“Something very upsetting happened to me last night.”
A fearful feeling rose in my stomach, I sensed what was coming.
“I went to the shops to buy some tea for my husband, reached into my purse and my money was missing.”
The class started buzzing with noise. A few heads swivelled towards Donna and I. Although we hadn’t told anyone that we stole from the teacher, the amount of sweets we had bought into school basically amounted to the kiddie version of winning the lottery. I tried to shuffle the still bulging carrier bag under my desk with my foot.
“Now what I’d like you to do, children, is write down on this piece of paper, any information that you know about the theft”.
“Nope, I don’t know anything Miss”, I said stubbornly.
We had to return every break; morning, lunch and afternoon, while the teacher repeatedly interrogated us about this missing money. I was silent, giving nothing away. The Gestapo couldn’t have got me to admit the theft. Eventually, Thursday lunchtime, as Donna and I were about to go in for our separate questioning, Donna said to me, with a weary air:
“Look, I told her Monday afternoon it was us, so you might as well tell the truth.”
While I was digesting this shocking news, which put me in an even further bad light, she said brightly:
“Then we can have playtime again!”