while Anthony chatted about property prices.

‘Vanessa and her ex did well in Preston, didn’t you, Ness?’

Vanessa nodded, although that depended on how you looked at it. She’d had to buy Craig out when he left and now she owed three hundred thousand dollars on a single income—thank goodness for her mum’s rent. But there was no point getting into all of that and, besides, she could feel a sneezing fit coming on.

‘When did you buy it again?’ asked Anthony as the suction hose latched onto Mr Ahmed’s cheek and Vanessa pulled it off with a thwock sound. ‘Five or six years ago? I should know, I helped you move in.’

But Vanessa’s face was turning purple as she tried to suppress her sneeze.

Anthony glanced at her and frowned. ‘Ness? Are you okay?’

‘I’m just trying not to—’ But she exploded into a sneezing fit. ‘Ah-choo! Ah-choo!’ Snot sprayed out of her nose and dripped down the inside of her visor. It was gross, and she could see the revulsion in Mr Ahmed’s eyes even behind his protective goggles. Talk about a PR disaster. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Ahmed. Sorry, Anthony.’

Mr Ahmed mumbled graciously and Anthony raised his eyebrows over his mask. Vanessa removed her visor and sterilised it in the sink. Maybe she shouldn’t have come in today? She was still at sixes and sevens about everything and finding it hard to concentrate. But it was too late to go home, so she put her visor back on and rehooked the suction hose into Mr Ahmed’s mouth, just as Kiri appeared in the doorway. She was holding the phone.

‘Excuse me, Niss? It’s Jackson’s school.’

‘Jackson’s school?’ She felt a twinge of alarm. She’d never had a call from Jackson’s school.

‘Yis. They said it’s important.’

Vanessa freaked and reached for the phone, taking the suction hose with her and pulling Mr Ahmed’s mouth halfway across the room.

‘Ergh!’ said Mr Ahmed.

‘I’m sorry,’ Vanessa apologised, but frankly Mr Ahmed was the least of her worries. Had something terrible happened to Jackson? She grabbed the phone. ‘Hello?’

Clunk!

It crashed against her visor.

Vanessa blinked in alarm at the principal, Mrs Hill, a mumsy type she’d always found inexplicably scary.

‘Inappropriate behaviour? What do you mean?’

‘Perhaps Jackson should be the one to tell you. Jackson?’

Vanessa tried to meet her son’s eyes, but he was staring fixedly at the floor. Dave’s daughter Nickie sat beside him, squirming. Dave was on Nickie’s other side, but his ex-wife Evanthe had refused a chair and was prowling around Mrs Hill’s utilitarian office like a caged tiger.

‘Jackson? What did you do?’

Jackson kept staring at the floor, and Vanessa saw a teardrop fall and land with a silent plop on the carpet. She squeezed her son’s knee and shot a bewildered look at Dave, but Dave was stony-faced. Was he furious about this ‘inappropriate behaviour’ too?

Evanthe made a loud huffing sound. ‘Nicola, tell Jackson’s mother what he did.’

‘Mum, it’s okay.’

The poor girl looked mortified, Vanessa thought. She could feel her anxiety escalating. What had Jackson done?

‘It is not okay. You were distraught.’

‘I was only crying a little bit … just ’cause he surprised me.’

‘Exactly my point. Can we stop all this pussyfooting around?’ Evanthe turned to Vanessa. ‘Your son committed sexual assault.’

Something between a cry and a gasp formed in Vanessa’s throat and lodged there as that awful phrase hung in the air. Sexual assault? Jackson? There must be some mistake. She looked entreatingly at her son, but his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

‘Evanthe, that’s enough,’ Dave snapped. ‘Will you bloody sit down?’

Evanthe ignored him.

Vanessa felt a rush of blood in her ears. None of this made sense. ‘Jackson, is this true?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it’s true. He sexually assaulted my daughter.’

Mrs Hill turned to Evanthe and addressed her in the kind of tone that Vanessa had heard her use to wrangle recalcitrant kids at assembly.

‘This isn’t helpful, Mrs Rendall.’

‘Ms Politis.’

‘Ms Politis. I appreciate that you’re upset, but if we could try to take the emotion out of this …’

‘I’m sorry, Nickie.’ Jackson finally looked up, and his face was wretched with shame. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you … I just … I like you.’

‘And that’s how you show it?’ Evanthe glared at Vanessa. ‘He pushed her up against a wall and shoved his tongue down her throat.’

Dear God.

Apparently, it had happened at recess. Nickie was on her way back from the canteen when she ran into Jackson outside the music room. He grabbed her and pushed her into the wall so her head was hard up against the corkboard—and then he stuck his tongue in her mouth and tried to kiss her. Nickie was understandably distressed, and her best friend Ava Bourke happened upon them and told the year seven coordinator.

Vanessa felt cold with shock. Jackson’s shoulders were heaving up and down in a failed attempt not to cry, and she didn’t know whether to hug him or shake him.

‘Jackson, why? How could you do a thing like that? I’m so sorry, Nickie.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jackson whimpered again.

‘We know you’re sorry, mate,’ Dave said in a firm but not unkind tone.

‘The question is, what are you going to do about it?’ Evanthe demanded of Mrs Hill.

‘Evanthe,’ Dave said warningly.

Mrs Hill gave Evanthe a withering look that Vanessa would have enjoyed if she wasn’t feeling so utterly awful. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Today was unusually humid for September, in spite of the fact that a week ago September had been unusually cold. Mrs Hill ignored Evanthe and addressed Jackson.

‘I’m glad you understand the gravity of what you’ve done and that you’ve offered Nickie a sincere apology, but I’m afraid I have no choice—I’m suspending you for the rest of this week.’

Jackson nodded miserably. Snot was running out of his nose and dripping onto his lips and Vanessa scrabbled in her pockets for tissues.

‘And, Vanessa, I’d also suggest that you seek some counselling to help Jackson understand appropriate behaviour with the female students.’

Vanessa nodded numbly, her face burning with self-reproach. This must be her fault. She’d left Jackson alone in his room too often with unsupervised screen time, and now he was a sexual predator.

As they left Mrs Hill’s office, she had a bleak flash to a future filled with prison visits. She saw Jackson with tatts and missing teeth and greasy thin hair combed into a mullet, ranting about the ‘screws’ and asking her to sneak him in some ciggies.

On the drive home she managed to talk herself off that particular cliff but, still, this must be her responsibility. She should have sat Jackson down and talked about how to approach a girl in a gentlemanly fashion, as outmoded as that sounded—or she should at least have made sure that Craig did. But even given her sins of omission, it was baffling. Forcing himself on a girl was so out of character for her shy son. Was he aping something he’d seen on TV? But Jackson never watched TV. Was it YouTube? CoD? Facebook? Instagram? Snapchat? It could have been any one of those—but the buck ultimately stopped with her for not policing his online activities more strictly.

‘We always supervise his screen time,’ Craig said accusingly. He and Natalie had come over to discuss the crisis in a mature and mutually supportive fashion, but Craig seemed to have forgotten the brief. ‘What were you thinking?’

Vanessa was feeling wretched with guilt and was barely equipped to argue—not that she was any good at arguing at the best of times.

‘I tried, Craig.’

‘Well, not hard enough.’

‘Hey,’ Natalie cut through calmly, ‘this isn’t about judgement, it’s about solutions, okay?’

She gave them both a counsellor’s smile, and Vanessa watched Craig morph from attack dog into submissive puppy. Bloody hell, she thought, he may as well roll over and ask Natalie to scratch his tummy. Natalie was wearing lycra running pants and a workout bra without a hint of a muffin top, and her sleek tresses were impervious to the humidity that made Vanessa’s hair resemble a Steelo soap pad.

‘You’re right, Nat,’ Craig said compliantly. ‘I’m sorry, Ness.’

For what, exactly? Vanessa wondered. Lying to me? Cheating on me? Leaving me for our marriage counsellor and sending the kids’ lives into a spin? Or just for the screen time thing?

‘Can I speak frankly?’ Natalie asked.

Just try and stop you, Vanessa thought.

‘I think you both need to take responsibility.’

Whoa.

It was one of the few things Natalie had ever said that made sense. Vanessa wanted to put her thumb on her nose and waggle her fingers at Craig like a little kid. ‘Na-na-nana-na, it’s your fault too!’ But this was such a serious matter that even entertaining fantasies like that didn’t feel appropriate. She tried to give herself space to regroup by offering Craig and Natalie a lamington.

Natalie shook her head politely. ‘No, thanks. I’m in training for a half-marathon.’

Vanessa resisted the urge to say, ‘What, only half? Can’t hack the whole thing?’

‘Can I run something past you both,’ Natalie asked without a question mark.

Of course, Natalie. Share your wisdom!

‘It seems you guys haven’t been entirely successful in guiding Jackson through puberty, so why don’t I act as the counsellor Mrs Hill suggested? After all, Jackson and I are already great buddies.’

As if, Vanessa thought petulantly. She’d never heard Jackson say, ‘Me and Natalie are great buddies.’ But then, in all fairness, he was hardly likely to say it to her. She hated to admit it, but Natalie was probably making sense.

‘That’s the perfect solution,’ Craig enthused slavishly. So Craig agreed. What a surprise!

They summoned Jackson to join them, and he slunk into the kitchen with his eyes downcast.

‘Hey, buddy, take a seat,’ said Natalie.

Jackson sat down at the wonky table, where Vanessa’s daffodils were wilting in a vase. The poor kid still looked like he wanted to die, and it took everything Vanessa had not to hug him. How on earth had they ended up here?

‘How are you feeling, buddy?’ Natalie screeched like a wicked stepmother.

Not.

They waited for an answer, but Jackson just shrugged.

‘You’ve had some time to think about your actions now, buddy,’ Natalie persisted. ‘It’s perfectly normal to like Nickie, but why would you express it in that particular way?’

Jackson bit his lip. They waited some more.

‘It’s not on, mate,’ Craig said sternly. Natalie shot him a warning look. ‘But, ah, this is a safe space,’ he qualified. ‘There’s no judgement here.’

Yeah, right.

‘Jackson?’ Natalie pressed. ‘We’re trying to understand, buddy.’

Vanessa thought Natalie was going a bit overboard with the ‘buddy’ stuff—but maybe it was some kind of counselling tool?

‘I thought that’s what girls liked,’ Jackson muttered finally.

Vanessa felt a jolt of alarm, and she could see that Craig did too. Why would Jackson think a thing like that?

Ever the professional, Natalie remained neutral. ‘But why would she like being forced? Where did you get that idea?’

Jackson turned to Vanessa, his face riven with confusion. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

She took his hand. ‘You can tell us, sweetheart. Why did you think that was okay?’

Their gazes remained locked for a moment longer, then he turned back to Natalie. ‘I didn’t mean to assault her,’ he said in a tiny voice, and then he burst into tears again.

Natalie pushed some tissues across the table, but Vanessa couldn’t bear it anymore.

‘No, stop, he’s been through too much today.’ She sounded more assertive than she’d intended, and Natalie looked a tad disconcerted. Vanessa squeezed Jackson’s hand. ‘We know you didn’t mean to assault her, but you must never touch a girl without her permission. All right?’

Jackson nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

He looked like he didn’t know if he was Arthur or Martha, and Vanessa knew exactly how he felt.