Page 40

‘Mrs Dudley tells lies. And Mr Cockrun. They’re both liars. They’ll put me in care and then no one will believe me.’

‘Teachers don’t make those decisions—’

Suddenly the curtain is pulled back, and a tall, tired doctor stands before us, looking sallow under the bright strip-lighting.

‘Still awake, Pauly?’ the doctor asks.

‘Well, if Iwasasleep,’ Pauly points out, ‘you would have just woken me up.’

The doctor gives a nod, too shattered to challenge the backchat, and asks me, ‘Are you the social worker?’

‘Yes. I’m Kate Noble.’

‘Ah,’ says the doctor, as if it all makes sense. Obviously he hadn’t placed me as Pauly’s mother. ‘So, Pauly. Are you going to tell me what happened?’

‘I fell,’ says Pauly.

‘No you didn’t, Pauly,’ I say. ‘You were fighting in the playground—’

Pauly shoots me a warning glance. ‘Ifell.’

‘But your teacher said—’

‘She wasn’t there,’ Pauly snaps. ‘How would she know? I told you, she lies about everything.’

The doctor checks his watch. ‘We’ll have the X-ray back soon. Shouldn’t be long.’

A wave of tiredness envelopes me. I desperately want to crawl into one of the hospital beds and go to sleep. But of course, all the beds are full.

Stifling a yawn, I remember I have a nine o’clock visit booked in tomorrow. Who? Who is it? Can I shuffle it around?

Tom Kinnock.

Nice and straightforward. Shake hands with the mother, check she’s settling in okay, then close up the file.

But I’ll have to move that appointment.

Pauly’s notes need to be written up first thing.

Lizzie

Most walk-in clinics have a two-hour wait. Three at worst. We’ve been at this one nearly four hours and our name has only just been called.

Four hoursfor a five-minute appointment.

‘So, what seems to be the problem?’ The nurse is cuddly, with feathered, bleached-blonde hair, grey at the roots. There are sandwich crumbs around her mouth. Three empty coffee cups tell me she’s working overtime, probably unplanned.

We’re not seeing a doctor because there aren’t any – the walk-in clinic is run by nurses at night-time.

‘I think Tom had a nosebleed,’ I tell her. ‘There was alotof blood. See?’ I show her the dressing gown, which I’d bundled into a bag-for-life.

The nurse frowns, rectangular glasses sliding down her nose. ‘It’s okay. I don’t need to see. You can put that away.’

‘He had a seizure not long ago,’ I say, re-bagging the dressing gown. ‘We’re still waiting for the outcome of some reports. If you could just check his medical records—’

‘We don’t keep medical records here,’ says the nurse. ‘The whole system needs updating. I can only treat what I see. Has he had a nosebleed in the last four hours?’

‘I think so. You really can’t seeanyof his medical records? He had a seizure. This may be related.’