The Secretary

by Zoe Lea

  Sam shook his head and grinned. ‘Toby was off today. Stomach bug.’

  I smiled back at him.

  ‘But I still put Miss Gleason’s pen in his tray,’ he said, almost whispering, ‘so that when he comes back into school, they can find it.’

  I went to open my mouth, to tell him that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all, leaving the pen in there, and then I stopped myself. He was happy. The happiest I’d seen him in ages, and it was because he hadn’t had to deal with the bullying. If a stupid pen with red feathers could make him feel like this for longer, then so be it. I nodded.

  ‘So what else did you get up to?’

  He shrugged. ‘Stuff.’

  ‘Maths? English? Science?’ I prompted, and he shrugged again.

  ‘Latin? Cookery? Brain surgery?’

  He laughed, and I drank in every morsel of his smiling face.

  ‘Fine art? Astronomy?’

  ‘What’s astronomy?’

  ‘Space,’ I told him, and he grinned.

  ‘We did lots of that, that’s all we did. Lessons on space.’

  ‘You’d like that?’

  He nodded again. ‘I’d love that and then, when I’d learned all about it, I could take Toby Morley-Fenn up there and leave him. Floating around on his own in space. For ever.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed, pinching the last of the fries off his plate. ‘Toby Morley-Fenn. He deserves to be lost in space. Especially with such a stupid name!’

  Sam giggled and then winced. He’d bit the inside of his cheek the other day and it was bothering him – he’d been up fretting over it in the early hours. I’d been groggy from the sleeping pill but had been awake enough to sit on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair until he fell back to sleep. I hadn’t really had an unbroken night’s sleep since the divorce. Sam was sensitive, he suffered when Will abandoned us, but at the time I was so lost in my own grief and anger I didn’t realise it. He was four and everybody told me how resilient kids were, how they don’t notice things and bounce right back. But not Sam. Once he learned that his dad loved another woman and he had to move out of his bedroom and into a smaller house, he got scared. And he’d been scared ever since.

  ‘OK?’

  He nodded, and I saw a shadow of concern pass over his face. The anxiety that plagued him bubbling underneath, threatening to surface, and I leaned forward, desperate to stop that from happening.

  ‘How about,’ I said, stroking his cheek, ‘you play on the Xbox and I’ll bring you some ice cream in and, after that, one of those muffins I made?’

  His eyes lit up. What I was suggesting was forbidden. Fast food that included a milkshake and now ice cream and one of my muffins?

  ‘Best day ever!’ he announced and ran off into the living room.

  I sat for a moment among the debris of our supper, absorbing the normality of the evening. It wasn’t much to ask, I thought, burgers, ice cream and a normal day at school. A day where he could skip off into the lounge without loitering by the door, his face drawn and pinched. Where he didn’t tell me how much he hated school. Where he didn’t ask about what would happen if … ? I gave a sigh and started clearing up the wrappers.

  I’d deleted the ‘SLAG’ text. Deleted it as soon as I heard that the charges had been dropped. Unlike Janine I could forgive. Because it must have been Janine who sent it – who else would call me that? It was either her, or him, and I could let that go. I’d made them face the truth, I got that. I made them realise something and they were hurting, God knows I’d been there. When I found out Will was cheating I actually went around to the other woman’s house. So a text? That was small potatoes, I could allow them that.

  I still had my job, I could face the catcalls for a while. The silence in the staffroom, the teachers who worked for her being bitches, gossiping about me until it all blew over. For a second Glen Harrow’s face reappeared in my mind and I had to sit down. I felt the urge to call him, to tell him that I’d stopped it, that the investigation he must have read about on Facebook had been dropped. I wondered, briefly, if she’d put a post up about it on her Top Marks page?

  I’ve dropped the investigation as there was a chance I might end up in prison.

  I smiled at the thought and then, as I was stuffing all the takeaway packaging into the waste bin, allowed myself to indulge in thoughts of him. Glen Harrow. I’d looked at his completed forms after he’d left. He lived over in Stanwix, had put down his sister as an emergency contact, so I guessed there was no wife or girlfriend, and he had worked on cruise ships for the past six years between teaching jobs. He was another face I’d never seen before, another person I would probably have bumped into at some time if I ever went out. And he was fascinating. He worked on cruise ships for long stretches of time, but had only put down ‘entertainer’ as a job description. What did he do? Kids’ holiday clubs? Entertain the little ones while mum and dad sunbathed?

  I found myself thinking of his eyes, how they looked when I’d told him what happened with Janine. He wasn’t horrified or judgemental, he found it funny. We’d laughed about it. He’d asked me how I was, how I felt about it. God, he was nice. First nice man I’d considered since Will. But it could not happen. Nothing could happen, I told myself firmly. He might be nice and have taken pity on me, but that was it. I gave out a loud huff. What was I thinking anyway? The man had just learned that I was an easy lay, that I’d had a one-night stand with a married man. I was a single mother, no cash, not even a teacher, and in a spat with a parent. The chances of Glen Harrow being interested were zero. Nada. And I had Sam. He was my top priority. He was more than enough.

  I heard the familiar sound of his game being set up and, after a moment, the mournful piano soundtrack that accompanied it. Why it was such a sad tune I’d no idea, and it still bewildered me how Sam could find joy in what appeared to be such a boring, futile game of putting imaginary bricks on top of one another, but he loved it. I gave a grateful sigh and took our plates to the sink.

  There was a knock at the door and, thinking it was Becca, I answered without a thought of my appearance. I almost jumped back when I saw it was Will. Dressed in an expensive navy suit, his hair perfectly swept back from his face and still with a slight tan. Bastard.

  ‘I thought it would be better if we spoke now, instead of Friday when I’m collecting Sam. Is he here?’

  He was standing too close. He always stood too close, he knew I hated it. I needed quite a large area of personal space and he knew it put me on the back foot.

  ‘In the living room –’ I made an effort to stand my ground ‘– on his Xbox.’

  Will nodded, then his eyes found the fast food milkshake on the kitchen counter and his face dropped in horror as if it were a bag of heroin.

  ‘Really?’ he asked. ‘You’re allowing him that now?’

  ‘It’s a milkshake, Will, calm down.’

  ‘But we agreed.’ Will shook his head, as if I was severely disappointing him and a ball of rage coursed through me. ‘Sam needs to be on a diet, he needs—’

  ‘Goodbye, Will.’

  I went to close the door but he put his hand out, breathing hard through his nose.

  ‘A quick word,’ he said, ‘that’s all I want, then I’ll be gone.’

  I wrapped my cardigan around me tightly and looked at my bare feet.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘It won’t take long and I don’t want Sam to know I’m here. I don’t want to upset him. Could you step out for a moment? Please, Ruth.’

  The stone pathway was cold on my feet. Despite it being another warm day, the heat was on the wane and there was a distinct chill in the air. I pulled the door closed behind me. Will was a good foot taller than me but he made no effort to give me space. He looked down at me and I crossed my arms, did my best to straighten my spine and ignore how my heart was thudding.

  ‘You got my message?’

  ‘If by message, you mean threat. Then yes, I got that, Will.’

  He rolled his
eyes in a dramatic, juvenile way and I wanted to slap him. To reach up and use my fingernails to scratch those eyes out.

  ‘It wasn’t a threat, Ruth,’ he said levelly, ‘and I wouldn’t have to leave messages if you ever answered my calls.’

  ‘I don’t answer because I don’t care what you’ve got to say.’

  He took a moment, his jaw clenched, a muscle working at the side.

  ‘Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to argue,’ he said, ‘but when Rob called me, when he told me what you did … ’ He shook his head. ‘And there were others. Not parents at the school where you work, but friends of mine. They’re members of the rugby club. They remember what you did, why you got your criminal record and, to be quite honest, your behaviour has surprised none of them.’

  ‘I don’t care what they—’

  ‘Rob and Janine care,’ Will interrupted, ‘and it was very embarrassing to see them being told about you. When Rob said—’

  ‘Yes, what did Rob say?’ I cut in. ‘Did he tell you that he lied to me? That I had no idea he was married, that he had children?’

  Will sighed dramatically. ‘I told him what you’re like when I had a drink with them at the bar.’

  ‘You’re drinking with them now? You’re best friends?’

  ‘It’s quite serious what you’ve done, Ruth.’ He folded his arms. ‘I’m not talking about the sex, or the affair, but the screaming of it in her face at the school gates. In front of the children.’

  ‘That’s not what happened!’ I wanted to slap him, to punch him, to punch someone. ‘I did not scream anything in her face or in front of any children.’

  ‘You’re screaming now.’

  I paused for a moment. I was breathing hard.

  ‘So you met with them, with Rob and Janine?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You’re all mates now?’

  ‘Rob’s the chairman of the rugby club. They moved up near our end last year. He used to go to the club over by the hairdressers near the park, but that was closed down so he came to ours. We’ve known about each other for a while.’ He puffed out his chest a little as he spoke. ‘This is the first time he’s called me, though.’

  ‘Oh, I get it,’ I said, ‘you’re using this, aren’t you?’

  ‘Using what?’

  ‘You’re using the fact that I slept with the chairman of that stupid little rugby club you attend so you can get some social standing.’

  His face went slack a little and I knew I was right, could see it in the way he was weirdly proud to be talking about Rob and Janine as if they were friends of his.

  ‘You’re vile,’ I said. ‘I’ll bet you couldn’t wait to meet up, tell them all about me. Introduce them to all those friends of yours, all the ones who knew what you were doing while you were married to me. Bet you left that part out, didn’t you? The part where you’re the cheating bastard?’

  ‘I’m not here to talk about that,’ he said, cutting me off. ‘I’m here to talk about Sam. As his father I—’

  ‘Oh, you’re his father now, are you?’ It was no good, I couldn’t contain myself. ‘And were you being his father when you had that affair when he was four years old? Were you his father when you left us? When you wanted nothing to do with him for the next twelve months. When you said no to any visits, when you ignored him, were you his father then?’

  ‘Ruth—’

  ‘No, let me speak –’ I was hissing out my words, making sure that Sam couldn’t overhear ‘– because you forget, Will. You leave all these messages like you’re the best dad in the world, you come here, making me feel awful for what happened with Rob, when it was you that was unfaithful. You left us. It was you who walked out on us, remember? You who left him, and wouldn’t even see him, so don’t come back saying all this. You’ve got no rights. Nothing at all. You left your son to go look after someone else’s.’

  ‘That was four years ago.’

  ‘Four years is nothing.’

  We stared at each other. My head was pounding, my heart skipping beats. I felt jittery, shaky; adrenalin and fury making me dizzy. I was always like this with Will. It came back like a hurricane, the rage, sweeping me up and leaving me breathless. I was amazed at the force of it, the power of how much I hated him. How I could ever have loved him, slept with him, let him touch me? I was married to him for eight years and the thought of that was shocking.

  ‘It’s been four years,’ I spat out. ‘The first year of which you weren’t around. It’s me and Sam, four years of me repairing the damage you did—’

  ‘That’s what I want to talk about.’

  ‘How you damaged him?’

  ‘His anxiety, Ruth. The whole thing with him, his mood swings, the not sleeping, the tantrums, his agoraphobia.’

  ‘Sam is not agoraphobic.’

  ‘He’s struggling to go to school,’ Will fired back. ‘And when he’s with me, all he wants to do is stay indoors and play on his games.’

  ‘That’s what eight-year-old boys do.’

  ‘Not when they could be out playing football or rugby. I’ve got Sam onto training groups for both, enrolled him into the rugby club, he wouldn’t even come to a match … ’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘To get him out of the house! To get him to act like a little boy should! You don’t notice because you’re mental as well. You’re agoraphobic so it looks normal to you, but it’s not normal. It’s not healthy him living with you. He needs to be with me, to get out, have a childhood. He needs to be with his dad. And then, when I find out what you’ve been doing, sleeping around and screaming at people outside the school where you work, well I think it’s best if he was away from that kind of situation.’ He gave a big sigh, his shoulders dropping. ‘Ruth, believe it or not, I did not come here to do this. I came here to talk—’

  ‘I’m not doing this.’ I went to the door, ready to go back inside. ‘I’m not doing this again.’

  ‘I’m getting social services involved,’ he said, and I froze. ‘I knew you’d be like this, so I talked to a solicitor. I’ve a good case, should I apply for custody.’

  ‘Custody!’ I almost screamed the word. ‘You don’t even have him, you only have—’

  ‘I want him every other week, Ruth,’ Will said. ‘The full week, with me. Not just alternate weekends –’ he sighed ‘– in light of what’s happened. What you did to Janine, I just think it’s best if he is with me more. I don’t have the time or the money to take this to court, but I will if I have to. Think about it, you’ll see it’s the best decision for all of us. I’ve been in touch with the social, but they work at a snail’s pace, and I’ve a strong case … ’

  My pulse quickened. ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘I can,’ Will said. ‘We’re both agreed Sam has issues. Problems.’ Will’s voice dropped. ‘He’s overweight, his anxiety is through the roof, he can’t even go upstairs on his own when he comes to stay with me. He refuses to leave the house, won’t go into the shopping centre, supermarket.’ He let out a sigh. ‘Ruth, he won’t even get on a bus.’

  ‘That’s because he doesn’t know anyone where you live. It’s the other side of town.’

  ‘He needs to get to know me better, know where I live, to know—’

  ‘I don’t want that woman near him!’ I spat out. ‘The agreement is he sleeps at your mother’s. I only allowed alternate weekends because of your mother. Sam likes his grandparents. You can’t just—’

  ‘I can,’ he said, ‘and I am.’ He paused. ‘I’m getting married, did you know that?’

  I went to open my mouth to argue but he spoke over me.

  ‘And if you won’t let me see him as I want, then I’ll apply for full custody. If you refuse this now, then I’m going to go the whole way. I’m going to be the one who decides when you’re allowed to see Sam.’

  I took a shocked breath.

  ‘You know I’ll win the case,’ he said. ‘You’re about to lose another job because of your behav
iour. I know you’re struggling for money, so with no reliable income … ’

  ‘I am not losing my job,’ I told him, ‘and my cake making business … ’

  He let out a laugh. ‘Pipe dreams, Ruth. Do you think the court will take into account hobbies? They want to see real income, not pocket money. You would never take any money from me even though it was for Sam. You’ve a history of mental health problems—’

  ‘We don’t need your money,’ I spat out.

  ‘The court looks at what’s in the best interest of the child. You’re denying him things he should have. You make him live in poverty. You were assessed as having PND and anxiety, and now it’s apparent you’re passing on problems to our son. He’s showing heightened anxiety, a reluctance to go—’

  ‘I’ve booked us a holiday.’

  Will stopped speaking. I nodded at him, taking pleasure that I’d managed to make him shut up.

  ‘Disney. I’ve been saving up, my pocket money business, as you call it, is doing really well, and in the half term, this October, I’m taking us both to Disney.’

  He frowned.

  ‘So, tell me, Will, if I’m agoraphobic, if I’m on the poverty line, if I’m suffering and passing on these problems to Sam, who has also got heightened anxiety and agoraphobia, then how is that happening?’ I stuck my chin out. ‘Is that what you’ve based your case on? Is that what your outline is, what you plan on telling the social services? My financial situation and Sam’s anxiety? Doesn’t really stand up if we’re jetting off to Paris for thrill-seeking rides on the fairground in four weeks, does it?’

  Will’s shoulders dropped. ‘How are you managing to take him to Disney, he never said—’

  ‘He doesn’t know,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s a surprise, early birthday present. But he’s desperate to go, it’s all he talks about if you’d ever listened to him. So please, before you call me names, before you tell me what a bad mother I am and go running to the social, make sure you get your facts straight first.’

  He folded his arms. ‘Bullshit.’

  I scoffed. ‘Goodbye, Will.’ I went to the door, my legs unstable. ‘I won’t be dropping Sam off this weekend, he’ll be staying here.’