Chapter 4
4
ADAM
“ S o why is he here?” I ask Meredith.
I’m back in my control room, staring at Jonathan’s cherubic face on the screen of her tablet. It’s his passport photo and not the most flattering, but something about his alarmed expression is endearing. Only Meredith could pull off such a fast identity check. I’m almost afraid to ask how.
I was right about the family resemblance. The Jonathan Belle settling into my teacher’s quarters is the youngest child of the Jonathan Belle we interviewed and hired for this position. He’s 24, Oxford magna cum laude and a qualified teacher (with a specialization in early childhood development). He’s more than qualified for the position, although in my experience book smart is not the same as street smart, and street smarts is what he’ll need to handle this lot. Then again, Meredith’s been doing fine with them up till now and she has neither experience with children, nor a degree.
“Maybe we should call his father and ask?” she suggests.
“Or you could ask him .” Geoff is reclining in my chair now, with his feet on my desk, tossing a scrunched-up ball of paper into the air and catching it.
I pass Meredith’s tablet back to her. “If we lose him, we’ll have to start the hiring process from scratch.” Just the thought makes my head throb. “The academic year is well underway now. We’ll have lost our shot at the others on our short list. And there’s the matter of the press…”
Her eyes widen with realization. “You’re not thinking of keeping him on?”
I turn to Geoff. “The magazine feature. Did we send through photographs?”
“Bro! We were talking about this like an hour ago. They want to send a photographer.”
“Well, that’s not happening.”
“Um, pretty sure you said they could? Meredith, didn’t he say that?”
She shrugs noncommittally.
This is what I get for not paying attention. “I told you before. No one in without quarantine.”
“Chill. They’ll wear masks.”
A battle for another time. To Meredith I say, “We don’t need another delay right now. It’s hard enough getting the media to take this project seriously. They have names but not faces. We never told them how old our teacher is. We could run with this.”
“Sorry, what?” Geoff’s feet hit the floor with a thud.
“You’re the PR guy. Tell me how we’ll explain another delay? Our teacher arrived but it was the wrong one? He isn’t a parcel we couriered in. This is the person who’ll spend the most time with the children. We won’t recover from this mistake.”
He holds up his hands. “Okay, hold on. Let me get this straight. You want the person who’ll spend the most time with the children to be some rando, who just wandered in here, rather than the tutor we painstakingly hired? You’re just gonna go with whatever scam he’s pulling?”
It does sound ridiculous. I tug at the roots of my hair. The thing is. The thing is. I’ve now met Jonathan. Sleazy con man he is not. I don’t know what his deal is but that blushing pile of nerves is no supervillain. And I’ve met more supervillains than most. He’s young, gentle, in way over his head. If anything, I’m concerned about what the children might do to him .
“It’s unlikely it’s a scam,” Meredith says. “As you can see, he changed some of the details we had on file—his passport, NI number, phone number—over the last few weeks. He was clever about it and it’s clear he thought this through. One thing he didn’t change, however, were the bank details. His salary is set to go into the old man’s account.”
“Clever isn’t the word I’d use,” Geoff says. “He actually thought he could fool us with this?”
Meredith sighs. “He might have thought the foundation was bigger than it is, that The Beast was more hands off. Either way, there’s something to be said for his courage.”
“You mean his audacity.”
“Until we know his reasons, we can’t?—”
“Quiet.” I pinch between my eyes, trying in vain to rub away the tension headache. “The priority now is to get the media drive underway. Then the fundraiser. Then we’ll see where we stand.”
They both stare at me without saying anything. They think I’ve finally gone off the deep end. Maybe they’re right. Took me long enough.
“You… still plan to go ahead with the fundraiser?” Meredith asks.
The plan was to bring a whole bunch of celebs and money up here for a giant party in August, where they’d get to meet the kids and see just how fulfilling it could be to foster. Not only would it raise funds (funds our foundation desperately needs), but it would go a long way to raise awareness about the challenges the foster system is facing. But now… well, now there’s a fucking pandemic, isn’t there?
“The fundraiser is five months away. They might have a vaccine by then, or even a cure.” It’s possible. The media is saying 2021, but it’s possible everyone will be surprised.
Meredith frowns, expression full-on pity. I don’t need pity, I need plans. I need this foundation to survive. I need the work that Lloyd and I started to continue. I need?—
The door blows open and Geoff startles and swears. I go to close it. “I’m a problematic head of this foundation to begin with. We know that. No one expects The Beast to genuinely care about anything. We need to show them otherwise. If I can show them, the people with money, the people with power, what I’m trying to do, if they can come here and see, if we can get buy-in…”
The sound of Beethoven drifts in through the open door. I’m almost certain it’s not in my head. The music’s soft and coming from far away. At once I’m climbing the stairs up to this house for the first time. I’m holding him in my arms again. I’m making promises I’ll never get the chance to keep. The swell of emotion hits me full on, even after all this time. I hold onto the door frame to keep myself steady.
“Beast?” Meredith asks, gently.
I lift my head and square my shoulders. “This needs to work. And for this to work, we need to show the world that when children are given the proper resources to thrive, they do. That can’t happen if we don’t have a tutor. The teacher stays.”
I know it’s a foolhardy move. But I’ll keep my eye on him. I’ll watch him day and night if I need to. And if this doesn’t work out? At least it will buy us some time to find a viable alternative without putting the project on hold again.
“You’ve lost your mind,” Geoff says.
“Last I checked, I’m the one in charge here,” I snap.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Your funeral.”
“In the meantime,” I say to Meredith, “Let’s line up some interviews with other teachers. Discreetly. No harm in having a backup plan.” Although I can’t imagine any of the good ones will be available, we might get lucky.
“Of course.” She makes a note on her iPad. “Are you going to confront him?”
“Let’s not show our hand yet.”