we line up in pairs, hand in hand. Mrs Black, the dinner lady, pokes us into a perfect train. Itâs a ten-minute walk to the canteen, a couple of blocks down from Father OâMalleyâs house. She checks her watch. Looks down the line at Gavin, one shoe slipped off. âCome on, Cinderella, weâre going to be late for the ball.â
Everyone laughs. Everyone calls her Blackbeard because of the dark hairs on her chin.
We file inside a corrugated-iron hut filled with tables and chairs. A gold jug of water and six small glasses are in the centre of each table. Itâs only gold on the outside; inside itâs black.
I join the long queue for dinner. Steak and kidney pie, mashed potato, peas, carrots and gravy. I carry my plate carefully, intending to eat every last scrap. Before I pick up the knife and fork, Gavin is at my ear.
âStupid skinny cow,â he whispers, pulling the jug across the table towards me. It glides, as if on ice, hitting my plate with a crash. The cold water tips, into my dinner, then seeps inside my knickers. I stand up sobbing. I can feel it run down my leg, soaking my socks.
Gavin sings, âRobynâs wet her knickers.â
Blackbeard grabs my wrist and marches me across the canteen towards the kitchen. My shoes squelch as I walk. Everybody stops and laughs.
âClumsy cow,â Blackbeard tells the cook. âOnly gone and soaked herself, hold us all up now.â
I donât speak.
The ladies who served us dinner donât speak either.
Once she goes back into the canteen, they all help me to dry off. One of them smiles then touches my arm.
âYou ate anything, love?â
I shake my head, not feeling hungry any more. âIâll save you something back.â She walks to the other side of the kitchen, her Dr Schollâs flip-flopping against the soles of her feet. The cook hands me a towel and tells me to dry my legs. I take off my socks and she rolls them about in a dry towel.
âIs your underwear wet?â
âNo,â I lie, pushing the towel deep down into my shoes. She hands back my socks. âThere, thatâs the best I can do.â
âThanks,â I say, feeling better.
The lady wearing the Dr Schollâs returns with a plate of food. One scoop of mashed potato sits in the middle of the plate. It hastwo peas for eyes, two small carrots for horns and straight fork tracks make a wide mouth. Dark gravy has been poured over the top for hair.
âRemind you of anybody?â
âDonât know,â I say.
She takes a pair of scissors from the drawer and cuts off tiny ends of her dark hair. She takes a few then pushes them into the potato head, just below the mouth. âRemind you of anyone now?â
I nod, smiling.
Before taking the plate away, she uses the wrong side of a spoon to squash the head down flat.
âBetter get rid of the evidence, eh?â
We laugh together.
She returns with a plate of apple crumble and custard. âFinish putting your shoes on, then tuck in.â
During afternoon play I find Lesley alone with the vanity case. âWhereâs Angela?â I ask.
âInside, reading with our sir. Will you mind this while I go to the toilet?â She hands me the vanity case.
âMe?â I reply, trying not to sound too excited.
The contents of the case are lined up neatly on the playground floor, ready for a game. I sit down, cross-legged on the cold concrete, and stare. Unsure where to begin, I take too long thinking and the bell rings.
When we get back to class we are given handwriting practice. We are not allowed to talk. I donât look at Lesley or Angela. I grip the case between my ankles.
The final bell rings and I grab my duffel coat then leg it to the main gate. I donât cross with the lollipop man. I head towards a quiet spot further up. For a second I think about going back. TellAngela I forgot the case was in my hand. Say sorry. Then I realize she