Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
H alf an hour later, I was face to face with Lexi’s principal.
‘It’s not only about Lexi skipping school, Mrs Cavendish. It’s a combination of several things, I’m afraid. Her hair, her uniform, her general attitude.’
Lexi was sitting outside Mrs Westley’s office. She had spiked what little hair she had left with what looked like an entire jar of gel, her uniform was two sizes too small, and her expression? Well, let’s just say I wasn’t going to be receiving flowers from my only daughter any time soon.
‘Lexi, please go back to class while I chat with your mum,’ Mrs Westley instructed.
‘But there’s only half an hour left,’ Lexi moaned.
‘Lexi, manners! I’ll be waiting for you after school’s finished,’ I said.
Without a backward glance, she sauntered down the corridor.
‘Lexi started as one of our brighter students,’ Mrs Westley said as she ushered me into her office and closed the door, ‘but this term her grades have slipped significantly. ’
Sitting on a bright-red chair in front of her desk, I peered out the window across a grassed courtyard with benches and towering jacaranda trees, then at the huge floor-to-ceiling bookshelves which took up an entire side wall. So many books.
I listened as Mrs Westley spoke, ashamed I hadn’t kept a closer eye on my daughter. Mortified Lexi had told her teachers – and who knew who else – I’d had an affair with the gardener and was now in the throes of a breakdown. Of course, no one believed her (I hoped) but that’s how rumours started.
‘Is anything happening at home that might help us understand Lexi’s behaviour?’
‘No. Nothing’s changed in Lexi’s home life. All much the same as it has been. Her grandmother is getting married to her grandfather again, which is slightly unusual, but Lexi seems happy about it. She doesn’t tell me much anymore. Keeps to herself when she’s at home.’
Taking a breath, I glanced around the room. Mrs Westley’s desk was pleasantly cluttered, but not chaotic: lots of handwritten foolscap pages and several Post-it notes on one side, together with several educational tomes; an open laptop, two coffee mugs, a small vase of colourful garden flowers, and an apple. There were also several brightly coloured stress balls in a blue ceramic bowl, and one of those fabulous pin-art toys where you use your hands (or face) to create instant 3D art. (I wonder where the one Santa had given Lexi a few years ago had gone.)
‘And?’ She looked at me expectantly.
‘Lexi talks to her friends mostly, and she’s been seeing a boy, boyfriend maybe? Even though I think she’s too young. And then there’s her mobile. She’s always on the phone, talking or texting.’
‘In the past month alone,’ Mrs Westley read from notes, ‘Lexi has missed in excess of nine complete days of school. ’
‘Goodness.’ Was that the best I could come up with? Goodness.
‘I must say, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.’
‘Well, I work during the day. I’ve started this new job and?—’
‘I see.’
‘But I try to keep tabs on her.’
‘She’s got schoolwork to catch up on. Several missed assignments need to be completed if she’s to have any chance of passing this term, which is less than three weeks away.’
Avoiding eye contact, I replied, ‘I’ll see Lexi completes them all. Definitely.’
Mrs Westley handed me several reams of paper. ‘I’ll email you the rest. Lexi’s teachers will make sure she doesn’t leave school before home time unless she has a valid excuse, but you need to establish firm house rules as well.’
‘Yes,’ I said quietly. ‘I don’t seem to connect with her anymore. She’s got new friends… her schoolwork is slipping. It was so easy before?—’
‘Before she turned thirteen and was a tangle of hormones, rebellious compulsions, social anxieties and academic pressures?’
‘That about sums it up.’ I forced a smile. ‘I feel like I’m walking a tightrope with her the whole time. Nothing I say or do is ever right.’
‘My advice? Listen to her. Try to remain calm and open-minded. Walk beside her when you can and try to remember the teenage years are a phase. Sooner or later we all outgrow them. They wouldn’t be kids if they didn’t give their parents and teachers hell. In my experience, girls rebel because they either want more or less parental control over their lives. The key is understanding their behaviour before trying to change it.’
I stood up, nodded and bit my bottom lip. As I turned to go, my gaze was drawn to a large purple ball in the corner near the door. ‘Is that a… fitball?’
Mrs Westley clasped her hands together. ‘Yes, and in answer to your unasked question, I do sit on it. But not during school hours.’ She paused, then whispered, ‘At least, not anymore. Fitballs require a certain level of stability and alertness. I’ve been caught off guard in the past.’
I smiled weakly.
‘Take care. Don’t worry too much.’ She rested her hand on my shoulder. ‘Lexi’s not the first teenager who’s skipped school… or imagined her mother was having an affair. Think back to your own adolescence?—’
I stared out the window and sighed.
‘Remember both the positive and negative messages you received from your parents and strive not to repeat their mistakes or to share their unhealthy attitudes.’
‘I’ll try,’ I replied, my voice cracking with emotion.
‘Mrs Cavendish, be as healthy a role model as best you can?—’
What? Did she have hidden cameras on me, twenty-four-seven?
‘Get to know Lexi’s new friends. Invite them over?—’
Minus the vodka.
‘—Be honest with her. And remember,’ she encouraged, ‘when all else fails, breathe.’
It was three twenty. I had a few minutes before Lexi was due out of class. I rang Matthew but was immediately diverted to voicemail. I tried him on his mobile. Same response. I tried again. I was persistent if nothing else.
He finally answered with, ‘Yes!’ Clearly distracted .
‘Lexi’s been skipping school. I’ve just finished meeting with her principal.’
I could hear Matthew tapping a pen. ‘Has Lexi said why?’
‘Nope.’
‘I’m about to go into a meeting. Take her home and talk?—’
‘It’s the middle of the afternoon. I need to get back to work.’
‘Kate, where are your priorities? You can’t possibly think taking photos of salad is more important than sorting Lexi out.’ There was a moment of silence followed by, ‘What happens to Gus when you can’t pick him up from school?’
Had Matthew been living under a rock? ‘If he doesn’t have an after-school activity and Mum can’t pick him up, he goes into after-school care, and I pick him up on the way home. And after-school care is where he’s headed today. Silence. ‘Matt? You know all this. Don’t make me feel guiltier than I already am.’
‘Sorry. Yes. My mind’s been elsewhere. Work’s hectic.’
‘Auckland?’
‘Maybe. Kate, things are stressful for us right now, and with the two of us employed full time as well, Lexi and Gus are being overlooked.’
‘So it’s my fault?’
‘I didn’t say that, but I earn enough for the family. You don’t have to work, at least not full time.’
‘But I want to. I want to feel productive again. Maybe even proud of myself. Besides, it’s only until Christmas. Maybe you could cut your hours?’
Matthew sighed and we ended our unsettling conversation.
I set off in search of Lexi and spotted her minutes later: the attitude, slouched shoulders. Silently, I bundled her into the car.
‘This is so embarrassing, Mother.’ She huffed, then huffed some more. ‘Are we going home?’
‘Not yet. You’ll have to come into Delicious Bites with me.’
Lexi rolled her eyes. ‘Really? ’
‘Yes!’ I couldn’t trust Lexi at home by herself, so that’s all there was to it. ‘Are you wearing your retainer?’ I knew she wasn’t.
She unzipped her backpack, retrieved it and loudly pushed it inside her mouth. ‘Happy?’
‘Why on earth would you tell your teachers I’m having an affair with the gardener?’
‘Gives them a rev… Do you know how boring geometry is?’
‘I don’t care!’ I counted to ten in my head. I remember a similar conversation with my own parents. ‘ I’m going to be a photographer. Why do I need to pass maths? ’ It was right before Mum and Dad split. I had a horrible feeling history was about to repeat itself. Not that she was responsible for the problems Matthew and I were having, but the whole scenario seemed too familiar. Too close to home.
I thought about Blanche Ebbutt’s advice in Don’ts for Wives – yes, I’d been reading it. How could I not? It’s such a stupid book, it forces you to take notice. In fact, I’d come to consider Blanche rather like my own personal Dalai Lama. During those moments when I knew I truly wanted to become a better person, a more rational and loving human, I thought to myself, what would Blanche do in this situation? I knew for a fact in this case, she’d say, silence is the best answer. Still, I was furious.
‘That’s no reason to invent lies or skip school. And last week with the drinking… You don’t get it, do you? Wake up to yourself. You’re not a baby anymore.’
She smirked. ‘Okay.’
But I wasn’t finished. ‘I’ve had it, Lexi. I’m not your nursemaid.’
‘So stop treating me like a child.’
‘I’ll stop treating you like a child when you start acting responsibly.’ I breathed deeply, exhaled and pivoted. ‘Lex, is there something else going on? Are you being bullied? At school? Online? You can tell me. I overheard you and your friends.’
‘Huh?’
‘When I drove you to the movies.’
She blinked. ‘You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘No, I’m not being bullied.’ She shook her head. ‘Drop it, okay? You’ve got no idea about the pressure. The anxiety and stress to make sure everything you do is perfect. The perfect clothes. The perfect hair. Having the best assignment no matter what the subject because everyone is using Canva, CapCut or ChatGPT to make theirs perfect too. It’s exhausting and terrifying, especially when you have to share in class. I’m always anxious that my best effort isn’t good enough. So why try?’
I dipped my head. Lexi was experiencing the exact pressure I was at the magazine because I wasn’t up to date with current photography wizardry.
I’m always anxious that my best effort isn’t good enough. So why try? I absolutely got it.
‘Lexi—’ At that moment the nauseating ad about erectile dysfunction boomed through the speakers. I snapped the radio off.
‘Mum, you don’t need to be embarrassed?—’
‘Don’t start?—’
‘What? You look really tired by the way.’
Instead of biting, my mind focused on Mrs Westley’s comments. ‘ Lexi’s not the first teenager who’s imagined her mother was having an affair.’
Where did Lexi get that idea? Of course I wasn’t, but had I inadvertently let something slip?
‘You were looking at Angus’s coach the same way the girls at school look at Hunter… Gross, Mum. You’re married. ’
Did Lexi think I was involved with Arnaud? What a mess. What an absolute bloody disaster.
‘Think back to your own adolescence ? —’
Back then, my father actually was having an affair. I didn’t want history repeating itself. I needed to focus on unifying our family and regaining my daughter’s trust.