The Child Who by Simon Lelic Page A

you think . . . Are you saying . . . You think it was because of the case?’
    ‘The thought occurred to me.’
    ‘Why though?’ Leo said again. ‘How did she even know who you were?’
    ‘Your secret’s out, Leo. You’re a big name, suddenly, in a small town. No.’ She corrected herself: ‘You’re a small name in a smaller town full of even smaller-minded people. That’s why, Leo. That’s how.’
    Megan shuffled round to face him. She took his hand and held it. ‘The point is, it’s not just kids. What happened today, what happened at the supermarket: it’s not just kids.’
    Leo looked down. He felt Megan’s plaintive stare and turned from it.

7
     
    What more was there to say? The whole episode: it was deplorable. Entirely contrary to the ethos of the school and not, Ellie’s head teacher had assured him, behaviour that would be tolerated. The culprits would be identified and punished. Mr Curtice could no doubt understand, particularly given his profession, that it was difficult at this stage to say how exactly but the school – she, personally – would not let Eleanor down. It would help, of course, if Ellie could be encouraged to come forward – to name names, as it were. But no, yes, of course, it must be extremely difficult for the poor child and yes, indeed, just as you say, the onus must of course fall on the school to get to the bottom of things. And they would. Of course they would.
    Ms Bridgwater was a slight, suited woman washed in scent and smeared in make-up. She had deflected Leo’s anger with the practice of a politician. Leo, having expected a twelve-round brawl, had felled his opponent with a single swing – and was left as dazed as he would have been had he lost.
    ‘Well,’ he said. He sat straight, gave a firm nod. ‘Good. I appreciate your cooperation. And I . . . apologise if perhaps I seemed a little – ’ he rolled a hand ‘ – upset. Before.’
    ‘Not at all, Mr Curtice. You have every right to be upset. As a parent myself, I can fully appreciate the distress you must be feeling.’
    ‘Yes. Well. Thank you.’
    ‘And of course,’ Ms Bridgwater added, ‘there is the pressure of your work.’
    ‘My work?’
    Come now, the head teacher did not say. ‘The case, Mr Curtice. The Forbes case.’
    ‘Oh. I see.’
    ‘Forgive me for mentioning it but, well.’ Ms Bridgwater pinched a smile. ‘I saw you on the news. You’re quite the local celebrity.’
    Leo fumbled a laugh. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.’
    ‘There is no need for modesty, Mr Curtice. And besides . . .’ The head teacher’s smile turned gluttonous. ‘Doing what I do,’ she said, ‘being in the position that I am, I cannot help but take an interest in these matters.’ She raised her arms from her lap and settled them on the edge of her desk.
    Leo, this time, returned a frown. ‘Ms Bridgwater. You appreciate, surely, that I cannot discuss—’
    ‘Oh, please don’t misunderstand me, Mr Curtice. I wouldn’t dream of putting you on the spot. My interest is not so much in the case itself. It is, rather, in . . . the boy. The accused.’
    Leo made to stand. ‘I’m sorry but I’m really not comfortable . . .’
    The head teacher leant across the desk, reached an apologetic hand towards Leo. ‘I thought perhaps I might help. That’s all. I thought I might offer you some information – not the other way round.’
    Leo drooped into his chair. ‘Me?’
    The head teacher tipped her head. ‘The boy,’ she said and, perhaps noticing Leo stiffen, quickly raised a palm. ‘I know, I know – his identity has not been disclosed. But this is a small town, Mr Curtice. There is a limited number of secondary schools and a very active branch of the National Association of Head Teachers. We talk, just as you talk, I’m sure, with your fellow professionals.’ Again Ms Bridgwater smiled.
    ‘Well, naturally, but—’
    ‘The boy. The accused. If it is whom I – we – suspect it is – ’ the head