Chapter 17
Rosie sits at the kitchen table after the assembly.
Upstairs, there are clothes all over the kids’ rooms, half-packed suitcases for all three and for herself.
She’s wanted to leave so many times, but the truth is she can’t think of anywhere they could go.
Her parents would ask too many questions; they’d find the kids too noisy, too messy.
Rosie has been out of touch with old friends for too long to ask for refuge for the four of them, and the thought of staying in a cheap hotel is soul-crushing and still way too expensive.
She’d flipped, laughing hysterically, when Seb told her yesterday afternoon that he wasn’t going to resign, that he was going to hold an assembly to face the petition head-on instead.
When she saw that he wasn’t laughing along with her, she’d told him he was selfish, that he wasn’t thinking about the impact on her or their kids, that he should just quietly resign, but even as she’d said the words, she’d known, of course, that that wouldn’t be the end.
There would still be endless speculation about why he was resigning.
The petition was just too noisy to let him slip away quietly.
There was also a belief swelling up in her, a momentary pulse of possibility, that Seb was right: he wasn’t dangerous and of course he had a right to make private mistakes.
But she’d stamped on these thoughts like they were on fire.
He’d wanted her to go to the assembly and she’d pictured herself standing by his side, limp and pathetic, like some insipid shamed politician’s wife. She’d shoved him in the chest and called him all the worst things she could think of.
Later that night, lying sleepless in bed, she’d imagined not going to the assembly, not knowing what he said, another blank spot for her imagination to colour in like it did every time she thought of Seb and Abi.
This morning, when Seb had suggested again that Mrs Greene could sneak Rosie into the hall at the last minute, that Rosie could listen, unseen, behind the curtains at the side of the stage, she’d nodded and reluctantly agreed.
She’d watched Abi as she hovered by the entrance to the school, unsure whether to go in or not.
She’d seen how Mrs Greene said something cursory to her and how Abi had stumbled forward.
She’d felt Abi’s isolation, seen her bravery as she went into the hall, like she was eager to participate in her own downfall.
She wanted to hate Abi, but she couldn’t because out of all the people there, the people Rosie counted as friends, their voices bouncing excitedly to each other, Abi was the only one who understood.
The only one who arguably had even more to lose than Rosie but was going in anyway.
Mrs Greene pointed, wordlessly, to where Rosie should hide.
She saw Eddy standing, nodding, as Vita babbled in his ear.
Then she found who she was really looking for in the crowd: Abi, smiling briefly at the people next to her, but not talking to them.
Rosie watched as Abi scanned the students and knew she was searching for her child.
Rosie had to fight the urge to go and stand by her side.
What would happen, she wondered, inside Seb if he looked up from his place on the stage to see them, Rosie and Abi, standing together?
While Seb talked, Rosie mostly watched the reactions of the students.
Some chattered and laughed, becoming quiet and still as Seb talked about making mistakes, about trying to do the right thing.
One boy looked at his hands in his lap, as though thinking about all his future fuck-ups.
She was glad for these kids, glad they were having this experience so young in life.
She watched their eyes widen in surprise.
She thought perhaps they’d never heard an adult talk like this, and then she realized that she’d never heard anyone do anything like this before, either.
She looked at her weary, ragged husband, the bright lights highlighting how alone he was.
She saw all the faces of the parents, their jaws snapping in judgement, and was surprised to find herself crying, because it was such a relief to see him stand before all that judgement and disbelief.
To see him standing flawed, fallible and so incredibly real, and suddenly her heart felt like it had tripled in size.
She was spotted walking away from the school after the assembly. A couple of mums asked if she was OK, if they could do anything to help.
‘It’s brave, I think, what he’s doing,’ one of them said.
Rosie looked up at her and, even though she didn’t say anything, the woman’s words were like milk on a burn and Rosie realized that she agreed.
Her husband was still a liar, still an arsehole, but at least, she thought, this time he wasn’t a coward.
It was raining, so she decided not to go to the beach and instead drove home.
She’s sure she’s only been sitting at the table numbly for a few minutes, but her tea is stone cold when she hears a key in the front door lock.
She sits up, stares as Seb comes down the few steps into the kitchen.
He looks hollow, all the confidence he’d shown on the stage totally spent.
They stare at each other for a moment before he slowly pulls up a chair, close enough to touch Rosie, but careful not to.
He sits, his hands between his knobbly knees.
She looks at him as he looks at her. She sees his distress, his panic and sadness, but she also sees something else in him now, something quiet but determined, a commitment to the truth.
But, she can’t avoid it; the anger and humiliation are still alive in her.
She moves a little away from him. He keeps his eyes down as he says, ‘I just want to say thank you for coming this morning.’
She clenches her jaw to dam any tears.
‘I also want to say that if you decide that you need to end our marriage, I would understand.’ He looks up at her as he says, ‘You don’t deserve any of this, Ro. None of this is your fault.’
She nods, but his admission doesn’t feel as good as she thought it would. Her teeth ache as she presses them together. Neither of them says anything and it’s a relief for a moment just to be with him in silence.
They both startle when Seb’s phone rings loudly in his pocket. He pulls it out to shut it up, muttering, ‘Sorry,’ but then he looks up at Rosie and says, ‘It’s Mrs Greene.’ Rosie shrugs; she doesn’t mind if Seb wants to accept the call. He stands and clears his throat before he answers, ‘Hello.’
Rosie can’t hear what Mrs Greene is saying on the other end, but she gets the gist.
‘Yes, I expected as much. I’ve just come home to see Rosie, but I’ll start replying to them all as soon as I’m back, OK? Yes, please tell everyone that I’ll be in the staff room over lunch, they can ask me anything then, that’s fine.’
He’s about to hang up when Mrs Greene says something else, making Seb pause for a moment before adding, ‘Which radio show?’
His gaze is restless as he listens to her response, before becoming still on Rosie’s face again. ‘Ah, OK. I see. OK. I’ll see you soon, then, Mrs Greene.’
He hangs up.
Seb swallows again, puts his phone in his pocket before sitting back down.
Rosie looks at him, lifts her eyebrows slightly for him to explain.
‘Apparently it’s all over the school WhatsApp groups that Anna is going to do a kind of response to my assembly, one p.m. on East Sussex Radio.’
Rosie closes her eyes. ‘Oh no.’ They’re the first words she’s spoken since he got here and they make Seb wince.
‘I know. I’m so sorry, Ro.’
She nods, taking his apology quietly. She’d been so focused on trying to understand her feelings after the assembly, she hadn’t thought about what would happen next.
‘I think this is going to get worse, much worse, before it gets better.’
Rosie nods slowly.
‘Listen, if you think it’s best to get away for a while with the kids, I would understand.’
‘I don’t want to do that.’ Her words are clear, and she adds, ‘I don’t know what I want, but I know that for now, at least, we’re staying here.’
Seb nods; a couple of tears fall from his eyes. She doesn’t want to touch him and doesn’t want to say any more so she just watches him cry until his phone starts ringing again and she says, ‘You should go. We’ll speak later.’
He nods, wipes his eyes and does as she says.
Rosie considers not listening to Anna on the radio, but she has no idea what else to do with herself.
The interviewer– Lydia someone– is in the middle of explaining to the audience about the petition, describing in her low, silky voice that it now has over three hundred signatures, and outlining Seb’s decision not to step down and his subsequent address to the students and parents earlier that morning.
‘Welcome, Anna Mayhew, author of the aforementioned petition, to I Heart Sussex .’
‘Afternoon, Lydia.’ Anna sounds calm, well prepared. ‘I’m very happy to be here.’
‘I understand that you and Sebastian Kent are good friends, have been for a long time– is that right?’
Anna’s voice bounces. ‘I think probably the past tense is more applicable now.’
‘Ahh.’ Lydia clarifies, ‘You aren’t any more?’
Anna patronizes her. ‘I can’t be friends with someone so lacking in basic human decency, someone who would put children at risk.’
‘You’re referring to the “disturbing, transgressive and immoral behaviours” you allude to in the petition?’
‘That’s right, Lydia. I was hoping he’d have the courage this morning to say exactly what it was he did so parents could decide for themselves, but I’m afraid he managed to dodge the issue.
‘I’ve decided that he’s left me with little choice but to tell the truth. I didn’t want to, I wanted to protect his wife and his children whom I adore.’ Anna’s voice takes on a sorrowful edge; Rosie bites her bottom lip, mutters, ‘Bullshit.’