Chapter 8
Even though it’s a school rule that no teachers use their phones outside of the staff room, he can’t resist texting Rosie a quick, LOVE YOU . The capitals are accidental, but he decides not to change them. From now on he is going to love her loudly.
Harriet turns and says, ‘Afternoon, Mr Kent. Good to see you.’
Seb walks confidently into the classroom, smiles at the whole room and says to Harriet, ‘Please call me Seb.’ He addresses the seated rows of parents, all of whom he recognizes. ‘Afternoon, everyone.’
Eddy and Anna are both working so can’t come along. But that’s OK; they are reassured Seb will be looking out for his godson.
‘We were just running through the agenda.’ Harriet beams at him and raises a hand towards the empty chair positioned next to her own at the front of the classroom. Seb nod-walks to his seat as Harriet turns back to her notes.
He sees her as soon as he sits. She’s in the third row, close to the window, a denim jacket slung over her lap, her ringed hands loosely clasping each other, her head tilted to one side, and that mouth– oh God, that mouth that made him do unspeakable things– is smiling at him.
She must be mad.
Seb stares at Abi; it’s like she’s got her hand around his windpipe and is squeezing.
What does she want from him?
He remembers her voice. The faint rasp of it.
Hey, try and relax…
Seb leans forward, over his knees, coughs into his hand.
Harriet starts fussing about fetching him a glass of water but he waves his hand at her, feels his eyes bulging in their sockets, his neck straining against his collar, looks up at the gently concerned faces before him and says, ‘Excuse me, sorry everyone.’
When she’s reassured that he has recovered, Harriet says, ‘Well, maybe that’s my cue to hand over to you, Seb, and ask you to address our first item: exam anxiety; how to spot it and support your child through it.’
Standing, Seb plugs his laptop into the classroom’s interactive whiteboard and immediately launches into his slideshow, never once looking back at Abi.
The meeting rumbles along, the parents take notes and ask questions, then finally they get to ‘AOB’.
Harriet turns to him, smiling so widely Seb can see the silver fillings at the back of her mouth before she says, ‘I just wanted to feed back some of the responses we’ve been getting from parents about your first few weeks in the post and they are, of course, unanimously glowing.
We know you’re still finding your feet in your new role but your commitment and enthusiasm for the school and, most importantly, the students is palpable and, really, that is all the parents’– Harriet points to the room before indicating herself– ‘and us governors can ask.’
The parents look to one another, unsure whether they should clap, so Seb saves them all by saying, ‘Thanks for making me blush, Harriet! No, that’s good to hear, and thank you, everyone, for coming along,’ before starting to pack up his laptop.
Seb makes sure his smile doesn’t slip once as everyone files out of the room.
He asks Abi if she has a moment to chat privately, his face aching.
He ensures the door is closed behind Harriet, the last to leave. He’s stronger than when they spoke at the restaurant; she’s clearly fucking with him, and he needs to be absolutely crystal clear with her this time. He stands solid and firm. ‘What are you doing?’
Abi runs her fingers through her short hair, standing opposite him. ‘I was invited. That’s why I’m here. I have the same rights as everyone else, even if it makes you uncomfortable.’
He forces himself to sound calm. ‘We said we’d stay out of each other’s way, Abi.’
Abi’s forehead wrinkles; she shakes her head. ‘We agreed we’d stay out of each other’s private lives.’
Seb lifts his face to the ceiling, shakes his head and whispers, ‘Fuck’s sake.’ He opens his arms, indicating the classroom, the entire school. ‘This is my life. This is my work. Don’t ambush me at work.’
She stares at him, and he has to resist the urge to look away. She’s everything he despises about himself.
‘Then why are you and your wife and friends coming to the opening night of the restaurant? If you’re allowed to show up at my work, then why can’t I show up at yours? Unlike you, I’ve done nothing wrong. I haven’t betrayed anyone.’
His stomach twists with revulsion for her, for himself, as the meanest, cruellest part of him snaps, ‘Tell your kids that.’
She comes so close he can feel the heat off her.
‘Don’t think for a moment I don’t know what I’m doing, Seb.
I’ve known men like you my whole life. And you should know, I’ve got my own tussle going on’– she knocks her knuckles gently against her chest– ‘because let me tell you, there’s a part of me that would love to tear your privileged bullshit life apart.
Would love to tell the world what a fucked-up little liar you really are.
You’re the one who came looking for me. Remember that. ’
She gathers up her bag and jacket, ignoring Seb’s hurried, quiet apologies as she walks quickly away.
Later that evening, steam billows from the oven as he opens the door and pulls out the celebratory moussaka he made earlier for Eva’s birthday.
Seb always makes moussaka when there is something to celebrate.
The tradition started when Rosie went into labour with Sylvie; Rosie had gone to sleep but he needed something to do.
Twenty-four hours later, in bed, they’d eaten it, with Sylvie sleeping in the crook of Rosie’s arm.
He makes it for special occasions and the kids, incredibly, have yet to tire of it.
The kids are upstairs playing while Seb and Rosie are getting things ready for Eva.
Rosie’s hanging their trusty silver ‘Happy Birthday’ banner over the table while Seb makes a salad dressing.
Once he’s done, he glances at his phone; there’s another message from Eddy waiting, unread.
Seb puts it back on the table, screen down.
Eddy will just be whining about Seb missing their game again. Eddy, for once, can wait.
Seb loosens his jaw; he needs to talk to Rosie now. This could be his only chance.
‘Hey, Ro,’ he says, turning towards her as she sticks candles into the shop-bought cake he picked up on his way back from school. ‘I’ve been thinking about tomorrow night.’
She tilts her head to show she’s listening but keeps counting candles. ‘Do you think she’ll mind having thirty-seven candles? Half of her real age?’
‘No, she won’t mind at all.’
‘I mean, I could chop them all in half, I suppose– we never use the whole candle anyway– might look a bit odd…’
‘Ro, please, it doesn’t matter about the candles,’ he retorts sharply, taking her hand. She turns in surprise, taken aback by his tone.
‘Sorry. It’s just, I want to talk about tomorrow night before Mum gets here.’
‘OK,’ Rosie says, still frowning at him. ‘What’s up?’
‘Well, it’s… I’m… I just don’t think we should go.’
‘Why not? It’s been in the diary for ages! Eva’s coming over to do bedtime, Lotte and Richard are expecting us and so are Eddy and Anna. They’d all be pissed off if we cancelled so last-minute!’
Seb looks away, worried about what Rosie will read on his face: his fear etched in the crease of his brow, the sadness in his eyes, the betrayal stiff around his mouth. ‘I know. It’s just that this thing with Abi and her daughter still isn’t resolved, so…’
She takes a sharp little breath, her face strangely expressionless, her voice low, as if she’s speaking from a dark place within herself. ‘What is this really about, Seb? Ever since you met Abi in our kitchen, I feel like you haven’t been honest with me.’
Seb recoils, a part of him shocked because they come easily, these lies.
‘Ro, I told you! It’s just this ongoing thing…’
‘You promise me there’s nothing else I need to know?’
She looks desperate suddenly, a little teary. He’s making her feel mad but what choice does he have? He’s not lying to protect himself; he’s lying to protect her and their whole family.
‘Ro, please. Come on. You know I’m crap at lying.’
He tries to take her arms, tries to hold her, but she resists. ‘Fine. If you don’t want to go, I’ll just go on my own.’
Panic glistens through him. This hasn’t gone well.
The only thing worse than going to the restaurant would be Rosie going without him, especially now that Eddy knows what happened.
Well, a version of what happened. If he has any hope of containing this thing, stopping them from figuring out the whole truth, he must be there tomorrow.
The doorbell shrieks through the house and the kids start shouting, ‘Granny!’ They race to the front door and Rosie starts singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as she follows behind them.
Seb watches this bundle of people in the hall, his heart a ball of pain in his chest, and marvels at how even as everything is dismantling itself all around him, nothing, absolutely nothing, has changed.
Dinner is the usual mix of cajoling food into Greer’s mouth, trying to ignore Heath as he dissects his plate to ensure he won’t accidentally eat anything green, and listening to Sylvie’s long and detailed description of the book she’s been reading.
Eva looks happy, smiling as the kids moan, her love for them all so uncomplicated, so easy.
No one seems to notice the force field of tension Seb can feel crackling around him.
The kids whoop when it’s time for cake and ice cream and argue over whose turn it is to light the candles, while Eva gamely pretends she has no idea what’s going on.
Sylvie wins the candle row while Greer cries on Seb’s lap and Heath chips a spoon like a pickaxe into some frozen vanilla ice cream. Rosie goes to the loo and when she comes back to the kitchen announces, ‘Guess who I found skulking outside the front door?’