Chapter 28
LIZZIE
I’ve just got back with the kids, given them a snack and let them play out in the garden, when a message pings in from my boss. She wants to speak to me urgently.
My stomach plunges. Yvonne has only ever sent me a message like that twice before.
And both times it was when a student was upset over their assignment marks.
I hope that hasn’t happened again. I try to be fair, and most of my students are great, but you get the odd one who thinks their work is better than it is.
Yvonne has always been so supportive, but any type of complaint makes me nervous. And there was that one-star rating too.
I check the kids are okay and phone Yvonne, my mind going over the last few assignments I’ve marked. None of them had low marks, nothing to complain about.
‘Hello, Lizzie. Thank you for getting back to me.’ Yvonne’s manner is crisp, businesslike.
This doesn’t sound good, she’s usually warm and friendly.
‘That’s okay. Is anything wrong?’
There’s a pause. ‘We’ve had a complaint about you on the company website, Lizzie. A potential customer said they contacted you for information about a course and your manner was very unprofessional.’
I’m stunned. I’ve never been unprofessional, and boy have I had some awkward customers, but I’ve always been polite to them.
‘Did they leave their name?’ I ask, casting my mind over all the queries I’ve had the past few days.
With email queries I always have the emails as proof, but we tutors don’t record phone calls, and there have been a few phone enquiries regarding the course.
The calls had been brief and pleasant – although there was that man the other day who seemed to be deliberately awkward, I recall.
‘No, it’s on the website posted as anonymous, but we still have to take it seriously, Lizzie. Have you a record of the queries you’ve dealt with over the past couple of weeks? I could ignore it if it was a general anonymous complaint, but your name was specifically mentioned.’
I’ve been set up, I can see that and am now sure it was that man the other day. I tell Yvonne about him. ‘He was a bit shirty and wanted me to assure him that he would pass the course, which obviously I couldn’t, but I was very polite and professional, I promise.’
‘It’s the first complaint we’ve had about you, Lizzie, and I’d be willing to put it down to an awkward customer, but you have three one-star ratings online too.’
Three! Another two must have gone up since I last checked.
‘Do you know who left them?’ I ask.
‘No, they were all anonymous.’
Someone is out to discredit me. Why?
‘Look, you’ve worked for us for a few years now and there’s never been any complaints before, so I’m prepared to overlook this providing we don’t have any more.’ She hesitates. ‘Are you struggling a bit, Lizzie. Do you need to take time off?’
I probably do, I acknowledge, I haven’t been myself since Mum’s fall but I need to pull myself together. I can’t afford to lose this job.
‘No, I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘There won’t be any more complaints, I promise.’ Although I’m not sure how I can promise that when I didn’t do anything to deserve these and have no idea who is out to get me.
What’s happening to my life? Everything seems to be going wrong.
I’ve just finished the call when Nick phones. ‘Hey, how are you doing?’ he asks, his voice warm and comforting.
‘Okay, how are you? You’re not phoning to say you’ll be late, are you?’
‘Yes, sorry, we’ve got a bit of a problem so I need to stay late and sort it out. Look, don’t bother with cooking, just fix something for the kids and I’ll bring a takeaway for us.’
I wish he wasn’t working late, I was hoping to pop over and see Mum again tonight and ask Alison if I could have my key back, tell her I’d have one cut for her tomorrow.
I’m sure Nick doesn’t want to work late either, I remind myself as he ends the call. It’s good that he’s so dedicated to the company. It could have gone under when Dad died if it wasn’t for Nick.
‘I’m hungry,’ Isaac says, running in with Grace right behind him.
I glance at the clock, it’s gone five. ‘How about spaghetti hoops on toast?’ I suggest.
‘Yes, please. Can I have two pieces of toast?’ he asks.
‘And me!’ Grace pipes up.
‘Of course. Now go and wash your hands and I’ll start making it.’
Later, when the kids are tucked up in bed, I give Mum a call to check how she is. It rings out and out. Then George answers.
‘Hello, Lizzie, your mum is asleep. She was shattered so went to bed early. Can I take a message, love?’
Asleep again?
‘I’m worried about Mum, George. She’s always been so lively and outgoing, but since the fall she seems exhausted all the time.’
‘I know, I’m concerned too. Alison said that you and Judith were sitting out in the garden this afternoon and it tired her out. I guess it will take her a bit of time to build up her strength again.’
Is Alison blaming me for visiting my mum? She fractured her ankle. It shouldn’t affect her like this, I want to shout. ‘Maybe Mum should get checked out by the doctor, just to make sure everything is all right.’
‘I suggested that but Judith doesn’t want to. She feels that she’s wasting the doctor’s time when other more seriously ill people need his help.’
Which is exactly the sort of thing Mum would say.
‘We’ll give her a couple more days then I’ll call the doctor myself if she hasn’t improved,’ George continues. ‘I’ll let her know you called, love. Give the kiddies a hug from us both. Love the cards they made, by the way.’
‘Thanks. Will do. Bye George.’
George ends the call. I tap my chin with my phone, deep in thought. Mum has always been a bundle of energy, I can’t help but worry how this fall has knocked her about.
Mum is everything to me. It was devastating when we lost Dad and I can’t bear to think of losing my mum too.
Alison and Kenny lost their mum at a very young age because of me, I think guiltily.
It must have been so terrible to have to grow up without a mother, and for poor George to lose his wife.
An image of Carol, smiling as she hands me the double flake ice cream, flashes across my mind and I screw my eyes tight.
It haunts me that I was responsible for her death.
And ever since I realised it was my fault I’ve been consumed by an enormous feeling of foreboding that one day I would pay.