He got up suddenly and called out, 'Tom! Keep the noise down!'
He explained that the other tenants were old and complained.
When we were leaving, the boys kept kicking the ball. Dan grabbed Tom's arm and said, 'Tom. Manners.'
'Thank you for coming,' Tom said.
On school days Dan parked his old Holden among the expensive cars and SUVs. There was a kind of dignity about it. He never looked embarrassed, even though some of the other parents made jokes about his car. On sports day he stayed the whole afternoon and sat with us on the grass. He said he worked flexible hours so he could be around for Tom. He stayed to watch Charles high-jumping. When Charles came first I hugged him, and Dan did too. He'd told me he'd had a word with the headmaster and that Tom was to move into Charles's class. He was pleased, because he thought their friendship was so good for Tom. There was something about the way he said it that made me think he was pleased for his own sake too. I blushed. Then he said, boyishly, 'So we can spend a lot of time together.' And I blushed even more.
'You fancy him,' Karen said.
'No,' I said. But I thought about him, in his jeans and Tshirt, waiting for Tom in the car park while the big cars purred and throbbed by. Once I saw him and Tom having a sword fight with long grass stalks, laughing, falling down.
'I don't like him,' Karen said. She made a spiteful face.
Tom started coming to our house after school. Afterwards Dan picked him up and he always stopped to talk. He repeated that he wanted Charles and Tom to be best friends; it was a kind of refrain with him, but he made it clear he was glad for his own reasons. He said how lucky it was that we'd got together, two people who were interested in the same things. He said we had the same ideas about bringing up children. Too many people didn't really think about it, he said, and that amounted to negligence. They spoiled their kids and let them behave like slobs. He and I were going to have a really terrific pair of boys, because we thought about things and knew what mattered. He talked as if he and I had a secret pact, and the rest of the world could do what it liked.
He was observant. He imitated the teachers: their walks, the way they talked. He made me laugh. He said things that I'd thought myself, privately, but hadn't had anyone to tell. I began inviting Tom over myself, without asking Charles whether he wanted me to.
Dan didn't approve of the boys watching TV. He liked them to have healthy outdoor activity. He was very serious about that. He said that Charles had such a good physique, it would be criminal to let him sit around. We had a rope swing that went right over the bank at the back of our garden and Dan went down with me and the boys to have a look at it. We were talking, and the next moment he leapt onto the swing. I watched him flying through the air, his shirt riding up, his legs kicking. He was a big, strong man, but sometimes he used his body as if he was still a boy.
Dan invited Charles to their place, but Charles told me he wouldn't go.
'Why?' I demanded.
Charles scowled and wouldn't say. I went on at him.
He said, 'It's too small and you have to be quiet because of the tenants and he hasn't got anything to play with.'
'You're a spoiled middle-class brat,' I told him. I kept inviting Tom to our place instead. I liked to think he enjoyed our big house and the pool. And I looked forward to talking to Dan.
***
Every week at soccer Dan watched Charles and praised his skill. He paid more attention to him than to Tom, who wasn't so sporty. 'Charles is a real athlete,' he said, following him with his eyes. Each time he said nice things about Charles I had the impression that he was really saying something about me. But there was a shy side to him, and so he communicated in this sideways way, through Charles. Once, after he'd watched Charles for a long time, he said to me, 'I think Charles takes after you, not Max.' I smiled and looked at the ground.
One day Dan told me he'd had to move house. He said the flat wasn't a suitable environment for a child. He'd rented a villa with a garden. I felt sorry for him. He was so keen to do the right thing for Tom, and it couldn't be easy when he was short of money. A few weeks later he told me they'd moved again. The house hadn't worked out. This time he was going to try a flat in the inner city. I didn't think that sounded very nice for Tom, but I didn't say anything. I was a bit surprised when I discovered they'd moved yet again. It became quite a pattern. I can't remember how many times Dan came up with a new address, a new phone number. Tom seemed resigned to packing up and moving on, and I thought Dan must be one of those restless people who's always thinking somewhere else will be better, more interesting.
Dan wanted to have a sleepover at his place for the boys. He said he would pitch a tent in the garden. The boys would love it. I was a bit embarrassed, because every time I put this to Charles he refused, and I had to keep making excuses. Dan wasn't put off. He kept raising the subject. I didn't like to think Charles was too soft and spoiled to sleep in a tent.
I bought a computer, and when I told Dan this he said he would help me set it up. He was an expert on the internet. He knew everything about computers, and I asked his advice because I didn't know much. He said, 'I'll be your computer fixer. You'll never need anyone else. Call me for advice any time.' He said he wanted to create a website for Tom. 'It's a fun thing. I'll get Charles's photo and we can post it on the web. Then they can communicate with kids all over the world. It'll be educational.'
Another thing Dan knew about was cameras. He videoed sports days, school outings. Karen got him to video the school play.
In March I invited Tom to Charles's birthday party. It was already a riot by the time Dan and Tom arrived. The boys were throwing themselves into the pool and shooting one another with water guns. Max was already talking about needing a gin and tonic. Dan pushed Tom ahead of him and said, 'Make sure you behave yourself.' Tom walked away, towards the pool.
'About four o'clock, then,' I said, putting on a wry, brave face, because of the bedlam.
'Actually, I thought I'd stay, if that's all right,' Dan said. 'It's a long drive home and my car's making a funny noise.'
'Oh. Okay, fine.' I was flustered. I went to my room and looked in the mirror. I put on some makeup, to cover my blushing. I thought about offering him some wine.
When I looked out, Dan was running across the lawn with a water gun, shooting the boys. I watched him wrestle a boy to the ground. It was strange to see a man throwing himself about in that way. His shirt came up and I saw his chest. I felt hot watching him. He put his foot on the boy and did a Tarzan pose, showing his arm muscles. The boys stopped running and watched uncertainly, trailing their guns. The boy under Dan suddenly twisted away, and Dan fell. He got up, marched over, took hold of the boy's collar and put his face up close, talking. The boy bowed his head, hunching his small shoulders. Dan said something and flipped the boy away. Then they were all running again, hooting and shrieking.
I went out on the deck and offered him a glass of wine. He came over, sweating. He refused the wine. He said, 'Honestly. Kids.'
'What happened?'
'They get a bit carried away, don't they? They need a bit of telling.'
He went back to the lawn.
I was icing the cake when Charles came in, crying.
'What's wrong?' I asked.
Dan walked in, hot and laughing. 'He banged his face in battle.'
'Never mind, old chap,' Max said. He and Dan exchanged wry smiles. Max handed Dan a beer.
'What did you bang it on?' I asked. I touched the bruise on his cheek.
'His gun,' Charles said loudly, pointing at Dan.
'Never mind,' Max said again, and hustled the boys towards the table.
Charles cheered up and the party carried on. Afterwards Max and I drank some wine. I wanted to talk to him but he went to sleep in his chair when I was in the middle of telling him something. I read a book, watched some TV. I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered whether my face was getting old.
***
We were sitt
ing on the benches, waiting for the boys to come out of class. Karen said, 'I'm going to set up my own business. Selling designer children's clothes?'
Dan nudged me. 'There's a book I want to lend you.' We were sitting close together. I could feel the muscles in his arm.
Some boys came tearing out. Dan got up and went over. 'Excuse me,' he said to Tom. 'Don't you know you're not allowed to run?'
Tom looked down. The boys shifted uneasily.
'I don't want to see you doing it again,' he said. He took hold of Tom's arm. 'Is that clear?'
He came back. 'They need boundaries. Boys respond to that.'
Karen sighed sententiously. 'It's a fact.'
'For example . . .' Dan went on. He stopped. 'Just a minute.'
The boys were play fighting. Dan walked over to them very fast. He took hold of two and pulled them apart, then he pushed the other boys into a line. He walked up and down, talking.
Charles started to walk away. Dan glanced from him to the other boys. Then he jogged after Charles. Charles looked behind and began to run. Dan ran faster, caught hold of his arm, and Charles fell onto the concrete. Dan held him down, hard, for a moment. Then he half got up, went down again, and did a mock wrestling hold.
He came back, pushing Charles ahead of him.
'Here's your villain,' he said. He was breathing hard, his face red and sweaty. He thrust Charles at me, his knees skinned where he'd fallen on the concrete. 'I think your mother wants to talk to you,' he said. He winked at me and Karen.
'What do you think you're doing?' I said to Dan.
'We'll make him a decent citizen,' Dan said.
'No,' I said. 'We're going.' We started to walk away. I hugged Charles's shoulders.
Dan came up behind us. He put his hand on my shoulder. 'Is there a problem?' he said.
'He's my son. You don't tell him what to do. I do.'
Dan began to shake. He leaned over me. I had a sense of how tall and muscular he was. 'I think we're all entitled to set appropriate standards,' he said.
'He's my son. If he needs telling, I'll tell him.'
Dan clenched his fists. He came up very close. 'I think we all . . .' He choked. I'd never seen him angry before.
'You do not tell him what to do, and you do not touch him. Ever!' I hurried Charles away. We got into the car. I looked into the rear-view mirror, into my own eyes. I thought of Dan shaking, his face screwed up. I looked at Charles. He didn't say anything.
***
The next day Dan handed me an envelope, his hands trembling. I took it and walked away.
I read it. It was long and articulate. Dan apologised. He realised that an issue had arisen between us. He was confident that, though we might have some different ideas about appropriate discipline and standards of behaviour, we could acknowledge them, work through them, and go on making sure the boys progressed well. He and I understood each other. We had the same aims and goals. It was natural there might be the odd situation where we would diverge, but we knew we were mostly in agreement. It would be a shame if anything affected the great friendship between the boys. Dan realised his expectations were high (and he didn't think unrealistically so), but he was perfectly able to be flexible if others didn't have the same . . .
The letter ran on, repeating itself. It was bullying, full of jargon. It was elaborate and strenuous. Under the surface it threatened, it accused. It aimed to send me scurrying, flustered and apologising, to heal the rift. I had the sense of Dan clutching at something he desperately wanted, a sense almost of hysteria. I thought of the other fathers I knew. They were busy, preoccupied with their adult worlds. They cared about their children. But they didn't take much notice of their children's friends. I sat by the pool, reading the letter again. I couldn't believe I'd been such a fool.
***
Dan stayed away from us for a week. Then one morning he came across the playground. His face was white and strained. He talked very fast.
'Hope that's all sorted out? Tom's been at me about his website. We haven't had the photo of Charles yet. Could I just have a picture of him? Tom will be really pleased.' He took a digital camera out of his bag.
'No,' I said.
'No?' He blinked.
'And the videos you've taken of Charles — at sports, at swimming. I want you to give them to me.'
He knew what I was saying. He gave me a look of such hatred I backed away. His face burned.
In the days after that, all I could think about was how to keep Dan away from Charles. I couldn't tell anyone, because I had no real evidence. I didn't want to hurt Tom. It made me cold to think that I'd pushed Charles to play with Tom. I kept coming back to the fact that Charles had kept his distance. He had kept away from Dan.
The boys were to go on a swimming trip. Parents were invited, but Max and I were going to a wedding. I said to Max, 'You go to the wedding and I'll go on the school trip.'
Max said, 'Are you out of your mind?'
I sat Max down and told him about Dan. I said I'd realised Dan was fixated on Charles. 'He flattered me. He made me think he liked me, but all the time it was Charles. Just watch him. You watch. He never takes his eyes off Charles.'
Max sighed impatiently. 'He seems like a normal guy to me.' The discussion went on and on. We ended up shouting at each other.
The next day I went to Charles's teacher. She looked at me expectantly and I got nervous. My voice shook. I tried to explain but I muddled it badly. I could tell she thought I was nuts.
'You see, I think Dan wants to hurt Charles,' I finished up. I was whispering. I couldn't bring myself to be more frank.
The teacher looked at me in silence. Then she told me an anecdote about a school trip to the zoo. It wasn't connected to anything I'd said. It was as if she thought she was saving me from embarrassment. I left feeling idiotic. I knew what I was trying to tell her was true, but why should she believe me? I had no hard facts. There was so much I couldn't say and so little that I could.
That day after school I went to Dan. I made myself look friendly and relaxed. We said a few neutral things, then I asked him casually, 'Are you going on the swimming trip?'
His expression was pleasant. 'No, I have to work,' he said.
I decided to go with Max to the wedding.
Next morning the parents gathered outside the class. Dan was there, carrying a backpack. 'I got the day off after all,' he said, and he smiled. I was shocked by the smile. It said everything: that there was war between us; there was hatred. I felt it in my stomach, the violence of it. No one would have noticed or understood. They saw Dan Weston smiling at me, in the jolly crowd of parents and boys.
I went to Karen. I said, 'Can you do something for me? Can you take Charles in your group and make sure Dan Weston doesn't go near him?'
She opened her mouth, amazed.
'It's important. Don't let Dan near Charles.'
Max was waiting in the car. He gave a blast on the horn. Karen looked, mystified, over at Dan, smiling and joking with the other parents.
'Please,' I said.
'All right.' She put her hand on my arm. I hurried away.
After the wedding, Max and I were sitting in the car. I said to him, 'This can't go on.' I was thinking about Dan, the school.
Max was drunk. He said, 'No it can't.'
'I'm going to take Charles out of King's.'
Max said, 'What? Over my dead body!' He thumped the steering wheel. He wouldn't hear of it. He had gone to the school. His father and grandfather. Hell would freeze over . . .
'The situation is impossible.'
Max leaned over to me. 'It is impossible. Because you're impossible.'
I sat for a moment in silence. 'I know what's going to happen,' I said finally. We looked at each other. We knew each other very well. Without saying anything we agreed.
Max and I separated. He tried to stop me changing Charles's school, but in the end he had to give in. Charles didn't mind. He was pleased — relieved — to go back to his ordinary
, homely state primary. He'd been happier there with his old friends. He gave up golf lessons. Max junior started at the primary school too.
I kept the house. Max and I had so much money the split didn't hurt us much. At least, I didn't think so. I knew how lucky I was. Max complained bitterly about finances. I played on his meanness when we were arguing about Charles changing schools. I told him what a saving it would be. After six months Max got himself a new girlfriend. Really he'd had her all along.
When Charles and Max junior have friends after school I say to them, 'Off you go. Do what you like. Go and play under the house!'
It's a silly private joke of mine, but it makes me feel happy.
Karen tells me that Dan took Tom out of school too, soon after Charles left. He did it without warning and they disappeared.
I don't know where they are now. Maybe Dan Weston's turned up at your child's school. Or maybe that blue-eyed security guard is stationed right outside the building where you work. You've got to keep an eye out. The world is full of strange people.
Extraordinary things can be harder to spot than ordinary ones. But it's the extraordinary things that jolt you into taking action. I'm happier now than I've been for years. I've got Dan Weston to thank for that.
Max tells everyone that I'm mad and impossible. He says I'll use any excuse to get my own way. I know people may have trouble believing what I've said, about being followed through the supermarket by a murderer, about Dan wanting Charles not me, and my being too vain and stupid to realise until it was nearly too late. But it's true. I've written it down, because every word of it is true.
the doctor
When I was examining a patient one morning an ant ran up the speculum. I concealed a flash of boyish laughter, panic. I angled the light, trying to find it. It had disappeared up there. One of the patient's round tanned knees brushed my ear. She had her baby in a car seat on the floor. She was staring at the ceiling, one hand behind her head.
I gave up, eased the speculum out. Decided it couldn't do any harm.
'That's fine,' I said. 'You can get dressed now.' I took her arm and helped her up. She let out a long breath and smiled.
Opportunity Page 7
