The Dummy

She looked at it and yawned deeply. The object didn’t register with Halima at first, in part because she was distracted by the kettle, but mostly because she was exhausted from another sleepless night. It was only when she stood waiting for the water to boil, and her focus sharpened, that she finally noticed the little pink speck in the centre of the lawn.

Standing on her tiptoes, Halima leaned over the sink to try and get a better view through the kitchen window, but it was no use. Obscured by grass and fallen leaves, the object was impossible to make out. That irritated her more than it should. She continued to stare at it until the kettle clicked to the boil. Then she returned to making her strong black coffee.

Back upstairs, and as she dressed, Halima considered the day ahead. No reason to think it would be any different to the last two months. Since she and her mother had moved here, and Halima had started at the new school, every day had been the same.

Hell.

Her day.

Constantly on edge, always braced for the next confrontation.

Lessons sat quietly, for fear of saying something to provoke the horde. Break times spent wandering the grounds alone, hoping they wouldn’t find her. But they always did. Then came the verbal abuse and, depending on their mood, sometimes more.

‘Gonna slice you up, whore.’

They hadn’t.

Yet.

Halima felt sick. It was as she was drawing her curtains to open a window that she again caught sight of the pink spec on the lawn. It remained unchanged, except now, from this elevated vantage point, she could see what it was.

A babies dummy.

Strange. How could that have gotten there?

She looked into the neighbouring gardens.

No signs of children. No goalposts or strewn bikes. Come to think of it, weren’t the people living either side retired?

A grandchild then?

Halima had never seen any.

Maybe it had been thrown over from the back?

She looked beyond the fence at the bottom of their garden. The treeline was well established and dense. Overrun even. No one could walk their child through that.

No, but someone might have been able to pick their way through it. If they had really wanted to.

That thought remained in her mind as Halima looked back at the lawn. It was then that something occurred to her. The lawn was virtually square and yet the dummy was sitting perfectly in the centre. Unnaturally so. It was as though the dummy had been deliberately placed there.

But who would want to do that?

She knew immediately.

Yesterday had been the first time that the group of girls had followed her home from the school gates. They had goaded and pushed her until she had reached the top of her street. There they had stopped, loitering and baying like a cackle of jackals. Watching her. Waiting.

They would no doubt be there waiting for her this morning. They knew where she lived now.

Halima slumped onto her bed. What could she do? Tell her mother? No, she had problems of her own. And even if she did get involved, what good would talking to the school do?

Nothing.

For all the posters and well-intended assemblies, they did nothing to prevent bullying occurring. Not really. And the kids were smart about it.

Just banter, Miss.

Bullying didn’t exist in the school because the authorities didn’t see it. And no one dared report it.

Because snitches get stitches.

Bitches.

Halima tried to bite her nails, but she had already fretted them to their limit. Instead, she gnawed at the skin around them.

Dummy.

This can’t continue. You must do something.

Halima walked calmly from her room. Through the thin walls she could hear her mother in the bathroom.

Dummy.

You must stand up to bullies.

Downstairs, back in the kitchen, Halima opened a drawer and removed a short paring knife. That wouldn’t be missed.

She slid it into her blazer pocket and instantly felt calmer. In control. Almost resolute.

She pictured the next confrontation as she stared off into the middle distance, at the fence bordering their garden.

Beyond it stood a tall silver birch. Perched in that, a magpie. With its more immediate appetite recently sated by a piece of bloated bread, it turned its attention now back to that which it had recently discarded.

Trophy.

It swooped down to retrieve it.

Dummy.