The next morning Rose delayed opening the shop and both she and Daisy took the girls to school. Rose left Betsy with Daisy and the other girls in the playground. The bell for going-in time hadn’t rung yet and she wanted to find Betsy’s teacher, Miss Walton, before it did. She walked through the building to Miss Walton’s classroom. The teacher was standing with her back to the door writing something on the blackboard. Without knocking, Rose opened the door and said, ‘Miss Walton?’ with a steely voice.

The woman turned, her fat, red-cheeked face expressing disapproval. ‘Why, Mrs O’Leary,’ she said with a stiff, oily smile. ‘I didn’t hear you knock?’

‘That is because I didn’t.’

Agnes Walton opened her mouth to say something, saw the glint in Rose’s eyes, and shut it again.

‘I have come to see you about an incident in the playground yesterday afternoon between Dora Finnigan and Betsy.’

‘Oh aye. Well, don’t worry about it, Mrs O’Leary. I gave Betsy a little talking-to and I’m sure she won’t make the same mistake again.’

‘Mistake?’ Rose said icily.

‘Betsy hit Dora or didn’t she tell you that?’

‘Yes, she did, and I commended her for it.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Dora and her companions are twice the size of my daughter and they were intimidating her by following her around and making vile comments and accusations, Miss Walton. Were you aware of that?’

The teacher was becoming flustered. She usually adopted a superior attitude with the parents of the children in her care, but she sensed Mrs O’Leary wouldn’t tolerate that. Of course, if half the rumours about her were true she had nothing to be high and mighty about. ‘Well, no, but if Betsy struck the other girl—’

‘So you didn’t investigate the matter? Why was that?’

‘I would have thought that is obvious.’

‘Not to me.’

‘Well, like I said, Betsy hit out—’

‘In desperation, yes. Dora Finnigan is a bully, Miss Walton, in case you don’t know. A nasty, spiteful little bully who uses words to wound and hurt, and I shall expect you to tell her to apologize to Betsy today for her behaviour. An apology from you to my daughter for your handling of this affair wouldn’t go amiss either.’

‘I – But – How dare you—’

The woman was spluttering and gasping now, her fat face beetroot red, but Rose in contrast was cool and composed. ‘Oh, I dare, Miss Walton. I certainly dare. And let me tell you this, if this matter is not sorted out to my satisfaction I shall take it further. First to the headmaster, and then to the school board if necessary. Do you understand me? Dora Finnigan made inflammatory accusations against me to my young daughter and I shall involve whoever I need to in order to get this resolved.’