“Iggy,” Mum said in the end. “Did you make up a baby?”
Iggy shook her head. She kept her lips tight shut.
Mum said, “Think very hard before you answer me, young lady.”
Iggy thought very hard. We could see her thinking.
“One lie is bad enough,” Mum told her. “Another one won’t make it any better.”
Iggy’s eyebrows went pink, like they always do when she is about to cry. Her chin started to tremble.
“No tears,” Mum said. “Tears won’t get you out of trouble either.”
“I didn’t mean to say it.” Iggy still wasn’t looking at Mum.
“But you did,” Mum told her.
“I couldn’t help it,” Iggy said.
“Yes you could,” Mum said.
“I just pretended,” said Iggy. “I just told James Wilkes.”
“When?” I asked.
“At playtime,” Iggy said.
“And James Wilkes told his mum,” Mum said. “And she told me.”
Iggy looked at the floor.
“No more pretend babies, Iggy,” Mum said.
“OK.”
“Just you and Flo and me and Dad.”
“OK,” Iggy said.
“Sorry?” Mum said.
“Sorry.” Iggy nodded.
And nobody said another word about it.
Except when Dad kissed us good night and turned out the lights, he said, “Good night, Flo. Sleep tight, Iggy.” And then I heard him whisper, “Good night, Clover.”
Iggy’s teacher was leaving at the end of term and Iggy was extremely upset about it. Rwaida had always been her teacher, since the very first day Iggy started school.
Iggy was really going to miss her.
“I love her,” she sobbed, after her last day in Rwaida’s class. “I love her and I know where everything is.”
“Why does she have to go?” Iggy said. “Why? Why?” and she scrunched her hands together into one little fist.
Mum said, “You know Rwaida isn’t leaving forever. She’s just taking some time off for a happy reason. She will most probably come back.”
“Well, when will she be back?”
“When she has adopted her baby,” said Mum.
“She told us that,” Iggy said, “but I don’t know what it means.”
“Sometimes there are more children than there are families and everybody has to share,” I said.
Iggy frowned at me for a minute. She asked Mum, “Is that right?”
“Sort of. Some children don’t have families and some families have room for more children.”
I said, “Adopting is looking after a baby that you didn’t make.”
“You don’t have to grow it in your tummy?” asked Iggy.
“No,” said Mum. “And it’s not only babies that can be adopted. Children of all ages need families to take care of them.”
“This family has got room for more children,” said Iggy, spreading her arms as wide as they would go and turning round in a circle. “Can we adopt some?”
Mum shook her head. “I doubt it.”
“It wouldn’t have to be a baby,” Iggy said. “Just somebody smaller than me.”
“Wanting to be bigger than someone is not a good reason to adopt,” said Mum.
“Well, what is?” asked Iggy.
“Not having children of your own,” Mum said. “Or wanting to help others.”
“I like helping others,” Iggy said, still turning. “I am very good at that.”
“Yes you are,” said Mum. “And so is Rwaida. She has waited a long time for this baby.”
“I know how she feels,” said Iggy.
Later, at bathtime, Iggy said, “What will Rwaida do with her baby when she comes back to be my teacher?”
“What baby?” said Dad.
“The baby she is adopting,” Iggy told him, lying back in the bath with only her face showing through all the bubbles.
“Someone will look after her baby,” said Mum. “Someone in Rwaida’s family maybe, or a friend, or a childminder.”
Iggy sat up with a slosh and Mum poured some shampoo into her hands.
“Can I look after it?” Iggy said, screwing her eyes tight shut to keep out the shampoo.
“I’m very careful. I was very careful with Gruffles.”
“Gruffles was a hamster,” I said, with my mouth full of toothbrush.
“So?” Iggy said. “He was very precious and I didn’t break him.”
“Babies are a bit different to hamsters.” Dad rinsed the bubbles from Iggy’s hair. “And anyway, you’ll be at school.”
“True,” said Iggy. She climbed out of the bath and Dad wrapped her in a towel.
Iggy said, “Do you like helping others and taking care of other people’s children?”
“Why?” Dad said. “Is this a trick question?”
“Definitely,” said Mum.
Iggy shook her head. “Well, do you?”
Dad looked at me and Mum. “What did I miss?”
Iggy said, “We were thinking about adopting somebody smaller than me.”
“No we weren’t,” said Mum.
“We were talking about it,” Iggy said.
“You were talking about it,” Mum said. “We were talking about Rwaida adopting somebody smaller than you. That’s what we were talking about.”
Iggy looked up at Dad. “That’s why she won’t be my teacher any more.”
“Have you met your new teacher yet?” he asked.
Iggy looked glum. “Yes.”
I told them his name was Trevor. “But he likes to be called Mr Hawthorne.”
“Like a prickly old tree,” Iggy said.
“Oh dear,” said Dad. “Don’t you like Mr Hawthorne?”
Iggy