forget
her.
She suddenly
remembered the scrap of newspaper she had taken from the office and
retrieved it from her pocket. She had not watched the news or read
the papers around the time that her mother died. She hadn’t wanted
to be faced with it. But time was a healer - wasn’t that how the
saying went? Maybe now she was ready.
She straightened out
the crumpled paper and was greeted by the monochrome image of the
car crash. Debris from her mother’s vehicle littered the street.
Police cars and ambulances were parked up nearby. There didn’t need
to be a picture of Audrey’s lifeless body because Felicity could
see it in her head. She could see the blood covering her mother’s
pale skin. She could see her vacant eyes staring
upwards.
The image made her
feel nauseas, so she read the article itself instead. It didn’t
tell her anything she didn’t already know. A tragic accident, the
vehicle spun out of control, a mystery... various theories went
that she had swerved to avoid a deer or fallen asleep at the wheel.
The police had said all of these things to Felicity when they had
turned up on her doorstep the next day.
It had been a
Saturday. Felicity had thought that her mother had been working in
Birmingham, so was quite surprised to find that the accident had
happened just a few miles from their countryside home. Early that
morning, before she had even got dressed, she had heard the sound
of a car engine and tyres on gravel, followed by that knock on the
door -
The door to the girls’
toilets opened, bringing Felicity unceremoniously back to reality.
She shoved the journal back into her satchel and headed back along
the quiet corridors to her classroom, feeling unsatisfied. She had
hoped that she might have learnt something about her mother from
reading the book. She had thought that perhaps she would have been
able to understand her better somehow. But she had been wrong, and
as she walked she wondered whether or not she would ever truly know
who her mother was.
The hand that grabbed
her roughly by the shoulder caught her by surprise, making her cry
out, and she found herself shoved against the wall of the corridor
and staring into the face of Mr Oakley.
“Miss Lucas,” he said
in a hushed voice. “We didn’t finish our counselling session
today.”
Felicity froze beneath
his gaze, feeling suddenly terrified. “Um, I - I know,” she
stammered. “I can come and see you tomorrow?”
Mr Oakley shook his
head vigorously. “That won’t be good enough, I’m afraid,” he said,
lowering his voice and glancing both ways down the corridor. “You
see, you have something of mine, Miss Lucas, and I need it
back.”
Felicity swallowed,
pressing herself up against the wall in a vain attempt to put more
distance between herself and the counsellor. Her eyes flicked
desperately from side to side in search of aid.
“Just give it back to
me,” Mr Oakley continued. “And I won’t report you to the head
teacher.”
Felicity knew that the
school would not take theft lightly, for that was the crime she had
committed. She had taken something without permission, something
that did not belong to her. But then, it did not belong to Mr
Oakley, either.
“I don’t know what you
mean, sir,” she breathed, her voice shaking.
Mr Oakley’s worried
expression altered into one of anger. “I don’t have time to play
silly, childish games,” he said. “Give me the book you stole from
me. Now.”
“I didn’t steal
anything,” Felicity persisted, holding tightly onto the straps of
her satchel.
“Don’t lie to me.” Mr
Oakley’s face grew more severe. His eyes bored into hers. He moved
his face so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. “You
don’t know what you’re dealing with, little girl.” And then, to
Felicity’s horror, Mr Oakley dropped his eyes to her
satchel.
The bell rang,
distracting him, and Felicity took her chance. She slipped beneath
his arm and ran down the corridor. The
her.
She suddenly
remembered the scrap of newspaper she had taken from the office and
retrieved it from her pocket. She had not watched the news or read
the papers around the time that her mother died. She hadn’t wanted
to be faced with it. But time was a healer - wasn’t that how the
saying went? Maybe now she was ready.
She straightened out
the crumpled paper and was greeted by the monochrome image of the
car crash. Debris from her mother’s vehicle littered the street.
Police cars and ambulances were parked up nearby. There didn’t need
to be a picture of Audrey’s lifeless body because Felicity could
see it in her head. She could see the blood covering her mother’s
pale skin. She could see her vacant eyes staring
upwards.
The image made her
feel nauseas, so she read the article itself instead. It didn’t
tell her anything she didn’t already know. A tragic accident, the
vehicle spun out of control, a mystery... various theories went
that she had swerved to avoid a deer or fallen asleep at the wheel.
The police had said all of these things to Felicity when they had
turned up on her doorstep the next day.
It had been a
Saturday. Felicity had thought that her mother had been working in
Birmingham, so was quite surprised to find that the accident had
happened just a few miles from their countryside home. Early that
morning, before she had even got dressed, she had heard the sound
of a car engine and tyres on gravel, followed by that knock on the
door -
The door to the girls’
toilets opened, bringing Felicity unceremoniously back to reality.
She shoved the journal back into her satchel and headed back along
the quiet corridors to her classroom, feeling unsatisfied. She had
hoped that she might have learnt something about her mother from
reading the book. She had thought that perhaps she would have been
able to understand her better somehow. But she had been wrong, and
as she walked she wondered whether or not she would ever truly know
who her mother was.
The hand that grabbed
her roughly by the shoulder caught her by surprise, making her cry
out, and she found herself shoved against the wall of the corridor
and staring into the face of Mr Oakley.
“Miss Lucas,” he said
in a hushed voice. “We didn’t finish our counselling session
today.”
Felicity froze beneath
his gaze, feeling suddenly terrified. “Um, I - I know,” she
stammered. “I can come and see you tomorrow?”
Mr Oakley shook his
head vigorously. “That won’t be good enough, I’m afraid,” he said,
lowering his voice and glancing both ways down the corridor. “You
see, you have something of mine, Miss Lucas, and I need it
back.”
Felicity swallowed,
pressing herself up against the wall in a vain attempt to put more
distance between herself and the counsellor. Her eyes flicked
desperately from side to side in search of aid.
“Just give it back to
me,” Mr Oakley continued. “And I won’t report you to the head
teacher.”
Felicity knew that the
school would not take theft lightly, for that was the crime she had
committed. She had taken something without permission, something
that did not belong to her. But then, it did not belong to Mr
Oakley, either.
“I don’t know what you
mean, sir,” she breathed, her voice shaking.
Mr Oakley’s worried
expression altered into one of anger. “I don’t have time to play
silly, childish games,” he said. “Give me the book you stole from
me. Now.”
“I didn’t steal
anything,” Felicity persisted, holding tightly onto the straps of
her satchel.
“Don’t lie to me.” Mr
Oakley’s face grew more severe. His eyes bored into hers. He moved
his face so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. “You
don’t know what you’re dealing with, little girl.” And then, to
Felicity’s horror, Mr Oakley dropped his eyes to her
satchel.
The bell rang,
distracting him, and Felicity took her chance. She slipped beneath
his arm and ran down the corridor. The
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