Prime Time

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought some of your friends got that bus with you. Were they the ones behind you?’

  ‘No – they weren’t there today.’

  I glanced sideways at him as we made our way down the High Street. ‘Stanley – is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You would tell me if it wasn’t, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Just leave it, mum.’

  I changed the subject on to cheerier matters. ‘Have you remembered it’s parents’ evening?’

  ‘Yes, said Stanley glumly.

  ‘We have to be there at five. I’m not sure how it works, but –’

  ‘I’ve got you some appointments.’ Beside me, Stanley rummaged in his rucksack and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. ‘We had to fill in these times when you could see the teachers. I didn’t do all of them but Mr Lazlett said if we didn’t have a time, we could just wait about till one of them’s free. He said sometimes it’s a bit of a bun fight.’

  I smiled. ‘Did he? Oh well, at least we’ve been warned. I’ve got us some of that chicken you like for later. Do you want a baked potato with it or oven chips?

  ‘Don’t mind.’

  ‘We’ll have baked potatoes,’ I decided, as we pulled up outside our house. ‘Then I can put them in now on low. Are you staying in your school uniform? We’re going to have to leave as soon as I’ve put the oven on.’

  I started to get out of the car but Stanley didn’t move. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do we have to go?’

  ‘Yes, of course we do. I want to hear how you’re getting on. What are you worried about?’

  ‘Nothing. I’d just rather watch TV.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to leave you at home on your own and –’ I smiled at him ‘–I’ll probably get lost without you to show me where to go.’

  He didn’t smile back. Just looked at his feet.

  ‘Why don’t you bring a book or something,’ I offered. ‘Then you can sit in a corner while I talk to the teachers if you’re going to feel embarrassed.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘What’s the problem then?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Stanley was quiet all the way there and I began to think perhaps I should have dropped him off at Charlotte’s or my mother’s after all, instead of dragging him along with me, so that I could get to speak to the teachers privately. But it was too late now – we were turning into the school gates.

  ‘It’s such a lovely setting, isn’t it?’ I said, looking at the old red brick building, the green fields sloping down toward the church beyond. Stanley nodded doubtfully. Some boys, ties discarded, shirts hanging out, were on the grass playing football, rolled-up blazers doubling as goal posts.

  ‘Yeeesssssss!’ yelled one, careering past us as a ball narrowly missed Stanley’s head.

  Perhaps joining them would prove a suitable distraction while I quizzed Stanley’s form tutor.

  ‘Are any of those your friends?’ I asked my son as we walked on past.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  I stopped by the main entrance to the school, consulting my piece of paper. ‘We have to go to the main hall –’

  Beside me, Stanley was pointing. ‘There’s Dad.’ I looked round, an unpleasant feeling rising in my stomach at the sight of a familiar, dark-suited figure standing a few yards away, and beside him, in a short red coat, blonde hair clipped back from her face …

  I scowled as Daniel came toward us. ‘What’s she doing here?’

  Daniel looked instantly defensive. ‘She’s come with me. Because of course I want to come to parents’ evening, and it’s lucky,’ he added nastily, ‘that I thought to give the school my address and request a copy of all the correspondence because you obviously weren’t going to tell me about it.’

  I glanced sideways at Stanley, then pulled crossly at Daniel’s arm before striding ten metres away and jerking my head for him to follow me.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested since I don’t recall you ever attending a single school meeting in the whole of Stanley’s life,’ I said, when he reached my side.

  ‘Don’t be so unfair, Laura,’ Daniel did that thing with his lips that was half sneer, half smirk. ‘That’s only because you always said you’d go and I stayed at home to look after him.’

  ‘Not last time, I countered triumphantly. ‘When we came for the new parents’ introduction, you said you had to work late – again – and I came on my own with Stanley.’

  ‘I did have to work late.’

  I raised my eyebrows and glanced over my shoulder to where Emily was inspecting her handbag next to Stanley. ‘Is that what you call it?’

  ‘Don’t start,’ said Daniel. ‘The fact is that I’m here now. I want to be involved with Stanley’s schooling and I want to hear what his teachers have to say and so does Emily.’

  I snorted. ‘What for?’

  ‘Because she is my partner and she takes an interest. There’s no easy way of saying this,’ he went on pompously, ‘but we’re getting married. Emily is going to be my wife.’

  I glared. ‘I’m your wife, in case you’d forgotten. Unfortunately,’ I added quickly, in case he thought I cared what he did, even though the news had sent a sickening jolt through my solar plexus.

  ‘I’m going to talk to you about that,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Not now, you’re not.’ I looked back to where Stanley was watching us anxiously. ‘Look,’ I said, in a low voice. ‘Please can I just do this on my own tonight? I need to talk to his form tutor privately. I’ll tell you everything afterwards but right now why don’t you take Stanley off somewhere and let me see the teachers alone? I want to check how he’s settling in and they might not tell me as honestly if he’s sitting next to me. I’m worried about him.’

  I could see Daniel hesitating and I looked at him hard. ‘And, quite honestly, I think he’s going to find it stressful with all three of us dragging around and so,’ I said, in a sudden moment of honesty, ‘am I. I do not want to do this with Emily there too and I don’t think it’s the right thing for Stanley – so soon.’

  I looked at him, feeling suddenly upset and hoping I wouldn’t cry.

  Daniel looked back at me, as if deciding. ‘I don’t want the staff thinking I don’t care,’ he said peevishly.

  I sighed, exasperated. ‘It’s always about what other people think of you, isn’t it? It’s not about Stanley at all – just bloody appearances. Look, there’s the headmaster – go and shake his hand and say how thrilled you are with the school but that you can’t stay because you and your wife –’ I gave a small derisory sniff ‘– are a little concerned about how he is settling down and Stanley’s mother is going to raise these issues in confidence with the teachers while you take care of our son. Then he will think you are a jolly splendid chap and you can leave me to it.’

  Daniel put back his shoulders and flicked something from his sleeve. ‘Good idea,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘Tosser,’ I muttered, as he strode away. I looked over to where Emily was still standing next to Stanley, fiddling with the strap of her bag, and gave Stanley a small wave. I watched Daniel shaking hands with the head and nodding vigorously at whatever was being said, and then plastered a bright smile across my face and walked back toward my son and The Twiglet.

  ‘Right, darling,’ I said brightly to Stanley. ‘Daddy is going to take you for a burger or something –’ I flicked my eyes toward Emily, who looked pained ‘-and I’m going to see the teachers on my own. So you don’t have to stay after all. You can go and eat chips instead,’ I added, as Daniel came up behind us.

  ‘There’s a nice little Mediterranean place in Harbour Street,’ he said hastily to Emily. ‘You can have a Greek salad.’

  ‘Feta cheese?’ I said, in shocked tones. ‘Packed full of calories …’

  Daniel frowned and put a protective hand on Emily’s arm.

  Stanley looked at me uneasily. ‘I thi
nk I’m supposed to come with you.’

  ‘It’s optional, I’ve checked,’ I said firmly. ‘It’s only if I want you to come. And of course that would be fine, but I really think you’ll get bored and we’ll be a bit of a crowd, all four of us going round and since Dad’s here … I’ll text you when I’m finished,’ I said to Daniel.

  As they walked away, Stanley a little behind, shuffling his feet slightly, Daniel taking long strides, Emily little short ones as though her tight black skirt wouldn’t allow anything else, I stood transfixed. As I watched the back of Emily’s red coat, spindly red heels tap-tapping along beside Daniel, I saw him reach out and take her hand. She moved in closer, their forearms close together, the side of his body touching hers as the three of them walked toward the school gates.

  My son, my soon-to-be ex-husband and the woman who would be his new wife. I had stopped Daniel saying the D-word – in that instinctive, self-protecting way the squeamish stop someone telling them the details of a gory operation. Oddly, although I’d quipped about it to Sarah, I hadn’t seriously thought about divorce.

  I wasn’t in denial – I knew he wasn’t coming back. I didn’t even want him back, did I, not now, not after all he’d said and done. But I hadn’t thought beyond that. Panic gripped me. Surely he wouldn’t make us sell the house? Not while Stanley was still young. I would have to find out my rights. Get a solicitor. As the three of them disappeared from view I sat down sharply on a low wall, my stomach knotted in a sick spasm of foreboding. I felt hot and suddenly tearful.

  ‘Have you got a list?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  A boy of about 15 was proffering a sheet of paper. ‘It tells you where all the teachers are.’

  ‘Oh – thank you.’

  Another boy with round glasses and an acne problem stepped forward. ‘What’s the name of your son?’ he asked politely.

  I swallowed, suddenly unbearably moved by having to say his name out loud.

  ‘Um. Stanley Meredith’

  The second boy ran a finger down his list and ticked something.

  ‘Most teachers are in the hall,’ he said gravely. ‘But some are in the gym and the music teachers are in the music department. The metalwork room and art rooms are open if you would like to see a display of Year Seven and Eight work.’ He stopped and looked at his list again. ‘And welcome to parents’ evening,’ he finished.

  The other boy nudged him. ‘You were supposed to say that first.’

  ‘You go in there,’ he said helpfully, pointing to some open double doors. ‘That’s where the hall is.’

  I saw them exchange glances, obviously wondering why the mad old bat was still just sitting there. I got up and forced a smile, swallowing hard. ‘Thank you very much.’

  Chapter Ten

  The hall smelled of school – that warm, airless mixture of past dinners and socks and cleaning fluid and the odour of hamster cage that emanates from six hundred over-heated boys. Tables were dotted about, with teachers sitting one side of them, parents and boys on chairs opposite. More parents stood about in clumps.

  I stood for a moment, breathing deeply, letting my ears adjust to the clamour of voices, and then skirted the room, making my way through the groups of parents, consulting my list, looking at the names on the tables. Most of the staff already had a small queue forming. Eventually I found a small, bald man who was apparently Stanley’s chemistry teacher and sat down opposite him.

  ‘Laura Meredith,’ I said. ‘Stanley’s mother.’

  He looked down a long list of names. ‘Ah, yes.’

  ‘This term,’ he intoned robotically, ‘we have looked at the periodic table …’

  Five minutes later I had a full breakdown of the syllabus but was none the wiser about Stanley’s progress, learning only that he was quiet, “no trouble” and had, so far, always handed his homework in on time. I moved on and joined another queue.

  Mr Geography evidently had trouble visualising which boy Stanley was, but also offered the view that he did his homework, most of the time, and the French teacher – Madame Lavisse, a well-preserved 50-year-old with bright red lipstick and a particularly nice handbag – said he was a “good boy” who needed to learn his verb endings.

  There was a large crowd of parents jostling to see Mr Crawford the maths teacher; the noise was deafening and I was beginning to feel rather hot and in need of some fresh air, so I made my way over to the door out to the playground.

  I looked at my list again and the piece of paper Stanley had given me. He’d got me down to see Mr Lazlett, his form teacher and head of Year Seven, at 5.45 p.m. and it was nearly that now, so I took one last gulp of the cold air and re-entered the fug of the hall.

  I found him in the corner, a dark-haired man in his forties, who looked vaguely familiar, wearing a blue sweater. Another family – a sharp-faced woman with one of those mouths that went down at the corners, a morose-looking husband and their lanky son – were already waiting.

  ‘And try and look a bit intelligent,’ the mother was instructing the boy. ‘Anyone would think you weren’t all there.’

  The boy rolled his eyes. I heard him mutter, ‘Get a life,’ and she swung round again.

  ‘What did you say?’ she demanded.

  ‘Just leave him, Jan,’ said the father. ‘It’s up to him.’

  The boy pulled another face and our eyes met. I smiled and he gave me a self-conscious grin. He had a nice face – I wondered if he knew Stanley. I wondered too how Stanley was getting on. I hoped Daniel had bought him something decent to eat and was making a fuss of him, rather than mooning over The Twiglet. At the thought of Emily, I got that sick feeling again. I thought of her small hand tucking itself into Daniel’s, her petite, stylish little feet tripping along beside him …

  The couple at the table had got up and the family in front were settling themselves in front of Mr Lazlett. ‘Sit up straight,’ I heard “Jan” instructing her son.

  I moved back a bit and studied the notices on the wall without seeing them. I really didn’t want Daniel back – he was a stranger to me now – but it felt weird seeing him with someone else. Particularly someone who made me look like an ageing hippo.

  I wished he’d emigrate or at least move to Scunthorpe or somewhere. I just didn’t want him in my face. Particularly with her hanging off him. I was going to have to talk to him. Make it very clear I was staying in the house until Stanley had left school. I couldn’t put him through any more upheaval …

  My mind drifted off, thinking about my son. It seemed amazing he was at secondary school – it felt like only last week that I’d dropped him off at nursery for the first time, feeling sick like this all morning in case he was bereft without me. I still thought we might have another child then. Perhaps the way things had turned out, it was just as well it had never happened …

  ‘Are you waiting for me?’

  I came out of my reverie to find the family with the lanky boy filing past me. I smiled at him again. Mr Lazlett was standing up. ‘Would you like to come and sit down?’

  ‘Er yes, thank you.’

  He held out his hand. ‘Andrew Lazlett.’

  ‘Hi.’

  As I sat down I suddenly realised where I’d seen him before. He was the one who’d taken me to task for stopping on the zigzag lines outside school. When I’d been wearing my nightie. And hadn’t brushed my hair.

  He’d had a suit and overcoat on then and looked tall and imposing. He looked a bit tired now and slightly crumpled but it was definitely the same bloke. I felt myself blush as I wondered if he remembered. If he did, he showed no sign of it. He smiled and said in a friendly voice: ‘And you are?’

  ‘Oh, er – I’m Laura Meredith. Mother of Stanley.’

  He nodded. ‘Ah, yes. Stanley.’

  He shuffled some papers on the desk in front of him and then looked at me directly. ‘Nice, polite boy.’ He smiled again. ‘Seems to be settling in – a bit quiet at first but seems fine now. Very co-operative, not one of
the raucous ones. How do you feel he’s finding everything?’

  ‘He’s …’ I paused, thinking how to put it. ‘I’m not sure how he is. He won’t say much about it. He did tell me he was being teased, but then again I suppose that’s normal with a lot of boys together, isn’t it? It’s just that he was very happy at his primary school, had good friends … and now,’ I faltered, not sure what I was trying to say, ‘he doesn’t seem so happy.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, he’s quiet – I mean, he’s always been quiet but now he’s –’ I struggled to find the right word. ‘Unforthcoming.’

  Mr Lazlett didn’t speak but just nodded as if I should go on.

  ‘At his old school, I’d ask him about his day and he’d tell me. And I always heard about what his friend, Connor, had been up to as well. What the teacher had said, that sort of thing. Now all I get out of him is that it’s OK and I hardly hear about Connor at all although he’s here too. Perhaps they’ve fallen out? I mean, he is in a different form, but I would have thought they’d see each other at breaks …’

  I stopped – a sudden image of Stanley, on his own in the playground with nobody to talk to, giving me a lump in my throat. I swallowed hard and spoke a little more briskly.

  ‘I’ve asked him, of course, but he won’t really say. He just seems – different.’

  There was a small silence. Andrew Lazlett still didn’t say anything – just continued to look at me as though listening intently.

  ‘But then again,’ I went on, ‘I can’t really be sure if that’s school or other things. He’s been through rather a lot since he started here. My husband and I separated during the summer holidays and so Stanley now only has me at home …’

  As I said it, I was suddenly overwhelmed and felt, to my horror, my chin begin to quiver and my nose tingle. Oh Christ . I looked away across the room, biting my lip. More parents had gathered around us, waiting.

  ‘We do find,’ Andrew Lazlett said quietly, ‘that the boys often form new friendships when they get here and they tend to congregate with the others in their form. Has he mentioned any of the other boys at all?’

  ‘Um, I’m not sure really –’