Long, long time ago, for a few months, I looked after a friend's five year old little girl of an afternoon, picking her up from school, taking her home, giving her her tea before her mum came home from work, normally her Dad would do the days that her mum couldn't but he was working away so it was down to me. In those days I was even more scruffy than I am nowadays, I was roadying for a touring folk band, living from hand to mouth and dossing where I could and the first day I turned up to collect her there was distinct hostility from the Mums clustered around the school gates (the school had a strict policy of 'No parents inside the gates unless with an appointment'). When the girl I was responsible for came out of school, saw me, squealed with delight and rushed headlong into my arms demanding to be hoisted onto my shoulders (our usual style of greeting) the hostility rose several notches.
It was a RC school and the headmasters of such establishments were held in a reverence that was only just beneath that of the priest and several notches above the Pope so the mothers were more more than a little gobsmacked when the headmaster, who always came out at school end to have a few words of encouragement for some pupils, a little telling off for others and maybe catch a parent that he wanted a word with, called out 'Simon, come in.' and gave me a hug and slapped me on the back. What they didn't know was that he frequently stood in as either guitarist or caller for the band I roadied for. Over the following weeks, as that pattern was repeated, the hostility didn't diminish, but the roots of it changed from fear to jealousy.

Currently investigating the Hillmans of Sussex.