Emma

14: Laura

I was busy preparing a sandwich when the phone rang for the first time that day. In my rush to reach it, I ended up dropping a slice of bread, butter side down, on the floor and nearly smashing the plate I was holding.

"Hello?" I gasped for air as I grabbed the receiver and awaited a reply. "Laura Rayne, speaking."

"Ah, Mrs Rayne," a female voice spoke. Come on, come on, I urged. Just tell me – don't make me wait any longer. Just let me know that my dog is okay, please. "This is Mrs Kirk, Emma's school teacher, speaking."

"Oh." The disappointment must have been obvious in my voice. That's good – no news is good news, right? I tried hard to convince myself with little success. If he isn't found yet, that means he must still be around, otherwise they'd have found his body by the road. So he'll be okay.

"Mrs Rayne?" I had momentarily forgotten about the person on the end of the line.

"Yes, I'm still here." There was an edge to my voice that I hadn't intended to use. "You can call me Laura," I added, trying to use the calm tone of voice expected of a parent addressing a teacher.

"So, um, Laura, I need to talk to you about Emma."

"Okay." Oh no, please don't let something bad have come about again. Not now. I can't deal with it now. "What's happened this time?"

The woman let out a loud laugh, as if I had asked something ridiculous. "What's happened? Well, I tell you what's happened; your child has excelled in class!"

"Oh," I repeated, lost for words. "What do you mean?"

"She only went through some of the hardest maths, English and Science sheets we had available in one day! And, may I add, with few errors." Here she paused for a moment, allowing me to take in this overload of information. "She is doing the work expected of a child in the class above her and she is already doing it better than half of those students!"

"I never knew," I mumbled, dumfounded again. "She's always seemed very bright, but I didn't expect quite so much of her."

"Well, I was surprised too, Laura," she continued. "It is not usual for a child who has been in Emma's situation to excel at such a young age. In fact, it is something I have never witnessed before!"

"Thank you for letting me know," I said, in a way that I hoped gave the message out that I really needed to go.

"And I'm afraid that's not all." I should've known it was all too good to last – she had broken the good news before the bad. "I thought you ought to know that... how do I put it? Let's just say I have some concerns for your daughter."

"'Right." I settled down in an armchair with the phone, sensing already that this was going to be a longer conversation than I had hoped for. And I was going to hear things that I didn't want to know.

"Emma doesn't seem to be making any friends," Mrs Kirk began. "I've been monitoring her at break times and she always spends them along."

"Surely that's what is expected of a child in their first week of school," I defended.

"Perhaps that in itself would be normal," she agreed. "But that's not all that I'm worried about. I have tried buddying her up with other children. I have even forced children - kids who I know would love to be friends with her – to sit with her, but each time I have been unsuccessful. The thing is, Emma doesn't seem to want any friends. She sits in the far corner of the playground, as far away from the other children as possible, talking to herself and seeming perfectly happy about the fact that she has absolutely no friends. Mrs Rayne – I mean Laura – from my many years of teaching experience, I can tell you that this is not normal behaviour. In fact, this is very concerning behaviour."

I nibbled on the edge of my lip, anxiously muttering an "Okay."

"I'm afraid I will have to be going now," Mrs Kirk continued. "But I think it would be wise for you to have a word with Emma today, something about the importance of friends, because she needs to be interacting more with young people her age. I'm sure it would really aid her in her development."

"Thank you for sparing your time to tell me this," I said. "I appreciate your efforts."

"I think it's simply my duty, Laura," she replied, skirting around the praise. "Have a good day."

She put down the receiver. I sat down, on the settee, for at least five minutes, still clutching the phone, her words ringing in my ears. Then I decided it was time to take the bull by the horns and went to have this "chat" with Emma.

                                                                                                   * * *

"Mummy? What should you do if someone tells you to do something bad?"

I was halfway through my conversation with Emma when she threw this curveball at me. We had covered the whole "making friends" issue and come to the conclusion that she would try to make at least one friend on Monday (this was all after she had informed me that she hadn't been spending break times by herself – she had been with "Tod"). Also, I had covered some ways of making friends with people – "a smile is always a good start." Then she had asked me "Can I tell you anything?" to which, of course, I had replied "yes." And now this.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, trying to hide the worry building up in my chest again.

"If someone tells you to do bad things, what do you do?"

"I...I don't know love." I struggled to come up with a reply that wasn't "Why the heck are you asking this?" or "Who asked you to do something?". Instead, I blurted out (which was equally bad) "Has someone made you do something you didn't want to do?"

"No," she said, too quickly for my liking. This was even more concerning than the phone call, but I decided not to press the issue and instead to give her some advice which I prayed would be helpful.

"Emma, if someone tells you to do something you're uncomfortable with, you have to tell someone – me, your dad, Mrs Kirk or even Luke. Anyone."

"What if they do something worse if you don't do the bad thing?" she asked.

"Then you really, really have to get help from someone," I instructed, trying hard to keep a lid on my emotions. To say I was worried would be an understatement. I felt as if I needed to contact somebody – perhaps Amanda – to talk the issue through. It was probably not as bad as it sounded; probably just some kid daring Emma to nick a sweet from the teacher's desk or something equally risky, but this was not a conversation I had ever wanted to have with my children. On the bright side, at least she was telling me all this. If she had the courage to confide in me, perhaps she could trust me enough to spill the whole truth.

"What has happened?" I pushed.

"Nothing."

"Seriously, Emma, you can tell me – what happened?"

"Nothing," she assured me again, more convincingly this time. "Nothing at all – I just wanted to know in case it ever happened."

"Are you sure?" The conversation had changed again, as suddenly as before, and I still wasn't quite buying it.

"Yup!" she flashed a cheeky grin at me and I relaxed again. She must have just been curious I mused. I should have known.

"Emma!" I caught her arm before she could leave me. "You know you can talk to me anytime, about anything, don't you?"

"I do." She ran off.