Chapter 19
Seb hasn’t left his office for hours. Apart from a brief respite around lunchtime when everyone was listening to Anna on the radio, he has been in meetings with either teachers or parents all afternoon.
Some were angry, telling him they were taking their kid out of the school immediately.
Some were personally writing to the governors to have him fired, giddy with their own sense of power, their belief in their rightness.
Others winced, struggled to keep their smiles under control.
One dad Seb has never liked didn’t bother hiding his amusement, his shoulders shivering with laughter before he leant across Seb’s desk, offering his hand: ‘Who’d have thought it, mate, honestly, the balls on you! ’
He didn’t seem to notice or care that Seb didn’t call him ‘mate’ in return, that he immediately showed him– still laughing– to the door.
What all these parents had in common, Seb realizes later, was that they were there for themselves, the kids just a convenient excuse to get a good, proper look at him.
They wanted to see if he really was sorry or if he really was a pervert as others suspected. It was all coming out.
One mum started crying, shaking her head and patting a ragged tissue under her nose. Seb wasn’t able to look at her while he listened because her sorrow was between her and her past; it wasn’t about him, not really.
Another, Adele, had already started a WhatsApp group ‘to help the sex worker’.
She told Seb in a soft voice she wanted to ensure the woman was looked after, that she could access any resources she might need.
Adele had special training in working with vulnerable women; Adele was entirely on her side but she needed to know, she asked, pen raised, who it was who so badly needed her help.
Now Seb is waiting nervously in his stuffy office for his godson.
Blake had– as Seb thought he might– been one of the first to put his name down for the student appointments Mrs Greene made available to the older years.
Now Seb stands as Blake knocks gently at his door.
He wants to hug his godson, to feel if there might be any forgiveness softening his young, strong body, but Blake keeps himself bowed over, his eyes flicking; he doesn’t look like he wants to be touched.
His hair stands up from his head, like it has been raked many times by anxious fingers.
Seb offers him a seat in front of his desk.
Maintaining eye contact with the carpet, Blake sits, drooping in the chair like a plant deprived of sunlight and water.
Seb pulls his own chair around the desk, so there is nothing between them, and waits, trying to gauge if Blake wants to talk first. Just when Seb is about to ask him how he’s doing, Blake mumbles, ‘It’s shitty. What Mum did, I mean.’
Seb feels his stomach drop.
‘Ethan and me listened to the radio show online at lunch.’
‘Blake, you don’t have to…’
‘She’s being an idiot, Uncle… I mean, Mr Kent.’
‘How about I’m just Seb right now– never mind the head teacher bit?’
Blake nods, glances briefly at Seb, nods again, before he looks away.
‘Blake, your mum is doing what she thinks is right.’
‘Yeah, but she’s talking bullshit. She said on the radio I was, like, fully behind what she’s doing, that I was angry with you, which…
’ Blake shrugs again. ‘Which is a total lie. She’s never even asked what I think.
It’s like you said in assembly: we all mess up, it’s about how we deal with it– that’s the most important bit. ’
‘Blake, I really don’t want to upset anything between you and…’ Seb splutters.
‘I know you don’t, but Mum and her band of witches are saying how they’re trying to protect us from you when actually the only people we think we need protection against is them and their small-minded views . ’
Blake keeps his eyes on Seb as he says, ‘I want to help, if I can, and I know you’d feel the same if you were in my position.’
Seb wants to agree, wants to nod and say, ‘Yeah, course I would,’ but he can’t because he’d never have had Blake’s courage.
Had Seb been in Blake’s position, he’d have done whatever he thought most people wanted him to do.
Guaranteed. He wouldn’t have rocked the boat; he wouldn’t have stood up for what he thought was right.
He’d have tried to be the person his dad had asked him to be. Solid. Safe. Good.
‘Listen, Blake, whatever happens between your parents and me, I want you to know that if you ever need me, I’ll be here for you, OK? I’m really proud to be your godfather and I’m so sorry you’re tangled up in all of this.’
‘What do you think I should do about Mum?’ Blake asks, his eyes narrow.
Seb thinks about the years of friendship.
The holidays they’ve shared. The countless bottles of wine and long, laughter-filled evenings.
The way Anna comforted him when he was so full of grief after his dad died, the way he did the same for her after Eddy’s affair.
Had everything been so fragile between the four of them all along?
It all seems like such a sorry waste of time.
But Seb’s sorrow for their friendships won’t help Blake.
‘Your mum’s angry, which is fair enough. I think she needs to be angry and then, I hope, in time she’ll see the difference between what I did and who I really am.’
‘Yeah, but what should I do ?’
‘I can’t tell you that, Blake.’
Blake groans, kicks his foot, annoyed, so Seb adds, ‘Just remember that whatever she says or does, she loves you and she’s trying her best, in her way, to protect you.’
Blake looks away for a moment, weighing things up, before turning back to Seb and asking, ‘I don’t understand why she forgave Dad, but she can’t forgive you?’
Blake was only twelve when Eddy had the affair, and spent a lot of time with Rosie and Seb in the days when Eddy was banned from going home. Seb talked to Blake about it because Eddy was in too much of a state himself. God, it would feel good to agree with his godson.
Instead, he nods and shrugs his shoulders, hoping to show that he gets it but that he’s not the person Blake should be asking.
Blake pauses again, his voice softer, before saying, ‘Do you think you and Dad will be friends again?’
Seb breathes out; his thoughts blur. They were like brothers growing up, but that’s over.
They’re fully grown now. Seb doesn’t want to spend any more of his adult years trying to keep his childhood alive.
They’ve been trying too hard for too long.
The old jokes just aren’t funny any more and the old ways of coping no longer work.
Ignoring those changes kept them ignorant.
Now, there’s no turning away, no denying it.
It’s time to accept they’ve grown up and grown apart.
Seb answers quietly, truthfully, ‘I don’t know.’
There’s a gentle knock at the door and Seb wants to tell Mrs Greene that he’ll talk to her later, that his godson is more important.
But Blake’s already unfurling his long limbs, ready to go.
Seb’s about to put his hand on Blake’s shoulder but he doesn’t get that far because suddenly Blake reaches for him and, pulling him close, they hug, chest to chest. And over his godson’s shoulder, Seb’s eyes burn again, because he thinks that whatever else they’ve fucked up, Eddy and Anna, they made this beautiful human and that counts for more than anything else.
Less than a minute after Blake leaves, Harriet walks in, stiff and upright as the rulebook she seems to have swallowed.
She tells Seb that the petition and ‘more than a few’ complaints have been officially presented to the governors.
They want to avoid a tribunal, but there is pressure, immense pressure, Harriet tells him, from the parents; they want to be involved in the decision about Seb’s future.
‘You see, they feel you involved them with your assembly, and I rather take their point. It feels incorrect to sideline them now.’ She sniffs and blinks blue-veined eyelids over blue eyes.
‘What are you suggesting– some kind of parent forum?’
‘Precisely,’ she says, unable to meet his eye.
‘We’ve taken advice from the local council and we’re going to invite parents to present their views publicly, and then us governors will have a separate, closed meeting– according to the school constitution– when we will decide whether your employment here is still in the best interest of the school or not.
’ She glances at him quickly before looking away.
‘As time is of the essence, Mrs Greene will send out an email informing parents as soon as possible. It’ll be held on Monday afternoon, after school.
We’ll have the governors’ meeting later in the week and then present you with our final decision. ’
The parent forum is unexpected, especially so soon, but everything else is as he thought it would be, even down to the way Harriet looks: tight-lipped and frowning, never once straying from her script.
By four p.m. the school is relatively quiet.
Seb calls Rosie, but there’s no answer. He aches to be with her, with his own kids, but he can’t ignore it any more, he knows he has to do it eventually.
He sits and picks up his work phone; he hasn’t looked at his emails since Anna’s radio performance earlier and as he opens his inbox his teeth clench together and his jaw immediately aches.
There are over a hundred emails waiting for him.
Most of the subject lines are written in screaming capitals, many with exclamation marks– one is simply titled, ‘SHAME!’ He knows he should open them methodically one after the other but instead he clicks, almost greedy, trying to move quicker than the acid he can feel rising up in a wave from his stomach, heading for his throat.
Dear Sebastian Kent,
My daughter, Ada Barton, will never again attend Waverly Community while you are head teacher…