34

As timing went, this was close to miraculous. What was also wonderful, to Joseph’s eye, was how powerful Mrs F seemed, from the second she came into view.

Somehow, she seemed to tower over Gryce, stopping him and Clarence dead in their tracks. Whatever her reasons for being late, at that moment, Joseph forgave her.

‘I think that will do, don’t you?’ she said to the headmaster. It was a demand, not a question.

Gryce didn’t know how to react.

‘Mrs Farrelly,’ he said, with an expression he normally saved for Joseph. ‘If your timekeeping wasn’t so tardy, you would know exactly what I was doing. Rightfully punishing this boy for an act of deceit.’

‘I don’t care if he’s decapitated the king, I can see that you’ve already struck him once, and once is clearly enough.’ She turned to Joseph. ‘Are you all right?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with the boy,’ Gryce said. ‘He’s proved today he is more than resourceful. He is, in fact, a devious schemer.’

‘Well, thank you for pulling him apart so publicly.’ She looked at the other parents, who seemed to stare quickly at their shoes. ‘Perhaps I should ask them what happened?’

‘I don’t think that’s necessary, do you? If you’ll follow me to my office, I’ll be delighted to recount the whole despicable event.’ And Gryce made to leave, gown swishing to maximum effect.

‘Or, you can tell me right now. Just in case I need to check with Joseph’s teacher here.’

Miss Doherty had been fidgeting at the back of the class, such was her level of discomfort, but this new woman appeared so strong that it galvanised her too, lifting her shoulders and chin higher than usual.

‘If your wish, my dear, is to humiliate your boy still further in front of his peers and their parents, then yes, of course, I’ll tell you here and now. Joseph is a cheat and a liar. He has made it his priority to ridicule both myself and his teacher, simply for his own amusement.’

On he went, talking at great length, about how Joseph had weaved a ‘web of lies.’

Mrs F listened and looked uneasy, though she waited patiently until Gryce finished his rant.

‘Well, if there’s anyone to blame for Joseph’s lying, then it’s me.’

It was an admission that brought puzzlement to Gryce’s face.

‘Oh really?’

‘That’s right. Joseph came to me, weeks ago now, and explained what was going on with his reading. That when he tries to read, the words don’t stay still on the page.’

Gryce scoffed loudly. ‘Ridiculous.’

‘So it’s my fault it’s come to this, not his. I should’ve come to you about it.’ She took a deep breath and switched her attention to the boy. ‘I’m sorry, Joseph. I really am. And as for you,’ she said, swinging her attention back to Gryce, ‘what you need to hear is that Joseph isn’t lazy, or evil, or stupid, or any of the things that you’ve branded him. It’s clear to me, to anyone who really knows him, that he’s none of those things.’

Joseph stood, stunned. Her words, her belief in him, dulled the pain that he felt in his palm.

‘What he is,’ Mrs F went on, ‘is different. He speaks his mind, granted; sometimes more than he should, but at least I know where I stand with him. What he isn’t, is thick.’

‘That’s right. He isn’t,’ came a voice from the back of the classroom. Miss Doherty stepped forward, voice louder than ever before and clutching Joseph’s maths book. ‘He is exceptionally bright. His mathematical abilities are of someone two years older at least.’

‘That is enough, Miss Doherty,’ Gryce snapped.

‘No. No, it isn’t,’ she replied. ‘Not until you actually look at his work.’ And she thrust the open book into the headmaster’s hand.

Gryce looked, and looked again, but said nothing, which allowed Mrs F another window of opportunity.

‘This boy would be more than happy to read, delighted to, because, first and foremost, it would keep you off his back. Problem is, he can’t. Doesn’t matter how hard he tries, or how many times you or I spell things out for him, the words on that page will not – stay – still. Now, I have no idea what that means, or what the hell to do about it, but I will work it out. Just like I should’ve done weeks ago when he told me. I’m sorry, Joseph. I am.’

It was impossible for Joseph to meet her gaze. Impossible because it was alien to him, the idea that anyone would ever apologise to him.

‘Well,’ said Gryce. ‘This is all incredibly touching, and I thank you for your input. But the facts remain the same, the boy lied, and the boy cheated. And in my school, these are virtues that must be punished.’

This brought Mrs F further onto the offensive. ‘So if Joseph had come forward, and told you, right from the start, that words dance on the page and stop him reading, then you would’ve believed him?’

‘Well, I...’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘The boy has proved himself to be trouble from his very first day. And boys that cannot behave, then they need to be—’

‘What? They need to be what?’

Gryce stood, ramrod straight, and as if by force of habit, snapped Clarence upon his own leg. ‘To be shown the right path. And if that is by punishment, then so be it.’

Mrs F had seen enough, and without hesitation, she strode forward, and whipped Clarence clean out of Mr Gryce’s grip.

‘There’s enough punishment going on already these days,’ she said. ‘Inside these walls and out.’

Gripping the cane at each end, she brought it whipping down, one final time, across her knee, snapping it into two glorious jagged pieces.

There was a cry. Joseph was unsure if it came from Gryce or Clarence himself, then a further noise, as the useless shards of birch clattered to the floor.

‘Joseph,’ Mrs F said, still looking the headmaster straight in the eye. ‘Fetch your things. You’ll not be coming back.’

Joseph did as he was told, feeling ten foot tall as he followed her out of the door.

‘Where are we going now?’ he asked.

‘To the zoo,’ she replied, face grave. ‘There’s things we need to talk about.’