by Minna Howard
They had not seen much of Saskia since she had moved into her own flat in Chelsea. She’d told them she had a lot of work, clothes to make or alter, before Christmas and she would come and see them soon. Verity felt that perhaps now she had her own place she didn’t need this new family so much. Though once the baby came, she would surely need help with that.
Nathan would expect her to ask her to spend Christmas with them and she wouldn’t like her to be alone, especially as this would be her first Christmas without her mother. She sent Saskia a text message to invite her.
If you have no plans for Christmas, we’d love it if you would like to spend it here with us. Love Verity.
She pressed ‘send’ with a sigh, feeling rather ashamed with herself for her slight reluctance. With both boys away she treasured every moment she had with them at home. However, this unexpected situation was hardly Saskia’s fault.
It was Monday and having said goodbye to Nathan, Verity took the bus to the college. She took two different classes during the week; this one started at 11 a.m., which was good for a Monday morning. To her relief, today was not the one that included Justin. It happened to be a class of just girls, and these ones were no trouble, although she’d had her share of difficult ones over the years.
The class went well and when she stopped for lunch, Tony, the principal, called her into his office. She liked him. They’d worked some years together, and he often discussed new ideas with her, so she went into his study with no concern. He gestured for her to sit down and, seeing his expression, her stomach lurched. This was not going to be a cheerful chat about any new ideas.
‘Mr Gilmore,’ he said with a sigh, staring at her through his thick glasses.
‘I thought he’d sorted it all out after he’d gate-crashed my house, though it was my mother-in-law’s fault that he actually came in. You know how lazy Justin is and how he disrupts the class, really because he is not bright enough to do well.’ She sighed. ‘What is it this time, Tony?’
‘I told him that his son has no aptitude for learning and he just said that he might drop the history class as he thinks it’s not worth spending time on.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘He can’t make money out of it, he said, and he wanted to send him to business school when he’s finished here with “a decent clutch of A levels”, as he put it.’
‘So, he’s staying on here?’ She felt despair, and then hope in quick succession. But giving up my class?’
‘Yes, though I’m afraid he’s not giving up your class, or he won’t have enough exams, if he passes any. I told his father again that even with our high teaching standards, the students have to put in a lot of hard graft themselves to get good grades. Being academically gifted, which I’m afraid his son is not, is not enough to get top marks, as you know.’ Tony was not looking at her but fiddling with a pen on his desk, which Verity knew meant there was more to come. There was.
‘He’s made a complaint against you of not inspiring his son enough. I know that’s not true and I told him I have every faith in you as a good, experienced tutor who has successfully steered many students through their exams but I am afraid he might cause trouble, so I thought I’d warn you in case he causes any difficulties.’
She didn’t know what to say. This was the first time anyone had complained about her in all the time she’d been here, though she knew some of the other teachers had suffered the same from rich, ambitious parents who refused to accept that just paying the stiff fees was not enough to get their children top grades.
She sighed, wishing Tony had just told Justin to leave, but she suspected Mark Gilmore had threatened all sorts of things which could ruin the reputation of the place, which was why Tony was keeping Justin on. Perhaps he hoped he’d conform. How his father would deal with it when Justin failed his exams, she’d rather not think.
‘You know what Justin is like, disrupting the class, not doing enough homework. We both know that students who can’t grasp the subject or can’t be bothered to try are apt to play up. What do you want me to do about it? I have other very hardworking students, some with problems like dyslexia or having been ill and missed a lot of school. As you know, people like Justin can ruin things for them.’
‘Don’t worry, I stood up for you, but I just thought I’d tell you. His other teachers are not keen to keep him either, as he disrupts their classes too. I told his father his son just being here did not guarantee good marks, Justin needs to do his bit, but I don’t think he took it in. He’s used to paying for what he wants, but I did say if things did not improve it might be better for him to move on.’
Verity left Tony’s office feeling defeated. She’d have no time to run to the shops now to get the few groceries she needed or buy a sandwich for lunch, not that she felt like eating now. She made herself a strong coffee and went back into the classroom relieved that Justin was not having a class with her today, though she saw him mid-afternoon wandering into the maths class. She wondered what his mother was like; she had not come to any parents’ evenings, though nor had his father. She felt rather sorry for Justin suddenly. So often these students’ problems came from having dysfunctional parents, not bad teaching.
She did her shopping on the way home and got back just before seven. It was bitterly cold and dark now and though the main streets were well lit, the side ones were less so. She turned into her street towards her house feeling lonely and knowing she’d be home alone. Nathan would be well on his way to Singapore by now and her sons had not broken up yet.
The road was solid with parked cars; it had become almost impossible to park in this street at the end of the day. She reached her front door, the key ready in her hand and put it in the lock. A car door opened just ahead of her and a man got out. She took no notice until she heard his voice.
‘Mrs Walton, I’ve come to have a word with you.’
Her blood chilled. She turned to face Mark Gilmore. What was he doing here? The street was empty and she still had another lock to undo before she could get into the house, but he was beside her now. He was a big man, much stronger than her and he could easily push into the house and trap her.
She turned to face him. ‘I’ve told you before; any discussion you want about your son is to be done at the college. You have no right to accost me at my house.’
He was so close to her now she could smell the remains of his aftershave; he was all but touching her.
‘I’ve spoken to your principal. To my mind, a rather weak man. I am determined my son gets the education I am paying over the odds for. I want him to go to one of the top universities before business school. There is no point going to one of the many mediocre colleges there are about.’
His face was strangely distorted under the pale streetlight. Verity felt a surge of energy and spun round and legged it down the street back to a small Waitrose, darting in and going right to the back, praying he wouldn’t follow her in.
‘Verity, whatever’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Emma, a large jovial woman she’d known forever hurried over to her, her basket containing a bottle of wine and a large box of chocolates.
‘I have,’ she said. ‘It’s mad, I don’t know what to do.’ She explained what had happened.
‘That’s dreadful harassment and surely he has no right to wait outside your house to bully you.’ Emma bristled, looking round to see if this tiresome parent was coming towards them.
‘Delia, you know, my mother-in-law, invited him in when he came before. No doubt he now thinks he can come to my house any time it suits him to air his grievances,’ Verity said. ‘I’m home alone as Nathan has had to go back to Singapore.’
‘I’ll come back with you, or you can stay at ours,’ Emma said, taking her arm. After paying for her own shopping, she escorted her back home. But to Emma’s disappointment and Verity’s relief, there was no sign of Mark Gilmore and someone else was backing into the welcome empty space where his car had been.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Saskia
rang Verity as she had not heard from the family for a while. She still felt a little insecure, not quite knowing how much they wanted to include her in their life. She was, of course, old enough to look after herself but as her pregnancy progressed, she felt she needed the guidance of an older, more experienced woman, as her mother would have been, if she had been alive. She missed her acutely.
After Ivor’s prompting, she had properly enrolled in the Chelsea and Westminster hospital and the midwife, although first scolding her for not having enough prenatal checks, was pleased with her progress. There were two months more to go and the baby was expected mid-January.
Ivor always asked after her health when they met on the stairs or walked together to the bus stop.
‘People tell me that there are many women going it alone these days,’ he said one cold, frosty morning, as they happened to leave the house together. ‘Having babies without a partner,’ he added as if she had not caught the drift of his remark.
‘I think there are, women who haven’t found someone, but want children going ahead on their own. Only I had Darren and I thought we’d stay together, be a family,’ she said sadly, ‘But I’ll manage – Mum did, so will I.’ She smiled at him with more courage than she felt. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel she would somehow expect him to help her out.
‘Yes, your mother was obviously great. So, I’m sure you will be too,’ he said and she heard the relief in his voice and caught it in his expression, feeling a swoop of panic even though she didn’t expect him to help out, but it was scary to feel so alone.
*
She had a lot of dressmaking to do. There had been an influx of orders for party clothes for Christmas and the New Year, and she and Annabel were hard at it, though she welcomed the extra money. The restaurant was also busy with people in party mood, so she was rushed off her feet there.
Verity sounded a bit cagey when she answered the phone, making Saskia instantly feel that she thought her a nuisance. Nathan and the boys seemed to have accepted her, but she felt that though Verity had been more than kind before the DNA test proved that Nathan was her father, she’d been a little standoffish since finding out that he was.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Verity, but I was just ringing to see how everyone was.’ She spoke almost timidly and though she had friends she could call on, with Ivor away with his work, she felt suddenly alone.
‘Oh, it’s fine, Nathan is in Singapore and yesterday I had an unwelcome visitor in Mark Gilmore.’ She went on to tell her about it.
‘How scary. Are the parents allowed to come to your house?’ Saskia was shocked. ‘I mean I met him last time he was there, Delia had asked him in, hadn’t she?’
‘Yes, she did, so perhaps he thought he could come back anytime it suited him. I don’t mind admitting I’m still a little scared coming home in case he’s lurking again in the dark. But the boys are back next week as is Nathan and they will see him off should he come again. Anyway, tell me about you, how are you getting on?’ Verity asked her. ‘It’s almost Christmas, have you any plans?’
‘Not really. I haven’t had a chance to think about it, I’ve been so busy with work.’ The truth was that Saskia had thought about it and dreaded it. Her first Christmas without her mother. They always had a great time with lots of friends dropping in and corny things like listening to carols and a long walk on Christmas afternoon with whichever friends had turned up, followed by tea and cake.
‘Well, we are all here and you are welcome to join us,’ Verity said almost mechanically.
‘You don’t have to ask me,’ Saskia said quickly. She’d rather be alone than in a family she wasn’t welcome in. She didn’t want Verity to feel that she was an annoying cuckoo in her nest.
‘No, we’d love to have you,’ Verity said bracingly. ‘I’m sorry, I’m still a little edgy after being stalked by that man.’ She went on to ask how work and her flat and Ivor were going.
‘I haven’t seen much of him lately. He’s been away with work and hasn’t been in the restaurant recently. He may even have a girlfriend for all I know,’ she said, hoping to stop Verity thinking they might be a couple.
‘Oh… well, that’s not a surprise if he has, he’s a charming man,’ Verity said, ‘and a good friend to you.’
Saskia changed the subject, asking about the boys.
*
The following evening, near midnight, she had just gotten in from her stint at the restaurant and was still in her minuscule hall taking off her coat when she heard Ivor come up the stairs. As he passed her door to go up the last flight of stairs, she heard a woman’s voice asking him about the house and Ivor recounting its history. They did not sound drunk or amorous, but she was struck with an unexpected pang of jealousy. She slept badly, tossing and turning all night, imagining all sorts of sexual excitement between them.
He was just a friend, a good friend, she told herself firmly. Had she not rebuffed the slightest sign of romance from the moment she’d met up with him again in the restaurant? And though he might not admit it, she knew he was shocked that she was pregnant and worse, had now been dumped by Darren. Even if he had been attracted to her before he’d known she was expecting, he’d made it blatantly obvious that day going to the bus stop together, that he did not want to take her on and raise another man’s child, and why should he? And, naturally, such an attractive, decent man would be seeing someone. That side of his life was nothing to do with her. It was enough that he was such a good, kind friend.
Mrs Agatha Tracy Morton – Ivor had told Saskia her full name – was on the warpath again. She knocked on her door on Sunday lunchtime; Saskia answered it, thinking it might be Ivor, who often popped in. She almost shut it in her face when she was confronted with her, a sense of purpose in her expression, her large feet anchoring her to the floor.
‘Are you going to ask me in?’ she demanded, striding into the tiny hall before Saskia could answer.
‘Of course. I’m a bit of a mess, got a lot of work to do,’ Saskia mumbled, annoyed she was disturbing her while she had dress patterns and material spread out all over the living room floor.
‘Oh, so you make your own clothes,’ Mrs Tracy Morton sniffed, as if it was a sad thing to do.
‘No, these are for my clients,’ Saskia said. ‘I’ve masses to do so how can I help you?’ She faced her, worried now that she had more influence on this house than anyone else and had the power to evict her.
‘I see, well…’ Mrs Tracy Morton glared at her. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?’ She peered forward to get a better view of the living room to see if there was a space among the materials and the patterns spread around for her to perch.
Saskia sighed. She hadn’t the time or energy for this unwelcome visitor, but she moved a dark blue velvet coat she’d just finished from the sofa and waved vaguely to the space. Mrs Tracy Morton lurched across the floor and sat down, gave a roar and jumped up again, waving a pin at her.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Saskia took it from her, wishing she would change her mind and leave but she seemed determined to have her say. She inspected the cushion carefully before sitting down again and facing her.
‘I’ve come to inform you,’ she said, with a glower at Saskia’s prominent stomach, ‘that this house is a haven, a place for us oldies to be quiet in the twilight of our years – hardworking years, I might add. In my experience the children today are noisy and spoilt. I’d go as far as saying many of them are brats, their parents too lazy to discipline them. They want to be their best friends, not their teachers.’
Saskia interrupted her; ‘I’m sorry that you don’t want me and my coming child here, but Richard is quite happy to let me rent this flat—’
‘I doubt Richard knows much about children and I expect you caught him on the hop after Coral left so suddenly.’ Mrs Tracy Morton went on, ‘But what about the father? Surely he should be here?’
Saskia who had already been bombarded by advice and rebukes from the medical
staff about not checking in for more maternity care, was not going to take any more and from someone who, she guessed, had never had children and knew nothing about them.
She said quietly, ‘My life is my affair and I know my responsibilities towards this child. The father lives in the US—’
‘Well, he won’t be much help being over there then.’
‘No, but I’ll manage on my own, my mother did.’
‘Well, so it runs in the family. Not a very good start for your unfortunate offspring, but you could have it adopted, I suppose,’ Mrs Tracy Morton advised her. ‘My church could help with that if you decide to go down that road.’ She got up and like a stately battleship swept across the floor to the front door, leaving Saskia biting her lip to prevent a torrent of fury bursting from her. She was too vulnerable, so near the end of her pregnancy and with no other home to go to, to risk being thrown out. Besides she loved it here, her cosy little flat with the wonderful view of the Thames and at a rent she could just afford.
She stood there, head bowed and saying nothing until Mrs Tracy Morton turned back on the threshold and announced that she was going to speak to the landlord about it – she was, after all related to his mother. ‘It is surely the duty of the father of the child to find a suitable home for you both,’ was her parting shot before stomping off to her own flat. Saskia shut the door behind her and burst into tears.
TWENTY-EIGHT
