Cut by Cathy Glass

homework, which she never did. She said she found the work ‘quite easy’ now she had ‘got down to it’.
    On the Thursday morning of her third week with us, I was doing my usual tidying up when the phone rang. It was Jane Matthews, the Head of Year.
    ‘Is Dawn ill?’ she asked.
    ‘No,’ I said, surprised. ‘Why? Is she saying she is feeling unwell?’
    ‘I don’t know, Mrs Glass. Dawn isn’t here to ask. She hasn’t been in school all week.’
    ‘What? Are you sure?’ I gasped.
    ‘I’m absolutely positive. The last time Dawn was in school was on Friday morning. We haven’t seen her since.’
    I paused in disbelief. ‘And you don’t know where she is?’
    ‘No. And I take it you don’t either?’
    I was silent as I grappled with what I was being told, and my thoughts raced over the preceding week. ‘But Dawn has been leaving the house to catch the bus to school each morning, and returning at the end of school. She’s even been doing her homework!’
    I heard a small cynical laugh. ‘Then the only thing she hasn’t been doing is attending school! I wonder if she’s been setting the homework herself – ten out of ten for inventiveness if she has!’
    Now I came to think of it, John and I hadn’t actually seen Dawn doing her homework. We had trusted her when she had gone to her room each evening and then reappeared later saying she had done it. Accepting her word, we had never asked to see the completed work. But I realised that if I told Jane Matthews this she would think me very naïve. ‘She’s been lying to us then,’ I said in dismay.
    ‘It certainly sounds like it. And I am now wondering about the dental appointment she had last Friday.’
    ‘What dental appointment?’
    There was another cynical snort. ‘I needn’t wonder any longer! Dawn came into school last Friday morning with a letter from you saying she had to leave school at twelve o’clock for a dental appointment, and wouldn’t be returning in the afternoon. Can I now assume it was a forgery?’
    My heart sunk further. ‘Yes. I didn’t write it. There was no dental appointment,’ I confirmed in disbelief. Then immediately began to add worry to my feelings of incredulity and bitter disappointment. ‘I hope Dawn is all right. Where do you think she could be?’
    ‘I’ve no idea, but I’m sure she can take care of herself. My guess is she’ll stroll in at her usual time as if she has just returned home from school.’
    My thoughts flashed to the previous afternoons when she had done just that – smiling sweetly, and answering my questions as to whether she’d had a good day. She had replied positively, and with details of her day at school, all of which I now knew she had made up. For a second I wondered if there was a rational explanation, for I still couldn’t believe Dawn would have lied to me so extensively and with such conviction. But what explanation could there be?
    ‘Thank you for telling me,’ I said lamely. ‘I’ll speak to Dawn as soon as she comes home.’
    ‘Can we expect to see Dawn in school tomorrow?’
    ‘Yes, most definitely, even if I have to bring her myself.’
    ‘And in future if Dawn is genuinely absent could you phone the school secretary and let us know? I’ve put a note on her file that if she doesn’t arrive then the school secretary is to phone you. That way we won’t be duped again.’
    ‘Yes, I will.’
    ‘I’ll notify Dawn’s social worker,’ Jane Matthews finished by saying. ‘And I’ll look forward to Dawn gracing us with her presence tomorrow.’
    ‘Yes. Thank you. Goodbye.’
    I assumed Jane had to tell Ruth, but I felt as if I was being reported for doing something wrong, which in a way I was – for unwittingly allowing Dawn to play truant.
    Jane Matthews had been light and almost flippant in her approach to Dawn’s behaviour, presumably from years of being a teacher and having to deal with similar situations; perhaps it was a coping mechanism. However, as I put