Ally’s eyes went round. ‘Excellent. I’ve always had a thing about dog collars and no trousers.’
The door opened and Pete walked in.
‘Typical,’ said Ally. ‘I fucking hate Mondays.’
Everyone turned away from Pete.
‘What?’ he demanded.
Nicky decided to go early to Miss James and try to get her puzzle piece finished before the meeting. Maybe last night’s dream was portentous and she’d be able to do it more quickly now. Then she could follow Rob out afterwards.
When she arrived at Miss James’s office, she found Miss James scribbling what looked like an upside-down long-division sum and, to her astonishment, Rob standing at the puzzle table. She stopped in her tracks, shock and hurt making her stomach lurch. He’d actually lied so as not to have to talk to her. He didn’t even look up as she came in. She joined him at the puzzle table and before she’d had a chance to look at him, let alone speak, he made a little whoop of satisfaction, popped a puzzle piece in place, and almost leapt to his chair opposite Miss James’s desk, all without giving her so much as a glance. Now who was playing games? she thought angrily. She stared at the puzzle, trying desperately to find a piece before Miss James spoke. Everything went out of focus and she found it hard to catch her breath.
‘Now!’ exclaimed Miss James, perching her glasses on her nose. ‘Now, now, now, now, now, now.’
Nicky sat down next to Rob. There was a long silence as Miss James tried to look for some notes. Nicky tilted her head towards Rob and he tilted his away. Nicky could hear his breathing. Miss James started humming happily.
‘Miss James?’ started Nicky, unable to sit in silence for any longer.
Miss James’s head shot up. ‘Yes, m’dear?’
‘Can I ask you a question about Parents’ Evening?’
‘My dear!’ cried Miss James, ‘you can ask me a question about anything in the world! My ears are yours! Ask away!’
Nicky smiled. ‘Thank you. It’s about one of the parents.’
She told Miss James about her concerns for Oscar and her inability to get a response from his father. At the end, Miss James shook her head sadly.
‘Always so . . . tragic when the father doesn’t get involved.’
‘Especially when there isn’t a mother,’ agreed Nicky.
‘I don’t understand men,’ added Rob quietly. Nicky and Miss James looked at him. ‘I mean,’ he mused aloud, ‘how can you not want to be involved in your child’s life?’
Nicky stared at him. He smiled at Miss James. His profile was perfect.
‘. . . so I think a letter to him, just kindly prompting him to come, would be appropriate,’ concluded Miss James, before turning to the more pressing matter of how many biscuits and chairs there would be for both evenings.
By 4 p.m., Nicky was desperate. She could barely breathe. Rob had managed to keep one step ahead of her all day. In the end, she had to resort to texting Ally for help. It wasn’t ideal having Ally – or Pete – there while she spoke to Rob, but if that was the only way it was going to happen, so be it. She couldn’t spend another day like today.
She came running up to the staffroom to find Ally and Pete performing some kind of song-and-dance routine while Rob was having hysterics watching. The room went quiet when she entered. Everyone else had gone home.
‘Rob!’ she cried out, unable to dissemble. ‘At long bloody last!’
He looked at her for a moment, then at the other two, whose guilty faces gave everything away, and then turned back to Nicky.
‘Nicky!’ he responded. ‘Finally!’
‘Listen, we’ve got to talk. About Saturday night –’ she gushed.
‘Shit, Nicky, you don’t need to explain anything to me! It’s me, remember! Rob!’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said.
Ally and Pete started making loud exit noises, but both Rob and Nicky ignored them. Nicky realised that they both knew exactly what had happened.
‘The kiss,’ Nicky started, ‘was a complete blinder . . . um . . .’
‘I know, I know! I mean, it’s . . . not . . . it’s . . . look. It’s work and everything. It’s really complicated. Crap timing. I got home and realised I was really grateful we didn’t take it any further. It would have been impossible.’
There was a long pause. Nicky flicker-flacked through what felt like hundreds of possible answers.
‘Thank goodness,’ she said eventually. ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to say. It’s really, really bad timing.’
Rob nodded. ‘Yeah. Really, really bad timing.’
Pete broke the awkward silence by asking Rob for a lift home. Rob gave Nicky a big smile and the boys left together, leaving Ally and Nicky standing alone in the staffroom. Nicky looked at Ally.
‘I was going to tell you, Al,’ she said, ‘but I thought it would be better to talk to him first. You know, get it all sorted out. But he’s been avoiding me all day.’
‘Tosser,’ said Ally mildly.
‘I take it he didn’t mind talking about it to others.’
‘Apparently not. Pete had told me everything by break.’
‘Sorry you had to hear it from him.’
‘Hey, don’t be daft!’ said Ally. ‘This wasn’t about you and me. I knew you’d tell me in your own time.’ She nodded her head to where Rob had been standing. ‘Was that all . . . OK?’
Nicky seemed to wake up out of a daydream. ‘Unbelievable!’ she said, suddenly excited. ‘Ally! I can’t tell you how wonderful I feel now I know I’m over him. I’ve been trying to talk to him all day to tell him finally, conclusively, that we are just good friends. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. After seven years!’
‘You’re kidding?’ Ally started laughing.
Nicky joined in. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Apart from my body almost beating him to the finishing line, I felt absolutely nothing when I kissed him. I mean, emotionally. Nothing! Physically . . .’ She mimed her body melting, and Ally laughed. ‘Un-be-lievable. But at the same time . . . it felt like I was . . . I don’t know . . . lying. And if I’d taken it any further, it would have felt like I was leading him on. And,’ she shrugged, ‘I just didn’t want to.’
Ally screamed. ‘You can get on with the rest of your life!’ she cried.
‘I know!’
‘You got closure!’
‘I know!’ laughed Nicky.
Ally came and hugged her. They drew apart and Ally frowned when she saw Nicky’s eyes were full. ‘But?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, honestly. ‘I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.’
It was Friday evening and Daisy’s nan, Pat, was in a rush. She slid the bread under the grill and called Oscar and Daisy for their tea. There was a moment’s lull in the squabbling. In the half-hour before Lilith was due home from work Pat had to pack Oscar’s overnight bag, iron a blouse, change for her line dancing, make tea and clear up from tea. She called them again, turned the bread over, added some sliced cheese to it, and slid it back under the grill.
Oscar appeared silently by her side, giving her the fright of her life.
‘I want to go home,’ he informed her evenly.
She looked at him. ‘Don’t you want some cheese on toast?’
‘No,’ replied Oscar. ‘I want to go home.’
She handed him some cutlery. ‘Lay the table, please.’
‘I want to go home,’ he repeated.
‘Yes, I heard you. Well, Daddy isn’t home yet and your au pair’s away, so I’m afraid you can’t.’ She handed him two table mats.
Daisy came in and plonked herself down at the table. Pat gave a warning cough and Daisy tutted, got up, pulled glasses out of a cupboard, and helped lay up huffily. Oscar had insisted they play sports games on her computer all afternoon and she was thoroughly sick of him.
‘I want to go home,’ he told the room in general.
‘And I want to have a fag and a sit-down,’ said Pat, shrugging. ‘Life
stinks. Once you work that out, it all gets a lot easier.’
Oscar stared at her. ‘I want to go ho—’
‘Yes, well,’ interrupted Pat, ‘I’m beginning to agree with you, but there’s not a lot we can do about it, is there?’
‘Yes there is,’ said Oscar. ‘You could take me home.’
‘On what? My shoulders?’
Oscar frowned. ‘No. In your car.’
‘Sunshine,’ said Pat, ‘I don’t drive. And even if I did, your daddy isn’t home yet and your au pair’s away. So it’s not going to happen. So, I recommend you sit down, eat your cheese on toast and when Lilith gets home, tell her. All right?’
Oscar gave it a moment’s thought. ‘All right,’ he mumbled.
Pat smelt burning, swore, and took out the cheese on toast. She put it on two plates and placed the plates in front of the children.
Daisy scowled at her tea. ‘When’s Mummy home?’ she asked.
Pat sighed. ‘My pleasure,’ she muttered, wiping her hands on her apron.
‘Thank you,’ mumbled Daisy, leaving a polite pause. ‘When’s Mummy home?’
‘Mum-my,’ mocked Oscar.
‘Mum,’ corrected Daisy before kicking Oscar hard under the table and then swinging her legs up before he could kick her back.
Pat glanced up at the kitchen clock and then swore again. ‘Ten minutes. When you’ve finished, Daisy, you wash; Oscar, you dry.’ She’d have to wear a different blouse, there was no way she’d have time to iron the more flattering one. ‘Right. I’m going to get changed now,’ she said, taking off her apron. ‘I want no arguing and no messing up the kitchen –’
When they heard the front door open and Lilith call out a greeting, the children leapt up.
‘SIT DOWN!’ shouted Pat. They sat down.
Lilith appeared in the kitchen doorway, coat still on. ‘Hello, boys and girls!’ she greeted them. ‘How are we all?’
‘I’m going to be late,’ said Pat, squeezing past her and into her bedroom.
‘Nan burnt the tea,’ said Daisy accusingly. ‘And Oscar wants to go home. And I want him to go home too. I’ve had to play cricket all afternoon.’
‘I want to go home,’ Oscar informed Lilith, his voice increasingly shaky.
Lilith looked at them both for a moment. ‘Right,’ she considered. ‘Daisy, there are some children in the world who would kill for burnt tea. Oscar, I will phone your dad.’
‘Good,’ Oscar told Daisy, as Lilith went into the lounge. Daisy ignored him and stared at her burnt toast with hot, stinging eyes. Suddenly she flew up off her chair, knocking it on to the floor and followed Lilith into the lounge.
‘I don’t care about other children in the world!’ she shouted at her mother.
Lilith stared in surprise at her daughter. Daisy was standing in the doorway, her fists clenched, her breathing heavy, her eyes defiant. Lilith knew she should probably be cross but the strongest emotion she felt at the moment was one of pure sympathy. It was a lousy answer to always give the kid, but she’d got stuck in a groove, like a bad record. She knew exactly where her girl’s temper came from and understood only too well how wretched Daisy was feeling. She also knew that Daisy probably wanted to hit something very hard right now, and if she couldn’t, it would feel like a waste of a filthy black mood. She must buy her a punch-bag for Christmas.
‘I don’t,’ heaved Daisy, ‘care about other children in the world! Bethany Jones has a trampoline in her garden! We don’t even have our own garden! Oscar’s got a whole playroom full of toys and a television and computer in his bedroom but he comes here and plays his stupid games on our shitty old –’
‘That’s enough, young lady –’
‘THEN STOP TELLING ME TO COMPARE MYSELF TO OTHER CHILDREN!’ yelled Daisy, her crying turning into convulsive sobs. Her legs started running on the spot as if they had a mind of their own and her body needed to expel something, but her arms remained fiercely by her side, probably to stop her from breaking something. Lilith hid her mouth with her hand as her daughter tried to exorcise her demons. By the time Daisy had ground to a slow stop, after executing some fine knee jerks, Lilith had composed herself. Finally Daisy stood still in the doorway, her breathing becoming even and her fists relaxing. Lilith paused before speaking.
‘Thank you, Daisy,’ she said. ‘If I’d wanted to see Riverdance, I’d have paid for a coach tour.’
With a roar, Daisy stamped out of the room, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Lilith, feeling a great sense of motherly pride and empathy, knew her daughter would be feeling much better after that display, and so turned to the matter in hand. Taking off her coat and placing the keys on the coffee table, she dialled Mark’s number.
‘Mark Samuels,’ announced Mark brusquely into the phone.
‘Your son wants to go home. My daughter wants him to go home even more, which means I want him to go home even more than that. Come and pick him up NOW or you will officially lose your free childcare facility.’
There was a moment’s pause. She could almost hear Mark swivelling his chair away from his colleagues.
‘I can’t,’ he hissed into the phone.
‘Yes you can,’ she hissed back.
‘How?’
‘You can stand up and walk out of that fucking office where you spend more time than your home and be with your son. I mean, last time I looked, you were his father.’
‘Lilith,’ hissed Mark, ‘I do not have time for this. Nor do I have any choice about it. I –’
‘No, I do not have time for this,’ she cut in fiercely. ‘And he is your child, not mine. And don’t you dare talk to me about choice. Your life is full of choices, because you are a man in a man’s world, and you are rich in a rich man’s world, so don’t talk to me about choice. Believe it or not, you are not the only single parent in the world with a fucking job.’
Mark tried to interrupt, but she was on a roll.
‘Now correct me if I’m wrong,’ she continued, ‘but I don’t remember us ever getting married, so I don’t need to take this self-obsessed, sexist, abandoning shit from you. Come and get your son NOW and make three people happy instead of just you for a change. Or I am putting him out on the street so that my daughter can have the fraction of our tiny little flat that she calls home to herself again.’
‘I’m not happy with this –’ exploded Mark into the phone, but she’d hung up.
She slammed the phone down and whizzed round. She saw a pale-faced Oscar standing by the door.
She smiled grimly. ‘Daddy’s coming home soon, sweetheart.’
Oscar turned and walked away.
8
A WARM, FIDGETY body snuggled into bed next to Mark. Mark smiled and turned lazily away, flat on his back, so his son didn’t get a premature lesson in how the adult male’s body worked. He forced himself to stop visualising curvy women with long, corkscrew hair and snug, tight jeans, and when done, stretched out his hand to touch his boy on the arm. The years of cuddling up together in bed were long gone, but sometimes, if Mark played it right, Oscar didn’t move away. This morning, Oscar turned his head towards his dad and they lay there with their eyes shut for a while. Eventually Mark risked it and opened his eyes. Oscar was staring at him, his eyes almost questioning.
He smiled at his son.
‘Hello, Osc,’ he croaked.
‘Hi.’
‘We’ve got the whole day to ourselves. What do you want to do?’
‘Go swimming!’ said Oscar.
Mark visualised curvy women with long, corkscrew hair and snug, tight swimming costumes. He swivelled his hips away from Oscar. ‘You’re on,’ he said. ‘Give me five – no, ten – minutes and I’ll catch you up downstairs.’
Oscar cheered.
True to his word, ten minutes later Mark shuffled downstairs for breakfast. While Oscar ate toast and stared vacuously at vividly coloured, violent TV cartoons, Mark picked up the post from the front-door mat. Whenever he did this he got a snapshot of
Oscar the toddler running to the post and thrusting it, crumpled and torn, into Helen’s hands with the proud words, ‘’Ost, Mama.’
He wandered back into the kitchen, filled the espresso machine and stood at the counter. He didn’t think twice before opening the brown envelope with the typed address on it – all his letters were bills of some kind. But he stopped when he realised what he was reading:
Dear Mr Samuels,
I do hope you don’t mind me contacting you in this unorthodox manner, but I am increasingly concerned that Oscar is the only child in my class who has, at present, no one representing him at Parents’ Evening.
As you know, Oscar is now in Year 6, and next year he will be commencing secondary education. Both myself and Heatheringdown’s headmistress, Miss James, feel that it would be appropriate for you to attend this Parents’ Evening, so that you feel fully involved in your son’s education at this crucial time.
The evening begins at 6.30 p.m. and ends at 8 p.m. and we feel that this timing should allow for all parents to attend, however tight their business or work schedules might be.
I do look forward to seeing you there.
Kind regards,
Miss N Hobbs
Mark stared at the letter, incredulous. He was being told to come to Parents’ Evening.
Right, he thought. Oh boy, was he going to be there. And he was going to give this interfering bitch the biggest rocket up her fanny she’d ever had in her life. What did she know about bringing up a child? He hadn’t slept a full night in six months because he was working so hard to give his son the life he deserved. He bet this old cow hadn’t worked a proper full day in her long, dull life.
He was still fuming when they got to the pool an hour later.
After he and Oscar had held hands and jumped into the deep end, screaming ‘Geronimo!’ as tradition insisted, Mark decided to use this opportunity to find out more about Miss Hobbs. When they came up from their jump, they trod water opposite each other, letting the cool water splash over their shoulders. Mark decided now was as good a time as any. It was even worth ruining the perfect moment.
The Learning Curve Page 13
