Envy

by Amanda Robson

  ‘How has she been today?’ I almost whisper.

  He shakes his head slowly. In despair? In exasperation?

  ‘Variable. She’s getting worse. I need you to come and see the Head with me again.’

  My stomach rotates, as we repeat the same movements as before. Georgia is wheeled into the classroom to be watched by Parky’s assistant. I am guided across the playground, watched by the School Gate Mafia. Into the Head’s study; this time sitting on a sofa opposite the Head and Parky. Mrs Worthington begins.

  ‘First, I want to let you know about the situation with the tribunal. We’re still waiting to hear. Still waiting to present evidence.’

  They deserve to be hauled over the coals for not dealing very well with the aftermath either. But I manage to suppress the anger that is building inside me.

  ‘Thank you for keeping me informed. What else did you want to talk about?’ I ask.

  She looks across at Parky. She meets his eyes. They are deep blue, and shining with concern. He is not enjoying this any more than I am. He turns to me and blinks.

  ‘We think you need to send Tamsin to see a child psychologist.’

  ‘But … but …’ I splutter, ‘don’t you think if we all work together, my husband and I, and the school, we can get her through this difficult patch?’

  He shakes his head. ‘No.’ There is a pause. ‘She needs professional help.’

  Anger cascades. ‘I don’t want her labelled,’ I insist. ‘Pigeonholed.’

  The Head intervenes. ‘She has had a bad experience. We think instructing a child psychologist would be the best we could do to help her through this as quickly as possible.’ She smiles a curt smile; so smug, so used to being in control. ‘Go home. Talk to your husband. If you agree, the school secretary can give you a list of recommended practitioners tomorrow.’

  I feel like slapping her across the face and shouting it’s your fault, you sort it. But I manage to clench my fingers together and suppress my feral instinct. It will not help me get a happy daughter back.

  Parky leans across and puts his hand on my arm. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Baker. Tamsin is a lovely girl. We’ll soon sort this out. I just don’t like to see things build. Best to nip it in the bud.’

  I wince at the invasion of his touch and want to push him away. But then I look into his face and see a dear old boy, sixty at least, approaching retirement, much loved by Tamsin before this happened, and by many school children over many, many years. This school’s version of Mr Chips. And I hold back.

  ‘OK, OK, I’ll go home and think about it.’

  But as I sidle out of the Head’s office, my anger turns to shame. I never thought a child of mine would need counselling. Counselling my own child, surely that is my responsibility? Five years old. Already needing counselling. Why has our life gone so wrong?

  102

  Erica

  In the van, on my way to prison, trying to look out of the high window of my compartment to see a bit of sky, to try and stop myself from feeling sick. Locked up and cuffed in this small space, buffeted along a windy road, I feel extremely nauseous. The van is rattling. Rattling my stomach. Rattling my head.

  103

  Phillip

  The children are in bed. I open a bottle of Merlot and pour us a large glass each. We sit together on the sofa. I put my arm around you and pull your body towards mine, but you pull away. I know what is happening. You want to talk. And when you want to talk you like to see my face. My face is the same as ever, but my heart has changed.

  ‘What do you think we should do about Parky’s suggestion?’ you ask.

  You hold my eyes in yours and sip your wine. ‘I told you. We should go along with it.’

  ‘Why?’ you ask, eyes darkening.

  ‘Why not?’ I reply.

  ‘Is that as far as you are going to go, to analyse this?’ you snap.

  I shrug my shoulders. ‘He has spent forty years dealing with young people. The child psychologist will be a professional. These people really know what they are doing, Faye.’ I pause. ‘I’m in favour of any help we can get.’

  Slowly, slowly you shake your head. You sit on the sofa, gripping your wine glass too tightly, and frowning. ‘Don’t you think professional counselling might cause more damage, be counter-productive?’ you say raising your voice, chest heaving. You put your wine glass on the table. ‘They can be condescending. Fitting people into boxes. Into pre-described patterns.’

  Your frown deepens. You stand up, shaking your head.

  ‘I’m fed up of this conversation. I’m going to bed.’ You turn back when you reach the doorway to the stairs. A tear runs down your cheeks and your face crumples. ‘I’m just frightened, Phillip. Frightened of making any more mistakes.’

  Mistakes? With Tamsin? With Jonah? Or am I your mistake?

  104

  Erica

  ‘Hi, I’m Jessica Bell,’ my DBT specialist says as she sits down opposite me, next to Perdita, extending her arm in a friendly manner first to me, then to my appropriate adult. Jessica Bell is slim and elegant. She looks about sixty years old. Fine skin. Thin like tracing paper. Wearing a tasteful cream blouse and a tight suit. Flat black shoes with a large gold buckle.

  ‘Good to meet you, Erica,’ she says. ‘I think we should start with the problem and work backwards. Do you agree?’

  As if I know where to start. But I know I must try and cooperate.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘That makes sense to me.’

  She leans forwards in her chair and crosses her legs. ‘First, and this will be painful, I want you to try and tell me why you took Tamsin.’

  Her question stabs into me. ‘It is painful.’

  ‘Why, Erica?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to be punished for trying to help.’

  ‘Stealing a child is a criminal offence, Erica. But I believe you that you wanted to help.’

  My eyes are prickling, filling with tears. ‘You believe me?’ I mutter.

  ‘Yes. And now we need to channel that helpfulness and work out how you could have behaved differently.’ Jessica leans forwards, smiling at me enthusiastically. Her smile is genuine. It travels around her whole face and shines from her eyes. ‘What were you trying to protect Tamsin from?’ she asks.

  ‘Her mother’s promiscuity.’

  ‘What made you think her mother was promiscuous? How did you know about it?’

  My stomach tightens. My body feels bloated, as if it is about to burst. I shift awkwardly in my chair. ‘I’ll tell you why I know about Faye’s promiscuity. I was following her.’

  ‘Why were you doing that?’

  The tightness in my body thickens. Pushing up through my throat, making me feel as if I am about to choke. ‘It’s so embarrassing,’ I splutter.

  ‘Please don’t be embarrassed. I’m here to help you, not judge you.’

  Jessica’s voice is warm and soothing. Her words float towards me and envelop me. My words move towards Jessica from somewhere deep inside me.

  ‘I’m infatuated with her. I wish I had her life.’

  My words stand in the air between us, and I am proud of them. Pleased I have spoken.

  ‘And then you saw some misbehaviour which poisoned your mind?’

  ‘Yes. She shattered my illusions by sleeping with a man who wasn’t her husband. And she has such a lovely husband. Such a perfect life. It triggered memories for me of my own mother’s promiscuity and my difficult life. It made me want to take Tamsin away and protect her from the danger I have suffered.’ I am crying now, tears streaming down my face. ‘I only ever wanted to protect Tamsin. I would never have hurt her. Not in a million years. If I hurt Tamsin I would be hurting myself as well as her.’

  Jessica leans forwards again, puts her hand on my arm and smiles. Her smile wraps around me and makes me feel a little lighter. The crying is helping. It is cathartic. Perdita passes me a tissue to dry my face.

  ‘Thank you for being so honest,’ Jessica says. ‘There are s
o many positive ways to move forwards from this. We will have plenty of time to discuss them over the next few months, as we are going to see each other several times a week.’

  105

  Faye

  I am sitting in the waiting area in the vestibule of the local hospital while Tamsin is seeing Ms Silverton, the child psychologist. Parky and Phillip have managed to persuade me to put Tamsin through this.

  Waiting, watching the world go by. Patients and their carers come and go. So many patients. So many problems. I close my eyes. Please, Ms Silverton. Please help my girl.

  106

  Faye

  Is worry like pain? One bigger worry pushes all smaller worries away? All I do is think about Tamsin. The spectre of Jonah has faded. I have stopped even looking out for his car. Phillip trusts me. Phillip believes me. I can tell by his eyes. His face.

  107

  Erica

  Mouse is here. Taking me in his arms again and hugging me. It feels so right. So comforting. So reassuring. We are allowed a hug at the start of our visits, but no physical contact after that. He smells good. A mixture of sandalwood and patchouli oil. The woollen sweater that his dad’s girlfriend knitted for him is warm and comforting against my skin.

  We part and sit across a grey plastic table, and I want to hug him again, so much.

  ‘Are you feeling a bit better? Have you stopped crying all the time?’ he asks.

  ‘I am feeling a bit better thanks.’

  He frowns and nods his head. There is a pause. ‘I miss you, Erica,’ he says.

  ‘I miss you too, Mouse.’ I look out of the window behind him at the grey day. ‘However did you manage to get here? It’s drizzling.’

  He shrugs. ‘Because I miss you, Erica. I put myself out.’

  His grey-brown eyes hold mine. ‘Why did you do it?’ he asks.

  ‘If you knew about my childhood you’d understand.’ I stir in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

  His eyes flatten. ‘I’m sure I would. I just wish it hadn’t happened. You’ve left me on my own.’

  I lean across the table to take his hand in mine, before I remember I am not allowed to touch him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mouse. So sorry,’ I reply. ‘You do have your dad,’ I continue, pulling my hand back.

  Mouse’s mouth is in a line. ‘He doesn’t play chess.’ There is a pause. ‘When’s the trial? You didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘In a few weeks.’

  He grins and leans forwards. ‘And then are you coming home?’

  His words pierce into me. ‘No. I’ll be found guilty and sent back here. There’s no getting around the fact I abducted a child.’

  ‘But I need you, Erica. What about me?’ His words pierce more deeply.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mouse – I didn’t think properly. I got everything out of balance. A psychologist who visits me in here is helping me to get it back.’

  Mouse’s mouth falls open a little. I don’t think he understands what I am saying.

  ‘Is he?’ he asks.

  ‘He’s a she.’

  ‘OK then, well, how does she do that?’

  ‘We’ll talk together three times a week. About things.’

  ‘Things?’

  ‘Yes. Problem-focused, action-orientated. Or at least that’s what it says in the brochure.’

  Mouse nods his head in an attempt to look wise. ‘Do you think it would help me?’ he asks.

  ‘You’ve already had lots of help. My problems are caused by my upbringing. I need help now.’ Mouse continues to nod his head. I continue speaking. ‘Your problem is under control. Mine has been very damaging recently.’

  His brown eyes darken. ‘I’ve got a good dad? You had a bad mother? Is that what you mean?’

  ‘Something like that. Yes.’

  108

  Faye

  A sharp, cold day. Children wrapped up warm after school. Arriving at the play park, I lift Georgia out of her buggy and carefully balance her little legs on the ground. She toddles off towards the slide, walking clumsily like a clockwork toy, waddling her body from side to side. Tamsin dashes to the roundabout. Too far apart for me to watch both of them.

  ‘Tamsin. Come with me. Let’s help Georgia on the slide first.’

  I prepare for battle, but it doesn’t commence. Tamsin is not being awkward today. She smiles and runs to the slide. She climbs up the chute, slipping and sliding, fighting gravity, and meets her sister at the top. I hover anxiously as they sit snuggled close to one another and come down together, smiling and laughing.

  ‘Swing now,’ Georgia demands.

  ‘Swing now,’ Tamsin repeats with a giggle.

  Tamsin gives Georgia a piggyback to the swings. I follow them. They sit on adjacent seats, and I can push them both at the same time. I watch the rise and fall of their flying bodies. When I was young, I remember being on a swing and thinking I was flying across the top of the world. A feeling of hope and exhilaration. I watch them and wish for a second I was a child again. A child who never made mistakes. A child who wouldn’t have grown up to let Jonah rub the base of her spine.

  ‘The bad lady is gone,’ Tamsin announces at the top of her swing. ‘She’s never coming back.’ There is a pause. ‘Ms Silverton says I will never see her again.’

  ‘Will I ever see her?’ Georgia asks.

  ‘Course not. She’s in prison.’

  I stand pushing them, wishing I was swinging with them, Tamsin’s words singing in my head. The bad lady has gone and she’s never coming back.

  109

  Erica

  ‘Good morning. Have you been thinking about the issues we discussed?’ Jessica asks.

  I breathe in and out to relax, and lean back in my chair. ‘I’ve been focusing on the fact that Faye is a good mother who needs to be with her family. Her daughter Tamsin needs to be with her.’

  ‘That’s good, very good,’ Jessica says, voice strong and resonant. ‘And how are you intending to follow through?’

  ‘When I look at Faye, instead of focusing on her infidelity and irresponsible attitude towards men, I’m going to think about her family life.’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ Jessica leans forwards. ‘And how are you going to do that?’

  ‘By visualising her family together, having a good time, looking out for one another, as pictures in my mind.’

  I close my eyes.

  ‘Tell me what you’re seeing.’

  ‘It’s autumn. They are in my favourite part of the woods, in Bushy Park, where Faye did her ice-cream photoshoot. Phillip and Georgia, Tamsin and Faye, holding hands. Tromping through golden leaves, kicking into them and laughing.’

  ‘Excellent – but now picture what happened when you had Tamsin. That will help consolidate.’

  The vision changes. We are back in the Premier Inn. Tamsin is edging across the bed, away from me. Sobbing and yowling. I try to touch her, to comfort her, but she changes from girl to demon, kicking out at me, thumping and punching me. I open my eyes. I know I have to let this vision go.

  ‘You look upset,’ Jessica says. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Tamsin doesn’t want me. She wants her mother. I was remembering.’

  ‘That’s good. Every time you think of Tamsin remember how unhappy she was when you took her.’

  Tears are streaming down my face. ‘I will never forget. I will never behave like that again.’

  110

  Erica

  My trial is not long off now. I’ll be transported from here every day in one of those vans that makes me feel sick, so Perdita will wait for me at the entrance of the crown court, with water and Gaviscon. Perdita is such a brick.

  111

  Jonah

  At home, in my drawing room, watching flames rise in the grate. I have been leaving you alone for a while, Faye. I know you need to concentrate on Tamsin at the moment, to make sure she is all right before we begin to plan our escape together.

  As I wait I have been reliving the memory of my conversation
with Phillip. The look on his face when I told him the truth about the way you seduced me. His eyes widened in astonishment. He didn’t believe you would want me. He’s known me such a long time, and I always thought he admired me, was even a little overwhelmed by my superiority. So, his surprise that you were interested in me really insulted me.

  As the possibility that it might be true began to dawn on him, his face became immobile, and his eyes lost their spark. As I watched him clench his fist, I feared he was going to hit me. But he put his hands behind his back and the moment passed. He sat staring into space.

  ‘I don’t believe you. Please leave our home,’ he said.

  I did as he asked, stood up and left. I didn’t thank him for dinner. Stepping out into a mild evening, young moon like a sliver of fingernail. Looking up at the sky, at the stars so far away, feeling invigorated by the power of the universe. Its endless possibility. And I knew that this was it. My moment. Our moment, Faye. Your marriage is over.

  You will end up with me, Faye. I am waiting. I am being patient.

  Tonight I have sprayed some of your perfume on a pair of silk knickers I stole from your room. You didn’t lock the bedroom door when I came for dinner so I managed to get some of your perfume too. You are always just a few steps away from me. I sit inhaling your scent, remembering the feel of you, Faye. The look on your face the first time I met you. The way your eyes held mine when we were making love.

  112

  Erica

  In court at last, sitting between Perdita and a guard. In the dock behind floor to ceiling glass. Looking at the courtroom from inside a square goldfish bowl with nowhere to hide.