Chapter 5: The Things Maisie Said
Naomi read the message three times at a red light.
She didn't know the number.
She didn't reply.
She called Patricia Holt at eight the next morning and read it to her word for word.
"Screenshot it," Patricia said immediately.
"Don't delete it, don't reply, don't try to find out who sent it.
Just screenshot and send it to me."
"Who would send something like that?"
"Someone who wants you frightened and reactive." A pause.
"Or someone who wants you to go directly to Graham and make a scene before we're ready.
Either way, the correct response is nothing."
"It mentioned Maisie's teacher."
"I know.
I'll make some inquiries.
In the meantime — do you have a contact at the school?"
"Her class teacher.
Mrs.
Adeyemi.
She's known Maisie since September."
"Can you request a meeting?"
"I'm her mother.
Yes."
"Then do it today.
Don't mention the custody application.
Don't mention Vanessa.
Just say you want to check in on how Maisie is settling."
Naomi booked the meeting for the following afternoon.
Mrs.
Adeyemi was a calm woman in her mid-forties with reading glasses pushed up on her head and a classroom that smelled of poster paint and warm radiators.
She shook Naomi's hand and gestured to the small chair across from her desk without any sign of awkwardness.
"I'm glad you came in," she said.
"I was actually going to reach out this week."
Naomi kept her voice level.
"Is everything all right with Maisie?"
"Academically, she's doing beautifully.
She's bright — very bright." Mrs.
Adeyemi folded her hands.
"But I've noticed some things over the past couple of months that I wanted to talk to a parent about."
"What kind of things?"
"Maisie has started telling the other children that she has two mummies." Mrs.
Adeyemi paused.
"That in itself is not unusual.
What concerned me was the way she described them.
She calls one her real mummy and one her new mummy.
And when the children asked which one she lives with, she said her new mummy, because her real mummy gave her away."
The air went out of the room.
"She said I gave her away."
"She did." Mrs.
Adeyemi's voice was gentle but direct.
"I want to be clear — I don't believe that reflects reality.
Maisie talks about you with warmth.
She shows me drawings she's made for you.
But the language she's using — gave her away — that's not language a four-year-old arrives at independently."
"No," Naomi said.
"It isn't."
"I've documented the conversations.
It's standard practice when a child's language changes significantly." She opened a folder on her desk and slid a printed sheet across.
"I can provide this to you formally if it would be useful."
Naomi looked at the sheet.
Dates.
Maisie's exact words.
Mrs.
Adeyemi's observations.
"It would be very useful," Naomi said.
She left the school with the document in her bag alongside Eleanor's notebook.
That evening she spread everything on her kitchen table.
The log.
The school record.
The screenshot of the anonymous text.
Patricia's notes from their first meeting.
Graham's original custody application.
She was still sitting there at eleven o'clock when her phone rang.
Graham.
She almost didn't answer.
"Naomi." His voice was tight.
"I need to talk to you about something."
"All right."
"Vanessa told me you called my mother.
That you went to her house."
"I did."
A pause.
"Why?"
"Because Eleanor called me.
She wanted to talk."
"About what?"
"About Maisie." Naomi kept her voice steady.
"Graham, your daughter told her teacher that I gave her away.
She's been telling the other children for weeks.
Does that concern you at all?"
Silence.
"Children say things—"
"Graham." Her voice was quiet but it stopped him.
"Where did a four-year-old learn the phrase gave her away?"
He didn't answer.
"I'll see you at the hearing," Naomi said.
"My solicitor will be in touch with yours."
She ended the call.
For a long moment she sat very still.
Then she picked up her phone again and sent Patricia a single message: *He didn't know about the school.
Vanessa hadn't told him.*
May you like
Patricia replied in under a minute: *Good.
That's the first crack.*
