Jenna
Jenna
‘I’ll see you in a fortnight. Any problems in the meantime, just give me a call. But you’re doing really well.’
Jenna smiles before turning and heading along the external walkway on the twelfth floor of the council flat block where she has been visiting one of the families in her care.
Walking past the broken lift and down the concrete stairs – walls daubed with graffiti, floor littered with crisp packets, spliff butts, empty lager cans – she scrolls through the calendar on her phone for the rest of the afternoon’s appointments: a core group meeting at a local school to discuss a child’s protection plan, and her weekly catch-up in the office with a newly qualified social worker. Looking at the time – almost three o’clock – she thinks about the mountain of paperwork she will have to complete before the day’s end.
Getting into her battered Vauxhall Corsa – pulling hard on the door that fails to shut without a determined slam – her phone rings, and she registers the number on the screen, feels a flutter of concern. Callum may be almost eighteen but the sight of the school’s phone number still induces a moment of quiet apprehension.
‘Hello?’
‘Ms James?’
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘It’s Mr Marlowe from Collingswood. I wondered if you might have a moment?’
Jenna thinks about all she still has to do today, but she knows the question is rhetorical.
‘Of course.’
There is a moment’s hesitation before Mr Marlowe begins to speak.
‘It’s come to our attention that Callum has some... complicated personal history that we’ve only recently been made aware of.’
Jenna allows herself a beat. She has been anticipating this call for almost a week, but now that it is here, she is not sure how best to handle it. She knew, deep down, that Callum’s school would find out about his joyriding, that Abby or Nicole or one of the other parents would make Collingswood aware of it. Six days since Isla’s funeral and now she is only surprised it has taken this long to circle back to her.
‘What do you mean?’ If Mr Marlowe wants to condemn her son for his involvement in something when he was fourteen years old, he will have to be explicit.
‘We understand that Callum was involved in an incident that required police intervention.’
All these euphemisms. It’s one of the things she can’t bear about the teachers and parents at Callum’s school. Nobody is ever upfront. Nobody ever dares say anything difficult or controversial.
‘That was quite a long time ago now.’ She can hear the defensiveness in her voice, wishes she were able to curb it; wishes she had learnt – like all those polished, confident Collingswood parents – how to take command of a situation like this, defuse it before it becomes an issue.
Mr Marlowe clears his throat. ‘As I understand it, it was just before Callum started Year 10? Not that long – relatively speaking – before he applied to Collingswood?’
It is phrased as a question, but Jenna is aware that this is a game of cat-and-mouse, a game where she will, inevitably, get caught. ‘Yes, but that was still over three years ago now.’
There is another uncomfortable pause. ‘I’m sure you can appreciate our concern. I’ve spoken with the Headmaster and we do feel that this information would have been best disclosed during Callum’s application process rather than us finding out about it now, from a third party.’
Jenna hears the ellipsis in Mr Marlowe’s short speech, understands enough about this rarefied world to read between the lines: We don’t want our students involved in this kind of grubby behaviour. It brings the school into disrepute. We’d never have awarded your son a place – let alone a full bursary – had we known .
All the moisture evaporates from Jenna’s mouth. Callum cannot lose his bursary. He cannot – he simply cannot – be forced to leave Collingswood. It is inconceivable that he should return to his previous school. She will not let it happen.
‘I’m so sorry, Mr Marlowe. I can see how it looks. It’s just that by the time Callum was applying to Collingswood, we felt he’d put it all behind him. He’d learnt from his mistakes and moved on.’ She senses the flimsiness of the excuse, understands Mr Marlowe’s frustration. But she knows – as well as he must know – that had she divulged Callum’s unlawful behaviour during the application process, he’d have been rejected out of hand.
‘Like I say, we just wish you’d told us—’
‘I know, and I’m so sorry. I can’t apologise enough. But it really was just one moment of stupidity on Callum’s part. It was completely out of character for him. He loves Collingswood so much. He’s really settled and happy there. It’s been so good for him, and we really are grateful for all the opportunities he’s being given.’ She hears the grovelling tone in her voice, winces at her own servility. But she is painfully aware of the power dynamic at play, knows it is the school who holds all the cards, and that her hand is as good as empty.
‘We know Callum’s thriving at Collingswood. We never had any doubt he would. But if we’d known about Callum’s history, we could have ensured he was properly supported if ever it became common knowledge. As it is, we do now find ourselves on the back foot, somewhat.’
It is there again, the admonition for her failure to reveal Callum’s joyriding history sooner.
‘Of course, I understand. And I really am very sorry I didn’t tell you myself. I just want what’s best for Callum, that’s all.’
‘I’m sure that’s what we all want. We do understand this must be a very difficult situation for Callum, and we do want to support him in whatever way we can. But I’m sure you can appreciate that there are particular sensitivities around this issue at the moment. Shall we catch up in a week or so, see how things are? And if you want to speak about anything in the meantime, just drop me an email and we’ll arrange a call.’
Jenna is so grateful that Callum isn’t being immediately suspended – or, worse still, expelled – that she thanks Mr Marlowe profusely, exhales a sigh of relief as he says goodbye and ends the call. But she knows Callum is skating on thin ice, understands this is possibly only a temporary stay of execution. It is imperative she does whatever she can to keep Callum out of trouble, keep him away from any whiff of controversy.
All she wants is for Callum to have a fair chance in life. The chances she never had. The chances all those other students at Collingswood have because their parents are rich enough to pay the fees.
When she thinks back now to Callum’s attitude at his previous school – beleaguered by the disruptions to lessons, the lack of discipline, the open secret that drugs were being sold and taken on school premises – it is unconscionable that Callum may have to return there. The change in her son since he started at Collingswood has been transformational. He is more confident, more articulate, more secure in his thoughts, opinions, feelings. More equipped with a sense of self-belief; a burgeoning awareness that he is bright and capable – as Jenna has always known him to be – and that, if he works hard, he has every chance of success.
Looking at the time, she realises she will now be late for her meeting. Putting the location into Google Maps, she begins to rehearse all the arguments she will employ should her next conversation with Mr Marlowe take a different turn. Arguments, she knows, which amount to little more than begging for Callum not to be excluded from the school he has come to love: a school which, Jenna knows only too well, holds the ticket to his future.