‘Julia left me last year,’ he said. ‘It didn’t work out. I soon discovered that we had very little in common. She had a fiery temper and would fly into tantrums at the slightest thing. Work dominated her life. She was manipulative, too. When we split up she managed to get me edged out of the firm. I lost the partnership and was pushed into resigning. She was a fiercely ambitious woman and if anything or anybody got in her way, well, she—’
‘Simon,’ interrupted Elisabeth, ‘I’m not a marriage guidance counsellor. Your life with Julia is of no interest or concern to me. I’ve moved on.’
‘No, I know that. It’s just—’
‘I think you should go,’ she said.
‘I’ve wanted to see you for a long time, Elisabeth. Please hear me out. What I did—’
‘What you did, Simon, was walk out of my life and your son’s for another woman,’ Elisabeth said angrily. ‘I don’t feel any pleasure in knowing that it didn’t work out for you but I am really not interested to hear all the details.’
‘I know that—’
‘Let me finish! You have never been in touch, never phoned me up to see how John is, never even sent your son so much as a birthday card and now you walk back into my life and want to talk about things. Well, no thank you.’
‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘Julia got quite neurotic when I did suggest keeping in touch with John. Honestly, I really did want to see him. She was incredibly jealous, got quite paranoid if I spoke to another woman, imagining all sorts of things.’
‘John is not another woman, Simon, he’s your son.’
‘I promised Julia that—’
‘So it was all Julia’s fault, was it?’ asked Elisabeth. ‘How convenient for you.’
‘No, of course not,’ he replied. ‘I should have kept in touch. I know that now.’
‘Simon,’ said Elisabeth, ‘I’ve had a tiring day. What is it you want?’
‘I just wanted to see you,’ he said pathetically. ‘To talk to you.’
‘About what?’
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about things recently, going over in my mind what happened between us, rehearsing what I would say to you if I got the chance. I wanted to say that I’m sorry, I wanted to say that. I very much regret how I behaved, how I treated you.’
‘It’s a wonderful thing, is hindsight,’ said Elisabeth.
‘I know I behaved badly. I suppose I felt trapped, crowded in. I didn’t want to hear when you wanted to talk about John’s condition.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Elisabeth conceded dolefully.
‘I should have tried harder. I know that now.’
‘I know it wasn’t all one-sided, Simon,’ said Elisabeth. ‘I was tense and anxious too, and I know that I could be tetchy and bad-tempered, but I wanted support not recriminations, I wanted us to work through this thing together, not be at each other’s throats. We were on opposite sides from the start. I tried so many times to get you to face up and accept John’s disability, to get you to come with me to the specialist, visit the school, but you were reluctant even to talk about it. You just shut it out. You wanted a son who would be a clever and sporty boy like the sons of all your colleagues at work, a “normal child”, whatever that means. I think you wanted to believe that he was a kind of late bloomer and that he would suddenly emerge as this child of exceptional ability. You would not admit it until it became obvious that there was something wrong, and then you couldn’t cope with a little boy who lived in his own closed world and would be dependent upon us all his life.’
After a few silent and uncomfortable moments he replied. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted sadly, looking at his feet. ‘I was frightened and I suppose jealous too.’
‘Jealous of what?’
‘Of John.’
‘You were jealous of a severely disabled child? Oh come on, Simon, you can do better than that.’
‘Before we had him, Elisabeth, we had such a great life. Didn’t we? Friends round for supper, theatre, restaurants, trips abroad. When John came along it changed our lives so completely. Everything was different. We never went out, friends dwindled, we never had a holiday. Your life centred completely on John. I just felt that you didn’t love me in the same way when he arrived. He dominated your life. It was John this and John that. It got too much for me. Yes, I was jealous. At the time it seemed your child was a kind of substitute for a husband. You were desperate to throw yourself into the parenting business in a big way and—’
‘I don’t need to listen to all this, Simon,’ interrupted Elisabeth. ‘I really don’t know where this conversation is going. I’m happy and settled, and you can’t just appear out of the blue, say you are sorry and expect—’
‘I miss you, Elisabeth,’ he said sadly. ‘I never realised how much until these last few months.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I want you back in my life. You loved me once and—’
‘Stop it, Simon. I really don’t want to hear this.’
He wiped his eyes. ‘Maybe if we took things slowly at first, got to know each other again . . . I still have feelings for you, Elisabeth. I still love you.’
‘This is going nowhere,’ she said. ‘It’s selfish of you to do this to me. You come back and start to turn everything upside down. Simon, I was devastated when you left. I could barely cope, but I did cope because of our son. I now have a terrific job, my dream cottage and good friends, and I am near John so I can see him regularly. After all those years of worry and sometimes desperation I am truly happy, and I think John is too.’
‘I know he is.’
‘How would you know? You haven’t seen him for six years.’
‘I have,’ Simon replied quietly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘When Julia left me last year I made contact and I’ve been seeing John for the last few months.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Why would I lie about something like that? You can ask Mr Williams if you want. Perhaps you are wondering how I found out where he was. Well, I phoned your last school. They wouldn’t tell me where you had gone to, just that it was somewhere near a specialist school for autistic students. It didn’t take much of an effort – just a few phone calls – to find Forest View. I’ve been seeing John most Sundays.’
‘The head teacher would have mentioned it,’ said Elisabeth.
‘I told Mr Williams not to say anything to you. I heard how well you were doing and thought that seeing me would have complicated things.’
‘You were right there.’
‘Whatever you think about me, Elisabeth,’ he said, ‘I am not that selfish. I’ve been a bloody fool, I know that now, but I would never want to make things difficult for you.’
‘And you say that you have been seeing John on Sundays?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I have. You might not believe this but I’ve got attached to the boy and I’ve learned a great deal about his condition. It’s true that when he was born I did have ambitions that he would be clever and sporty, but all fathers hope for that for their sons, don’t they? Now it doesn’t matter to me.’
‘David Williams should have told me,’ said Elisabeth, not listening to what he was saying.
‘Don’t blame him,’ said Simon. ‘As I said, I asked him not to say anything. He described how well you were doing as the head teacher of a village school, how popular and successful you were. Of course he wouldn’t tell me which school it was so I called in at County Hall, where, as you know, there is a list of the county schools and the names of the head teachers. I found your name. I asked at the village store and the large woman who serves there told me where you lived.’
‘I see.’
‘I shall go on seeing John whatever may happen between us,’ he said, ‘but I hope to keep seeing you. I want to put the past behind us.’ He stood up and approached her. ‘We could try again, Elisabeth. Take things slowly at first. I’ve changed. I just want a second chance.’
There was a loud rapping at the door and a m
ad ringing of the doorbell.
‘Excuse me,’ she said.
‘Now, Mrs Devine,’ said a hearty voice when she opened the door. A bottle of champagne was thrust into Elisabeth’s hand. ‘I have come to help you celebrate.’
‘Michael!’ Elisabeth exclaimed.
‘And after a toast to your success I am taking a rather exceptional and attractive newly appointed head teacher out for dinner. I have just heard the wonderful news.’
Simon appeared in the hall.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Dr Stirling, ‘I wasn’t aware you had company.’
‘This is Simon,’ Elisabeth told him flatly. ‘My ex-husband.’
Elisabeth called at Clumber Lodge the next morning, keen to see Michael Stirling and to explain the matters of the previous night.
Mrs O’Connor, having congratulated Elisabeth on her becoming the head teacher of the new consortium, explained that Dr Stirling had gone out after receiving a telephone call earlier that morning.
‘It must have been important, because he got a locum doctor to take his Saturday morning surgery,’ the housekeeper told Elisabeth. ‘He shot out of this house like a scalded cat. And speaking of cats, I’ll be glad when this madam gets taken back, so I will. She gets under my feet. No wonder people trip over her.’ She pointed to the Siamese rubbing its body against her leg. ‘She won’t leave me alone. Follows me everywhere, so she does. Cupboard love, of course. She likes my steamed fish. Now that Miss Sowerbutts is out of hospital the cat wants taking back, but James won’t do it and I’m certainly not. I find it hard work speaking to that woman. She’s a face that could have been hacked out of wood with a blunt axe, so she has.’ The housekeeper stopped suddenly when she saw Elisabeth’s troubled look. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Devine?’ she said. ‘You look quite agitated, so you do.’
‘I really do need to see Dr Stirling,’ replied Elisabeth. ‘You have no idea where he might have gone?’
‘No, he didn’t say, just up and went. Didn’t even have time to put his outdoor coat on. I guess it’s another emergency. I hope it’s not Miss Sowerbutts again. I’ve had quite enough of her cat.’
‘I’ll call back later,’ said Elisabeth. ‘I really do need to speak to him. I’m off to Forest View now to see John.’
‘Well, I don’t know what time the doctor will be back,’ Mrs O’Connor told her. ‘If I were you I’d leave it until this afternoon. I’ll tell him you’ve called.’
At Forest View the head teacher congratulated Elisabeth on her success.
‘My goodness, news travels fast,’ she told him.
‘Ah well, one of my new governors, Councillor Cooper, called in yesterday after the interviews,’ said Mr Williams, ‘and told me. He said to keep it to myself until it’s made official but I pressed him to tell me. He said you gave an outstanding interview. I believe he’s just joined your governing body too? He’s a sharp young man and very enthusiastic, and I am sure will be a great asset. He’s going to come in here each week and help in the classes.’
‘So you knew I was up for interview yesterday?’ asked Elisabeth.
‘You still have a lot to learn about this part of the world,’ Mr Williams told her. ‘Nothing can be kept secret for too long around here.’
‘And yet you kept my ex-husband’s visits a secret,’ said Elisabeth.
The head teacher looked embarrassed. ‘Ah yes, I felt rather uncomfortable about that. How did you find out he has been to see John?’
‘Because he called around unexpectedly last night,’ Elisabeth said. ‘I’d not seen him for six years.’
‘I did want to tell you, Elisabeth,’ said Mr Williams, ‘but he begged me to promise not to say anything. You see, when he asked about you I told him how happy and settled you are, how successful things are at the village school, and I guess he didn’t want to spoil it. You know, I think he is genuinely happy for you. I am sure he regrets a great many things he’s said and done in the past. He’s been coming here for the last few months, always on a Sunday, and I can see he’s become close to John. He’s not just going through the motions. He’s interested in John’s condition, is always asking questions and offers help. Perhaps at last he’s come to terms with his son’s condition.’
‘And John likes to see him?’ asked Elisabeth.
‘Oh yes, I think he likes to see him, as far as I can tell.’
‘Well,’ said Elisabeth, ‘that’s all that matters. How is John, by the way?’
‘Why don’t you come and see for yourself?’
Elisabeth, on her visits, usually found her son sitting at his favourite table by the window, carefully arranging coloured beads in straight lines, but that morning he was busily occupied at a large plastic trough full of water, gently causing ripples and circles with his fingers.
‘I told you on your last visit that he’s become fascinated with water,’ said the head teacher. ‘Well, it’s become something of an obsession. If it starts to rain he pats the table to tell us he wants to go outside. The thing is, Elisabeth, bearing in mind his condition, John’s starting to communicate really well now. If he’s happy and he wants something he taps the table. If he’s distressed he pats his head. I really think that with this sort of progress it won’t be too long before he starts using more sophisticated means of communicating. Eventually I hope he will be able to go out of school for the day with you. Small steps at first of course, but this is most encouraging.’
John was clearly pleased to see his mother and started tapping the side of the trough. Then he clasped her hand. Elisabeth could feel tears springing up behind her eyes.
Chapter 22
Dr Stirling arrived at the Social Services Department that morning, intrigued as to why Miss Parsons wished to see him so urgently. Her telephone call that morning, despite her reassurance, had alarmed him.
‘Dr Stirling,’ she said, ‘would it be possible for you to come down to my office?’
‘When?’ he asked.
‘This morning, if you are able.’
‘Is it about Danny?’ he asked quickly.
‘It is about Danny, yes.’
‘He’s not run away again, has he?’
‘No, no, nothing like that.’
‘Well, what is it then? Is he all right? Has he had an accident? Is he in any trouble?’
‘I really would prefer to see you, Dr Stirling,’ she said, ‘rather than discuss this over the telephone. I would appreciate it if you could come to my office, where everything will be explained. I can assure you that Danny is fine and that he’s not in any sort of trouble, but it is important that I see you.’
‘Well, I have Saturday morning surgery, but if it is that important I guess I can rearrange things. You are sure the boy is all right?’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she replied.
In Miss Parsons’s office Dr Stirling looked out of breath and anxious. ‘What is it, Miss Parsons?’ he asked urgently. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Please sit down, Dr Stirling,’ said the senior social worker calmly. She sat behind her desk and placed her hands on the top, locking her fingers together. ‘There is nothing to get worried about. As I said on the phone, Danny is fine. He’s in the other room.’
‘May I see him?’ asked Dr Stirling.
‘All in good time. I wanted to have a word with you before you see him. The thing is, Mrs Stainthorpe called me early this morning. I gave her my private telephone number in case there were any problems. She told me that she can’t cope with Danny. She has tried her best but it isn’t working out.’
‘Not working out. Well, if she—’
‘Please let me finish, Dr Stirling,’ interrupted Miss Parsons. ‘Mrs Stainthorpe said that when Danny came to live with her she found her grandson moody and distant and that he spent most of his time in his room, sulking and rarely saying anything. Since he returned after running away things have not improved, in fact she tells me things have got worse. Danny has become very untidy, plays his music so loudly that other re
sidents in the apartments have complained, and he goes out without telling her when he is coming back. She’s had a letter from the school saying Danny is not doing his homework or applying himself.’
‘Miss Parsons,’ said Dr Stirling, ‘this is so completely out of character. The boy is not like that. He’s really not.’
‘I know that,’ agreed the senior social worker. ‘I think there is method in what he is doing.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘He’s a bright boy,’ said Miss Parsons. ‘I think there’s reasoning behind his behaviour.’
‘You mean he’s deliberately being difficult?’
‘Yes. I do.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘Mrs Stainthorpe is of the opinion that Danny might, after all, be better staying with you. She sees how unhappy he is and she feels you are perhaps better able to deal with him, that the boy “needs a man to sort him out”. Her words. Now I want to ask you, Dr Stirling—’
‘You don’t need to ask me, Miss Parsons,’ he said. ‘Of course I want him to come back.’
‘And Mrs Stainthorpe says she will have no objections if you eventually wish to adopt Danny, but that she would like to see him now and again. She doesn’t want to lose contact with him.’
Dr Stirling looked at his hands. ‘Danny is right, you know. So often adults just don’t listen to children. They don’t take any account of their wishes. He never wanted to move in the first place, and if he had been left where he was then none of this would have happened.’
‘We do listen to what children have to say,’ said Miss Parsons. ‘We listen a great deal, but sometimes our hands are tied or our recommendations are overruled. It’s not easy, the work we have to do and the decisions we sometimes have to make, but we try our best and we can’t do more than that.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Dr Stirling. ‘I appreciate all that you have done.’
‘Would that all endings were like this,’ she said smiling ruefully. ‘Danny is now back where he wants to be and that’s the main thing.’
‘May I see him now?’ asked the doctor.
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘You know, Dr Stirling, Mrs Stainthorpe is not quite the hard and selfish woman that people think she is. Talking to her about Danny, I have seen a rather different side to her. He’s the only family she has. I think she’s lonely and genuinely hoped things would work out. I do hope Danny will keep in contact with her.’
Trouble at the Little Village School Page 33
