Sophie's Throughway

by Jules Smith

  I checked my phone and read the following texts:

  COLIN FRAY: How’s it going Soph?

  JOHN SMITH: Is Frank there? I told him you were going…

  I replied to both and took the opportunity to text Karl. He’d not called me back yet.

  KARL - Please let me know that you’re coming tomorrow. Really important and need your backup.

  I clicked on my word game whilst the story of one man and his trapped balls continued.

  THE VOICE: How do you know that the conversation would be frivolous. We have yet to have one.

  I noticed he’d played a storming word attached to another and scoring 33 points. Bastard.

  SOPHISTICATION: Well I can’t say you’ve inspired to me to start one.

  The rest of the night was fun and easy and we chatted with lots of different people. For the first time in a long while I laughed and drank and felt some freedom from my fractured life. My feet, however, were starting to throb wildly. NB: do not ever listen to teenagers again on what to wear. Irregular Choice heels should only be worn when going out to sit down. i.e.: Dining.

  I beckoned my party to a nearby table that had just been vacated and fell into the seat, kicking off my heels and placing my angry feet on the cool tiled floor. Bliss. It was then that I felt the buzz of my phone in my pocket. I reached into the tight opening and fished it out. Twelve missed calls from Brendon.

  “Shit.” I excused myself and forced my swollen feet back into the shoes from hell. I felt like an ugly sister with a glass slipper as I teetered outside like a newly born deer so I’d be able to hear him. He answered immediately. I barely heard it ring.

  “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

  “Err, watch how you speak to me please!” I felt the cheer and easiness of the evening drain away like a plug had been pulled.

  “WHERE ARE YOU?”

  “I’m out working REMEMBER.” I said sternly.

  “But it’s 10.33”

  “So?”

  “You said you’d be back at 10 pm. You’re 33 minutes late already and I’ve been looking for you since then.”

  “10…10.30…what does it matter. I said around 10 pm”

  “You SAID 10! Can you please come home NOW.”

  “FINE!” I ended the call and made a mental note to self: Do not be specific in future. Be vague and remember that what you say to Brendon will always be taken literally.

  I left Karen at the party with the vodka barons after explaining my dilemma. She totally understood, she was his Godmother and because of me she’d never had kids.

  Getting a cab home was easy as it was midweek and I was home at just after 11pm.

  Every light in the house was on and Brendon was peering out from behind the heavy, tapestry curtains awaiting my arrival.

  “EVENTUALLY,” his eyes were black and I felt his dark mood permeating the air like poisonous sludge.

  “Yes, I’m back now, so leave it there. Where’s Bryony?”

  “She was in bed watching vampire shit. I’ve been on my own wanting to go to bed for ages. If I’m tired tomorrow it’s your fault.” He glared at me, the underlying threat of misbehaving tomorrow hanging there as a punishment for my lateness.

  “Then go to bed. Because I am.” I kicked my shoes off at the bottom of the stairs and he violently kicked them out of his way as he stomped up them. He’d managed to assert his control and now he would hopefully sleep.

  “Goodnight Brendon, love you,” I sang as I passed by his door after checking on a sleeping Bryony.

  “Night,” he mumbled, grudgingly.

  Chapter 8

  I woke up with a ‘I’m-never-drinking-wine-or-champagne-again’ headache and if you could take the smell of an old, wet dog and put it in my mouth, I’m sure that’s what it would taste like. It was relatively early and still dark outside so I made use of the stillness and went downstairs to get a cup of tea and two paracetamol. I sat quietly and wished I could just have one day a week that was like this. Peace. Solitude.

  I spent the next ten minutes mulling over the previous night and wondering how the hell Karen must be feeling when I remembered it was the governors meeting later today. I still hadn’t heard from Karl. Damn him. I went back to my bedroom and checked my phone. Nothing except for five emails from Living Social and Group on. It was only 6.45 am but I decided to ring anyway. Karl was one of those annoying, chirpy, morning people.

  “Good morning!” he boomed, his phone obviously attached to his car audio as I could hear the rumblings of the motorway behind him.

  “Why haven’t you responded to my call and text about this school meeting?” I asked holding the phone an inch away from my ear in fear of perforation.

  “Ah, I had every intention of doing so but I have meetings all over the place and not sure if I can change them. I was going to call later when I’ve seen what I can do.”

  “But this is important. You know what Mr. Fothergill’s like and I don’t want to face a whole bunch of governors on my own. He’s going to get kicked out if we don’t fight his corner.”

  “Look, if I can, I’ll be there but I’m not promising. I have to work and can’t pander to the school every time Brendon has an outburst. They need to get a grip on controlling it or he needs to learn a hard lesson and face the consequences of his actions.”

  “Righto, Daddy dearest,” I checked my attitude quickly. I wanted him there so needed to play nice. “Look, I’d really appreciate it and I understand what you’re saying. I could do with your people skills and expertise in argumentation and negotiation.” I went straight to the ego. Always works.

  “I’ll do my best and I’ll call you later,” he rounded up, ready to go but I knew he’d now feel more compelled to turn up.

  I got Brendon and Bryony up and fed and managed to stop a huge fight where Bryony had nearly worn her Ready Brek on her face for calling Brendon a douche bag. Thankfully it made a turnabout into brother and sister unite when I went mad- bitch- crazy and started yelling at the pair of them.

  “You two are so BLOODY SELFISH! I don’t need this crap in the morning. I’ve got to get to work and I’ve lots to do and your trivialities and arguing can STOP NOW! I don’t CARE if you think Bryony’s friends are a bunch of hapless skets with no brain cells,’” I directed at Brendon. “And you, Bryony, shouldn’t give a flying banana if he thinks that anyway because you KNOW he’s a chauvinistic, arrogant and opinionated swine!” I snatched away the breakfast plates and wondered if I was having a brain haemorrhage. My head was pounding so hard and I wanted hurt someone.

  “Are you on your period?” said Brendon.

  Bryony burst out laughing. “I know right?”

  “GET. IN. THE. CAR.” I glared at them.

  On the way to school I gave Brendon a lecture. “Listen, it’s the meeting after school. Your Dad might be coming too. Maybe. Can you please, for just one day NOT break into any computers and actually behave yourself. When we’re in the meeting, be polite, do NOT get annoyed and let me or Dad do the talking.” I looked at him rolling his eyes at Bryony, “I’m DEADLY serious. This is not a joke and if you don’t start towing the line you’ll be expelled.”

  “Yes Mommy,” he mocked in a brat voice.

  They got out and wandered down the street collecting friends. Brendon grabbing one of his in a bear hug since he was one of the biggest in the year and used his physical strength as a way of control. I drove to work playing Classic FM in order to zen myself out.

  I arrived before time and got straight into loading and editing photos. By the time everybody else started to appear I was well into my Coco Lounge article.

  “Good night?” asked Johnno as he slapped his Adidas sports bag on the desk.

  “Good morning,” I replied not looking up and trying not to break my roll.

  “Ha ha. OK…did you have a good time last night Soph?”

  “Splendid. You were sorely missed.”

  The day continued in a super productive manner despite the pain in
my temples refusing to take leave. I even rewrote my article three times over because Colin wanted to move things about and have more photos, less text. Then more text. Ugh. Then there wasn’t room for the book review so all the layout had to be re arranged. By the time the afternoon came I was desperately in need of a nap.

  “Johnno, you know you want to go to Starbucks and get me a caramel latte and a muffin,” I pleaded.

  “No. That stuff’s bad for you. He reached into his drawer and threw a muesli health bar at me. “Have that instead.”

  “Ugh. Damn you sporty types. Have you no soul?”

  “I’m heading out in a minute,” said Monica, “I’ll bring the carbs back for you.”

  “Thank you FRIEND.” I blew her a kiss.

  “Hey, how’s the arsehole?” asked Johnno.

  “Which one?” I asked puzzled, notching them up in my mind.

  “The one on the game.”

  “Well let me see…” I picked up my phone and clicked on Word.

  THE VOICE: You need to be inspired to start a conversation? How interesting. Are you that easy to annoy?

  “Yep. Still an arsehole,” I replied. However I was starting to find The Voice somewhat intriguing.

  SOPHISTICATION: You’re not annoying me, though I’ve no doubt that’s your intention. I just happen to find you amusing.

  Like I would give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d annoyed me. I had mostly vowels which didn’t help with my desperate need for victory. He was twelve points ahead. Not good. As I was playing around with my letters the little green chat bubble delivered a new message. Well, looky, looky ‘The Voice’ was awake and live online.

  THE VOICE: Amusing? What, like a monkey?

  SOPHISTICATION: Yes. Like a monkey.

  I played my pathetic vowels for 14 points.

  THE VOICE: You really aren’t trying very hard are you.

  SOPHISTICATION: With this conversation with a monkey or with my play?

  THE VOICE: Either.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I was assuming ‘The Voice’ was male. Just because they were rude and belligerent that shouldn’t make me assume it was a man.

  SOPHISTICATION: What gender are you?

  THE VOICE: Rare and amusing male monkey.

  That actually made me smile.

  THE VOICE: Are you really sophisticated or is that just something you aspire to be because you’re not amusing like me?

  SOPHISTICATION: Yes I am, as it happens.

  THE VOICE: I’ll take your word for it. I must leave now and go to work.

  SOPHISTICATION: Well I must leave now and finish work.

  I closed the game and wondered where The Voice lived if he was only just starting his day.

  I noticed my latte and muffin had been put on my desk. I reached for the polystyrene beaker and poured the sweet coffee into my mouth, begging that the caffeine would have some magic cure on my sore head.

  My phone beeped with a text from Karen:

  Just got up. Dying. Didn’t get in until 4 am. Drunk as a fucking Lord. Thank God not at work today as would vomit on patients, though could do with raiding the hospital meds cabinet for some serious pain relief. Hurts to even blink. BTW - Vodka boys are planning a big come back and buying that old cafe next door - it’s all hush hush but of course I was going to tell you. Ring me when I’m better. About 5 days. x

  SOPHIE RHODES: And you wonder why nurses get such a bad rep ;) Thanks for the inside info. You can always work here! x

  Brilliant. I rushed in to Colin’s office and told him about the piece of gossip. “Send one of Monica’s girls in later to find out. I’d go but my head hurts and I’ve got to leave now for the big school meeting. Wish me luck. “

  “I expect nothing less than victory for Brendon and if they don’t play nice tell ‘em we’ll be writing about their discrimination against children with disabilities.”

  “Nice!” I gave him a high five and left for the Hillfields School. As I approached my car, I tried to ring Karl again as he hadn’t got back to me as promised.

  “On my way. Be there near half four,” he answered.

  I let go of the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

  “Thank God. Ok well put your foot down it starts at 4.30 pm.” I knew he would because he had a bright yellow, Volvo T5 and he couldn’t help but pretend he was Ayrton Senna. And Bond of course, James Bond.

  Chapter 9

  As I pulled into the car park I saw Karl’s shiny, yellow car and breathed a sigh of relief. I parked my filthy, pale blue, mini cooper next to it and wished I’d asked Paul Hymes for a loan of a Ferrari.

  I scurried into reception and saw Karl sitting there suited and booted and enveloped in a dark grey, cashmere overcoat. He certainly looked the part. We didn’t look like parents who tolerated thuggery and outlandish behaviour from our offspring.

  “Thanks for coming, it is appreciated.” I sat down next to him and he handed me a visitors pass. It was odd seeing my name in his writing. I’d forgotten what it looked like and my stomach lurched from the memory.

  “So…Fill me in,” he said, turning toward me slightly.

  I explained that Brendon had been breaking into computers, being defiant and rude as usual, playing rough shod with his mates in the hallways etc. I explained that Mr. Fothergill had put him on governors report and this was his last chance. Karl and I both despised Mr. Fothergill. He was like a politician and loved the sound of his own voice. He was only interested in results that made him and his school look good and seemed to have very little empathy with pupils. He didn’t want Brendon in his school, that was obvious and in many respects I understood why not. Nobody needs a kid like Brendon spoiling the creamery and going round the school like a whirling dervish. However, the school got money for supporting and including children with disabilities and it would be difficult for him to get rid of Brendon without doing it properly.

  Janice Armitage appeared in reception. “They’re ready for you now.”

  We followed her upstairs where we met Brendon at the top. He gave his Dad a courteous nod and Karl patted his shoulder.

  “Make sure you behave in here,” I whispered as I sidled next to him.

  We entered the board room, where situated around a large oval table sat Mr. Fothergill and his secretary, Mr. Locks the deputy head plus two ladies and a man who I surmised were ‘The Governors’. The rest of us walked in and took our seats.

  “Good afternoon,” said Mr. Fothergill. “If everyone can introduce themselves round the table for the purpose of the minutes.” Mr. Fothergill looked just like Neil Tenant (present day version) from The Pet Shop Boys sans musical personality. We went around the table saying our names out loud. “Sophie Rhodes, Mother.” I announced hoping Karl wouldn’t do his James Bond thing and look a pillock. “Karl Rhodes, Father,” he said. Phew, thank God. “Brendon Rhodes, fugitive,” said Brendon stoically. Really? Now he wants to be funny? I noticed two of the governors smile at his reply and thanked God they had a sense of humour.

  “Brendon, please remove your coat,” demanded Mr. Fothergill.

  “I’d rather not, I’m cold.”

  I kicked Brendon under the table and sweetly said, “Take your coat off, darling,” whilst giving him that ‘I-swear-to God-I’ll -kill-you-if-you-start’ look.

  He took it off.

  “Right, well I think myself, Mrs. Armitage and Mr. Locks will take turns in going through the issues and incidents of late from the reports and comments from staff.” Mr. Fothergill continued. “The nature of the incidents to be discussed were serious enough for me to place Brendon immediately onto governors report. After we have highlighted the incidents both the governors and Mr. and Ms. Rhodes can respond.” He looked at us all for confirmation. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him but I nodded politely. There was something about him that made me revert to child. Some teachers seemed to do that to you and make you feel really nervous and inadequate which was ridiculous. I was used to big meetings, pr
ess conferences and bullshitters and could generally hold my own in most situations but this one made me feel about six years old. Thankfully, Karl didn’t have that problem. Nor did Brendon which was the problem.

  Mr. Locks started. “Unfortunately there have been a plethora of incidents, some minor like rough play in the corridors with friends and having his phone out in school but the few I’d like to concentrate on are these:” He lifted up the report sheets. I got my pen and notebook ready to make crucial notes.

  Media: Miss Brown - Brendon told me he could not log onto the school computer because he had forgotten his password. I said he would have to use paper for the lesson. He said “No, that’s antiquated can you please get my computer open.” When I refused he responded with, “How long have you been teaching at this school and you still don’t know how to do that?” I asked Brendon to be quiet but he refused and persisted challenging my decision. I told him to settle or he would be asked to leave. He refused, and I said I would call for someone to remove him. He said, “Fine. Make the call.” I called for Mr Fearon to remove Brendon. On the way out of the class he came over to me and said, “You have been in a bad mood with me for, let’s see, about a week now. This suggests you might have some personal issues. I don’t think you should be letting your personal issues affect your teaching of this lesson.” I found his comments of a derogatory nature.

  Miss Harris: I entered L15 and found Brendon and another boy playing with a football. I confiscated the ball and Brendon looked at me, smiled and clicked his fingers and pointed at my face. I told him not to do that. He replied “God, you’re miserable.” I told him that was rude and he said, “No, perceptive.” His comments were very personal.