Joyce blinked. Aaron said, ‘Ow.’ Her grip on him must have tightened.

‘What are you on about?’ she snapped.

‘You know what I’m on about.’

‘No. I don’t.’ She released Aaron. ‘If this is another one of your insane accusations, you’d better brace yourself. You’re on thin ice, Ms Ayres.’

She left just as Linda arrived; they exchanged a polite greeting on the doorstep. Then Linda entertained Aaron while I managed the other kids. I was able to get through roll call without any major hiccups—though it pained me that Amber wasn’t there to answer her name. Beth had left a message on my phone that morning, crisp and cold and very brief: ‘This is Beth Meyer. I’m calling to let you know Amber won’t be returning to school.’ Click.

We sang our welcome song, then rushed through the announcements before Aaron could unleash one of his tantrums. As soon as we’d finished, I launched straight into Old Pig, promising we would make papier-mache pigs afterwards. Aaron, I said, would be showing us how. A papier-mache pig wasn’t just busywork—we would count egg-carton cups and measure out water. And as an added benefit, it would make Aaron happy. A happy Aaron was a bearable Aaron.

Thanks to the pigs, I was hoping we might have a good day. But then the parent helpers arrived and everything fell apart.

Pat and Kate were early. I saw them through the window, chatting together. Dixie soon joined them. But as I went to wave them inside, I spotted someone else bustling across the playground. He was hard to miss in his feathered hat.

Howard had warned me the previous night. ‘Mitch won’t let it go,’ he’d said in a voice sapped of energy. ‘He kept on and on about Joyce working in the canteen. I’m tempted to ban the whole lot of them, but I think that would create more problems than it solves.’ Before I could disagree, he added, ‘Just give him a whirl. We can say he blew it. Use your professional opinion.’

In other words, Howard was delegating; I was the one who would have to get rid of Mitch McCall.

Kate was still sheltering under the flowering gum. When she caught sight of Mitch, her jaw dropped. Her eyebrows climbed her forehead. Then she stormed over to where I was waiting.

‘You can’t be serious,’ she said. ‘That man’s a criminal. He shouldn’t be allowed in here.’

‘He’s got a working-with-children clearance.’

‘He’s unhinged.’ She looked genuinely horrified.

‘Kate, if he’s no good, he won’t be coming back.’

‘Tell him to leave.’ Her tone was imperious.

‘I can’t do that.’

She promptly charged inside. Pat followed her, nearly knocking me down as she brushed past. Dixie hesitated, looking lost.

Then Mitch reached us, all gleaming false teeth and sparkling tinsel. ‘Mitch McCall, reporting for duty,’ he said.