‘Excuse me, Grace? Are we seriously using language like that around the children?’
‘It was my fault. I kept my eye off my daughter for a minute so if you want to start your witch-hunt then blame me.’
‘It was my fault. I ran off when I wasn’t supposed to,’ Maya remarks, mortified to be the source of this fight. I look down at her. I can see the fire in her eyes.
‘I don’t know why you’re blaming Miss Loveday. You’re not a nice person, are you?’ Maya says firmly.
Oh dear. Never mind me confronting this grown woman, my daughter’s going to do that for me. Carrie stands there glaring at Maya. Don’t give her that sort of look. I think your older son is in a bush over there having an actual whizz.
‘That’s not a kind thing to say. You should apologise to me,’ she tells Maya.
‘No, she shouldn’t. Don’t talk to my daughter like that.’
‘Well, she’s not really your daughter, is she?’
And for a moment, the world shuts itself down. I see red, like a bull, like real raw anger. I want to launch myself at her. I seriously want to beat her and I’ve not done that in my life, like, ever. Not even when my husband died or someone stole my phone in New York or when Lucy used to lock our bedroom door and not let me in while she was trying on all my clothes. But I don’t need to express that rage. Not at all. No no no no no no. Not when my own daughter charges at her teeth first like a crazed warthog. I see incisors sink into Carrie’s hand. Oh. Mother of Crap.
‘Owwww…’ Carrie screams. I pull her back immediately.
‘Maya, nooooo. You can’t do that,’ I say.
‘Well, she did. Control that child.’
‘Carrie, I think she’s drawn blood,’ says Liz, standing by her side, her eyes stern and unforgiving. Another mum rushes to grab tissues from her pocket muttering about jabs. Christ, she’s not a dog. I’m just glad she’s only got baby teeth. I grab Maya and she hides her face in my jacket.
‘Maya… say sorry,’ I say.
‘No,’ she mumbles into me, her voice muted and emotional. I get it completely. The way she’s clamped onto me so tightly. The way her sister also stands there seething with anger. What Carrie said was awful. Maya’s actions were done out of defence, ownership, honour. Don’t ask me to double down.
‘Well, I can see you’re doing an excellent job raising them, Grace.’
Do you want to sink that knife in any deeper, Carrie? At present it feels like a sword slicing through my back, ripping down my spine. The collective glances of other parents are pinned to me.
‘Stop now, Mrs Cantello,’ Miss Loveday says, her voice warbling.
‘I’m actually glad you’re here to witness this, Miss Loveday, before I tell the head.’
‘I didn’t see anything actually?’ the teacher says.
‘Maya Callaghan bit her. That is assault,’ Liz says.
‘I saw a child defend herself.’
‘Excuse me?’ Carrie pretends to cradle her hand with a look like she might be deemed incapacitated for life. I mean, I can amputate that now for you if you want.
‘What I will say is that I saw a parent provoke a child with verbal and discriminatory language. Someone who should know better as the chair of the PTA.’
And then just like that, laughter. The pleasing peals ring around the pavement mixed with the sound of one mum who stands there clapping. Clap away, love. Someone call the burns unit because this lady just got roasted by someone who I think just found her fire. Carrie and Liz stand there with their mouths agape, before storming off, ushering their children away. Oh, the WhatsApp group will be super angry now. Maya’s face is still hidden but I can’t quite tell if the shudders of her body are laughs or cries.
‘Are you OK, Miss Callaghan?’ Miss Loveday says. ‘I’d better go and document this with the head now.’
Her face reads shock but you can also see there’s relief there, that something has energised her. I nod and see her run off to the main school building. Carrie’s words still sit in my heart like a thick, splintery stake. I bend to my knees and try to unwrap Maya from my torso as Cleo grips my arm, tightly.
‘I’m sorry, Mummy. I’m so sorry. She can’t say those sorts of things, she can’t,’ she says, her face damp and ruddy with tears. I wipe them away with my thumb.
‘Will Mrs Cantello have to get a jab? Will Maya go to prison?’ Cleo asks curiously. ‘I saw this thing on the television once where a man ran someone over and they put him in prison and he got beaten up and had to poo in the same room as someone else in a metal toilet.’
Maya flings her hands around my neck. ‘Cleo, no.’ I widen my eyes at her. ‘We might get told off, that’s all. Don’t worry. I’ll fight anyone who tries to take you away from me.’
