by Helen Watts
So when she arrived at school on Monday morning, with her usual school bag slung over her right shoulder and her canvas bag slung over her left, she headed straight for her locker, planning on stowing away the artefacts until her history lesson after lunch.
Kelly’s locker was at the end of the corridor along from her tutor room. Her morning bus always got her to school with plenty of time to spare, so it was usually quiet by the lockers when Kelly arrived. But not that morning. Leaning against the wall, one foot casually up behind her where it had already left a muddy smear on the fresh paintwork, was Charlotte, texting someone on her mobile phone. As always, Leanne was at her side.
‘Well, look who it is!’ Charlotte chanted, as she glanced up and saw Kelly approaching. ‘If it isn’t Miss Smart Arse who owns a real car with four wheels. That was what she said, wasn’t it, Leanne?’
Leanne remained silent, looking away. Charlotte pulled herself upright and took a step closer to Kelly.
‘So tell me, Traveller girl, how many horse power does your precious car have?’
‘Oh, ha ha. Very funny,’ said Kelly, rolling her eyes. She stepped sideways to make for her locker, but Charlotte shot out her hand and grabbed Kelly by the arm.
‘What’s in the bag?’
Kelly looked down at Charlotte’s hand and then back up to meet the half-closed, sneering eyes.
‘D’ya mind? I need to get to my locker.’
‘Yeah, I do mind, actually. You didn’t answer my question, pikey. I said, what’s in the bag?’
‘Nothing that you would be interested in, believe me.’ Kelly shook her arm to escape Charlotte’s grip. Charlotte loosened her fingers, but only so that she could grab the strap of the canvas bag instead.
‘Let go!’ muttered Kelly through gritted teeth, her nose just a few centimetres from Charlotte’s.
‘Or what?’ sneered Charlotte, rocking her head from side to side in a taunting swagger. ‘You’ll put a Gypsy curse on me?’
Kelly felt the blood rush to her head. With both hands she shoved Charlotte backwards, sending her crashing into the lockers.
‘You bitch!’ screamed Charlotte, heaving her heavy body back up and launching herself at Kelly, grabbing a fistful of her hair as she did so.
‘Argh!’ Pain shot through Kelly’s scalp. Desperate to break free, she bent over and span herself round, dragging Charlotte downwards with her. As she did so, her school bag slipped from her shoulder onto the floor with a thud, while the canvas bag on its long straps swung round her body like a pendulum and caught Charlotte on the side of the head. Charlotte slumped in a daze to the floor, and the bag fell to the ground, spewing its contents across the carpet towards Leanne who, unsure how to react, had remained frozen to the spot.
As Charlotte gave a piercing wail, Kelly scrambled across the floor on her hands and knees, desperate to return the spilled contents to the bag.
‘Look what you’ve done!’ she sobbed, as she discovered that the stone, which had been thrown against the skirting board, had split and that the cup was even more dented than before.
‘Look what I’ve done?’ screamed Charlotte. ‘Look what you’ve done to my head!’ Kelly looked up and was, despite her anger, shocked to see that blood was oozing between the fingers of the hand which Charlotte held clamped to the side of her forehead.
‘What’s going on here?’ It was Mr Walker, who had heard the disturbance and had come rushing out of his room. ‘Leanne, don’t just stand there! Run and fetch Mrs Letterman. Tell her to bring the First Aid kit. Kelly, go and wait outside the head’s office. And you can leave those things where they are,’ he shouted, looking at the strange collection of items that Kelly had gathered into her lap and was madly trying to stuff into her bag.
Kelly was fighting back tears. She hadn’t started anything, and she hadn’t intended to hurt Charlotte, yet Mr Walker wasn’t even giving her a chance to explain. Reluctantly, she got to her feet and sloped off down the corridor towards the stairs.
She had been sitting outside the head’s office for a good fifteen minutes before Mr Walker appeared, carrying her school bag.
‘Sir, I can explain,’ stammered Kelly.
Mr Walker just held up his hand. ‘Save it for the head. Come on, I’ll take you in now.’
Kelly had never been inside the head’s office before. It was much smaller than she expected, and smelled vaguely of over-ripe bananas. The headteacher, Mr Cole, gestured to a chair and told Kelly to sit down.
‘Right, Miss Hearn,’ he began. ‘Mr Walker has already explained what happened, over the phone. There was a witness, I understand.’
Kelly nodded, a lump forming in her throat, making it impossible for her to speak.
‘I accept that you may not have started this incident but we take any form of fighting very seriously here at The Shakespeare Academy, and this particular fight has resulted in someone getting badly hurt. So I have no choice but to put you on a short-term suspension while we get to the bottom of it. That means I need to phone your parents and ask them to come into school to see me.’
Kelly found her voice and snorted, ‘Good luck with that, sir!’
Mr Walker interjected, ‘Kelly comes from a Traveller family, Mr Cole, and while her parents have agreed to her coming here, they’re not too comfortable about coming into school themselves.’
‘All right. Then I am more than happy to speak to your parents by telephone, Kelly. Will someone be there now, if I ring them?’
‘Yes. My mum’ll be there,’ she mumbled, looking down at her lap.
Kelly listened while Mr Cole calmly explained to her mother who he was and what had happened. She knew how her mum would react—defensively. That was her style: refuse to accept any criticism of her offspring in public, then tear a strip off them in private. Kelly couldn’t imagine that this phone call was going to do anything but make matters worse and she looked across to Mr Walker, with a hopeless, pleading expression. Mr Walker smiled lightly, trying to offer some silent encouragement.
It didn’t start well. Even from the other side of the desk, Kelly could hear her mum’s raised voice, ranting down the other end of the phone. But Mr Cole must have dealt with more than his fair share of angry parents, because he seemed to know just how to handle Mrs Candy Hearn. He let her have her say, and blow off some steam and then, to Kelly’s surprise, began to sympathise with her. He understood, Mr Cole said, how difficult it was for Kelly. He knew that other students—and especially Charlotte Kennedy—had given her a hard time and he had received very positive reports about the way Kelly had handled herself throughout her first year. He assured Kelly’s mum that Charlotte would face some serious sanctions for her bullying behaviour and for inciting this particular incident.
Kelly could hear that her mum had gone quiet. Blimey, she thought. He’s winning her over. It was now her turn to give Mr Walker a little reassuring smile.
Then Mr Cole outlined his conclusion. ‘It’s out of my hands, Mrs Hearn,’ he explained. ‘Whether or not Kelly was to blame for the fight, she’s caused physical injury and school policy states that I have to give her a fixed-term exclusion. That gives me time to speak with all the students and families involved, to let everyone have their say, and to ensure that we make a fair assessment on the cause of the incident.’
He explained that Kelly would need to be collected straight away and was to stay at home the next day, too. When she returned to school on Wednesday morning, she would be required to submit a five-hundred-word essay on how to resolve conflict without resorting to physicality.
Mum obviously agreed, because Mr Cole thanked her and hung up, then directed his attention towards Kelly again. ‘Your mother is on her way. You can wait for her in reception. I’m sure I don’t need to repeat what I told her. Are you clear about what’s happening now?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Now I don’t expect to see you in my office again, Kelly Hearn. Not unless you’re bringing me good news. And listen. If yo
u experience any kind of bullying in future, we want you to tell a member of staff, okay? Mr Walker is here to help you. We all are. You don’t need to handle it all by yourself.’
‘Thank you,’ whispered Kelly, finding herself having to fight back tears for the second time that morning.
Chapter 17 – September 2012
The good thing about being excluded for standing up to a bully is that your mum and dad go relatively easy on you. Kelly’s mum had done her best to be stern in the car when she drove her home, and had tried to echo Mr Cole’s mantra that violence was never the answer to conflict. But Kelly could tell that she was quietly pleased that Charlotte had finally been exposed and that the school was taking the bullying of her daughter seriously.
Dad didn’t even try to pretend to be mad. He beamed at Kelly with pride. ‘That girl wanted some sense knocking into her. Good on you, Kel. She won’t bother you again.’
‘I didn’t mean to hurt her, though, Dad,’ replied Kelly. ‘And look where it’s got me. An exclusion. That’ll be on my school record. And I’ve got to write that stupid essay.’
Annoyed at herself, and still feeling that she had been punished unfairly, Kelly decided to write the essay that night, get it out of the way, and make the most of her day off. She would console herself with a long walk with Tyson and get some more research done for her history project.
She was particularly keen to go and take some more photographs. She was a bit disappointed with how the shots from the quarry had turned out. The close-ups of the artefacts were okay, but the photo she took on a self-timer, to show the site where they were found, was out of focus and she’d managed to cut Ben off altogether. So the next day she rose early and brought her camera and notebook with her to the breakfast table, ready to head out as soon as she had finished her cereal and toast.
It was a lovely morning, crisp, dry and sunny. Typical of that time of year when summer was just ending and autumn was just around the corner. Perfect for a hike up to the quarry.
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Mum, eyeing the camera. ‘An exclusion is meant to be a punishment, you know, not an excuse to do as you please.’
‘But this is for school work,’ whined Kelly. ‘For my history project.’
‘Well okay. Maybe you can go out later, then. But not until you’ve done some jobs. I think you owe me some help in return for forcing me to speak to that headteacher of yours. I didn’t know what to think when he first came on the phone. And I had to come out specially to pick you up. I was in the middle of icing a cake, too. The icing had gone rock hard by the time I got back. I had to throw it all away and start again.’
Kelly couldn’t argue, so she whizzed through the list of jobs her mum gave her as fast as she could, looking out the window every few minutes to check that the weather was still fine.
It was after twelve by the time she finally stepped outside to pull on her walking boots, ready to head off.
She decided to start with the old lime kilns. To save time, she ate a sandwich on the way, stopping every now and then to feed tiny pieces to Tyson. She seemed to reach the site of the kilns in no time at all, and spent a good half hour photographing and sketching the one that Ben had first showed her.
Tyson found the stick he had been chewing when they were there last, and was blissfully happy, sitting by Kelly’s side as she worked. He seemed to sense that this was a special treat, having Kelly home on a weekday, and was unusually well behaved. He hadn’t even chased the hare that they had spotted bounding across the field as they approached the quarry. But he couldn’t resist springing to his feet and racing up the path when he spied Ben approaching.
Startled, Kelly put down her sketch pad and stood up. ‘What are you doing out here in the middle of the afternoon?’ she asked, surprised to see him. ‘Why aren’t you having lessons? Your mum hasn’t excluded you too, has she?’
‘Excluded me?’ asked Ben.
‘Yes. I got into some trouble at school. They sent me home. Long story. More’s the point, what are you up to? I didn’t expect to see you.’
‘Well, I don’t think I’m in any trouble. My mother wouldn’t let me out of the cottage if I was. When I’m being punished, my parents make me do all the horrible, smelly jobs, like cleaning the drains. Or I have to do the washing up for a week or wash everyone’s underwear. Now that’s bad!’
Kelly giggled. Ben sat down on the log and picked up her sketch pad.
Kelly looked at him expectantly. ‘You still haven’t said why you’re here. You’ve got to admit, it’s a bit weird. Talk about a coincidence. It’s like you knew I’d be here.’
‘Just lucky, I guess. And not so weird. I come here a lot. I don’t have to do school work all day and my mum doesn’t mind me coming out for some fresh air. Call it my physical education!’
Ben gave Kelly a lop-sided smile and a wink and she instantly forgot her next question. Ben patted the log next to him. ‘Come on. Sit down. I’m dying to know what you did that was so bad they sent you home.’
Kelly recounted the fight with Charlotte and her trip to the headteacher’s office. Ben sympathised and, like her mum and dad, seemed to think that Charlotte deserved everything that happened to her.
‘I am glad it’s all come to a head. It’s quite a relief really. But I just can’t help feeling mad at myself, for letting Charlotte get to me. She’s probably laughing at me now, because she knows I’ve been excluded. And besides, I think I’ve lost our first bits of evidence, from the quarry. Mr Walker confiscated the bag of artefacts and my special stone got broken in the fight. It can’t have done the other things any good either, being dropped on the floor.’
‘Why on earth that does that matter?’ asked Ben. ‘There’s plenty more rock in that quarry, and what’s a few dents in an old tin mug?’ He leaned towards Kelly as he spoke, moving his head closer to hers. Then, just as she was about to respond, he quickly withdrew again.
‘Did you bring that boot with you?’ he asked, rather hurriedly.
Kelly felt flustered. ‘No. Well I didn’t expect to see you, did I?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
They fell silent. Kelly filled the awkwardness by finishing her sketch while Ben played tug-of-war with Tyson and his stick.
After a few minutes, Kelly looked at her watch and stood up. ‘I’d better be heading back. Mum was keen to remind me that I’m not on a day’s holiday. I shouldn’t really push my luck and stay out too long.’
‘Is it okay if I walk with you some of the way back?’ asked Ben sheepishly.
‘Yes, of course. I’d like that.’
* * *
The pair chatted happily as they walked back across the fields. Tyson was in his element, having someone new to throw sticks for him, and by the time they had crossed the canal, he was panting heavily.
Kelly headed for the small path that ran through the woods past the well and the old shed.
‘There’s a better path further on down here, you know,’ said Ben. ‘It’s not so overgrown and it ends up by the same railway crossing.’
‘I know,’ Kelly said over her shoulder, as she ploughed on regardless. ‘I came that way earlier, but I just fancy going back this way. I haven’t done it since that day at the well.
Ben reluctantly followed, but the closer they got to the old shed, the more he moaned about how overgrown the path was. ‘This is the worst route, Kelly Hearn,’ he grumbled. ‘Can we please just turn back and go the other way?’
‘You came this way the other day, and I didn’t make you do it then!’ snapped Kelly, increasingly irritated by his whining.
Ben pulled a face but, evidently seeing that Kelly was determined to continue, he shook his head and trudged on.
By the time they arrived at the clearing in front of the shed, the sun had gone in and a chilly wind had started to blow.
Kelly stopped, put Tyson on the lead, and turned to her friend. ‘What do you think this old place used to be? Do you think it was a railway workers’ h
ut? It’s old enough and it’s in the right place. It might have been put there when they first built the railway. If they used to transport some of the lime and limestone by train then there might be some clues inside. Something to connect it to the quarry.’
‘There won’t be any clues,’ said Ben, looking most unhappy. ‘Not any more at any rate.’
‘Have you been inside it, then? You seem so sure.’
‘No, but it’s so ramshackle. I just don’t think it’s worth bothering with.’
‘Aw, come on,’ pleaded Kelly. ‘It’ll be an adventure. And I don’t want to try and get inside on my own. It’s creepy.’
‘You’re right, it’s creepy, and it’s probably unsafe, too. Come on, you said you had to get home.’
‘Oh, Ben, it’s hardly going to take long to look around a mouldy old shed. What on earth’s the matter with you?’
‘Well, if nothing else, I think it’s going to rain and I don’t want to get soaked walking back,’ grumbled Ben. ‘Look at those clouds.’
‘Let’s hurry up, then,’ replied Kelly, more than a little annoyed by Ben’s mood. He seemed to blow from hot to cold. One minute he was happy to help her with her research, the next he clammed up. ‘Look, you promised you’d help me with this project. We’re supposed to be partners. So the least you can do is give me a hand with these.’
There was a pile of old tiles in front of the shed door, placed there deliberately, it seemed, to stop the door from swinging open. There was no bolt on the door and it was skewed very precariously on its hinges.
Kelly let go of Tyson’s lead and began to move the tiles, three or four at a time, to one side. Reluctantly, Ben followed suit, and as soon as the way was clear Kelly took hold of the rusty old door knob and pulled gently. Nothing.
