‘He certainly seems to be having a ball,’ Darius agreed. ‘And why wouldn’t he?’ He lowered his voice. ‘Who’s Mr Delicious Farmer Man? Where did he spring from?’
‘He lives in the manor house,’ she said, through her teeth, as she smiled at the camera.
‘Dishy and the local lord. He’s too good to be true,’ Darius said. In spite of herself, Jodi burst out laughing. Darius joined in.
‘Amazingly natural and so happy, you two,’ the photographer said. ‘I love it. Keep it going.’
The shoot finished and the crew packed up quickly. Just as Jodi was about to look for Saul, he reappeared with Sebastian.
‘I’ll get back to my machine,’ Sebastian said politely. ‘See you soon, Saul.’
‘Bye, Sebastian!’
‘What do you say to Sebastian?’ Jodi prompted.
‘Thank you!’ Saul shrilled.
‘No worries,’ Sebastian said, over his shoulder, as he walked back to the combine harvester.
‘How was that, then?’ Jodi asked.
‘Fun!’ Saul said. ‘Sebastian is so nice. He’s my friend. Not like Cameron.’ He pouted.
‘What happened today, then?’ Darius asked.
‘He was mean again.’
‘Mum’ll fix it, won’t you?’ Darius said. ‘It’s not a good plan for him to hang out with Cameron if he’s going to be awful.’
‘I’ll sort it,’ she said. ‘I’ll talk to his mum but for now, Saul, you need to give your dad a big hug. He’s going to the airport in a few minutes,’ she said, with a glance at her watch.
Jodi made herself scarce as Darius hugged their son and snatched a few more minutes with him.
Having removed her makeup, she heard a car pull up outside. Guessing it was Darius’s taxi, she padded back into the living room where Saul and his father were chatting.
‘This is for you to bring on set,’ Saul said, handing Darius the painting he’d made in school.
‘Monster, this is just the best! All my co-stars are going to know exactly what our new house is like now.’
‘When are you coming back?’ Saul asked, as he sat on Darius’s knee.
‘Just as soon as I can.’
‘We’ll go and visit Dad too,’ Jodi said. ‘Once he’s in a slightly closer location, we’ll go for the weekend. You’ll have midterm break so we’ll make sure to see him then.’
‘I’m going far away to China in November but I’ll be in London before Hallowe’en,’ Darius explained. ‘You and Mum are coming to see me then. We’re invited to a party and it’s going to be amazing.’
Saul threw his arms around his father’s neck.
‘Darius, your car for the airport is waiting, love,’ Jodi said gently.
She and Saul walked outside with him, watched him get in, and stood waving until they couldn’t see him any longer. ‘I’ll miss Daddy,’ Saul said sadly.
‘Me too. But we’ll see him again before you know it, okay?’ Jodi promised.
Saul promptly burst out crying.
‘Hey! What’s all this?’ she said, dropping on to her hunkers. ‘I had a horrible time at Cameron’s house. He’s really scary,’ Saul sobbed.
Jodi took him inside. She was worried, and wondered what on earth had gone on with Cameron now.
Chapter 11
Francine was at sixes and sevens with herself. She’d just dropped Saul off without even calling in to say hello. She’d never done that before. He was only little and she knew she should have delivered him directly to his mother rather than ushering him from her car in Jodi’s direction. She should also have explained what Cameron had done. But she simply couldn’t bear the embarrassment of confessing to Cameron’s dreadful behaviour yet again. Especially when she’d more or less forced Jodi into allowing her to take Saul in the first place.
After dropping Saul home, she drove back to Verbena Drive on autopilot, hardly able to believe what had just happened. On the first Friday of each month Cara hosted a little book club for some of the girls in her class and they were due that afternoon. When she was working, she had always gone in and finished early on a Friday, which had fitted in nicely with her daughter’s schedule.
Ordinarily Francine looked forward to the date just as much as Cara did. She took pride in setting the table with a pretty cloth and matching napkins. She loved preparing tiny sandwiches and displaying them on her three-tiered porcelain cake stand. The sweet treats varied, depending on Francine’s mood and the time of year. Today she had baby meringues and mini shortbread biscuits. But her usual humming as she laid the table before the girls arrived had been replaced with stifled sobs and a sick sensation deep in her gut. She could still see the look on Saul’s face as he’d begged to go home.
‘Cameron got cross with me because I wanted to play Lego,’ Saul said. ‘He’s broken the window.’
Francine had been so stunned by what had happened, she’d ushered the boys into the car without even attempting to clear up the glass.
She intended to make certain that none of the visiting girls or their mothers knew about the carnage that had gone on that afternoon. A short while later, feeling like a madwoman concealing a murder, she answered the door with a practised smile on her lips. Nobody needed to know the window was lying in smithereens all over Cameron’s room.
‘Come in, girls,’ she greeted them. ‘Cara’s waiting for you in the kitchen. Go on through.’ She waved to the mother who had dropped them off and felt grateful that they’d agreed long ago that they would drop and collect without coming in. ‘Yes, it’s all about the girls so we won’t turn it into a mothers’ occasion,’ Francine had said. ‘We should let them have their little session and go straight home afterwards. Otherwise it’ll get too late and we’ll all feel pressured to stop and chat.’
Cara knew nothing about the smashed glass either and Francine wanted it kept that way. She certainly didn’t need anyone gossiping about Cameron in the school car park. If they knew he’d broken a window in a fit of rage people might jump to all kinds of conclusions. Francine would be even more mortified than she was now.
Luckily there’d been no further thumping and shouting from Cameron. Francine figured he must have worn himself out after the appalling outburst of earlier on. He was happily ensconced in front of a video game with his brothers.
‘Today we’re going to talk some more about Little Women,’ Cara announced.
Francine kept her smile in place as she put a china coffee pot filled with hot chocolate on the table. ‘Don’t mind me, girls. I’ll leave you to it. I’ve a few jobs to do upstairs. Enjoy!’
‘Thank you!’ the girls chorused.
As she fled the room Francine was totally unaware that the conversation had switched to rapid whispers about Simon Doyle’s new haircut and what they were all dressing up as for the school Hallowe’en party.
Upstairs in Cameron’s bedroom Francine, trying to be as quiet as possible, put large shards of broken glass into the bin and swept up the smaller pieces. She stowed the bin out of harm’s way in her own bedroom. She’d put it outside after the girls had gone home. Knowing she needed to try and get to grips with why Cameron had reacted so violently, she descended the stairs and walked slowly into the playroom.
‘Cameron, I need to have a little chat with you,’ Francine began. ‘Why did you break the window upstairs, sweetheart?’ she asked, in as calm a voice as she could muster. Cameron was curled up on a beanbag with his back to her, facing the wall. ‘Cameron, I’m speaking to you. Don’t ignore me,’ she said.
‘Because Saul made me cross.’
‘Cameron.’ Francine walked over to the sofa and patted the space beside her. ‘Come over and sit here with me. We need to have a proper chat quietly so we don’t disturb Conor and Craig.’ She was expecting him to be remorseful she thought enough time had elapsed for them to sort out calmly what had happened.
‘I hate you and I hate him! He’s a big fat poo-face!’ he yelled, leaping off his bean bag and bolting behind t
he television stand.
‘Cameron! Come out of there! It’s so dangerous with all those wires. You’ll be electrocuted!’
‘Mum!’ Conor shouted. ‘Cameron just unplugged the PlayStation! Me and Craig were on level six and he’s just ruined it all.’
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ Francine said, trying to sound as if everything was still hunky-dory. Cameron careered out from behind the television and lashed out at Craig, thumping him soundly on the arm.
‘Ow!’ Craig yelled, and burst into tears.
‘Cameron! Cut it out! There are guests in the kitchen!’
Craig sobbed and held his arm, while Conor chased Cameron, attempting to hit him with the PlayStation remote control. ‘I’ll kill you! You wrecked our game!’ he shouted. ‘You wreck everything! Wrecker-fecker, wrecker-fecker!’
‘Boys!’ Francine hissed. ‘Stop it! What are those girls going to think?’
‘I don’t care,’ Cameron said. ‘Smelly girls!’
Before she could grab him, Cameron opened the door and shot into the kitchen.
‘Muuuum!’ Cara shouted.
‘Coming, lovie,’ Francine called, hoping to God she could get hold of her child and drag him out of there before he hit one of the girls.
‘Cameron’s ruining everything,’ Cara wailed. ‘He’s such a little brat. Look what he’s done!’
Cameron had tossed the sandwiches and meringues on to the floor and was stamping on them.
‘I’ll take him away,’ Francine said, voice wobbling. ‘I’m so sorry, girls. Cameron is just wild at the moment. Any of you who have brothers will know what tearaways boys can be!’
A chase ensued and Cameron flung himself under the table, making the girls scream.
Eventually Francine managed to grab him and wrestle him down the hall into her office. ‘You are not allowed to behave like this, Cameron,’ she panted. He wriggled and swiped and tried with all his might to free himself but Francine held him back. Kicking the door shut, she hoped to God the girls had resumed chatting in the kitchen.
‘Let me go!’ he yelled. ‘I hate you, let me go!’
The sound of Francine’s palm meeting Cameron’s leg startled both of them.
‘Ow!’
Francine burst out crying. She’d never hit any of her children before. It was something she abhorred. Both she and Carl had always said they totally disagreed with smacking. But it had been a reflex action born of sheer desperation. ‘Cameron, I’m sorry!’ she sobbed.
‘Bold Mummy,’ he said, and began to howl.
‘I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean it,’ she pleaded. ‘Come and sit with me and we’ll do some planning for the Hallowe’en party. Please, sweetheart, come over and let’s sit for a while.’
Cameron climbed on to her knee and stuck his thumb into his mouth.
As she held him close and rocked him back and forth their sobs finally subsided.
The girls were sure to tell their parents how vile Cameron had been, Francine thought. And it was almost impossible to expect Craig and Conor to keep the smashed window a secret. They’d be dying to tell their friends on Monday what their naughty little brother had done.
Glancing up at her neatly aligned boxes of index cards and folders, Francine felt like every bit of order was being torn away from her. Her first thought on waking each morning and her final thought each night as she tried to go to sleep was of her youngest child and his increasingly awful antics.
Mr Matthews was doing his best to be understanding and proactive, but this was only the end of the second week and already Francine was ashamed of her son’s behaviour at school. Every time she thought of Annie and the heartache Cameron had caused her, she felt even worse.
Word was going to spread. Cameron was going to be labelled a naughty boy if she didn’t do something quickly.
‘I need to make my shopping list for the Hallowe’en party in school. I have a big meeting with the mums who are going to help me next week,’ she explained. ‘So, you be a good lad and sit here and make a picture for Dad while I get on with that. You can use my special coloured pens to draw on this paper.’ She handed him an A4 sheet and showed him the little pot of felt-tip pens.
‘I hate colouring,’ he protested.
‘Okay, okay,’ she said, terrified he was going to start kicking and screaming again. ‘Just sit and cuddle up to me while I look in my folder.’ He leaned into her and, sighing with intense relief, she assumed he was too tired to create any further disruption.
She flicked through her Hallowe’en folder just for something to do. Cara’s book club would be over and the girls would all be collected in the next twenty minutes. Soon Carl would be home and she wouldn’t be on her own, wondering what to do next.
Cameron snatched the red felt-tip pen she was holding, yanked the lid off and stabbed the pen into the page forcing the nib back into the plastic casing.
‘Cameron! No! You’re spoiling the pen. We don’t treat things like that,’ she said.
He snatched up a fistful and flung them behind the chair. As he reached for more pens, Francine put her hand on his.
‘No, Cameron. Listen to me,’ she said, in a very slow and calm, albeit shaky, voice. ‘If you want to use my special pens you must be gentle.’
Cameron responded by upending the entire pot and scattering the remaining pens everywhere. Then he ran out of the room and launched himself at the front door. He climbed up the wooden panels and wrestled the lock open, then tore down the driveway towards the communal green area of Verbena Drive.
Francine ran after him.
Once he realised she was giving chase, the little boy speeded up and pelted onwards.
‘Cameron, get back here this instant!’ Jesus, Francine thought. I’m in my slippers yelling like a banshee and my child looks like he’s escaping a murderer.
Cameron might have made it to the other side of the country had he not been intercepted by Mr Brady driving towards his house. The elderly man slammed on his brakes, stopped his car, jumped out and grabbed the little boy.
As Francine caught up with Cameron, her throat hurt and she’d a stitch in her side. With a face the shade of a ripe raspberry she lurched forward and scooped him into her arms. ‘Mr Brady,’ she was totally out of breath, ‘thank you so much for stopping. I’m so sorry if he gave you a fright running on the road like that.’
‘Ah, sure that’s kids today,’ Mr Brady said.
‘I ran away from Mum because she beat me,’ Cameron said, glowering at Francine.
‘Cameron!’ Francine said in horror. The old man looked at her in surprise.
‘Well, you did!’ Cameron said emphatically. ‘She said sorry afterwards but she smacked me like this.’ Cameron lashed out and hit the old man on the side of the head. ‘Ha!’ Cameron giggled loudly as Mr Brady’s glasses landed on the road.
‘Oh, my God, Mr Brady, are you all right?’ Francine struggled to hold the squirming child while she bent down to retrieve the glasses.
‘I’m not sure I am,’ the old man retorted.
‘Please forgive him.’ Francine’s voice cracked and tears of shame rolled down her cheeks. Turning, she staggered back towards the house with Cameron tucked under her arm.
‘Little gurrier,’ Mr Brady muttered. ‘Next time I should just run him over. I’m delighted myself and Mrs Brady only have a docile marmalade cat to contend with,’ he called after her.
Inside the house, Francine put Cameron into Craig’s room – his own wouldn’t be safe for him until the window was mended. She tried to pretend she couldn’t hear him throwing shoes and God knows what else at the wall. When the book-club mothers arrived she shooed the girls out speedily.
When Carl came in a short while later, for the first time since he’d met Francine, there was no dinner ready. The kitchen was in a terrible state, with food trampled across the floor. Cara, Craig and Conor were on the PlayStation and his wife was nowhere to be seen. ‘Where’s Mum?’ he asked anxiously.
‘U
pstairs with Cameron. He had a total meltdown and beat up one of the neighbours,’ Conor said, without moving his gaze from the flatscreen TV.
‘Yeah, Mum says he socked Mr Brady in the head after he’d tried to commit suicide by jumping under Mr Brady’s car,’ Cara added dramatically.
‘And,’ Craig added, not wanting to be left out, ‘he smashed a window upstairs with his shoe earlier today. He’s in soooo much trouble.’
‘Francine?’ Carl ran towards the stairs. There was no answer so he stormed into Cameron’s room.
The wind was whipping the curtains through the gaping hole where the window glass used to be.
‘Cameron?’ Carl walked on to the upstairs landing.
‘Hi, Dad!’ Cameron said brightly, from his brother’s room. ‘Cameron, what on earth is going on in here?’ Carl stared at the devastation in dismay.
‘I’m sorting all Craig’s stuff,’ the little boy said. He’d emptied every drawer of clothes, pulled all the shoes, toys and entire contents of his brother’s room into the middle of the carpet. ‘I’m doing a spring clean,’ he said.
‘Francine?’ Carl called backing out of the room. Following the sound of sobbing, he found his wife face down on their bed.
Chapter 12
The weekend brought some much-needed calm for Jodi and Saul. Although she still woke early, Jodi was relieved to see her son fast asleep when she peeped into his room.
Hoping he’d have a rare lie-on, she moved quietly to the kitchen to make some of her herbal infusion. The sound of her mobile ringing made her curse and dive to answer it. The number was unknown, which she would normally have allowed to go to voicemail, but after that awful phone call the other day, a sixth sense told her to answer.
‘Hello?’ she said, in hushed tones.
‘Babe! It’s me, Mac!’
‘What do you want?’
‘That’s not a very nice way to greet me after all this time,’ he said. ‘We must’ve been cut off the other day.’
‘Eh, yeah,’ she hesitated, biding for time. ‘I thought we had things sorted between you and I?’ Her voice wobbled. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and willed herself to hold it together. She couldn’t let him hear how much he frightened her.
Perfect Wives Page 13
