‘That’s my mum!’ Phoebe exclaimed. Some of the kids were bouncing around, shrieking with excitement. To settle them I launched into another song. Then I introduced ‘all our lovely helpers’ and explained what was going to happen. I spelled it out very slowly and clearly: who would be reading to whom, where everyone would sit, how long it would take. But Joyce kept interrupting. ‘Why give Aaron to anyone else?’ she said. And: ‘You’re not giving me Phoebe? I’ve known Phoebe all her life.’

She was a menace. When she tucked in shirts and wiped noses, she did it so abruptly that she startled the kids. Instead of asking them, ‘What was that story about?’ or ‘What part did you enjoy the most?’, she’d say, ‘That was a silly book!’ and ‘Stop interrupting me.’ She traded quips with the other women and complained about the noise coming from my end of the classroom. Once she even wandered into the supply cupboard.

The only helper who disapproved of this was Amber’s mum Beth, who had once worked with Joyce at the local council. Relations between them were obviously strained. The other two mothers—Dixie and Kate—seemed smitten with Joyce. Kate Canning was crisp and glossy, with the rigidly conservative façade of someone trying to distance herself from disadvantaged roots. She and Joyce were old friends; they were constantly exchanging little eye-rolls and grimaces. Dixie, Oscar’s mum, was the exact opposite. Dad would have called her ‘rough as guts’. She was loud, grubby and almost as big as Joyce, with a childish enthusiasm that really appealed to the kids.

By the end of the session I’d decided that Beth and Dixie were welcome any time, that Kate was better than nothing and that Joyce was a disaster. When they finally left, I saw Joyce muttering to Dixie and Kate as they glanced in my direction. Afterwards, I spent about ten minutes comforting Luke. ‘Her finger’s too hard,’ he said to me, over and over again. He was talking about Joyce.

Later, at lunch, I told Deb what had happened. ‘It was even worse than I expected. But at least I tried.’ Studying Deb’s plump, freckled face, I picked up a flash of doubt. ‘Or should I give her one more chance? Before I tackle Howard?’

‘Maybe.’ Though Deb looked like a bouncy little teenage cheerleader, she had an amazing grasp of labour relations. ‘You might want to give her fair and reasonable warning before you terminate her. We’re in the public service, remember. And Howard always goes by the book.’

That made sense. ‘So I need to show him I tried to work it out?’

‘Might be safer. Especially with someone like Joyce.’

‘Okay.’

‘How was Aaron during all this? How’s he been today?’