Sub-texts

I am beginning to wonder if we're fictional characters in somebody else's blog. If we're real, we're definitely headed for a chapter in a prize-winning book called something like, "Disfunctional familes - maternal ineptitude as a contributory factor."

At lunchtime I get a text from Beth about her now very definitely ex-best friend. "She's doing it again, ruining my life by spreading rumours, god i hate her. I'm not going to school on Monday, i can't, i'm doing everything i can not to run out of this place. I can't do this." My knee jerk reaction is to rush to the school and scoop her up in my arms, murmuring, 'My baby' as I stroke her hair and splifficate those responsible for her troubles.

Then I realise that, what with her latest growth spurt and my shrinkage rate, that's going to be a physical impossibility, so I remove the keys from the ignition, go back indoors and take another, closer look at her text.

Beth, dearly though I love her, knows what makes me tick. Anyone capable of threatening self-harm when denied what she regards as her inalienable right to play Sims 2 into the small hours on a school night is going to go a long way, and hopefully in the opposite direction to The Priory.

That text is suspiciously well crafted, with every comma placed just so. Punctuation is an early casualty in any emergency communication. Hmmmm. It may not be normal to give your child's crisis a rating based on use of grammar and syntax, but it works for me.

I call Beth. "I'm in the computer room," she hisses, sounding subdued but - hurrah! -not tearful. "I can't talk." "Are you sitting next to someone nice?" I ask. "I'm on my own because nobody wants to sit next to me," she sniffs. As this is a lunchtime club and she's one of the few in her year who loves IT, she's usually the only one here - so that's not strictly true.

I tell Francis what's happening. Given his lack of involvement with Leo I expect him to listen, comment sympathetically, and then leave me to deal with it. "I could go in to the school and sort it out," he says. I gape at him. "Let me know if you want me to make an appointment," he says. I'm still gaping when he leaves to go and do some research for his next job interview.

I collect Leo first and tell him that Beth sounded upset about Becky. "But Beth spends the whole time being horrible to Becky," he says, then looks appalled at having given his sister away. "Don't tell her I said so," he mutters, as Beth, looking cheerful and damp, gets into the car. "What happened?" I ask. "Oh, we had a water fight," says Beth. "Is there anything to eat?"