Hamish laughed in his face. ‘You’ve just established their motive for harassing Ms Ayres,’ he said. ‘If you have one iota of proof that she had anything to do with the boy’s disappearance, I’d like to see it now.’ He went on to make oblique and very polite threats about false complaints and malicious prosecution.

By the time I walked out, Hamish had secured two provisional AVOs and a court date. ‘Don’t worry about that abduction business,’ Hamish told me as he opened his car door. ‘They were just trying it on. If they give you any more trouble, call me. Otherwise I’ll see you on Wednesday week.’

But by Wednesday week I’d already been suspended.

It was Howard who did it. He called me into his office on Tuesday morning and announced that I was relieved of my duties until further notice. Allegations had been made, he said. He didn’t tell me what the allegations were or who had made them. Sometimes you can wait six months before you find out.

I didn’t have to wait, though. I already knew. Kate Canning had accused me of assaulting her daughter. Phoebe must have said something. Perhaps I’d left a bruise on her arm. Perhaps Kate had talked to some of the other children in the class—like George, for instance. Pat’s son.

By the weekend I’d started hearing whispers in Foodworks as I waited with my trolley at the checkout. ‘…hurt a child…Canning…Rooney…’ I would look around and see two women carefully avoiding my eye.

Deb was sympathetic. She kept phoning. Kate Canning had overreacted, she said. Joyce Rooney was coaching her. It was all part of Joyce’s campaign against me. ‘I hear she’s taken out an AVO. Is that right?’ Deb asked.

It was. On being served with my AVO, Joyce had applied for a counter order. The prospect of the court date was keeping me up at night—as were the stress and shame. Though Deb and Prue couldn’t have been more supportive, I sensed behind their words of comfort a hint of what they really felt. I’d made a mistake. Not a bad mistake; not a mistake that cancelled out years of competence and dedication. But a mistake nonetheless. I should never have grabbed those girls. There were other ways I could have handled it—with threats or bribes or distractions or at least something more intelligent than physical force. If I hadn’t been so tired and harried and upset,

I would have been a better teacher.

I knew what Prue and Deb thought because I agreed with them. I’d blown it. But that didn’t mean the allegations were justified. Or fair. Or that I should have been arrested and charged with one count of common assault. I still have nightmares about the day Sergeant Ries arrested me. He could barely conceal his satisfaction.