Chapter 8
Non-scary voice
Rafe
“You’ve got to be gentle with Miss Clara,” Ozzie said as he stared up at me. “And you can’t use your bad words at school, Daddy. It’s really naughty. Mrs Clayton doesn’t let anyone use bad words.”
“I promise to be gentle, Oz,” I said through gritted teeth, “And I promise not to use any of my bad words. Okay, buddy?”
“Hmm,” he muttered. “I bet you don’t use your bad words at work, Daddy.”
I suppressed a grin. Only that morning, I’d called one of the other barristers in my chambers a “fucking incompetent cockwomble”.
It was an accurate description. The case he was working on as prosecutor would have been better handled by my seven-year-old son, to be honest. The defendant was part of a family that headed up a large crime syndicate in east London.
These crime families had a way of spinning things; they had a way of getting to the evidence, and I had a sneaking suspicion that they even had a way of getting to the prosecuting barrister.
I really hoped my suspicions were baseless, but that didn’t stop me from going off on a rant to my team when I found out how badly the case was being handled.
“Let’s just see if she’ll even talk to me today first, okay, Oz?” I said in the brightest tone I could muster. In all honesty, I wasn’t feeling the least bit bright. I was feeling pissed off.
I was very, very used to getting my way, so the situation with Clara was totally foreign to me. But I needed to get a handle on my temper this time. Intimidating the poor girl would get me nowhere and made me feel like a total shit.
It had been two weeks since I scared the crap out of Clara in that classroom.
During that time I’d dug up as much as I could about her, which was, sadly, very little.
I had an address, which was a tiny flat in a dodgy neighbourhood.
But I still couldn’t even find out her last name.
Her only real friend appeared to be Miss Lily Summerfield, and, apparently, she had no family whatsoever.
Now, I wasn’t in the business of scaring women.
In fact, I was in the business of making sure large punishments were meted out to men who did intimidate and scare women.
As a criminal barrister, this was my bread and butter.
So it galled me when Clara had looked at me two weeks ago like I was the problem.
She actually fucking flinched.
I still couldn’t quite believe it. And I could not get out of my mind that look on her face.
Her expression had gone from utter resignation and abject weariness when I first came into the classroom to total terror in a matter of seconds.
The fear emanating from her and filling that room was so strong it felt like you could have cut it with a knife.
So I’d deliberately backed off for the last two weeks, hoping that would give her time to heal. Hoping that she might forget how badly I’d scared her. But now the two weeks were up, and I needed her help, whether she was still terrified of me or not.
Ozzie still wasn’t reading with me; the same went for simple sums or even counting the money in his piggy bank.
He simply wouldn’t do anything outside school that was vaguely academic.
He’d even started refusing to listen when I read him a story at night.
I mean, what father couldn’t read their own son a goddamn story?
I’d talked to my ex-wife Sophia about it, but talking to Sophia about anything was a road to nowhere.
The woman was so wrapped up in her own existence that she probably wouldn’t notice if her son was in her house or not, let alone reading – and that was when she was even in the country.
It had been three weeks since Sophia had actually had Ozzie for any length of time.
I wasn’t quite clear on where she even was, but when I rang her, she told me Milan.
All I got out of her was, “He’s fine, Rafe,” and, “Stop fussing over every little thing.” It was infuriating.
The fact our son wouldn’t read to either of us was not a little thing.
I got a bit further with our joint housekeeper, Martha, who told me that as far as she knew, Sophia wasn’t even attempting to read with Oz when she had him.
I did not confront Sophia with this nugget of information, merely storing it up for the next custody hearing.
Sophia allowed Martha to work as a housekeeper at her house whenever she had Ozzie, as it suited her well and I was paying.
If she suspected that Martha reported anything back to me, she very likely wouldn’t let her past the threshold.
It would never occur to Sophia that I might ask Martha anything.
To Sophia, staff were practically invisible.
So, the only person that Ozzie would read with was Miss Clara. Which meant that Clara was going to have to deal with me. I was a man used to getting what he wanted, and I was happy to use whatever means I had at my disposal to achieve that.
That was why Ozzie and I were waiting in our car outside the school, and had been for the last half an hour.
We’d wait all evening if we had to. I was not going to miss this opportunity, and I was not going to put this off any longer.
I let Ozzie win two more matches of thumb war before I finally saw the small figure emerge from the back door of the school.
After the fruitless hour I’d spent in front of the school waiting for her to emerge last week, I had now worked out that this must be the exit Clara used.
I was hoping that having Ozzie in tow would make me less intimidating today. With her scarf wrapped firmly around her neck and her hat pulled down over her ears, I could just about see her eyes and nose. She was darting looks up and down the street like someone would jump out at her at any moment.
“There she is, Oz,” I said.
“Remember to use your inside voice, Daddy,” Ozzie warned, making it very clear again that he didn’t want me upsetting or scaring his precious Miss Clara.
Just as she was about to walk past the car, I opened my door, stopping her in her tracks.
“Miss Clara!” Ozzie shouted as he jumped out of the back seat and ran to her. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
Clara’s wide, chocolate-brown eyes went from me to my son. She pulled down her scarf to give him a shaky smile.
“Oh, hi, Ozzie. You okay, love?”
“Daddy’s got a pro puzzle,” said Ozzie in excitement, and I smiled.
“A pro puzzle?” asked Clara, frowning down at Ozzie, then glancing at me. “I’m not quite sure what––?”
“What Ozzie means to say is that I have a proposal, Clara,” I said in a smooth voice as I climbed out of the car.
As I rose to my full height, Clara took a small step back, sticking close to Ozzie.
I didn’t think before I slammed the car door shut, and when the sudden noise made her flinch, I cursed inwardly.
I needed to be very, very careful here. So I rocked back on my heels as I tucked my hands into my pockets, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.
It wasn’t an easy task, seeing as I was over a foot taller than her and nearly twice her weight.
“Er… hi,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be scared of Daddy,” said Ozzie, perceptive as always.
“No, Clara,” I said gently, “you don’t have to be scared of me. Really, you don't.”
She forced a small laugh but shuffled even further away from me towards Ozzie.
“Of course I’m not scared. Don’t be a silly sausage, Oz,” she said, attempting a light tone, but the shaky quality of her voice gave her away. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, how can I help you?”
“I need a tutor for Ozzie,” I said.
She frowned at me. “A tutor? What has that got to do with...?”
I turned to Ozzie. “Oz, do me a favour, mate, and get in the car, okay? I just need to talk to Clara on my own for a minute.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Ozzie said warily. “But you remember, you’ve got to be really, really, really kind.
Miss Clara makes all of us be kind all the time.
And Miss Clara makes sure that we’re always gentle and use our inside voices, so no shouting.
So you can’t use your scary voice. Miss Clara’s not used to it.
I know that you give really good night-night hugs, and I know that you make the best beans on toast with cheese on top, and I know that if I’m sick, you’ll get me the special hot chocolate that I like with cream and marshmallows.
So I know all these nice, kind things about you, Daddy, but Miss Clara doesn’t.
And so if you just use your scary voice, Miss Clara will just think that you’re really scary. ”
“Okay, thanks, Ozzie,” I said. “That’s a great character reference for Miss Clara to be going on with. I’ll use my non-scary voice, I promise. Okay?”
Ozzie huffed, but he did as I said, closing the door behind him.
When I turned back to Clara, I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. One of my hands came out of my pockets to go up and squeeze the back of my neck. In all honesty, this treading carefully thing was not my speciality.
“Listen, Clara, I’m sorry if you feel like I’m ambushing you,” I said in a soft voice. “I know I scared you the last time we spoke, and I’m sorry about that too.”
Her eyes flickered to my chest and arm, and my mouth quirked up at the side. Little mouse was checking me out again. I cleared my throat, and she startled, looking back down at the pavement between us.
I sighed.
“I really need some help with Ozzie,” I said. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I also know that teachers aren’t well paid. And that you shouldn’t be living where you’re living.”
Her troubled brown gaze shot to mine and she frowned.
“You know where I live?” she whispered.
I shifted uncomfortably. “I have a lot of resources, Clara.”
Her face shut down at that. She didn’t like hearing that for some reason. “Hmm,” she hummed quietly. “Resources, okay.” She took another step away from me and I huffed out a frustrated breath.