Not that any of the bigger kids were around, that first day. They weren’t due back until the following week.

‘I could get used to this,’ Deb murmured. We were standing together in the shade, squinting at an empty swathe of bleached grass. Beyond that lay a chainlink fence, and beyond that, shimmering in the sun, the northern end of Otford dipped gently towards Main Street.

Our school had once occupied an old wooden building on Main Street that was now Cool Beans Café. The new school was two blocks back from the shops. Six weeks earlier, on arriving in Otford, I’d been struck by the fact that the town seemed to have two of everything: butchers, supermarkets, hairdressers, pharmacies, petrol stations, pubs, primary schools. The Catholic school was on the south side, near the church; it was a two-storey Gothic pile ringed by demountables. Our school was more modest—a cluster of low brick buildings with deep verandas and lots of power points. I was impressed by the carpets, ramps, air conditioning and staff toilets.

The playground was big. Very big.

‘If only we could always have just twenty-four kids rattling around in here,’ said Deb. Eight of the children in front of us belonged to her class, because she’d been given a K/1 composite. The other sixteen were mine. Half of them were crawling over the equipment. Some were playing tag. But a few hung back, and they were the ones who needed watching.

Luke Mignelli was a wisp of a child with silky blond hair. I knew he was overwhelmed because he was hovering by my leg, sucking his thumb. Aaron was also standing on the sidelines. I couldn’t read his expression.

‘Hey, Luke.’ Deb hunkered down suddenly, all smiles and dimples. She was about my age but looked more reassuring. Everything about her said ‘kindy teacher’—especially her chirpy little voice.

‘Do you want to play?’ she asked Luke, who shook his head. I did a quick scan of the grounds and clocked Prue Wilmott, self-described ‘old boot’ and learning resources teacher. With Prue as back-up, I could safely talk to Aaron.

‘Are you going to play with Phoebe, mate?’

Aaron shifted uneasily. ‘Dunno.’

‘You could ask.’

A blank look. I realised he was going to need help. ‘You could go over and say, “Can I be a bird too?” Look how Kayla and Jade are pretending to eat bread. I bet they wouldn’t mind if you joined in.’

‘There’s no bread,’ Aaron mumbled.

‘No, but you can pretend there is.’

He absorbed this for a moment.

‘If you go over and say, “Can I be a bird?”, they might let you eat some of their invisible bread.’ A sudden cry made me look around. Someone had fallen. Was it George? There were three sandy-haired boys in my class: George, Luke and Oscar. I was still trying to sort them out. This one had a very distinctive cowlick.

George, then.