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‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It’s perfect.’

Lizzie

We’re early for school today. I’m so determined to be a terrific, organised single parent that I’ve excelled myself.

Tom’s only been here a few weeks. We’re still the new family. Still need to prove ourselves.

Mr Cockrun stands outside the gates when we arrive, scrubbing at some graffiti on the school sign. His rubbery cheeks are red with the effort, hand moving frantically.

I make out some faded spray-paint letters written after Mr Cockrun’s name: CH and then what looks like a faded E and A and another letter so faint as to be nothing but paint speckles.

As Mr Cockrun scrubs the sign clean he notices three approaching schoolgirls. ‘Blazers on properly, please, girls,’ he says. ‘And let’s get the ties nice and straight. If you’re neat and tidy the school is neat and tidy.’

He sounds friendly enough, but the effect on the girls is profound. They hurriedly pluck and pull at their clothing, eyes swishing nervously to the headmaster.

Mr Cockrun nods encouragingly. ‘Let everyone know how proud we are to be Steelfield pupils.’ Then he heads into the school.

I smile at one of the girls. She has red hair, frightened blue eyes and gaps in her teeth. I think she must be ten or eleven.

‘He likes you to look presentable,’ I say.

The girl gives a funny laugh, glancing after the headmaster. ‘Welike to look smart,’ she says. ‘It’s important for the school.’

‘Don’t you like to be a bit casual sometimes? You’re still only children.’

The girl looks deeply uncomfortable. ‘No. Mr Cockrun wants everything at school to be perfect.’ She glances at her friends, who nod in agreement.

‘But no school is perfect,’ I say in surprise. ‘Even if itlooksperfect. Surely there must be things you’d like to improve.’

The girl gives a tight shake of her head. ‘It’s a wonderful place, and we’re lucky to be here.Semper Fortis. Always strong.’

The girl and her friends scurry off into the playground. I watch them, feeling uneasy.

‘Mum,’ says Tom. ‘I don’t want to go today.’

I push aside my anxiety. ‘I know, love. But you’ll be fine.’ I kneel down, pulling him into a hug. ‘You’re amazing. The best little human being I ever met. I know it’s tough starting a new place, but give it a chance, okay?’ Then I whisper, ‘I know the headmaster is a bit … funny.’

Tom nods. Then he strokes the railings. ‘Silver and grey and blue and black.’

Colours again.

Two other mums appear. They’re dressed in clean jeans, coats and silk scarfs, figures snapped back in place after children.

One of them says, ‘What schooldoesn’thave bullying? That’s what I told the headmaster. Just because everyone else is too scared to tell doesn’t mean it’s not happening.’

‘And what did he say?’ the other mother asks.

‘Told me flat out there was nothing going on. That he keeps the Neilson boys in line. “Everything is under control,” he said.’

The second mother leans in closer. ‘Noah told me social services are involved with them.’

I stiffen at the mention of social services.

‘Theo said the older boy was slurring his words in the dinner queue …’

The first mother notices me then. She turns her whole body to block me out, and I see sparrow-like shoulder bones poking through her thin coat.

I feel left out.