by Susan Lewis
‘I don’t have time for any of it,’ Charlotte protested.
‘Which is why we can’t let her decide,’ Rick told Hamish, and taking out his mobile he connected to Visage in the village, spoke to someone he apparently knew, and managed to book her in for some kind of exotic facial and massage and a glamorous beach-wave hairdo that was going to transform her into a surf-babe sensation.
Of course, she felt madly guilty an hour later as she left Rick in charge of the cellar door and turned out of their drive on to River Road. Apart from knowing very well that it was Rowan who deserved this treat, she felt terrible for not taking advantage of this unexpected free time by spending it with Elodie and Cooper. With Chloe at school she could whisk the little ones out of kindi for the day and spend some time in their world without having to worry about their sister doing something to spoil it. Perhaps she’d skip one of the treatments and call Rowan to tell her to take it instead.
Perfect, that was exactly what she’d do, and when Rowan had finished being spoiled Charlotte could return to the cellar door, for the mountain of demands that were piling up on her desk and computer were making her head spin even to think of them.
The drive into Havelock village was along a straight, pretty road with lots of palms lining the way and colourful flower beds gleaming so bright in the February sunshine they almost didn’t seem real. She passed the grand Te Mata Estate and stylish Black Barn Vineyard, Summerset in the Vines retirement village, the turning towards Arataki Honey, the Woolshed apartments, feeling oddly as though she hadn’t seen them in months, when it had surely only been a few days.
Eventually, she took a left at the public pool and decided to park outside the library.
It was the most perfect summer’s day – no wonder everyone was smiling. It would be such bliss to imagine that she didn’t have a care in the world, so for the next couple of hours she might try to do just that.
Moments after getting out of the car her phone bleeped with a text.
Sorry only just realised you left a message last night. Should be me apologising. Missing you and kids. Will call when on way back. Ax
They always used to end their messages with love you but that hadn’t happened in a while. Still, at least he’d said he was missing them, which was something, provided it was true.
Trying not to vex herself with why he hadn’t realised there was a message until now, she texted back, Any idea what time we should expect you?
Not yet, but have a dinner arranged at Craggy Range with Kim and Andy from BB.
In other words he wouldn’t be spending the evening at home.
Deciding not to answer, she put her phone in her bag and headed deeper into the village, forgetting for a moment why she was there. It didn’t matter, it would come back to her once she’d reminded herself that it wasn’t unusual for him to spend time with Kim and Andy. As the owners of Black Barn they’d become his mentors as well as good friends, and no doubt something had come up in the past couple of days that he wanted to run past them.
She just couldn’t help wondering why she hadn’t been invited to the dinner.
Because Zoe was going?
Realising she was in danger of becoming obsessed with Zoe, and that if she carried on the way she was she’d end up pushing them together – if it hadn’t happened already – she took out her phone as it rang, desperately hoping it was him and experiencing a jolt of shock when she saw it was Zoe.
A dozen horrific reasons for the call were already ripping through her mind by the time she said, cheerily, ‘Hi, Zoe. How are you?’
‘Hi Charlotte. I’m good thanks. Keeping my fingers crossed for this deal. We should know by the end of the morning.’
‘How hopeful are you?’ It was amazing how friendly she could sound when she was feeling something else altogether.
‘Well, if his phone calls last night are anything to go by,’ Zoe replied, ‘then he’s definitely keen to make it happen, but I know him, he drives a hard bargain, so I’ve warned Tony that we might not get the price we’d hoped for.’
Gritting her teeth at the Tony – no one but Zoe ever called him that – Charlotte said, ‘We’re prepared to be flexible.’
‘Of course, but we don’t want to end up feeling cheated. Oh, hang on a sec …’
As she went off the line Charlotte turned into Joll Road with its stylish boutiques and trendy pavement cafes, and found herself so drawn into the pleasure of it all that she began wishing she had time for a leisurely shop and girlie lunch. The latter would be easier if she had any friends. Any of it would be easy if she had the time.
‘OK, I’m back,’ Zoe announced. ‘So, to the real reason for this call. Do you remember the photographer I mentioned a while ago?’
‘I do.’
‘Great. He’s just been in touch to say that he can fit us in for a couple of days at the end of the month, so if you can let me know when it would be OK to go into the retreats I can start drawing up a schedule. How would you feel about the children being photographed?’
Startled, since this had never been mentioned before, Charlotte said, ‘Have you asked Anthony about that?’
‘Not yet. I thought I’d come to you first, mainly because of Chloe. You two are a great selling point, I’m sure you realise that, but I’m not into exploitation, so if you say it’s off the agenda that’s what’ll happen.’
‘I’m afraid it is off the agenda,’ Charlotte told her.
‘That’s fine. How about you? With Tony? It’s going to be important to put faces to the vineyard …’
‘Exactly what are these photographs for?’ Charlotte asked, going right past Visage and plonking herself down at a table outside the Olive Tree cafe.
‘I’ve got this great guy in Auckland who’s going to put a glossy brochure together for us at cost. He owes me. I want this brochure to tell the story of Tuki River Winery in beautiful pictures, and seductive text. We can use it in all sorts of ways, send it out with press releases, tasting invitations … Actually, I’ve been talking to Cuisine magazine about running a feature on you guys and they’re very interested to hear more. If I can show them some shots taken by Frank Ingershall they might just end up sending their own reporter to come and check you out.’
Since publicity in Cuisine was something of a holy grail for people in the wine trade, Charlotte could only feel impressed. ‘If you really think it’ll help for me to be photographed,’ she said, ‘then of course I’ll do it.’
‘Thanks,’ Zoe said warmly. ‘I’ll make sure you’ve got all the support you need, hair, make-up, and we can go through your wardrobe together. It has to look natural, so your regular clothes will be just right, but you’d be a braver girl than I if you’d forgo hair and make-up.’
Unable to imagine Zoe ever needing such backup, Charlotte could almost hear Rick cheering as she said, ‘I’m happy to put my trust in you. You just tell me where I have to be and what I have to do. Meantime I’ll get you the schedule for the retreats.’
As she rang off, with five minutes to spare before her first Visage appointment, Charlotte quickly called up her emails, making a rapid search for orders, and felt her head throb when she found none. She’d really hoped that the special offer they’d introduced on the website this morning might have yielded some results, but it hadn’t. At least not yet, but it was still early, and who knew what might happen in the hours to come.
Did she have time, she wondered, to go on to Polly Greenborough’s blog? She didn’t know the woman, she even suspected the name was made up, but like her Polly was the adoptive parent of a traumatised child. The family lived in Oldham, Lancashire. It was clear that Polly and her husband were facing the same sort of challenges with their eight-year-old daughter, Roxanne, as Charlotte and Anthony were with Chloe, and Charlotte could only wish that the blog wasn’t four years out of date. There was still a lot to read, so she had no idea yet how things had progressed in the Greenborough family, though Roxanne must be twelve by now, and Polly’s
other children six and eight.
The same age gaps as those between her own three.
Deciding to leave Polly’s next instalment until later, she gathered up her bag and started towards the salon, coming to a sudden stop when her phone rang and she saw who it was.
Te Mata School. How she’d come to dread seeing those words on her screen.
‘Hello,’ she answered dismally, ‘Charlotte Goodman speaking.’ What a dreadful mother she was to hope that her child was sick rather than in the kind of trouble Chloe had been in for most of last year.
‘Hello Mrs Goodman. It’s Mike Bain here,’ the voice at the other end told her.
She tensed all over. If the principal was calling it had to be bad. He was a lovely man, adored by all the children.
‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘that we’ve had to take Chloe out of class for the third time this week …’ Third time? This was only the fourth day back, and how come she was only hearing about this now? ‘… and in light of what’s happened this morning,’ he was saying, ‘I’d be grateful if you could come and pick her up.’
Wanting to sink to her knees in groaning despair, she said, ‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes, she’s fine. A deputy principal is with her at the moment.’
‘What did she do?’
‘I think it’s best we don’t discuss it on the phone. Is your husband around?’
‘No, he’s in Wellington, but I’ll come right away.’
After dropping into the salon to cancel her appointments, she ran back to the car calling Anthony on the way. Before he could answer she rang off. Problems with Chloe would only have the usual effect of causing more tension between them.
Less than ten minutes later she was waiting outside the school for the electronic gate to slide open, and praying with all her might that Chloe wasn’t about to be excluded. It was possible, given all the trouble she’d caused last year. She was spiteful, disruptive, argumentative, and hadn’t even been allowed to see the last term out. Mike Bain had said it might be a good idea for Chloe’s Christmas break to begin early. It would give her some time to reflect, he’d said, and perhaps they could start the new year with a clean slate.
It was more than Chloe deserved, considering how difficult she could be, but Mike Bain wasn’t someone to give up easily on a child, especially one who’d had as challenging a start in life as Chloe. He’d even been in touch during the Christmas break to find out how she was doing, and Charlotte hadn’t exactly been lying when she’d said that Chloe was behaving well. For the most part she had behaved well, so Charlotte hadn’t felt it would be helpful to start getting into how Chloe was never invited to friends’ houses for playdates or sleepovers, and none of Chloe’s invitations to the vineyard were accepted either. Over Christmas that hadn’t mattered too much since her cousins from England had been staying, and Nana and Bob had come down from Kerikeri, but as busy a house as they’d been with Anthony’s sister and brother-in-law there too, it hadn’t stopped Charlotte noticing that Cooper’s friends had also started to stay away.
Was that because of Chloe?
She could only presume it was, because Cooper was constantly being invited to his friends’ homes, it was just the other way round that seemed to be a problem.
And then there was Chloe’s behaviour towards Elodie. Pushing her over, breaking her toys, rasping at her in an ugly voice …
As Charlotte pulled into a parking space her mobile rang, and seeing it was her mother she hurriedly clicked on. ‘I’m just about to go into the school,’ she said. ‘There’s a problem with Chloe.’
‘Oh no,’ her mother groaned. ‘I thought she was having special assistance this term.’
‘She is, but apparently there’s still a problem.’
‘Do you know what it is?’
‘Not yet. I’ll call as soon as I can. Is everything OK with you?’
‘It’s fine, but we do need to talk.’
Unsettled by the seriousness of her mother’s tone, Charlotte ran into the school reception area and found the door to Mr Bain’s office already open, ready to invite her in.
Oh Chloe, Chloe, why on earth don’t you realise how lucky you are to be at a school like this, she was crying inside. What’s going to happen to you if they don’t want you here any more?
‘Mrs Goodman, Charlotte,’ Mike Bain said warmly, taking her hand and showing her to a chair on the visitor side of his desk. He was a tall, good-looking man in his mid-forties with a humorous twinkle in his kindly eyes, and such an easy and reassuring way with him that every parent for miles around wanted to send their child to his school.
After closing the door, he sat down too and fixed Charlotte with a solemn expression. ‘I’m afraid,’ he began, seeming to dislike this as much as Charlotte did, ‘that Chloe has once again been encouraging other children, some younger than herself, to engage in … let’s just call it inappropriate behaviour.’
Charlotte’s heart was so tight it was hard to breathe. She didn’t want him to elaborate, she didn’t want this to be happening at all, but it was and he was already going into brief, but sensitively delicate detail of the acts involved.
‘Are you sure it wasn’t just show and tell?’ Charlotte said desperately, as if that was any better than what he’d described.
It was. A whole lot better.
‘Not this time, I’m afraid, and unfortunately it was one of the parents who’s here helping out today who caught her.’
Feeling an excruciating crush of shame, Charlotte said, ‘Am I allowed to ask the parent’s name? I’d like to apologise.’
‘There won’t be any need. She’s aware of Chloe’s history so no blame is attached to you, but obviously we can’t allow this sort of thing to continue.’
Of course they couldn’t. ‘I’ll talk to her,’ Charlotte assured him. ‘I’ll make her understand that what she’s doing is wrong.’ As if she hadn’t tried that already, so many times she was running out of ways to explain, cajole, threaten, understand – whatever it took.
‘I think she already knows it’s wrong, and in part it’s probably why she’s doing it.’
It was all so difficult and harrowing and unanswerable that Charlotte could only look at him helplessly, then quickly turn off her phone as it rang.
‘We’ve done everything we can to try and help her,’ Mike Bain continued gravely, ‘and we appreciate your support in our behaviour programmes; not every parent wants to admit that their child has a problem …’
‘Well, we always knew that Chloe did.’
He nodded. ‘She’s a sweet girl; clever, funny, a great team player when she wants to be, but unfortunately there’s this other side to her that seems to be playing a more dominant role as time goes on.’ He broke off as Charlotte’s eyes went down to hide her tears, and after a pause he continued more gently, ‘I’m sure you’re aware that because of her circumstances we’ve made more allowances than we might for another child, but I’m afraid that several parents have already complained.’
Charlotte swallowed dryly. ‘So … So what are you saying, exactly?’
Sounding as regretful as he obviously felt, he said, ‘I’ll have to put the case to the Board of Trustees before any official action can be taken. In the meantime we have a couple of options. The first could be for you to come to school with her and supervise her …’
‘But I can’t … I have two other children and a business to run …’
‘I understand that, which is why the second option, of her being educated at home through a correspondence course, might work better. We’ll provide the necessary learning materials, and you’ll get all the support you need from the school during this interim period, but you or your husband – or a private tutor – will need to do the teaching.’
Charlotte’s head was spinning. As if they didn’t have enough to do, they now had to educate Chloe, who might, or might not, welcome it, depending on her mood, and who was even more capable of causing disruption in the home tha
n she was at school. Nevertheless, she obviously couldn’t expect anyone to tolerate these … episodes, especially now they seemed to be getting more frequent. Show and tell might be a part of most kids’ early experience, but the kind of things Chloe knew and had even taken part in … What sane parent would want their child around her?
Thinking wretchedly of her own two, Charlotte tried to come up with something to say, but Mr Bain was speaking again.
‘… some very good child psychologists who would be able to help …’
‘She won’t talk to them,’ Charlotte told him shakily. ‘You know how often we’ve tried, but she either clams up or flies into a rage. Which obviously isn’t a reason not to try again,’ she added lamely.
He smiled his encouragement, and she started to get to her feet. For some reason she found she couldn’t rise.
‘Sit there for a moment,’ Mike Bain said gently. ‘I’ll go and get Chloe. Maybe you’d like to call your husband?’
As the door closed behind him Charlotte stared at the walls covered in children’s drawings, awards, photographs of important occasions, and felt herself coming so close to breaking down that only the sudden wailing of a child outside stopped her.
Rushing to the door, afraid it was Chloe, she saw two receptionists and Mr Bain running into the car park where a small boy was howling for a reason Charlotte didn’t try to find out. She had her own concerns right now, and they were so frightening and complex, and so potentially enormous that she wanted to howl for rescue too. Polly’s blog said:
I felt at the end of my tether today when I was called in by the school yet again. They can’t take any more of her, so I was forced to bring her home where she went into a frenzied rage, smashing things up, terrifying the younger two, kicking and punching me … Her psychologist wasn’t available for me to talk to; I haven’t found her to be of any help anyway and Roxanne hates the probing. She physically assaulted the last psych, so badly that there were mentions made of contacting the police. Fortunately we were able to calm things down, but the psych didn’t want to see her again. I’m sure there’s an expert out there somewhere who can help us, but finding that person … I don’t want to admit to the thoughts that go through my mind, I’m ashamed of them and they upset me so much that my husband just walks away. He doesn’t know what to do any more than I do, but we have to find a way. Where is Roxanne now? I should go to find her.
