‘Of course not.’ I was thinking back. Breaking things down. ‘But we don’t know the roaches were in the lunchbox. They could have been in the hallway.’

Joyce snorted. ‘They came from the lunchbox,’ she said flatly. ‘Mitch McCall is a pig.’

I glanced at Aaron. He was practically on his knees, swinging back and forth like a monkey. He’d hung his head, so I couldn’t see his face.

‘None of the other kids had roaches in their bags,’ his grandmother pointed out. ‘If they had, I would have heard about it from Kate. Or Dixie. Or Pat…’

Pat Haas. I pictured her standing in the hallway, avoiding my eye. She’d been waiting out there just before the cockroach incident.

No, I thought. Don’t be crazy.

‘So? Are you going to do it or not?’ Joyce sounded impatient. ‘Aaron! Stand up straight!’

‘Do what?’ I asked.

‘Write a report. About the roaches.’

My heart sank. If I was going to write a report for Krystal, I couldn’t really refuse Joyce. ‘Have you spoken to Pat about this?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘What?’

‘Have you discussed the cockroaches with Pat Haas?’

‘What do you mean?’ Her voice sharpened.

‘You said if any of the other kids had roaches in their bags, Pat would have told you. I was wondering when you discussed it with her.’

‘Why?’

I shrugged.

‘Just write that report.’ Joyce gave Aaron a little shake, to make him stand on his own two feet. But she didn’t look at him. She was too busy glaring at me. ‘If I don’t have it by Friday, I’ll talk to Howard. And don’t be surprised if you get a call from social services. This whole thing is going on the record.’ She turned on her heel, yanking Aaron across the room as she made for the door. On the threshold she stopped for a moment. ‘And if you really think the roaches are living in here, you should do something about them,’ she snapped. ‘Instead of sitting around with your thumb up your arse.’

She was the last parent to leave, so no one else heard her, thank God.

‘I don’t understand why you’re in such a state,’ Prue drawled later, as we sat in the Royal Hotel. It was her birthday, and some of us had decided to take her out for a drink. ‘Nobody’s going to forcibly spray your classroom.’

‘The whole thing’s weird, though,’ I replied. ‘Really weird. Don’t you think?’

‘I tell you what I think. I think it’s a stroke of luck.’ When I stared at her, she added: ‘For Joyce.’

‘Oh. Right.’