In the dining room, Tom and James were kept apart from the other children, going hungry. They sat at a separate table writing out lines as punishment, under Jean’s watchful gaze. I must not bully the other children. I must not bully the other children. I must not … The others knew exactly what had happened and, just as they had regarded Edward the previous day, were studying the two transgressors with similar fascination. Eve sat next to Edward. She was worried that his experiences at the hands of Tom – and, she thought reluctantly, James – would have made him even more withdrawn. But the opposite seemed to have happened. He wasn’t the boy he had been before he lost his mother, but he seemed, in his own mute way, to be unscathed by his ordeal. However, he still wouldn’t let go of Mr Punch. ‘Where did you get that, Edward?’ she asked him. There was something about the toy she didn’t like. It made her uneasy, but she couldn’t express why. It felt as if a small piece of that sad room had detached itself and latched on to Edward.
