“Oh for God’s sake,” said Madeline. “Oliver’s daddy is a bully. You should see him at the PTA meetings.”

“So I punched Oliver,” said Chloe.

“What?” said Madeline.

“Just a little bit,” said Chloe. She gazed angelically up at them and hugged her teddy. “It didn’t hurt him that much.”

The doorbell rang at the same time as Fred called out, “Just letting you know, I’m still waiting for my glass of water!” and Samantha grabbed hold of Madeline’s arm as she swayed with helpless laughter.

41.

Jane found out about the petition ten minutes before she was due to leave for Madeline’s first book club meeting. She was in the bathroom cleaning her teeth when her mobile rang and Ziggy answered it.

“I’ll get her,” she heard him say. There was a patter of footsteps and he appeared in the bathroom. “It’s my teacher!” he said in an awestruck voice, shoving the phone at her.

“Just a sec,” mumbled Jane, because her mouth was full of toothpaste and water. She held her toothbrush aloft, but Ziggy just pushed the phone into her hand and stepped back fast. “Ziggy!” She fumbled with the phone, nearly dropped it, and then held it up high as she gargled, spat, and wiped her mouth. What now? Ziggy had been quiet and introspective this afternoon after school, but he’d said that Amabella wasn’t even at school today, so it couldn’t be that. Oh God. Had he done something to somebody else?

“Hi, Miss Barnes. Rebecca,” she said to Miss Barnes. She liked Rebecca Barnes. She knew they were around the same age (there had been much excitement among the kids about the fact that Miss Barnes was turning twenty-four), and even though they weren’t exactly friends, she sometimes sensed an unspoken solidarity between the two of them, the natural affinity between two people of the same generation when surrounded by people who were older or younger.

“Hi, Jane,” said Miss Barnes. “I’m sorry, I tried to pick a time when I thought Ziggy would be in bed, but before it got too late—”

“Oh, well, he’s just about to go to bed, actually.” Jane made shoo-shoo motions at Ziggy. He looked aghast and ran off to his bedroom, probably worried that he was about to get into trouble with his teacher for being up late. (When it came to school, Ziggy was such a little rule-follower, always so anxious to please Miss Barnes. That’s why it was so impossible to conceive of him behaving so badly if there was even the slightest danger of being caught. Jane kept coming smack up against these walls of impossibility. Ziggy was just not the sort of kid who did things like this.)

“What’s up?” said Jane.

“Do you want me to call back later?” asked Miss Barnes.

“No, it’s OK. He’s gone off to his room. Has something happened?” She heard the sharpness in her voice. She’d made an appointment to see a psychologist for the following week. It was a cancellation, she was lucky to get it. She’d told Ziggy over and over that he must not lay a finger on Amabella, or any of the other kids, but he just said in a monotone, “I know that, Mummy. I don’t hurt anyone, Mummy,” and then always, after a few moments, “I don’t want to talk about it.” What else could she do? Punish him for something she had no conclusive proof that he’d actually done?

“I just wondered if you knew about this petition that’s circulating,” said Miss Barnes. “I wanted you to hear about it from me.”

“A petition?” said Jane.

“A petition calling for Ziggy’s suspension,” said Miss Barnes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know which parents are behind it, but I just wanted you to know that I’m furious about it, and I know Mrs. Lipmann will be furious too, and it will obviously have no bearing on, well, on anything.”

“You mean people are actually signing it?” said Jane. She grabbed the top of a chair and watched her knuckles turn white. “But we don’t even know for sure—”

“I know,” said Miss Barnes. “I know we don’t! From what I’ve seen, Amabella and Ziggy are friends! So I’m completely baffled. I watch them like a hawk, I really do. Well, I try, but I’ve got twenty-eight kids, two with ADHD, one with learning difficulties, two gifted kids, at least four whose parents think they’re gifted, and one who is so allergic I feel like I should have one hand on the EpiPen at all times and—” Miss Barnes’s voice had become rapid and high-pitched, but she suddenly stopped midsentence and cleared her throat before lowering her voice. “Sorry, Jane, I should not be talking like this to you. It’s unprofessional. I’m just really upset on your behalf—and on Ziggy’s behalf.”

“That’s OK,” said Jane. It was somehow comforting to hear the stress in her voice.

“I have a real soft spot for Ziggy,” said Miss Barnes. “And, I have to say, I have a soft spot for Amabella too. They’re both lovely kids. I mean, I feel like I have pretty good instincts when it comes to kids, so that’s why this whole thing is just so strange, so odd.”

“Yes,” said Jane. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll handle it,” said Miss Barnes. “I promise you we’ll handle it.”

It was perfectly obvious she didn’t know what to do either.

After she hung up, Jane went into Ziggy’s bedroom.

He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his back up against the wall, tears sliding down his face.