Free Losing Me by Sue Margolis Page A

“I want you to have this,” she said, taking out three twenty-pound notes. “Go and buy some food and put some money in the meter.”
    “I’m not taking your money. I’ve told you, I’m not a beggar.”
    “I know you’re not. And even if you were, it wouldn’t matter to me. I want you to have it.”
    “No way. And anyway, teachers can’t go round handing out money to kids’ parents. It’ll be against some regulation or other.”
    “I have no doubt that it is, but since I’ve just been sacked, I don’t really give a crap. What are they going to do? Sack me twice?” She slipped the money under an overfilled ashtray. “Take it. I won’t hear another word.”
    Lacie reached into the ashtray full of cigarette butts and grabbed a handful.
    “They’ve sacked you?” Tiffany said, struggling to prize open her daughter’s hand. “Why? Troy says you’re the best teacher in the whole school. He thinks you’re great.”
    Barbara explained.
    “I’m sorry you’re going,” Tiffany said. “Troy’s really going to miss you.” By now she was sweeping cigarette butts and bits of tobacco off Lacie’s hand and into the ashtray.
    “And I’ll miss him.” Barbara looked at her watch. “Look, I have to get back. But will you do me a favor?”
    “What?”
    “Promise you’ll call me if you’re in trouble or you need anything. Day or night, it doesn’t matter.” She picked a coloring book up off the floor and wrote her number on the inside of the cover. “Tear this off. Please don’t lose it.”
    “I won’t.”
    Barbara got up to go.
    “Mrs. Stirling . . . thanks for the money and everything. I was really horrible to you and you’ve been so kind. I’m sorry.”
    “Forget it. Just get the heating back on and go out and buy some food.”
    Tiffany managed a smile. “I’ll go out now and get some change for the meter.”
    “Make sure you do. And promise you’ll call if you need me.”
    “I promise. And, Mrs. Stirling . . . Thanks again.”
    •   •   •
    Barbara got through the rest of the school day on automatic pilot, just about managing to hold back the tears. It didn’t help that having skipped lunch, her blood sugar was low. She was choked up and angry for Tiffany as much as for herself. She hoped to God that social services were going to up their game and keep a proper eye on her and the children.
    School ended at three. Her instinct was to make a quick exit. She still couldn’t face all the pity waiting for her in the staff room. But she’d wimped out at lunchtime. She needed to show her face and get it over with.
    People hugged her and said it was a disgrace that she’d been sacked. A few of the women cried. Everybody was angry. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful for their sympathy. She could feel their warmth, and she knew it was genuine. On the other hand, part of her suspected that her colleagues felt the way people often did at funerals—sad, but hugely relieved the angel of death has passed them by.
    It wasn’t until she was walking to her car that she remembered she was picking up Atticus and Cleo and taking them to her mother’s. There was no getting out of it. Jess was relying on her. And seeing her grandchildren would cheer her up.
    She popped into the sweetshop on the corner and bought chocolate bars, crisps and juice boxes. All the things her grandchildren weren’t allowed. But feeling the way she did, she wasn’t about to spend forty minutes driving to her mother’s place with two kids in the back while suffering from low blood sugar. Today she would feed them crap and she would feel not a smidgen of guilt.
    Atticus and Cleo didn’t finish at St. Mungo’s for another half hour, and since it was only a couple of miles down the road and the traffic tended to be pretty light, she rarely had a problem getting there on time.
    Barbara could never get over how different St. Mungo’s was from Jubilee. Like most inner-city schools, it still had its fair share of