Deb sighed, then broke away to greet some of her students. It was Monday morning and we were stationed in the hallway outside our classrooms, waiting for school to start. A steady flow of new arrivals meant that I hadn’t been able to thrash things out properly with Deb. And when Krystal showed up with her son, I had to abandon the subject of missing flowers.

‘Hello, Aaron,’ I said. His scabs weren’t fresh. His face was clean. He looked good.

‘Say hello to Miss Ayres,’ Krystal prompted.

‘Hello, Miss Ayres.’

‘Aaron’s got something to show you.’

‘Really?’ I’d already noticed he was clutching a cardboard box.

‘I made it.’ He spoke so softly I could barely hear him. ‘It’s a pig.’

‘A pig! Wow!’ I was genuinely delighted.

‘He made it with his Poppy,’ said Krystal. ‘Didn’t you Aaron?’

‘Yis.’

‘Can you show me?’ I asked. When he nodded, I flipped open the box and admired the pig. It was a papier-mache ball studded with egg-carton legs, button eyes and sponge ears. Its tail was a twisted pipe cleaner, stuck on with duct tape.

‘This is so good, Aaron.’ Seeing him smile for the first time, I was smitten by guilt. I had to remember he was a child, not an incendiary device. ‘What’s it called?’

‘Lilla.’

‘Well, Lilla’s beautiful.’ I stroked the pig’s back. ‘Would you like me to keep her here for the day, so everyone can see her? You can take her home after school.’

Aaron’s face clouded. He shook his head. Suddenly I remembered: ‘home’ was going to be different that night.

‘We’ll give it to Poppy,’ said Krystal. ‘Poppy will look after it.’ When she reached for the box, Aaron’s bottom lip trembled. It was a danger sign. I knew that.

‘What if I tell everyone in the class about Lilla, and tomorrow we’ll all make a pig?’ I suggested. ‘We’ll read Old Pig, which is a lovely book, and then we’ll make pigs of our own. You can show us how to do it, okay?’

Aaron stared at me, transfixed. Then he nodded.

‘Wow, Aaron!’ Krystal gently plucked the box from her son’s loosening grip. ‘Soon everyone will have a pig, thanks to you!’

‘But not until tomorrow.’ I had to rejig the schedule. ‘Can you hold on till tomorrow?’

He nodded again—and for the rest of the morning he was no trouble at all. Sometimes he even joined in when we sang. Dixie spotted the change at once. ‘Aaron was really listening today,’ she told me. Before I could ask her to lower her voice, she continued, ‘His granny’s gunna be stoked. Can’t wait to tell her.’