I’m Sorry, Carole Smith | Craig Ennew

It was me: I had killed you.

I had turned it over and over again in my eight year-old head, useless thoughts like wet laundry flopping in the final throes of a drum. What if I hadn’t said this? What if I hadn’t done that? Why, dear God, did I ever join in with the others?

I took myself back to when you first came to our school: Mr. Nield, the headmaster, beckoning you and your younger brother to the front of the hall at the start of assembly:

“This is Carole Smith and her little brother, Peter. They are starting with us today – Carole will be with Swallows; Peter with Jays. I’m sure we…

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