Saving from Monkeys

by Star, Jessie L.

  "I need to talk to your mum."

  Well, shit.

  Chapter 15 – The Sinclair Charity Case and the World Record Attempt

  Elliot had gone through a lot of pain over the past week so I was more than relieved to see that my announcement that I needed to see his mum hadn't hurt him exactly. He looked more like he had the day I'd slapped him in the face with the slice of salami; surprised, but essentially uninjured.

  I could see his mouth beginning to form a 'w', though, that I could only assume was going to head a 'what' or a 'why'. As I had to save all my verbal prowess for my upcoming stoush with his mum, I held up a restraining hand.

  "Just let me do this," I said quickly, already feeling my nerve starting to slip away. "And then I'm all yours."

  I was in such a flap thinking about what I was going to say to Mrs Sinclair that, for a moment, I didn't notice what I'd said. When I did I let out a muted squawk. "To take back to uni, I mean," I clarified quickly.

  I went to turn away, but as I did so, I found myself suddenly reconsidering my need to explain what I'd meant. With the hideousness of Nan dying, things had got jumbled between Elliot and me, but it wasn't a bad jumble by any means. There'd been kisses and sex, very good kisses and sex, but 'I'm all yours' was still weird. Right...?

  "Rox..." I'm pretty sure Elliot could hear my brain whirring as I tried to piece together where we stood and I could hear everything he was thinking in return in that one word. It was deep stuff. Still, I didn't have time for deep just then, and anything with Elliot was going to be tinged with uncertainty until I'd talked to Mrs Sinclair, so I shook my head.

  "Nope, no 'Rox...' until I've talked to your mum." And then I skedaddled out into the corridor before I did something completely ridiculous like curl my fingers through his flop of hair and lean up to kiss him.

  Perhaps proximity was the problem when it came to Elliot because, as I walked away from him, and towards his mum's office, the strange jitteriness (what Abi would no doubt have called 'bounciness') faded. Maybe it was something to do with just having suffered through the worst week of my life, but what would previously have absolutely terrified me felt more like a boring sort of chore. Like a trip to the bank that you have to make before you get to go out with your friends.

  The great big secret Elliot had and that I was sure Mrs Sinclair knew about? I was just going to clear it up, and let it go. Like my mum said, I couldn't let it drive me mad. With this in mind, I raised my hand and knocked on the door to the office, only feeling the tiniest chill of dread.

  "Yes?" I heard Mrs Sinclair reply and I took a deep breath. This was it.

  I turned the handle, and peeked round the door cautiously, ready to back off if Mrs Sinclair had someone in with her or something. She was alone, though, sitting at the massive, shiny desk just as she had been on the day Elliot and I had arrived.

  "Mrs Sinclair, do you…um, do you have a minute?" I asked hesitantly.

  She looked faintly surprised, but gestured me in, and I shut the door behind myself before walking over and standing before her.

  "Take a seat." I don't think she meant it to come out as an order, but it was far from a polite invitation and my movements were stiff as I did as she instructed. "So, what can I do for you?" She asked, at exactly the same time as I said,

  "I'm really sorry about your mum."

  She smiled tightly. "Yes, I know you are."

  Earlier in the day I'd seen her reveal just a little bit of herself as Elliot had stormed out of the church, but there were no chinks in her armour now. I wasn't sure if that made what I had to say easier or harder.

  I twisted my hands in my lap, wondering how I was supposed to start. It didn't bode well for the career in commerce I was hoping for if I couldn't even get through an opening statement. The thought of my future was all I needed to give my backbone a brace and I blurted out, "It's about the money."

  Mrs Sinclair had gone back to tapping away at her computer as I'd sat there in silence, but now she directed her gaze back at me. "And what money is that?" She asked carefully and I knew, scary as she was, there was a lot I could learn from Elliot's mum about negotiation. She wasn't prepared to state her position until she knew the lie of the land.

  "I'm not sure of the specifics," I admitted, even as I worked hard to keep my voice as neutral as hers. "But I suspect there's been some sort of…arrangement made regarding my accommodation, and I want it clarified." It was a mature sentence, and I was proud of it, even if my hands had started to tremble.

  "A few months ago," I continued, "I found out about the, um, situation, but then I…forgot." Monkeys, getting black out drunk and sleeping with the son of the person you were trying to have a serious conversation with really didn't put you on the best footing. Still, I persevered, "Elliot seems to think he can't talk to me about it, but I think I can guess what happened."

  "Which is?" Mrs Sinclair asked, sounding only half interested.

  "Elliot asked you to give money to our university on my behalf, money that augments what my mum is paying out of her savings." My face was hot with embarrassment, but there it was, the words spoken out loud at last.

  With a deep breath, I managed to add, "I think my mum's money wasn't enough for my accommodation and that Elliot and you knew that from the start and compensated accordingly."

  It had been talking to Abi that had planted the idea in my head. Explaining how Elliot had forced that holiday on my mum all those years ago, and then Abi pointing out how he'd tried to make things better for me with that trip to Papua New Guinea…it just made sense.

  My theory was that I'd somehow found out that not all the money was coming from Mum and flown over to Elliot's in a rage. How I'd got from there to naked in his bed was still a mystery, but after the past couple of months, not as much of a mystery as it had once been.

  I was sure I was right for two reasons. Firstly, I don't think I'd ever really trusted my mum's ability to save enough for my uni accommodation. And, secondly, it was so Elliot to see a problem and try to fix it with money.

  I realised, as I sat there feeling like a naughty kid at the Principal's office, that, despite being convinced I was right, I was actually really hoping that Mrs Sinclair would shake her head and say that no such thing had occurred. It would’ve set me back to square one with regards to what had happened the night Elliot and I had slept together, but I suddenly wouldn't have minded that so much.

  "Your university is my alma mater you know," Mrs Sinclair, picked up her pen and flipped open a file next to her to make a couple of marks, the conversation obviously far from riveting for her. "I went through the Business school, like you're doing. I still have plenty of contacts there; the Chancellor is on one of my boards."

  I swallowed a heavy lump of dismay at this, but she didn't seem to notice the profound effect her words were having on me as she continued, "I'm sure you know by now that Elliot has decided to avoid any serious commitment to his future. It would be nice for someone from this house to achieve something at my old school."

  So there it was, a cool, calm admission. There was no denying this woman was fiercely intelligent. There was nothing in her words that held her accountable, but she'd said all she needed to say, regardless.

  "I wish you hadn't done it," I said thickly, once I found myself able to force the words out. "I appreciate that maybe you provided me with the opportunity for an education I couldn't otherwise afford, but…" I dug my nails into my palms as my voice cracked. It wasn't tears that were clogging my throat this time, though, it was humiliation.

  "But," I repeated after a moment, "it makes me feel like my achievements don't really belong to me. And what about my mum? She thinks she's done this, paid for me to have the future I want. It's taken her whole life for her to put aside for me; she would be devastated to think it didn't mean anything after all."

  "So don't tell her." Mrs Sinclair flipped the file closed again and looked across the desk at me, completely composed.

  W
ow. I admit it, even after all these years seeing her being so cold-hearted, I was taken aback by her complete dismissal of my concerns. She obviously saw this as she sighed and put her pen down on the desktop with a sharp little click, before fixing me with a steady look. I finally had her complete attention and it was absolutely terrifying.

  "Roxanne, you have a good head on your shoulders," she began and I was still so busy trying not to shrink under her gaze that it took me a moment to register the compliment. "You did your work here competently and thoroughly and I appreciate that that can't always have been easy with Elliot and his friends around. You're a hard worker, and you were accepted into university entirely on your own merit. Any arrangement external to that may just be something you have to accept. It's not other people's responsibility to make your scruples their paramount concern."

  Mind. Blown.

  Everything in me wanted to disagree, but I was initially too thrown by her logic to protest. It was a strange concept, that money paid on my behalf was none of my business, but it was clear that Mrs Sinclair absolutely believed it. There was so much to this woman, a lot of it bad, but some of it just plain hardcore.

  Some instincts were not easily ignored, however, and so, even as I reeled, I managed to grind out, "I want to pay back the money."

  Intense moment over, Mrs Sinclair smiled slightly and picked her pen back up. "Of course you do."

  "But," I clenched my fists tight as I added, "maybe it'd be a good idea not to say anything to my mum about it."

  "That's up to you." She'd turned her gaze back to her computer, her response the vague one you received from people no longer paying any attention to you.

  "So, how much do I owe?" I pressed, worried the audience was over and I hadn't sorted anything out. "Is there a payment plan we can set up, or…?"

  I trailed off as she looked over at me her expression sharp once more. "Your end of this bargain is to complete your degree," she said, her voice suddenly hard. "I won't discuss this anymore with you until then."

  I had so many questions to ask, everything was still so frustratingly up in the air, but I'd clearly just been dismissed. Getting awkwardly to my feet I realised this was the time that a normal person would thank Mrs Sinclair, but that was just not something I could bring myself to do. Nor, I suspected, would it be something she'd appreciate. So I walked silently to the door, and was just about to leave when she said, "Could you get Elliot to come and see me, please?"

  I nodded, but felt a little stir of guilt in my stomach. I hoped I hadn't just dropped him in it with her. Maybe she'd told him not to tell me about the money, probably to avoid a conversation like the one we'd just had which she'd seemed to find incredibly tedious. It would certainly go some way in explaining why he'd refused to talk to me about it.

  This probably should’ve made me feel better about his secrecy, but somehow, it didn't. The problem was that, even if Mrs Sinclair had told Elliot that he couldn't tell me about her paying for some of my uni expenses, I still hated that he hadn't. Maybe it was stupid and unfair, especially after Mrs Sinclair had made it so perfectly clear that nobody owed me anything in this world, but I couldn't help it. I was mad at him. Nothing like the fury I'd felt that night when we'd kissed and then he'd still refused to tell me what was going on, but still a sharp little niggle.

  There was going to be no opportunity to privately examine this niggle further, however, as opening the door revealed Elliot to be standing just on the other side.

  "Well, hey there eavesdropper," I said uncomfortably, rocking back on my heels. I wasn't sure how much he'd heard, and with Mrs Sinclair just on the other side of the door, I didn't want to go into it immediately so I quickly added, "Your mum wants to see you."

  "I heard." His jaw was tight and his eyes held that distant look they always did whenever the big mystery between us came up. God, was he still going to be weird about it even after it was all in the open? How annoying.

  I really needed him not to be going into strange Elliot mode again, not after what had just been revealed and the long car ride ahead of us, so I found myself saying, "Hey," and reaching up to poke the tip of his nose. He blinked in surprise and I added, "You're my ride home, so don't go getting grounded or anything."

  He raised an eyebrow and I was pleased to see that my words and nose prod had at least burnt off his detached fog, even if he still didn't look exactly happy. In the disinterested tones of someone actually very much interested, he asked, "I'm still your chauffeur of choice then?"

  I snorted. "You're my only choice," I pointed out, reddening as I suddenly viewed those words from a different perspective.

  I could feel Elliot watching me carefully, no doubt dissecting the meaning of my flaming cheeks. "Right, good point," he said eventually. "Here," I looked down and saw that he was holding my bag out to me. "Head out to the car, I'll give my mum exactly twenty seconds and then we're gone, OK?"

  "Gone sounds good," I agreed, even as I thought he was out of his mind if he thought I was just going to obediently trot on out to the car and not do a bit of eavesdropping of my own.

  Playing the part, though, I turned and started to walk down the corridor towards the stairs, only stopping and hurrying back when I heard the click of Mrs Sinclair's door closing behind her son.

  I pressed my ear against the wood in time to hear Elliot's mum say crisply, "I've just had an interesting conversation with Roxanne."

  There was a beat of silence and then Elliot's stiff response came. "Most conversations with her are."

  Cheeky monkey.

  I'd just started to catch Mrs Sinclair's next words when another, much louder, voice spoke.

  "Rox?"

  I whirled around, my bag banging around my knees and my heart thumping madly in surprise at being sprung so clearly listening in.

  "Ah, right...hello again, Mum," I said feebly, seeing her start towards me down the corridor. With a quick, but longing, glance at the closed door, I went to head her off.

  "I was just coming to look for you," I lied when I drew alongside Mum, taking her arm and turning her towards the stairs.

  "Really?" My mother was nobody's fool, but she allowed herself to be directed down to the ground floor even as she said, "Because it looked to me like you were pressing your ear up to Mrs Sinclair's study."

  "I thought maybe you were in there with her." Bit ironic really that I'd finally found out the truth and all I could do now was lie. "But here you are so...yay," I finished lamely, but in what I think was a nod towards our recent make up conversation, mum let it go.

  "Are you heading off, then?"

  "Yep, just as soon as Elliot-" I stopped abruptly and then finished vaguely, "finishes doing whatever it is he's doing."

  Mum was looking at me askance, but I refused to meet her suspicious gaze and instead led the way out of the front door and to the driveway beyond. Elliot's car sat waiting there for me and I found myself looking at it in an entirely new light now I knew why it had replaced his precious other car.

  That Elliot had been willing to give up the mechanical love of his life in order to secure a bit of independence from his parents was really quite something. Once I got a few moments to myself to really think about it, and if I didn't kill him for hiding the truth about the money from me, I suspected I'd be fairly impressed with him.

  Opening the boot, I stowed away my bag and then came round to face mum again.

  "I'm sorry you couldn't come back for a happier occasion," she said as she pulled me into a hug and I resignedly succumbed once more to the guilt at the reminder of my infrequent trips home.

  Still, Nan's death had given me serious perspective on appreciating those you love whilst they were still with you, and I gave her a squeeze.

  "Next time will be all about the living," I promised, feeling what I sincerely hoped were the last tears of the day pushing at the corners of my eyes.

  After a few seconds we pulled back and shared our final goodbyes. Things between us were, if not gr
eat, than at least not much worse than they'd been when I'd first arrived.

  As Mum headed back towards the house, I leant back against the car and wondered how successful Elliot had been with the whole 'no more than twenty seconds' thing. I didn't have to wonder for long, as he emerged from the front door just as Mum went to go inside.

  They shared a few words, what I assumed were their own goodbyes, then Elliot patted her on the shoulder uncomfortably and turned away. This was a far cry from the bear hug they'd shared when we'd first arrived and I wondered briefly whether they'd had their own awkward conversation.

  I didn't get to think about it anymore than that, however as Elliot started jogging down the steps towards me. "You," he pointed at me as he approached, "in the car now. Let's get the hell out of here."

  "No arguments," I assured him, going round to the passenger side and barely having time to close the door behind me before he'd roared the engine into life.

  We barrelled down the driveway and out of the Sinclair gates so fast I only just managed to catch a last glimpse of the house as I twisted around in my seat. I'd never been so keen to leave a place in my life, except...I looked across at Elliot and the opening line of A Tale of Two Cities had never seemed so relevant; it'd been the best of times, it'd been the worst of times. Or rather, as Nan would no doubt have preferred it, it'd been the worst of times, but the sex had been fantastic.

  "So..." As we shot up onto the highway, leaving behind the Sinclair house, Nan's grave and all manner of familial disappointments, I broke the silence. I let the word trail off, though, waiting to see if Elliot would chime in and get the ball rolling.

  "So...?" He copied me, clearly tossing the ball back. Fine then.

  "Are we cool to talk about what you overheard between me and your mum?" I asked, going for the direct approach when it became apparent that gentle nudges weren't going to get us anywhere. "Or will you go insane and drive us off a cliff at the mere mention?"

  He flicked a quick look at me before focusing back onto the road in front of us. "No cliffs between here and uni," he informed me.