In Loco Parentis by Nigel Bird

degrees.
    Zlatan’s legs stretch out on the floor. Because he’s the only one talking it sounds like he’s raising his voice.
    Carpenter turns to deal with him, the mole on his face moving with the twitch of his cheek.
    He stumbles over Zlatan’s shoes. There’s a burst of laughter from all of the other children.
    The laughter should diffuse the tension, but it doesn’t.
    Zlatan opens his mouth and looks over to me.
    I want to move. Get over and make him safe.
    Carpenter raises his arm. Brings it down in an arc and sends his hand in Zlatan’s direction.
    I hear a sharp, crisp clap.
    Zlatan falls back and puts his arms down to stop himself falling all the way. Soon as he can he rights himself. Crosses his legs and folds his arms like he knows the good kids do. Doesn’t even touch his face, the poor kid. Just lets the tears well up in his eyes and spill onto the floor.
    It’s like Carpenter’s performed some magic. Everything’s silent. All’s still. The piano starts and there’s the counting in, the one, two, three and the classes sing as if they’re performing in a cathedral.
    When the song’s over, the next class arrives for their lesson.
    We stand, line up and leave the hall.
    The weather outside is fine.
    The line follows me like it’s not done since the first day, in perfect formation.
    Aurora has my hand. She looks up at me and her always pale skin seems bleached of colour. “That man hit Zlatan.” It’s the longest sentence I’ve heard from her. I should be excited. Instead I want to put it back.
    â€œYou carry on Aurora,” I tell her, letting go of her hand and pointing the way I want her to go.
    I peel away from my children and walk over to Daphne.
    Her eyes are down and she’s pretending to look for something in her hand-bag, her equivalent of burying her head in the sand.
    No way that’s going to work.
    â€œDid you see it?” I ask her.
    She squints at me like she doesn’t understand the question, but I see the panic in her eyes.
    â€œDid you see what happened?”
    She just looks more worried.
    There’s a battle inside her head, I know. It’s her good Christian self struggling against her unwillingness to rock this or any boat.
    â€œHe just hit one of my children.” I didn’t want to put the words there in case it’s me that was seeing things, but it’s out and there’s no going back. “Did you see it?”
    She cups her hands over her mouth as if keeping it quiet will make it go away. “Yes,” she says and that’s the moment that I know what I have to do.

the office
    In his office, Alistair just sits listening. It would be easy to confuse him with a wise man until the point he opens his mouth. “Mmm.” He rubs his chin like some kind of sage. All he needs is a beard.
    I look at him, despising the green jumper he wears every day. Wonder if he’s got spares at home or whether it’s just the one.
    â€œSo what are you going to do?”
    â€œIt’s serious. Leave it with me and I’ll give it some thought.”
    Not good enough. No way I’m leaving the room without him taking action.
    â€œWe need to tell the parents.” Course we do. All it would take is one parent to pass on the news and all hell would descend on Hampstead. That’s what I tell him.
    â€œLeave it with me,” he says again. This time the furrows of his brow wrinkle up like someone’s ploughed his head. They’re the furrows that tell me he means what he says. “You need to get back to your class.”
    I look at my watch. Ten minutes I’ve been here. Ten wasted minutes of my life. “Mildred’s watching them,” I say.
    â€œMildred has her own class to look after. I told you I’ll think about it.”
    â€œYou need to inform the parents.”
    Alistair stands and opens the door.
    â€œAnd you need to look after your