Chapter 13
13
‘Robyn? Robyn, are you up?’
Fabian was on the other end of the phone, telling me everything was going to be fine. That not only did he know some clever consultant with whom he’d been at Oxford who had the wherewithal to have me up and dancing again within the week, but he’d also been in touch with Carl Farmer, who was desperate to have me back. Fabian went on that I’d been absolutely right, no two ways about it, to object to his defending that monster Henderson-Smith in court. He should have realised he was in the wrong to even consider taking on the case… He was on Mum’s doorstep and when was I going to come down and let him in? His mother and his brother, Julius, were with him to apologise for their lack of warmth in welcoming me into the Carrington family when in fact they totally loved the idea of taking a woman of colour, a double murderer’s granddaughter, into their midst. They were all there to help me… to get Mum well again… to get Sorrel through her GCSEs and to make her Beddingfield High’s head girl… I just needed to come down and let them all in…
‘Robyn? Robyn?’ Jayden was shaking me while the knocking on the front door continued.
‘Who’s down there? On the doorstep?’ I asked, my eyes still closed as I desperately tried to cling onto the dream rather than face the reality of an overslept wet Monday morning at 8a.m. in West Yorkshire.
‘Robyn?’ Jess was now yelling up at my bedroom window from down below in the garden. ‘Do you know what bloody time it is? I can’t get in . You’ve left the key in the door.’
‘Can’t you let her in?’ I snapped furiously in Jayden’s direction. ‘Why’ve you let us sleep in? We have to get to school with Sorrel.’
I scrambled out of bed, shook Sorrel, who was absolutely dead to the world, and headed for the one bathroom in the cottage. I needed to sort myself before sorting my sister; Jayden was big enough and daft enough to sort himself. By the time I was dressed in the decent jeans and sweater I’d salvaged from my still unpacked suitcase, Jess had taken over, chivvying Sorrel into the shower, standing over her while she dressed before propelling her down the stairs and into the kitchen to pour the cereal and milk she’d brought round from her own kitchen and make a pot of tea in Mum’s best teapot. I craved coffee, but poured myself a large mug of the weak tea.
‘Lola’s already at school in Early Morning Club.’ Jess indicated with a nod of her head the village school we’d ourselves all attended, just two minutes down the lane. ‘I’m going to have to get off to work now.’
‘Your Covid?’
‘Miraculously cured.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Come on,’ she went on, looking at the kitchen clock, ‘get off down to the school and throw yourself on the mercy of this new head teacher. Just tell them the pair of us are both alumnae of Beddingfield Comprehensive and that…’
‘Alumnae?’ I stared across at Jess as Sorrel pulled a face of disbelief. Either my little sister had a smattering of Latin or, much more likely the case, didn’t know what the hell Jess was talking about.
‘Past pupils, yes, and, as such, we’re not prepared to stand for this behaviour.’
‘Whose behaviour?’ I was getting confused.
‘The school’s.’
‘I thought it was Sorrel’s behaviour that was in question?’
‘And tell her you’re a trained teacher yourself,’ Jess went on. ‘That should impress the woman. Mind you, from what I’ve heard in the village, Godzilla was a pussycat compared to this new head teacher.’
‘A woman? Right! More likely to be sympathetic and on our side, then?’
‘Why?’ Jess looked up. ‘You’d be better off using all your feminine charms on some man.’
‘Feminine charms?’ Sorrel smirked, looking directly at me. ‘Has she got any?’
‘Your sister, Sorrel, has a top London barrister for a boyfriend.’ Jess, despite telling me I was only heading for heartache throwing my lot in with the Bucks Barrister Brigade, was always quick to come to my defence.
‘Not any more, she hasn’t,’ I said bleakly, standing up and pulling on my jacket while putting up both hands to indicate I didn’t want to talk about it. ‘Right, come on, where’s Jayden? Let’s go and make peace with the school and then I have to go and see Mum. Sorrel, get that lipstick off, get those trainers off…’ My knee was hurting like hell and I was in no mood for comeback from a truculent fifteen-year-old. I threw her the black shoes I’d cleaned and polished the previous evening. ‘And get these on your feet. Fasten that top button on your shirt and pull your tie up properly.’
I closed my eyes briefly before heading for the door and Jayden’s car.
How on earth had it all come to this?
‘Do you have an appointment with Ms Liversedge?’ The woman on Reception’s eyes narrowed in our direction before she turned to her diary. ‘I can’t see anything here… Ah, you’re with Sorrel Allen?’ The woman sniffed and threw a look of disdain in Sorrel’s direction. Sorrel, after months of practice, caught it deftly, throwing it straight back at the woman, but with the added contempt of a confrontational teen.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Sorrel muttered into her chin, head swivelling to the outer door and freedom. ‘Let’s go.’
‘And you are?’ The receptionist turned to Jayden.
‘Listen, sweetheart, I’m Sorrel’s dad.’ Jayden, who’d been gazing intently at blown-up photographs of the school musicians, spoke for the first time to the Rottweiler of a receptionist. I was fascinated by her hair – a sort of backcombed beehive held back in a tortoiseshell band – obviously fashioned to give her some height and standing amongst the staff and recalcitrant youth with whom she spent her days.
Jayden had passed his own formative years in care, as well as being excluded, expelled and moved on from myriad places of learning, and any time now spent in educational establishments – and in the presence of those who ran them – made him exceptionally nervous. As well as defensive. ‘Her mum’s not well – she’s in hospital – and we need all the help we can get from you people. Sending Sorrel out onto the streets without an education is the worst possible thing you can do at the moment. This is her big sister here.’ Jayden was warming to his theme, despite a line of mulish-looking adolescents and brand-new Year 7 kids – their too big blazers and creaking leather shoes and satchels giving them away – forming a queue behind him. He pointed a beringed finger at me. ‘And Robyn here is not only a trained teacher, so knows exactly what she’s talking about…’ he paused as I glared in his direction ‘…but she’s given up her career in London to move back up here to take care of Sorrel while their mother’s in hospital. She won’t stand any nonsense from her, you know, love; she’ll make sure she’s here on time and does her homework…’
I glared even harder in Jayden’s direction. Hearing what I had to do back up here in Yorkshire was having me on the verge of panic. I knew I couldn’t leave it all to Jess any longer, but I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want this. I couldn’t do it.
I was stopped in my tracks by a pleasant voice behind me. ‘Ah, but will she ensure Sorrel no longer disrupts every single class she’s being taught in? Can she be responsible for the safety of my staff? For the other students’ personal belongings?’
We all turned in the direction of an exceptionally attractive blonde-haired woman – perhaps in her mid-thirties and obviously a go-getter to be head of a large comprehensive at her age. The woman offered an on-off smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘You don’t have an appointment this morning, Mr Allen? No, I thought not. As far as I’m concerned, an outcome about Sorrel’s future here was reached before the weekend. But I can see you appear to be in the dark about this.’
She glanced across at the wall clock above the receptionist’s head. ‘School started fifteen minutes ago, but I can give you half an hour now. Mrs Jackson…’ she turned to the immovable receptionist, who was in the process of impatiently clicking her fingers at the queue behind us, ‘…please ask Mr Walters and Mrs Saxton…’ she turned back to Jayden and me, ‘…they’re my deputies… to join us. And then postpone my 9a.m. mentoring session with Miss Hanson, if you would. We need to get this sorted.’ She took a step backwards into her office. ‘Mr Allen, Ms…? Sorrel, do please come in.’
The three of us trooped in, two of us terrified, while Sorrel had the air of not giving a damn about any of it. I don’t think for one minute it was bravado – she genuinely wanted to be out of there as soon as she could and get on with the rest of her life. We sat in silence for thirty seconds as the head teacher had indicated we should with the simple raising of a manicured hand, until her two deputies joined us, standing, tablets to hand, at the back of her office.
‘Sorrel,’ Ms Liversedge said, now the other two members of staff were in situ and she’d moved to her place of advantage behind the huge oak desk underneath the window, ‘your father and sister here appear not to know about what happened last week.’
‘Which bit?’ Sorrel said rudely, holding the head’s gaze in surly defiance.
‘Which bit, Sorrel?’ I hissed. ‘How many bits are there?’
‘Ms…?’
‘Allen,’ I offered with a smile. ‘We’re all Allen.’
‘Ms Allen,’ she started again. ‘I had Mrs Allen sitting here at the beginning of last week, which, I’m sure you’ll be aware, was only the first week of the new academic year. When I took up my headship at Beddingfield last Easter I inherited a litany of Sorrel’s misdemeanours. And, I’m sure you’re also aware,’ she went on, and here she raised an eyebrow in Jayden’s and my direction, ‘but, I’m getting the impression you’re not … that Sorrel was already on probation?’ She ran a hand through her long blonde hair. ‘My predecessor, Mr King, had excluded her several times for short periods of time but always allowed her back into school. I accepted the post here with the proviso that, together with the governors, I would be operating a zero- tolerance policy on poor student behaviour. As such, to protect the good name of the school, the other students, and particularly the parents who have constantly been to see me with complaints about Sorrel, Mrs Allen was told, as was Sorrel, that any more taking of other people’s property?—’
‘Property?’ I stared.
‘A mobile phone last Tuesday. Sorrel was given a final written warning on Wednesday. On Thursday she disrupted the PE session – Sorrel has opted to take GCSE PE, as you know.’
I didn’t.
‘And disrupted the dance session.’
‘Call that dance?’ Sorrel sneered. ‘It was a stupid sailors’ hornpipe…’
‘Sorrel,’ I snapped. ‘Enough.’
‘Sorrel took Mrs Pemberton’s phone from her hand…’
‘I was just trying to get some decent music on the deck.’
‘…actually snatched the phone from the teacher’s hand, leaving her with a quite unpleasant scratch to her wrist…’
‘It was a tiny little mark, for heaven’s sake.’ Sorrel sat back in her chair, arms folded, a closed-down expression on her very pretty face.
‘…and then walked out of school with it.’ Ms Liversedge raised an eyebrow and then a hand as Sorrel attempted to speak. ‘That teacher’s phone is still to be recovered, and the matter is now in the hands of the police.’
I closed my eyes briefly, then glanced across at Jayden, whose face was impassive.
‘I didn’t nick it.’ Sorrel said, shaking her head. ‘If she’d had the sense to use Find My Phone, she’d know I left it on the windowsill outside the gym.’
Ignoring Sorrel, Ms Liversedge continued. ‘I asked Sorrel’s mother to come into school on Friday, and that’s when I told her there was no longer a place for Sorrel here at Beddingfield High.’
‘Which was more than enough to make her ill again,’ Jayden interrupted. ‘Brought on one of the seizures which are part of her condition. She’s back in hospital, you know.’ Jayden, usually pretty laid-back, sat up in his chair crossly. ‘Surely your ESW should have been working with Sorrel?’
‘ESW?’ I asked.
‘Educational social worker,’ Jayden snapped. ‘I’m assuming the school has one, Ms Liversedge?’
‘Of course,’ she said smoothly. She really was an incredibly cool customer, very attractive with a quite amazing bosom on full display beneath a plunging white silk top.
‘What’s their role?’ I asked hopefully, leaning forward. Was this someone we could turn to for help?
‘An educational social worker will coordinate with parents, teachers and students to assess and resolve the student’s behavioural and social problems. One of their main responsibilities is to create a plan to help students function in a school environment, participating in the special educational needs process as necessary.’
‘I’m not SEN,’ Sorrel hissed in fury. ‘That’s for the thickos who can’t do the work. She was rubbish anyway.’
‘Surely she should be in this meeting with us now?’ I asked, pinning all my hopes – and desperation – onto this elusive demi-goddess of off-the-rail fifteen-year-olds.
‘Unfortunately, she’s been dealing with a higher than usual number of cases and erm… erm… has gone off with… erm… stress. We have been told a replacement for Ms Greenhough is forthcoming, but…’
‘But probably not forthcoming this week or next?’
‘As you say.’ Ms Liversedge steepled her fingers and looked across at us over her hands. ‘It’s not the best of situations but… but I’m afraid the governors and myself are not prepared to back down on this. To be honest, I’m very surprised to see you all here this morning. Mr Bray – our chair of governors – and I were quite adamant about our decision when we spoke to Sorrel’s mother on Friday afternoon.’
‘As my father has already told you, she’s in hospital,’ I hissed. ‘Possibly – in fact quite probably – because of all this.’
Ms Liversedge’s carefully made-up face flushed a not too flattering turkey-neck red. ‘I do hope, Ms Allen, you’re not suggesting my governing body or I are responsible for your mother’s… illness?’
‘Of course we’re suggesting that,’ Jayden snapped.
‘I can assure you…’ Ms Liversedge broke off, glancing in her deputies’ direction, obviously ensuring notes of the meeting were being taken. ‘I can assure you all procedures were followed: a written letter outlining the governors’ decision was sent first class on Friday afternoon. It included our suggested next steps: either a PRU in the town centre…’
‘A PRU?’ I glanced at Jayden, knowing he’d understand.
‘Pupil referral unit,’ he confirmed, shaking his head.
‘…or, I took the liberty of speaking to Mr Donoghue, the head over at St Mede’s?—’
‘St Mede’s?’ My head shot up. ‘I thought that place had closed down years ago?’
‘Several reprieves, I believe, especially as they’re prepared to take on some quite difficult cases. And believe me, Ms Allen, Sorrel here is no angel.’ She held up her hand once more as I started to speak and then she rose, flicking her long blonde hair with a nod of her head while indicating that her deputies should get back to doing what they were paid for. ‘I’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted to hear. I will reiterate: we have gone down every avenue, followed all legal procedures to remove a child from our school register…’
‘I’m not a sodding child,’ Sorrel snapped, knowing we were dismissed.
‘…and I strongly advise you make an appointment to see Mason Donoghue at St Mede’s asap.’
‘It doesn’t work just like that, surely…?’ I started as the head moved to the door. ‘She gets kicked out of one school one day, and the next, the one down the road’s welcoming her with open arms? And Mum’s just splashed out on all this new uniform for Sorrel – the monogrammed blazer, the black shoes…’
‘I never wanted this rubbish uniform,’ Sorrel scoffed. She pulled off the blazer, throwing it in the direction of Ms Liversedge who, to her credit, caught it deftly with one hand, folded it neatly and handed it back to me.
‘As I say, Mr Allen… Ms Allen, you’re in the hands of the authority’s educational social workers from now on. I repeat, your best option is to speak with the head of St Mede’s directly. He’s under no obligation to take Sorrel and, if he doesn’t, you’ll have to work with the authority and go where directed.’
‘Right, let’s do that, then,’ I said furiously. ‘Come on, Sorrel, let’s go.’
‘You can’t just go to St Mede’s without an appointment, Ms Allen. You need to be contacting the local authority for advice.’
‘Watch me,’ I countered, pushing Sorrel ahead of me, out of Ms Liversedge’s office.
‘I have to get off to Aberdeen,’ Jayden protested, looking at his watch.
‘Yes, and I have to go and see Mum,’ I replied. ‘But we’re not doing anything until we’ve sorted Sorrel. We’re not having her enrolled at the PRU, or wandering the streets or staying in bed all day, so you and I, Jayden, are going to make sure, not only that she has a place at another school, but that she goes there every day.’
‘And how are you going to make me?’ Sorrel asked, but some of the bravado was already leaving her. ‘You’ll go back to London soon; Jayden’s off all over Europe and we probably won’t see him again for months.’ She glared in his direction. ‘And we don’t know how long Mum’s going to be in hospital.’
‘I know, I know,’ I said, feeling stress in every bit of my body, but also a huge wave of sympathy for this little sister of mine who, when her guard was down, appeared terribly vulnerable. I took her arm and guided her into the back seat of Jayden’s car. ‘Look, Sorrel…’ I fastened my seat belt and pointed Jayden in the direction of St Mede’s, but then faltered as I turned and took in Sorrel’s bent head and hunched shoulders. ‘Sorrel?’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she cried, suddenly crumpling into herself.
‘Pull over, Jayden,’ I ordered almost immediately we’d set off, and he indicated, pulling into the Starbucks on our left.
‘What is it, Sorrel?’ I reached behind me for her hand.
‘No one listens,’ she sobbed, mascara, tears and snot amalgamating in a soggy mess, which she made no attempt to mop up, even with her chewed-to-the-quick fingers. ‘ He’s never around.’ She pointed towards Jayden in the driving seat. ‘He never has been. Jess is too busy working and has Lola to think about and you… you, well, you’re going to be famous and marry some posh bloke and be rich and live in Bucks… wherever that is… Mum said so… and, and… I get nervy… I feel funny in my tummy…’
‘What are you anxious about?’ I asked, stroking her fingers. ‘Is someone being mean to you?’
‘I can’t tell you. But I get anxious… what if I end up like Mum?’
‘Try to tell me, Sorrel. Please?’ When she didn’t deign to answer, I tried to reassure her. ‘But why on earth would you end up like Mum? Poor old Mum’s been landed with a very rare condition. You know that. It’s not hereditary.’ I turned to Jayden, indicating with one look that he should lie if necessary. ‘Is it, Jayden?’
‘I googled it.’ Sorrel sniffed. ‘It can sometimes be passed on. And Mum got really depressed when she had me, didn’t she? She didn’t want me, and I bet he didn’t either.’ Sorrel glared at Jayden through her tears.
‘Of course Mum and Jayden wanted you,’ I soothed and, turning to my dad, added, ‘Tell her, Jayden, tell her!’
While we did our utmost to convince Sorrel that she had been very much wanted, my mind went back to the time, listening over the banister and at the closed kitchen door on one of Jayden’s arrivals back home. Mum was crying while Jayden was talking in a low voice and it hadn’t taken long for me to realise that it was true, my parents hadn’t wanted another child. Especially as Jess and I were both well into our teens by then.
‘That was post-natal depression, Sorrel. It’s horrible at the time, but a lot of women get it when they’ve had babies.’ I was desperate to reassure her. ‘Mum wasn’t so good when you were born, and I know we were only thirteen and almost fifteen, but we – Jess in particular – helped her through it as much as we could. We used to look after you when Mum was tired and fed up with everything.’ I glared at Jayden, remembering, but he shrugged and looked away, not knowing what else to do. ‘It was hormones,’ I went on. ‘Mum got over it and absolutely adored having a new baby. Jess and I loved having a new baby in the house too,’ I lied, remembering thinking would the baby ever shut up crying? Would Mum ever stop crying?
‘The thing is, I just can’t sleep sometimes, and Mum said she was like that when she was my age…’
‘Well, she shouldn’t have said that,’ I soothed, glancing at Jayden. ‘Right, Sorrel, this is what we’re going to do: Jayden is going to go and get us coffee, we’re going to have a bit of a chat and then… no argument… he’s going to drive us to St Mede’s and we’re going to be on our best behaviour and plead with the head there to take you on.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Sorrel, you’re my sister: Mum, Jayden, Jess and I love you. We’re here for you. We’re going to sort this all out.’
‘And then you’ll leave me again. Go back to London.’
I closed my eyes, rubbing at my knee, which was throbbing now. ‘I’m going nowhere. I’m staying right here with you and Mum.’