The Nurse(6)

After a lingering inspection of me, Mrs Mangan addressed my mother. ‘Mrs McColl,’ she said, ‘this is Detective Inspector Hynes. He’d like to have a word with Lissa about what happened.’

Still wrapped in my mother’s arms, I peered at the man. He didn’t look remotely like any detective I’d seen during afternoons spent watching TV with my mother. She had a fondness for the older series though and it was mostly Columbo or Kojak we watched. The detective who was looking at me with sharp eyes was neither scruffily dressed nor was he sucking on a lollipop.

‘Why don’t we all sit down?’ Mrs Mangan said, walking around the desk with quick determination and taking her seat as if she was afraid the detective would usurp her position.

My mother shepherded me to one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk, taking the one beside me without once releasing her hold. It wasn’t comfortable. It did, however, allow me to hide my face in her shoulder, a position I thought might come in handy should any of the questions become difficult. Not that I expected them to. There would have been little expectation that I could murder a classmate. I was finding it hard to believe myself.

Only by reminding myself that the end… freedom from Jemma’s malign influence on my classmates and from their bullying… allowed me to justify what I had done.

From the shelter of my mother’s arms, I watched the detective cross to where spare chairs were stacked one on top of the other in a corner of the office. He struggled to loosen the top one, the stack rattling noisily as he eventually yanked it free. I half-expected him to swing it around, straddle the seat, and rest his arms along the back of it. It’s what Kojak would have done. Columbo would have stayed on his feet, shuffling, looking as if he hadn’t a clue. But that was on TV, this was real life… and I don’t think any of them had a clue.

Hynes drew the chair closer to where I sat. Almost within touching distance. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and fixed his eyes on what he could see of my face.

‘Hi, Lissa, my name is Aaron, I’m a policeman.’

It was my mother who answered, her face knotted in anxiety as it always was when faced with things she didn’t understand. ‘Why are the police involved?’ Her eyes flicked from the officer to the head teacher as her arms tightened painfully around me. ‘Can someone please explain?’

Mrs Mangan opened and shut her mouth before looking across at the detective. His nod was almost imperceptible, hers, in return, more emphatic. ‘I’m afraid’ – she angled her body to face our mother and daughter tableau vivant – ‘Jemma’s injury was more serious. She didn’t make it.’

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to portray the correct expression… the confused shock that would be the natural reaction for someone of my years. I was afraid relief and a certain measure of satisfaction at a job well done might leak into my face. For safety, I turned my face away and buried it in my mother’s chest. When she spoke, I could feel the echo of her words reverberating through her body. ‘Didn’t make it?’ I could feel her shocked confusion. ‘Are you saying Jemma is dead?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

It seemed a good time to speak. Lifting my head, I looked first at Mrs Mangan, then at the policeman, slightly taken aback to find his eyes fixed unblinkingly on me. ‘But she just fell, she just cut herself like I did.’ I raised my trophy arm again. ‘How can she be dead?’ The words were out before I thought to stutter or stumble, and I was immediately worried I sounded too calm. To make up for it, I wiped a hand across my eyes and nose and snuffled.

Hynes sat back on his seat and laced his fingers together. ‘Your friend, Marie, has told us what happened.’

I wanted to argue with him. Marie wasn’t my friend. She hadn’t been Jemma’s either… at least not in the first circle of friendship, not until recently. I wondered what Marie had said. She’d screamed… I remembered that.

The detective spoke gently. ‘We’d like you to tell us, in your own words, what happened. Is that okay?’

My mother’s grip tightened. ‘Is this necessary? Lissa is a child. She’s been injured. She should be at home, not being interrogated.’

Hynes unlaced his fingers and held his hands out. ‘If Lissa is feeling up to it, it’s better to get her story out while it’s fresh in her mind. Better for her to talk about it too.’

My story. Did that imply he thought it was going to be fabricated, or was I overthinking things, letting the stress get to me.

‘Well, it’s up to Lissa,’ my mother said.

Hynes nodded. ‘Is it okay with you, Lissa? To tell me what happened?’

What happened… better. I’d rehearsed this moment carefully, had practised the words I would say. It was all going to plan except for one shocking truth… I’d never really expected to do it.

‘I was in the p-playground,’ I said, keeping my voice to a barely audible whisper. Hynes had to lean forward again to be able to hear. ‘The sun was bright, and I saw something shining in the b-bushes the other side of the railing. I was able to reach it, it was a pretty bottle.’ I stopped, allowed my lower lip to tremble and gave a noisy sniff. ‘We’re not supposed to have glass in the playground, but it was p-pink and had…’ – I lifted both my hands and wriggled my fingers as I lowered them in the air – ‘lines cut into the glass. I thought I could bring it home and Mum could put flowers in it.’