Managing

Deirdre parked the car and took a minute to look over the file again. Kodama. What kind of name was that? Tongan, maybe? She glanced nervously at the house. It was unfenced with a freshly-mown lawn sloping down to the footpath. She hoped there wouldn't be any dogs. Two houses up she could see a huge Rotweiler nursing its pups on the verandah and across the road an Alsatian was taking an interest. Did nobody tie up their dogs in this street? Still, it wasn't the worst part of town, it should be fine.

With a deep breath, she got out of the car, locking it carefully, and walked up to the front door of the villa. It seemed well-maintained, early 1900s probably. The bell was an old-fashioned brass one and as she rang it she wracked her brains for the appropriate Tongan greeting but it eluded her. 'Kia ora' would have to do.

In fact, when a small blond woman in faded clothes opened the door, Deirdre croaked a surprised 'hello' and shifted her folder onto her left arm so that she could shake the hand that was offered.

'I'm Lucy,' said the woman. 'Come in.'

The woman held the door wide, shut it behind Deirdre and ushered her into a sunny kitchen where she indicated a seat at the table.

'The kettle's just boiled. Tea? Coffee?'

Deirdre could murder a coffee but first she needed to be sure she was in the right place. It wasn't at all what she was expecting. Still standing, she asked, 'Lucy Kodama?'

The woman smiled and nodded. 'That's actually my husband's name. Officially I'm Lucy Atkinson but it's simpler for the kids' school if I have the same name as theirs. So yes, I answer to Lucy Kodama. You're here about the children, aren't you?'

Deirdre, feeling a bit gazumped, tried to take back the initiative.

'You son's teacher reported that he has poor attendance and his lunches are inadequate. I'm here to investigate on behalf of the Department.'

Lucy indicated the chair again.

'Do sit down and let me make us a coffee. You're...?'

'Deirdre Mackintosh, Social Worker.'

'Oh yes, your letter... I just wasn't sure whether the person who wrote the letter would be the person who came. Here you go. Milk? Sugar?'

Deirdre accepted both and a chocolate thin from the plate offered. As she sipped hot coffee from a colourful mug she looked around the room. It was clean, light, sparsely furnished but tasteful enough in its simplicity.

The coffee and chocolate helped her to reset and she put the file in front of her and opened it.

'So, Ms Blair isn't happy that young Kris is absent so often.'

'Did she tell you that I always ring if he's not coming?' Lucy's voice was calm, trying to hide her irritation. 'And missing a day or two of Year One is hardly doing him any harm. Did Ms Blair mention that he's reading two years above his age and does maths workbooks for fun? I thought not. He's had a rotten year, poor kid, catching everything that's going round, including nits. Now it's tonsillitis. The doctor said even if we put him on the waiting list, it would be at least 18 months before he could get surgery. She's referred us to a homeopath.'

Deirdre didn't roll her eyes.

Lucy went on, 'And the lunches are his choice. He flatly refuses to have anything but luncheon sausage and sauce in his sandwich but he does take a musli bar and a piece of fruit and he eats it all. At least, his lunch box comes home empty. Although he did say he gave half his sandwich to Isaac one day because he forgot his lunch.'

When Deirdre didn't respond, Lucy added with a smile, 'His sister's worse. She won't even have the sauce and she refuses to eat fruit unless it's strawberries. Obviously we don't have those very often though I do try to grow some.' She looked sad for a moment. 'Their father was the gardener. He's in Australia now and is talking about going back to Japan.'

At a loss, Deirdre put the file aside. She looked at Lucy, who was probably about the same age as her, and felt a need to understand.

'What happened?' she asked, her tone conversational.

An hour later, after a second cup of coffee and a cheese sandwich with lettuce and herbs from Lucy's garden, Deirdre got back in the car.

She sat for a moment. Her world had shifted a little on its axis. Far from the overwhelmed immigrant she had braced herself to meet, Lucy had turned out to be a well-educated Pakeha who had met her husband on her OE and brought him home to start their family. Perhaps he was the overwhelmed immigrant. It seemed that life in New Zealand wasn't what he expected and he had abandoned the family for the green fields of Australia. It was clear that Lucy was sad that he had left them and she said the children missed him and had cried for weeks, but they had all settled down now and were doing their best. A few picky eating habits were only to be expected.

Deirdre thought about the teacher, Ms Blair, and wondered why she hadn't mentioned that Kris was a star pupil in spite of his absences. She looked old school, a rule-maker who would brook no opposition and Deirdre could imagine Lucy's calm confidence would look like insubordination. Besides, a glance at the framed degree in the hallway showed that Lucy was better educated than any of them. Far from being a feckless beneficiary, she had given up a well-paid science job to be there for her children when their father left.

She put the file on the seat beside her and started the car. Much as she would love to go back to Ms Blair and give her a piece of her mind for her biased notification and for wasting her time, Deirdre knew she would take the coward's way out and simply report in writing that her investigation was complete with no further action required. Case closed.

Besides, she smiled to herself, she didn't feel her time had been wasted. She'd enjoyed her morning with Lucy Atkinson and had offered to repay her hospitality with a coffee in the mall next time she was in the area.