The Classroom: A gripping and terrifying thriller which asks who you can trust in 2018. A. Bird L.
using it.
‘Not every day,’ Kirsten says. ‘But I work, her daddy works. It’s a lifesaver to have this club. To be honest, I could do with a breakfast one too – real wrap-around childcare.’
The teacher nods thoughtfully. Oh, like they’ll ever take the suggestion into account – the staff probably find it a wrench enough already getting out of bed at 7 a.m. Or they imagine some idyll of the whole family breakfasting together, chattering calmly about their day ahead. Not Peppa Pig blaring away as one parent desperately advocates another spoonful of Weetabix while the other sets a world record for showering after the alarm failed to go off. Kirsten wishes they’d make teachers have children before they take up teaching, so they know what it’s really all about.
‘I understand,’ the teacher says. Like hell she does.
But then, looking at her, Kirsten thinks she might understand. Genuinely, somehow. She feels her guard slipping slightly. She gives a little ‘pity me’ shrug. She lets the teacher pat her on the shoulder. And her eyes well with tears. But she blinks them away.
‘Come on, you!’ Kirsten says to Harriet, hoisting her up into a hug. ‘Time to get you home to Daddy!’ He probably won’t be back yet, but it’s a good line to get Harriet moving.
‘Have a lovely evening!’ says Miriam, waving after them.
As they leave the room, Harriet turns back to wave again, so Kirsten does too. Miriam is hugging herself and gazing after them. Their eyes lock. Kirsten shivers a little; she doesn’t know why. Perhaps it’s the intensity of Miriam’s gaze. But still, Kirsten nods to her, and she nods back, lifts a hand a little in a wave. Kirsten’s about to shout ‘Goodbye’, but Harriet pulls her out of the room.
‘Don’t be so rude!’ Kirsten admonishes her.
And Harriet pouts, doesn’t answer, and refuses to budge a further inch. So Kirsten has to drag her from the building and forcibly put her into the car. On the way home, rather than prattling to Kirsten about her day, Harriet stares out of the window. Why did Kirsten have to take it into her head to do some ‘parenting’? Maybe Harriet just wanted some alone time with Mummy, hence the dragging away from the teacher, and Kirsten spoilt it.
Another evening started all wrong.
And it doesn’t get much better. By the time Ian is finally home, dinner is burnt – the period it took to placate Harriet exceeded the optimum cooking length for chops – and half-eaten. Kirsten is trying to salvage the evening. A glass of red wine down, she is curled up on the sofa, head resting against Harriet’s as they read a book.
Ian blusters in, breaking the hard-won calm.
‘Evening, all!’ he says, taking off his coat, and throwing it on a sofa.
Kirsten resists the urge to mutter ‘Finally’. Instead, she nods to the wine on the table.
‘Want some?’ she asks, half-heartedly.
Ian shakes his head. ‘Nah, I’ll leave it to you.’
Kirsten finds implicit criticism that the bottle of wine will soon deplete. But he’s probably right.
Ian plants a kiss on each of their foreheads. Harriet gives him a big hug, which he accepts but only fleetingly returns.
‘I’ll go and rescue the supper, shall I?’ Ian says.
‘We’ve eaten,’ Kirsten tells him.
‘Anything left for me?’ he asks.
She shakes her head. ‘Didn’t think you’d be back in time. There’ll be something else, though. Check the fridge.’
She turns back to the book. She tries to re-create the mood, but it’s gone. Harriet is distracted. Soon, Ian mooches back in with some pitta bread and hummus.
‘How was Harriet’s first day?’ he asks. ‘How was it, sweetie?’
‘We had to draw our holidays,’ she says.
Kirsten shares a look with Ian, seeing his understanding.
The conversation moves on.
‘And how was your day, sweetheart?’ Ian asks Kirsten, rubbing her shoulders. ‘Any tricky patients?’
‘It’s not the patients that are tricky, it’s trying to run a business while trying to raise a child basically single-handedly. That’s tricky!’
‘Hush, Kirsten, not in front of—’
Shit, he’s right, of course. She should have bitten her tongue – every time she snaps like this, she gets one step closer to being her parents, everything turning into an argument. ‘Sorry. Sorry, both of you. Bit stressed.’ Kirsten kisses both of them on the forehead, then sits back on the sofa.
‘But, Ian, do you know, all my competitors offer early morning and late evening appointments?’ she continues. ‘All of them, without exception. I’m never going to make it, working in school hours only.’
‘So go back to the public sector,’ he says, joshing her. It’s a running joke, that she’s gone private, while he remains wedded to the state sector. She rolls her eyes. He grins. ‘Or, more realistically, take on a partner,’ Ian tells her.
He says it like it’s so easy.
‘I can’t afford to take on a partner until there’s a business case, and there won’t be a business case until I make more money!’
‘So we’ll get an au pair, like you said,’ Ian counters.
‘It’s not about an au pair, Ian. It’s about you … being here.’
Sometimes, late at night, they sit on the sofa and listen to each other’s concerns. Address them all rationally, over an equally split bottle of wine. This is not one of those occasions.
Harriet gets up and leaves the room.
‘We’re not really bickering, darling, come back!’ Kirsten calls after her.
‘Sweetie, it’s OK—’ Ian joins in.
Kirsten stands, ready to follow Harriet.
‘It’s not, though, is it?’ Kirsten says. ‘It’s not OK.’
Ian climbs off the sofa and kneels in front of Kirsten.
‘It is OK. You’re just stressed. I’m sorry. I’ll try to get home earlier. OK? Maybe I don’t need to shadow all the teachers running up to the inspection, just the problem ones.’
‘You sure you won’t miss the time with the students?’
The comment hangs in the air. Their shared past, ever present.
‘Kirsten, come on. Let’s try to salvage this. I’ll go and find Harriet. You put your feet up, do work emails, whatever. You deserve it, OK?’
She nods, but she feels her jaw pumping.
Ian stands and kisses her on the top of her head.
Together, they go up the stairs to Harriet’s bedroom. She’s sitting on her bed, talking to her teddy bear. Kirsten gestures not to disturb Harriet so they hover outside the room. Ridiculous, to eavesdrop, but it’s the only way inside Harriet’s head sometimes.
‘You do not do that, no no no!’ shouts Harriet, in a little kiddy shout. ‘Bad bear!’
And then she hits the bear across the face.
Christ. Who has she learnt that from?
Kirsten makes to go into the room, but Ian holds out a hand to stop her.
‘Let me,’ he whispers. ‘You did this afternoon. Go downstairs and put your feet up.’
Kirsten shrugs, lets him go in. But after the bear exchange, she’s not about to leave Ian alone with Harriet. She wants to be sure of what goes