‘I overheard my mum saying once that no one actually wants to be a teacher. She couldn’t think of anything worse,’ says Kiran, Layla’s other son. Layla’s earlier fears suddenly make sense.

Claudia puts her hands on her hips. ‘I’ll have you know that I always wanted to be a teacher. I used to line up my soft toys and take the register and read them books when I was a little girl. Besides, who else is going to put up with you all?’ she says with a cheeky smile to the children.

‘I think your job sounds way cooler,’ says another one of the boys, pointing at me. ‘Do you get to boss people about?’

‘Well, I am the boss, but part of being a good manager is that you don’t boss people about, but you enable staff to—’

‘What’s the point of being a boss if you can’t be bossy?’ says a girl. ‘Do you ever make people cry?’

‘No, never. Or at least not intentionally; there was one time, but it was a big misunderstanding … Does anyone want to know about stationery?’

A hand flies up and Claudia calls on the boy.

‘Do you have one of those pencil sharpeners that you put the pencil in and it makes that grrrrrr sound and it comes out all sharp?’

‘I do, we also sell them.’

‘Wow.’ The whole class looks impressed. ‘Do you have it in your bag?’

‘Sadly not.’

‘Anyone got any more questions?’ asks Claudia over the sighs of disappointment.

‘Are you married?’

‘Um … no.’

‘Do you have a Ferrari?’

‘Do you have a horse? My dad won’t let me get a horse, but I bet you have lots of money, so you have one.’

The children have perked up and they’re no longer waiting to ask their questions and they’re shouting out whatever pops into their head all at the same time and I’m turning this way and that trying to answer them all.

‘How many kids have you got?’

‘Um, none … yet,’ I say, feeling flustered.

‘You better hurry up,’ says a girl at the front. ‘My mum’s always moaning that she’s too old for all this and that she should have had me earlier.’

First Layla and the talk of proposals and now the kids telling me I should have kids … I tug at my blouse; it suddenly feels very warm in here.

‘How old are you, exactly?’ says a boy, squinting and trying to appraise me as if to answer his own question.

‘I’m thirty-five, today, actually.’

There are gasps before they break into a spirited version of ‘Happy Birthday’ that even startles Claudia.

‘What did you get for your birthday, Miss? I got Minecraft Lego.’

‘We’re getting a little off topic here, so I think that it might be time to wrap this up. Good job, Edie. Shall we give her a round of applause?’