Chapter Thirty-One
It’s been over a week since Layla was due to return to student life and so far there’s no shifting her.
She maintains that she’s tried her best, she’s given it a term, but being back for Christmas made her realise how homesick she’s been, and how unsuited to university life she is.
While there’s a small selfish part of me that’s gratified to hear how much she misses us all (I’m assuming she misses me more than anyone else, naturally), there’s also a big logical part of me that knows we need to make her explore this decision further.
After all, I’m a responsible parent and this is my daughter’s entire future we’re talking about.
And if I wasn’t aware of my role then it’s safe to say my husband has made it crystal clear that he holds me at least partially responsible for this particular wobble, and that I need to be the one to fix it.
‘To be honest, Hattie,’ he said today, halfway through yet another conversation regarding what to do (never a good sign when someone starts a sentence that way – you know something brutal is coming), ‘I just wonder whether the kind of conversations you and Layla have been having over the holidays might have persuaded her that she hates university, when in reality she doesn’t.
’ He folded his arms decisively, as if a grossly unfair accusation of that nature was the real gamechanger here.
‘Uhm, I’m sorry?’ I said, bracing my own arms against the kitchen table like a military general about to move some tiny plastic tanks across a large map. ‘Are you seriously implying that I caused this?’
‘Not that you caused it exactly.’ His brow furrowed. ‘But you have been asking about her other friends from school and how they’re getting on, and does she think that the fact they’re at universities closer to home means they’ve settled in more easily.’
‘Well, yes but I didn’t mean it like…’
‘And you’ve also been talking a lot about Akil at work and how he’s looking at the University of Hertfordshire because he doesn’t want to be too far from home and that he might actually commute, and how much money that will save in the long run.’
‘Yes,’ I said, defensively. ‘And that’s all true. He is looking at Hertfordshire. And they will save money on accommodation if he goes there.’
‘But they don’t even do Layla’s course at Hertfordshire, do they?’
‘I know! I wasn’t talking about Layla applying there, was I?’
‘I’m not sure. Does she know that?’ He raised his eyebrows in a way that made me want to smack him in the mouth.
‘And your family don’t help either. Rich going on and on at her over Christmas about what a great time she must be having and how he’s sure she can’t wait to get back there, and how many clubs has she joined and how many nights is she out on the lash and bet she’s hardly had time to study but it’s okay because it’s all about making connections and rah rah rah. ’
‘That’s Rich though, you can’t hold me responsible for him.
That line of questioning pissed me off just as much as you.
He’s just re-living his student days vicariously through his niece.
In fact, I don’t even think he’s re-living them.
More re-inventing. From what I remember, Rich was pretty miserable the first year of uni and didn’t have any friends beyond the badminton club. ’
‘Either way.’ Joe sighed unhappily. ‘I’m just looking for answers here Hattie because I don’t understand it.
I’m trying to make sense of why she’d do this.
And…’ He took a deep breath. ‘And I just wonder whether the constant drawing of attention to the gap between everyone else’s perception of student life and our own daughter’s current experience of it, the barrage of messages and calls and FaceTiming between the two of you the whole of the last term…
Whether it’s helped – or, or maybe, don’t take this the wrong way, made things a bit worse? ’
There was an ominous pause.
‘Well, great. Thanks.’ I’d moved my hands to my hips now. ‘Congratulations on completely abdicating all responsibility. That’s impressive.’
‘I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just think that…’
‘She’s your daughter too, Joe. Maybe if you took more of an active interest in how she’s getting on she wouldn’t have felt so abandoned and, and rudderless! To the point where she feels she needs to be physically here in order to feel secure!’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ he said, assuming a more defensive posture.
‘She knows I’m here for her whenever she needs me.
But she also knows that I don’t need to hear her voice every hour of the day, that I’m not hunched over my phone waiting for a reassuring text message to ping up every fifteen seconds.
Her reasons for being in such close contact with you are driven by guilt as much as anything.
It’s like when you were booking her train ticket for her journey back.
You know she saw you crying? How do you think that makes her feel? ’
‘I am not hunched over my phone waiting for contact, Joe! That’s really unfair!
’ I could feel tears pricking the back of my eyes.
‘I’ve been so much better since starting the job at the library.
So much more relaxed about things. I’ve tried really hard.
’ My voice was getting a bit pitchy and hysterical, every sentence accompanied by emphatic hand gestures.
‘And I’m sorry if she saw me crying when I was on that booking website.
I just kept picturing her stepping onto that train back to university, trying to be brave, trying to pretend that everything was alright and that she was excited about going back because she knew it’s what you would have wanted, and she didn’t want you to be disappointed in her.
If there’s guilt there, then some of it is about you as well, the weight of your expectation and her failure to live up to it. ’
He opened his mouth, on the verge of an angry retort but then stopped.
He could see he’d upset me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, slumping down into a chair.
‘I just don’t know what to do. Every time I try and talk to her, she gets that weird impassive expression on her face and tells me I don’t understand.
’ He extended his arm out to me and I begrudgingly shuffled nearer the chair so he could draw me in.
‘I’m really sorry, Hats. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.
Of course, it’s not your fault. I’m just really worried she is making a mistake and missing out on something that could be amazing for her.
And if it’s any consolation, using often makes me feel like crying too, but that’s mainly because the website’s so glitchy. ’
‘It really is,’ I agreed, resting a hand on his shoulder as we cuddled in that awkward him half-seated, me half-standing way.
‘And the way it always asks if you want to book a five-star hotel in Solihull or tickets to watch the quarter final of UK’s Strongest Man while you book your off-peak return to Birmingham is particularly confusing.
’ I switched to a tone of noble forbearance.
‘But seriously, Joe, I don’t think apportioning blame is particularly useful in this situation.
We just need to work out how to change her mind. ’
He nodded, his head against my waist.
‘And I think as you’ve already had a try, it probably needs to be me having that conversation with her,’ I said.
He looked up at me. ‘Do you really think you can sound convincing though?’ he said. ‘I’m not meaning to doubt you, but it’s maybe going to be a bit of a challenge persuading her back when in reality a part of you wants her to stay?’
‘I will always do what is best for Layla,’ I said, more firmly than I felt. ‘And besides. You underestimate my acting skills. I’m already doing a pretty good job of pretending I’ve forgiven you for some of those earlier comments.’
He laughed nervously, neither of us sure whether I was joking or not.
The following day I was at work, trying to decide how to broach the subject of university with my daughter, who was still fast asleep in bed by the time I’d left that morning.
She hadn’t booked any more shifts at the supermarket since the official start of spring term and I didn’t know whether this was a good sign, that subconsciously she thought she wouldn’t be around to do them, or whether it was just a sign of the inertia that’s surrounded her since her decision not to return to student life.
Either way, tonight was the night. Joe was going over to the golf club (to avoid a scenario where he felt unable to stop himself interjecting, which at least shows some insight) and I was going to cook Layla’s favourite supper and speak logically and dispassionately about the importance of higher education, goal setting and perseverance.
I was just debating a few phrases I might use, turning them over in my mind, when David gave a loud snort of annoyance beside me.
‘Shit,’ he said, staring at the computer screen.
I’d never heard him swear before. Colin and I exchanged an anxious look.
‘Everything okay?’ I said, watching in concern as David lifted his hand to his face, his shoulders slumping forward.
He inhaled sharply and turned to me, his eyes briefly closing as if he was about to deliver a death sentence.
‘Our funding’s being cut,’ he said. ‘Again.’
‘What? Council funding? As of…?’
‘April,’ he said. ‘New financial year. I suppose we’re lucky to get six weeks’ notice.
Last year I had a variation of this email on March the twentieth.
But god knows how we’re going to manage this time around.
’ He returned his attention to the computer screen as if hoping that by staring at it for long enough the figures might change.
A cold weight settled in my stomach. I knew what this meant; it was less than six months since I’d received my ‘restructuring to cut costs’ email.
It meant job losses. And I was the last one in, so it made sense for me to be first one out.
But much as part of me was selfishly calculating how this would affect our household income, the greater part was moved by David, whose sole concern was the library and the community it served.
‘They’re saying that we need to reduce our opening times,’ he said.
‘Although they’re implying that the decision is up to us.
’ He turned the screen so I could see the email.
‘I get it,’ he said. ‘It’s not their fault.
Council budgets have been slashed to the bone this past decade.
All these little unseen effects of austerity trickling down through the years.
’ He sounded furious. ‘There’ll be some poor soul behind this email who has been charged with finding some money down the back of the sofa so that the county council can continue paying for social care or breakfast clubs at school or something equally important… It’s just such a shame.’
‘What kind of schedule are they suggesting?’ I said, peering at the screen. ‘Oh.’
He shook his head. ‘Completely stripping it back. No weekends. No early starts, no evenings.’ He pointed to the final sentence. ‘Basically, reducing our opening hours by half.’
‘But if we’re not open at weekends or evenings, and we’re not open until ten in the morning then how are school kids going to access the library during term time?’
‘I know.’
‘And what are we going to do about the dementia book club, and the local history group, and the crossword club, and the board game sessions?’
‘I know, Hattie,’ he said with another deep sigh.
‘And what about Akil? His Saturday shifts are just going to vanish. All the teenagers who come in over the weekend to revise and get a bit of peace and quiet. Malia’s afternoons reduced by half…’ I didn’t say, and two of my days would completely disappear as well.
‘The Mackenzie bus can only come on Wednesdays,’ said Colin, his brow furrowing. ‘Derek, who is our driver, is busy every other day and he works from dawn ’til dusk he says. And also, he does Latin American dance classes on Tuesday and Thursday.’
‘We’ll have to offer reduced hours rather than redundancy,’ David said, more to himself than me or Colin. ‘We can’t afford the payout. Uhm…’ He tapped his finger against his lower lip.
‘Well. You wouldn’t have to pay me any redundancy,’ I said, knowing I was shooting myself in the foot. ‘Because I’m still in my probationary six months.’
There was a pause while he weighed this up.
‘We don’t want to get rid of you, Hattie,’ he said eventually. ‘You’re as much a part of our team as anyone else.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘I just don’t know what to do.’
We all looked up as the front door thudded open. ‘Hello Mrs Bartlett!’ David gave a cheerful wave as one of our customers approached the desk pulling her tartan shopping trolley behind her.
‘Look,’ I said under my breath as Mrs Bartlett shuffled past on her way to the crime and horror section. ‘Let’s not think about it now. We’ll get on with work and when it’s a bit quieter late afternoon we’ll get our thinking caps on. Form a strategy.’
‘I will have to go home on the Mackenzie bus,’ said Colin, worried. ‘But I can put my thinking cap on and form strategy too. Just at home.’
‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘We’ll get the dream team on it. How can we possibly fail?’
David smiled weakly but I knew that look of despair. It was going to take a lot more than thinking caps and impromptu meetings to sort this out. It was going to need cold hard cash. And that was something none of us had.