THE NEW GIRLS

The loneliness was hard, but seeing her daughter struggling was worse

You have 30 days to change your mind.’ Aruna’s eye fell on the text of a letter that had tumbled out of her bag while she was scrabbling, too late, for her ringing phone. If only she could unmake her decision to move here.

Waiting at the school gate for her daughter, while the other parents huddled in chattering groups, felt the loneliest she’d ever been. A lump came into her throat at the memory of Hattie’s infant school in west London, where everyone had been so friendly. Only a week since they’d said goodbye…

Aruna couldn’t change her mind about

that had sent her and Hattie 15 miles south where the rents were cheaper. At least here she wouldn’t bump into her ex and his vile new girlfriend.

Her phone started ringing again and this time she caught it. ‘Aruna?’ said her boss’ impatient voice in her ear, ‘I want to talk to you about…’ He rattled on about monthly sales targets.

‘I’ll sort it,’ she insisted as soon as he drew breath and ended the call.

‘They’re coming!’ she heard someone say.

Now the parents were alert, each watching for their child. The youngest with joyful faces, others dawdling. Then followed the older ones. Hattie, six going

on seven, was Year 2. Aruna strained her

There was Hattie, trailing behind the others, her silver hearing aid glinting

At least she wouldn’t bump into her ex and his vile girlfriend

of misery piercing Aruna’s heart. Hattie saw her mother and her face lit up.

She ran and slipped her hand into hers. Aruna squeezed it tight. ‘How was it today?’ she asked as they set off on the 10-minute walk home.

Hattie was silent, then burst out, ‘Poppy had sweets, but she didn’t give me any.’

‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry. Perhaps she didn’t have enough.’

‘She did.’ Hattie sighed. ‘Oh, and Miss Durban brought her rabbit in.’

‘That was nice. Maybe we could have a rabbit. Or a cat. We couldn’t in our old house because Daddy’s allergic.’

‘A white one like Nanny’s.’ She sounded cheerful now, and Aruna’s fears were allayed. Now she was working from home a cat should be easy.

After lunch the following day Aruna was in Hattie’s bedroom putting away clothes when she noticed that Hattie’s beloved china rainbow unicorn had vanished from its stand on the chest of drawers. Puzzled, she hunted for

returning to her spreadsheets.

Over the next few days other things went missing. A packet of hand-baked chocolate biscuits that Aruna looked for when her sister visited, a bangle she’d left on the side while she did the washing-up, some coins she’d kept in the car to feed parking meters. She blamed it on the muddle after moving house. Finding the bangle on the bathroom windowsill, she remembered leaving it there.

On Monday afternoon, she stood outside the school, her phone clamped to her ear. Her boss was anxious about a client complaint. Nothing Aruna had done wrong, but would she go over the account.

When someone gave an impatient cough, she glanced up to see a heavily made-up older woman waiting to speak to her. She extricated herself from her boss’ droning.

‘Are you Hattie Prior’s mum?’ the woman said over-brightly.

‘Yes?’ At last someone had spoken to her, but with an embarrassed air that suggested it wasn’t about a play date.

‘I’m Poppy’s grandma. Poppy’s mum asked me to give you this back.’ Out of her pocket the woman brought the missing unicorn.

‘Oh!’ Aruna said with a dizzy feeling as she took it.

‘It was in Poppy’s school bag. Poppy says Hattie gave it to her, but we don’t think she should have it. It looks special.’

‘It is. I wondered where it had gone.’ Why had Hattie given her precious unicorn to Poppy?

‘And here’s Marta’s mum…’ A striking dark-haired woman was moving towards them. Her cagey expression made Aruna’s heart sink.

‘I have spoken to the teacher about your little girl,’ Marta’s mum said in

accented English. ‘Hattie has given money to the kids.’

‘Money?’ Aruna gasped. ‘I didn’t know.’ ‘And chocolate biscuits with nuts. Marta cannot eat nuts.’

A third woman joined the group.

‘Is this about the money? My daughter came back with four pounds on Friday. She wouldn’t say where she’d got it so I gave it to Miss Durban.’

‘Four pounds?’ Aruna echoed faintly. ‘Hattie’s the new girl with the hearing aid, isn’t she?’ Poppy’s grandma said. ‘I think she’s trying to buy friends.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Aruna whispered. ‘I didn’t know.’ The women stared at her, their pity oppressive. She’d failed as a mother.

‘Darling, that’s not the way to make friends,’ she explained to Hattie later at home. The little girl sat head bowed at the kitchen table, her rice cake snack uneaten. They’d spent several minutes talking to Miss Durban, who had returned the coins Hattie had stolen. The biscuits, unfortunately, were all eaten.

‘I thought I could make them like me.’ Hattie mumbled.

‘And did it work?’

The child shook her head.

‘You can’t buy friendship.’

Aruna sighed.

‘I had friends in my old school. Can’t I go back there?’

‘No, darling, it’s just not possible.’ ‘The girls won’t play with me here.’ ‘They will when they know you better.’ Hattie looked up, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.

‘Oh, my love.’ Aruna took Hattie onto her lap, put her arms round her and laid her face against her soft hair. She had not protected this little scrap who had once been so happy.

And yet suddenly she saw a way.

‘It’s the same for me, you know,’ she told Hattie, bending to look into her eyes. ‘I haven’t made friends either. I stand by myself at the school. Nobody spoke to me until today, and that was to tell me off.’

Hattie looked at her in concern. ‘It’s all right, Mummy. I’m your friend.’

‘I know. And the best I could have. But, listen, we’ll make some other friends together. I have an idea.’

It was the last week of term and thank

the school had let them set up the table under the colonnade. Aruna, laying out cakes on paper plates with the help of Marta’s mum and Poppy’s grandma, could hardly believe people’s generosity.

Children from Hattie’s class had excitedly brought in iced biscuits, chocolate brownies and cupcakes topped with buttercream and tiny Easter eggs. ‘No nuts!’ Hattie’s poster had stipulated. The proceeds were going to a local children’s charity.

The bell sounded for the end of school. Hattie, Poppy and Marta took their places behind the stall and the hordes crowded round, eager to buy. Half an hour later only crumbs were left. ‘A great success,’ Aruna said, watching the girls count the money.

‘And great fun too,’ Poppy’s grandma laughed. ‘Marta is having a birthday party after school on Friday,’ Marta’s mother said. ‘Would Hattie like to come? There’s tea for mums and dads too.’

Hattie’s eye, and gave Marta a warm smile. Friends were caught, not bought.

Rachel Hore, 2021

✣ A Beautiful Spy by Rachel Hore (£16.99, HB, Simon & Schuster), is out now.

‘I have spoken to the teacher about your little girl’