Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-seven
Sebastian Cornell’s face was a mixture of outrage and fear as he sat behind his vast desk on Tuesday morning, eyeing Harriet with what could only be described as contempt. For her part, she’d let herself sleep for an hour when she’d got home, and then set about making sure she’d dealt with everything in her inbox and drawn up a detailed plan of action to see Ali through the next week—not that he’d need it. At seven a.m., she’d called him and briefed him on the situation. When she momentarily lost her confidence in her plan-not-plan, Ali asked, “Have I ever told you about my PhD?”
She’d laughed. “You may have mentioned it two or three hundred times.”
“Then for the love of god, Harriet, I beg you to let me make use of it. I know what I’m doing. The whole team does. Give us our time to shine.”
By eight forty-five, she had briefed the rest of the team in her office and handed over what amounted to a “how-to” guide that they could refer to should they need it and assured them that she was available for answering questions at any time. At this, Susan had asked, “Doesn’t you being available to solve our problems twenty-four-seven defeat the purpose of you taking time off?”
Harriet scratched her head. “You make a good point. That is something for me to work on.”
And so, by nine fifteen, having just consumed her third coffee, she was sat opposite Cornell, feeling very much like she’d been up all night, which of course she had.
“How much leave ?” he asked. The disgust in his voice was so thick one would think she had asked him if she could do a wee in his wastepaper basket. “Effective from when?”
“Effective from now, up until the Christmas holidays begin. Term ends on Friday anyway, so technically I’m only asking for less than a week to begin with.”
“And what about your workload?”
“To be shared equally between Ali and the rest of the team. You will, of course, have to take back the work that you delegated to me, but I’ve already done most of it, so it shouldn’t keep you up at night.”
He leaned back in his chair and squinted his eyes at her.
“Harriet,” he said, giving her a killer-clown smile, “I would hate for a student to slip through the net because of your irresponsibility. Think of the effect that might have on your mental health. Remember Zoe?”
She almost couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t usually so blatant, but she figured that was because she’d taken him by surprise. You can only do the best you can. She repeated it. You can only do the best you can. And then something occurred to her.
“But provided I’ve performed my due diligence with regards to my handover, which I absolutely have, then the responsibility ceases to be mine and becomes the team’s, and ultimately—as head of pastoral care—yours.”
The space between Cornell’s eyebrows turned a blotchy red.
“I don’t know what’s come over you, or who you think you are, but you cannot simply waltz in here and ask to take leave in the middle of a term,” he spluttered.
She took a breath and gathered herself. This was the right thing; she was sure of it.
“Firstly, it’s the end of term, not the middle. Secondly, I am entitled to take unpaid leave for personal reasons provided that provision has been made, which it has, but I will gladly take it as holiday if you’d prefer. And thirdly, what’s come over me is the realization that I can’t do everything, no matter how much I’d like to. You know how Zoe’s case affected me and you’ve used it to your own advantage for years; to say that’s unethical would be an understatement.” She stood, making herself as tall as she could and hoping that she didn’t look as frazzled as she felt. “I’m leaving now. I’ve sent a copy of my request to the dean. And if you don’t like it, then…then duck you!”
She slammed out of his office, feeling exultant and dizzy from lack of sleep, and went straight home to bed.
When Harriet arrived at the theater that afternoon, the box office was open and the queue for tickets reached to the door.
She found James at a desk in a corner of the lower cocktail lounge, ready to start his first legal surgery. Above their heads, the ceiling rumbled with the sounds of many toddlers dancing to “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” Smells of orange, cinnamon, and buttery pastry wafted in from the kitchens. Usually, Harriet arrived after the school day had ended, and it warmed her heart to see so many of the groups using the space earlier in the day too. The theater might have been sleeping for fifty years, but it was alive and kicking now.
James walked around to the other side of his desk and folded her into a hug. He was big and warm, and he smelled good, and she yawned loudly and snuggled into him like a cat.
“Since you’re here, I presume your plan to take leave worked out.”
“It did. I’ll tell you about it over a coffee when you’re free. Do you have appointments booked in?”
“I have my first one with Ava in forty-five minutes; I’ve just finished going over her case notes.”
“After that, then.” She pulled back to look up at him and smiled.
He cupped her face in his hands, his amber eyes full of warmth, and then he bent to kiss her.
“Ahem, is this a bad time? I was under the impression that this was where you held your legal surgery, not a nooky shop.”
“Good afternoon to you too, Grace,” said James in a consummately professional voice. Harriet turned to smile at the woman in tweed.
“Hi, Grace. How are Billy and Sid?”
“They are well rested and unharmed after their adventures.”
“Good. Is Billy here?”
“In the theater, with Gideon. They both are. I thought Sid would benefit from a day with his brother. I phoned his school this morning and excused him under the guise of a nasty bout of diarrhea.”
“I’m surprised you condone lying to the school authorities,” Harriet teased.
“I wasn’t lying, I was acting. It’s quite different.”
Harriet frowned.
“I suppose we need to decide what to do next.” A dull headache was forming above her eyebrows. Billy and Sid’s situation was unchanged; social services would be arriving at Tess and Arthur’s home later in the day to remove them.
“That’s why I’m here,” said Grace. “James, I need you to represent me. I intend to become the boys’ guardian.”
Harriet was stunned.
“Are you sure?” James asked. “Have you thought this through?”
“Yes, yes. I’m sure. It makes sense. I have a three-bedroom house with a garden big enough for a child to kick a ball about in. I am physically fit, notwithstanding the inner ear infection, which has since departed. Most importantly, if they’re with me they can stay together and they can visit Tess and Arthur whenever they like. And down the line, if Arthur’s health improves, maybe they could even move back in with them if they wish, or we could work out some sort of joint custody situation, you know the sort of thing.”
“Have you discussed this with Tess and Arthur?” asked James.
“Of course. I took the boys round there this morning, Billy was desperate to apologize, terribly worried his actions might have strained Arthur’s heart. We all had a jolly good discussion. They don’t want to lose contact with the boys, and this way would work perfectly for everyone.”
“It’s such a lot to take on, Grace. Have you had much experience with children?” Harriet asked.
“I’ll learn as I go along. Billy’s pretty vocal, I’ve no doubt he’ll point out any errors I make along the way. Don’t keep gawping at me like I’ve just grown a new head. The simple fact is, I want to give them a home and I know that I can make it a happy one.” Her voice softened. “You know I’m not one for great shows of emotion, but this feels right. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance at having a family.” She cleared her throat loudly and continued in her usual headmistress tone. “Now are you going to help me or not? Hmm?”
“And the boys want this? You’ve talked it all through with them properly?” Harriet asked.
“Well of course I have, foolish girl. Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t have their approval? Go and ask them if you like.”
Harriet looked at James and a laugh bubbled out of her. Grace was right, it was the perfect solution. Her relief felt like floating. “Can you help make it happen?” she asked James.
He looked from Harriet to Grace, nodding slowly, his solicitor mask making his expression inscrutable. Finally, he said, “Yes. Yes, I believe I can. Or at least I can represent you, Grace, and put forward your case for guardianship. If you’re available now, we can make a start.”
“I’ve got time,” said Grace, looking at her watch. “I’m not due to haunt Scrooge until three forty-five.”
It was a long time since Harriet had had anyone else in her bed. But it didn’t feel odd to have James beside her. She liked feeling the heat radiating off his skin, and how her head fit perfectly in the space below his shoulder, his arm slung loosely around her, his fingers lazily drawing up and down her side, tracing the dip of her waist and the rise of her rib cage.
The last couple of days, they had been like ships passing. She had been tied up with organizing the space in the theater to fit the multiple groups that had made it their home and helping with rehearsals and getting the production ready as the date for the performance marched ever closer. And James had been consumed with the requirements of the legal surgery, in particular the urgent liaising between Grace, Tess, and Arthur and social services to ensure that Billy and Sid were not placed elsewhere while the legalities for their new joint guardianship were put in place.
On Thursday night they had gone out for dinner after rehearsals to catch up with each other properly, and one thing had very much led to another…
“Tell me about your childhood,” James said, pulling the duvet up around them.
“What do you want to know?”
“How did you end up in the system?”
Oh, that. Of course. People always wanted to know. She supposed it was human nature to be curious about origin stories, especially those of the people with whom they were intimate. But to her it always felt weighted, as though her stock was automatically lowered because of her upbringing.
“I was taken away from my parents when I was three years old. I don’t remember them. At all. I don’t have any real memories until I was five; I think that was probably my brain’s way of protecting me.”
“Your parents never tried to get you back?” he asked gently.
“They never came for me. I guess that’s what hurt the most. That they never fought for me. I waited and waited, but they never showed up.”
“That must have been hard.”
“As a little kid it was. A lot of parents, like Pete’s mum, they came for their children when they could, you know? People in general don’t simply give up their kids; there are extenuating, heartbreaking circumstances that lead up to that point, and it is always a last resort. Which leaves the ones who are left behind to wonder, ‘What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong?’ Because nobody’s going to tell a three-year-old that she had to be taken away from her parents because they hurt her; all you know is that you got dumped and you don’t know why.”
James sucked in a breath and her head rose up as his chest filled with air. He brought his other arm across her so that she was encircled by him. “I’m so sorry. Did you ever try to find them?”
“When I was older. It wasn’t easy, there was no Internet back then, but I found them.”
“And?”
“And that’s when I changed my surname by deed poll to Smith, the most common surname in the UK. My foster parents helped me do it. The daydream I had for all those years that my parents—who I imagined were royalty from some small faraway country—would swoop in and claim me suddenly became my worst nightmare; I didn’t want to take the chance that those people would ever find me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be, it gave me closure. Seriously, I dodged a bullet. I thank my lucky stars they never came for me.”
“Was it tough?” he ventured.
“I was lucky, I was placed with nice foster families. When the system works, it works brilliantly. And then when I was eight, I went to live with Sue and Gil, and they fostered me until I left for university. It was like being part of a regular family, really, except ours had a lot of moving parts. Some kids stayed for a few months, some a few years. Some, like Pete, were respite kids. That’s how we met. He started coming to stay with Sue and Gil when we were ten; he’d stay for a few weeks and then go back to his mum.”
“How come?”
“Pete’s mum suffered with depression. Sometimes her depression got really dark and when that happened, Pete would come and stay with us until his mum was well again. She was a lovely person, but her wiring was messed up. He was in and out of my life like a kind of cousin, really.”
“A kissing cousin,” said James dryly.
She laughed. “Our shared experiences meant that we understood one another in ways that other people didn’t, and I think we fell in together because it was easier than taking the risk of making new connections. In the end, though, we had to admit that we were settling. We’d thought we were saving each other from heartache, but the truth was, we were denying each other the chance to find real love.”
“I can see how you got there, though. I mean, in theory your decision to be together made perfect sense,” said James.
“Except love is perfectly nonsensical.”
“Until you find the right person.”
“Until then.”
“Did you? Ever?”
“I’ve been in love a couple of times. But I never found anyone I would walk barefoot through the snow for,” she said honestly.
His chuckle was a low hum that vibrated through her. “Is that your mark of true love?” he asked, amused.
“Isn’t it everyone’s? How about you? Apart from your wife, of course.”
“I thought I was in love once, and it felt like the real deal, but now that I look back on it, I think I loved her mostly because she didn’t love me back.”
“Unrequited love or masochism?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Good point.”
They lay quietly in each other’s arms while the snowflakes brushed past the windows. She didn’t want to label the things she was feeling for James, but she couldn’t deny that they felt significant.
“Your turn,” she said. “Tell me about your childhood.”
“Very normal,” he replied.
“There’s no such thing.”
He sighed. “My parents were good people trapped in a bad marriage. Time spent alone with each of them was wonderful, but together they were a nightmare.”
“They never divorced?” she asked.
“Eventually, but not until they’d wasted the best years of their lives trying to force the wrong person into being the right one.”
“That’s sad.”
“I promised myself that when I grew up, I’d do things differently. And yet here I am with a failed marriage and a surprise daughter who I have more than likely emotionally damaged by my absence. I’ve managed to make the same mistakes as my parents and a bunch of new ones too.”
“You can’t hold yourself accountable for things you weren’t aware of.”
“It feels like I’ll never be done trying to backfill the dad-shaped hole in her life. I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s hereditary, like it’s in my DNA to screw things up and I should just make my peace with it.”
“That’s such a cop-out.” Her voice came out more clipped than she’d intended.
“How so?”
“It removes any personal responsibility for your own life. It’s how people excuse themselves for giving up when things get tough.”
“Harsh.”
She smiled and laid a kiss on his chest. “I’m sorry. Inherited dispositions are a touchy subject for me.”
“No. I’m sorry, that was a stupid, insensitive thing to say.”
James ran his fingers lightly up and down her arm and then lifted her wrist to his lips and laid a tender kiss at her pulse.
“I would fight for you, Harriet.” He whispered it like a promise into the spot where her blood ran closest to the surface and sealed it with another kiss. “I will fight for you.” He pressed his lips to her pulse again. “I will always show up for you.”
Her breath hitched. He couldn’t know that, of all the words in the world, those were the ones she had longed most to hear. She was no damsel in distress. She didn’t need a prince to save her. She simply needed him to show up, to hold her trust like the precious thing it was, and if the chips were down, to fight for her. Something inside her broke free, a dam bursting its banks, sweeping through her like whitewater rapids, a crescendo of emotions that were everything all at once. It was like being hungry and thirsty and too hot and too cold and craving a cigarette or a drink or to dance or to scream or to laugh or to cry, it was all need and want and the only thing that would sate her was having him as close to her as was humanly possible.