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have batted an eyelid anyway, but it signalled the end of Nathan’s confessional session, because he jumped up then and told me he had to be going and that he’d see me that afternoon as planned.
    I decided I’d investigate further. I knew William was a friend of Nathan’s so it would be sensible to alert their head of year in any case; even if he didn’t know anything, he could obviously keep an ear out. I’d also make a copy for Gary in child protection, as it would be him who’d pass it on to social services.
    And was Martin right after all? Did Nathan simply have an overactive imagination? Or was there more to it? Nathan had spouted it all out to me so matter of factly that he might as well have been telling me that he had just learned how to ride a bike! Curiouser and curiouser, and not in a good way.
    It didn’t take me long to do the report, and I duly printed two copies and took them to both of my colleagues’ in-trays. When I returned to my office, via a coffee stop, and found Gary there waiting for me, my first thought – and comment – was, ‘That was quick!’
    â€˜I must have missed you by moments,’ he said, following me inside and shutting the door. ‘And I’m afraid that at least some of this
is
true.’
    I groaned, but, at the same time, felt a small spark of vindication. ‘It is?’
    â€˜We had William’s mother here last night. It seems that something
did
happen in the toilets yesterday and, according to William, Nathan initiated it. Forced himself on Will, by all accounts – the boy’s apparently quite traumatised. He was going to keep it to himself, though, by all accounts, but apparently Nathan was keen to tell pretty much anyone in earshot that Will and he had sex and loved each other.’ He sighed a weary sigh. ‘So, of course, everyone began calling Will names, so he told his mum and – well, you can imagine. She’s not very happy.’
    â€˜I don’t doubt it,’ I said. ‘You know, we really need that report from the psychologist. In fact, maybe he needs a formal re-assessment anyway. It’s already clear that Nathan isn’t able to be mainstreamed without full-time supervision, and this just adds weight to that, doesn’t it? And you know, Gary, I
still
think that there are underlying factors at home. I just don’t accept this “peculiar child” tag he seems to have been saddled with.’
    Gary concluded that – thankfully – he was inclined to agree with me and would address the matter with the educational psychologist at once. ‘I’ll put another child protection referral through,’ he added. ‘Given the explicit nature of Nathan’s revelations, they can hardly
not
act, at least in some way. Fingers crossed.’
    â€˜Duly crossed,’ I said. ‘And toes, too, for good measure.’
    That afternoon, as planned, Nathan attended his appointment with me. The buzz phrase at the time was ‘life space interviews’, where I would simply encourage a child to talk about anything and not interfere with their flow. I would use prompt words to keep them on track if it helped achieve that, but in the main it was all about active listening and the making of (very) discreet notes.
    I was determined to make the most of this opportunity with Nathan, who breezed in as usual, thankfully oblivious to the waves he’d set rolling, and came around the back of my desk to stand beside me.
    â€˜It’s good to see you, Miss,’ he said, as if we’d been parted for many months. ‘Do you bring your make-up to school? I really love your lip gloss.’
    â€˜No, sweetie,’ I said, ‘I put it on in the morning and just hope that it lasts.’
    â€˜And does it?’ he asked, scrutinising me. ‘Right till bedtime?’
    I told him no lip gloss in the world would last through fish and chips and mushy peas,