Chapter 17
On Wednesday morning, Mike tells me that Mrs Ashford-Wells is coming in for a chat at four forty-five.
‘I’ll be there,’ I say.
In class, I am bleary-eyed and beyond tired. The children seem to know this instinctively, and they misbehave, don’t listen and barely focus, as if they’re absorbing my own state of mind.
At four thirty, I’m tidying up the classroom before going to the meeting when my phone rings in my bag. I pick it up without thinking.
‘Hello?’
‘Mrs Price?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Amanda from Sterling.’
I take a sharp breath and sit down. I should have prepared for this. I bite my bottom lip so hard I taste blood. ‘Yes?’
‘We’ve been trying to reach Max, but he hasn’t answered any of our calls.’
‘Yes. Max is very ill.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve postponed the Zurich trip until Monday. Will he be able to go then?’
‘Erm…’ I try to think, but nothing comes. I literally have no idea what to say. ‘I’m not sure.’
A beat. ‘I see.’
I wait, my stomach churning with every passing second. She’s not going to ask to come to the house, is she?
‘Will you ask Max to call me, please? As soon as he can.’
‘I will,’ I say.
‘It’s Amanda.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
After we hang up, I sit there for a moment. She’s going to call again when she doesn’t hear from him. I stare at the phone, and then save the number. There. When she calls again, I won’t answer.
And then what?
Nothing – that’s what. He’ll be at the bottom of some hellhole by Monday. I’ll make sure of that. I can always say he was sick. He was in bed, then he was better. We had a fight, and he took off.
That’s it. That’s what I’ll say. It will be fine.
Shortly after, I go into Mike’s office for the meeting.
‘I don’t know what I can do or say that’s going to help,’ I say, pulling out the email printout. He’s already got a copy. He glances at it and pushes it aside just as Diana Ashford-Wells shows up.
‘Hello, Diana,’ Mike says. He indicates the chair. ‘Please. Now, what can we do for you?’
Diana glares at me and sits down.
‘Is it really too much trouble to ask that your staff have the courtesy to respond to my calls and emails?’ she asks crisply.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘I even left a note at your house.’
‘We don’t encourage parents visiting teachers at their home,’ Mike says. ‘I’m sure you understand the privacy issues.’
‘Well, if Miss Price—’
‘It’s Mrs Price,’ I say. What is it with everyone around here?
Mike throws me a look. A kind of ‘be nice so we can get out of here’ look.
‘If Mrs Price had the common courtesy to—’
‘Mrs Ashford-Wells,’ Mike says, raising his hand, ‘tell me how we can help you.’
Diana Ashford-Wells launches into a monologue about how Gregory needs advanced maths tuition, and if we don’t have a specialised programme, then one-on-one will have to do.
It’s essentially the same story. But I’m wired about Amanda’s call. I can’t stop thinking about it. What if she calls on Friday? What if she comes to the house to talk to Max? Or sends someone else from his office?
‘Kate?’
I turn to Mike and blink. Diana was speaking just now. What was the question? Something about how many children… Does she mean in my class?
‘Twenty-nine,’ I say.
‘Well, there you are,’ she says. ‘No wonder Gregory is being held back. Clearly, you can’t keep up. Are you skilled at mathematics beyond one plus one equals two, Miss Price? Can you actually handle the job?’
‘Mrs Ashford-Wells, please! Mrs Price is a highly competent teacher, but that has nothing to do with it. We don’t have the resources to provide Gregory with one-on-one tuition.’
‘He’s not being held back,’ I say gently. ‘He’s well-adjusted within—’
‘Obviously he’s well-adjusted. What are you suggesting?’
‘He performs well within the range of his class,’ I say.
‘Then I don’t think you are very good at your job,’ she says stiffly. ‘If you can’t recognise a gifted child among your charges.’
I catch Mike’s eye. I’m running out of nice. He gets the message.
‘Mrs Ashford-Wells. As I told you last time, neither Gregory’s teacher nor I recommend that Gregory take an advanced class.’
‘Fine,’ she says, unfastening her handbag.
‘In that case, it may be time to consider moving Gregory elsewhere. There are a number of other schools that might be more appropriate.’ She pulls out a note from her handbag.
‘My husband, who, as you know, is a senior trustee of the academy trust, gave me a list of more suitable schools for Gregory.’ She puts the note on the desk.
I crane my neck. There are three schools listed.
Mike drags it towards him. ‘Is this really necessary, Diana?’ he asks wearily.
‘That is completely up to you,’ she says, standing up. ‘But I can’t imagine Mr Ashford-Wells is going to be thrilled having to move Gregory to another school. He may well remember that when the time comes to allocate funding next term.’
Diana leaves first. Mike runs a hand over his head.
‘I don’t need to tell you that the academy trust has considerable influence over our funding. This situation is extremely unfortunate,’ he says.
‘I know. I’ll fix it,’ I say, picking up my handbag.
‘How?’
‘I don’t know yet. But I’ll talk to her and apologise, and I’ll come up with a solution, I promise.’