Chapter 10
10
JONATHAN
M y first week of teaching is more challenging than I ever could have imagined.
Everything I learned in uni goes out the window and the harder I try, the more I feel like I’m making everything worse. I introduce a reward system to try to inspire a bit of friendly competition, but Ben completely crumbles when it looks like he’s going to come last and he won’t stop crying no matter what I do.
The age differences are an issue too. Enrique frequently disrupts class, through no fault of his own, and distracts Alisha in particular. When I ask Lily-Iris to take him away for half a day and play with him, his separation anxiety kicks in and we can hear the screaming all the way down the hall. I ask Alisha to stay after class one day and I try to convince her that she’s under no obligation to play mom. She tells me, in no uncertain terms, that the bond she has with Enrique is for life and she’s not going to let him form attachments to people who are just going to abandon him again. There is no reassurance I can offer. No matter how well we all do, this assignment is temporary.
Then there’s Mal. Mal is prone to violent outbursts. Mostly, he throws things in frustration or bangs his head against his desk. Once, he hits Ben on the shoulder and I have to send him out into the hall while trying, in vain, to console the younger boy. Afterwards, Mal becomes hysterical begging me not to tell The Beast. He’s convinced he’d be sent away or hurt.
But he needn’t have worried. We don’t see Adam at all. I’d think he’d gone back to New York if it weren’t for Geoff and Meredith mentioning him at meal times when talking about their foundation work.
On Saturday, I leave the children with Lily-Iris and trek along the forest path, up the hill behind the house on a quest for signal.
The walk takes me through the estate gardens and between fragrant pine trees, up a rocky path. The wind sings through the canopy and the air is thick with birdsong. It’s all really quite lovely. I round a corner and find myself facing the lake that marks the edge of the property. The view across it is achingly beautiful. It’s all rolling green hills and clumps of trees with not another creature in sight. The icy breeze cuts across the water, rippling its still surface. I pull my checkered scarf a bit tighter around my neck. Not long ago, this lake would have been frozen.
I continue onward, huffing and puffing as the incline grows steeper. Eventually, I reach the summit. I can make out the house poking up amidst a sea of trees and, more to the point, bars on my phone. Just as Ray promised.
A flood of messages comes through.
Zane
Did you get there safe? Please call.
Hey, if you’re not in a Scottish prison, now would be a good time to let us know.
Your dad’s worried. You know this isn’t good for his health.
Lizzy
What the fuck? Dad told me what happened. What are you thinking? Call me.
Joe
Bro
Emily
OMG is this for real?
Joe
Bro!
Emily
Lizzy just posted in the family chat that you stole Dad’s identity? I want to know everything. CALL ME.
Charlotte
Johnny, is everything okay? I just heard what you did for dad. That’s so brave. And honestly, kind of stupid. Paul knows a good lawyer if you need one.
Joe
Bro! Did your balls finally drop? This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.
Zane
I keep trying to ring you, but it cuts straight to voicemail. Sebastian looked it up and apparently you get spotty reception out there (the worst reception in the whole of the UK—Really, you couldn’t have chosen the place with the second worst reception in the UK to disappear to??) Anyway, It occurred to me that maybe you haven’t received any of these messages and you’re not just being an asshole and ignoring me. They’ll probably all pop up at once when the winds change or some shit. So I’m going to keep sending you daily updates about your dad, okay? And when you get somewhere with reception, you’re going to call me, okay? Okay.
I scroll through the promised updates. All good. Dad’s angry and hurt but physically fine. With a deep breath. I hit call.
“Jonathan, thank fuck,” Zane answers on the second ring.
I stick the freezing fingers of my free hand into my coat pocket. The wind is sharp against my skin. “How’s Dad?”
“ How’s Dad? I’ve been picturing you buried on a Scottish moor. Where are you?”
“I’m, uh, on a hill. It was the only place I could get reception.”
I hear him repeating this information, with a few more curse words sprinkled in. Sebastian must be home . Of course he’s home. They’re in lockdown together. I wonder how that’s going. Way to put a strain on a new marriage.
Zane says to me, “Your dad’s fine. I mean… emotionally, I don’t know. But he hasn’t had any fits or anything. He’s worried about you.”
“I’m okay.” I tell him briefly about the past week—the fact that The Beast is here , our fight, everything.
“You did what ?” He says of the fight. “I’m starting to think I have no idea who you are.”
I sigh, trying to brush away the hair that keeps blowing into my eyes. “You and me both.”
We talk shop a little about the children. I’m grateful to be able to draw on his experience, even more grateful when he offers to mail me some resources. I promise to check in weekly, weather permitting.
“Are you going to call your father?” he asks.
I stare off at the house, the boulder of guilt settling in my belly. “I doubt he wants to hear from me.”
“Of course he does. He’s really worried.”
“You can assure him I’m well.”
“He’d prefer to hear it from you.”
“I doubt he ever wants to speak to me again.”
Zane clicks his tongue. “You know that’s not true. You’re his golden child.”
“ Was , maybe.” I swallow hard. “Uh, listen, if there’s an emergency, the foundation has satellite phones.” There are two—the bulky terminal in the ‘control room’ where Adam spends his days and where the children take calls with their therapists and social worker, and the smaller device in the office that Geoff and Meredith use for their work. “They’ve given me a pager. Anyone who needs to get hold of me can page me and then I can call back.” I give him the number, hoping he won’t need it.
“Sure…” He seems hesitant. “I suppose it won’t do any good telling you to come home?”
“None at all. Even if it weren’t for Dad… I think these children need me.”
“I had to ask.”
“I really do appreciate all this.”
“Make it up to me by staying out of trouble and not starting any more fights with your heel employer.”
“Heel?”
I can practically hear the eye roll. “Have you ever even watched wrestling?”
“I’ve watched Mal playing a wrestling video game?”
He groans. “Heels are the bad guys, the villains. And The Beast was one of the best. People loved to hate him.”
“Well, yes. The stage name says it all, doesn’t it?”
“No, not a stage name. With wrestling it’s not that clear cut. You stay in character off stage too to keep the whole fantasy conflict alive. You know it’s not a competitive sport, right? Or is this news to you too?”
“I know it’s all scripted.”
“Right. Well, the stars who rise to the top in wrestling rise because they’re really good at acting the part. If he wasn’t good at being a bad guy, he wouldn’t have built a name for himself. I really don’t think he’s someone you want to start trouble with. Just try to fly under the radar for the rest of your stay, okay?”
It starts raining on my return journey and I’m shivering by the time I hang my dripping coat on the hook by the door. I go straight to the kitchen to warm up and maybe snag a cup of coffee. Thankfully, there’s already a fire roaring in the grate. My fingers tingle as they defrost in the blissful warmth.
Ray is sitting at the big table, peeling potatoes. Geoff is seated opposite, in the middle of a story. “So I told him thanks but no thanks.”
“And then what?” Ray asks, grinning.
“I left.”
“You didn’t!”
“Damn right I did. I walked out of there.”
“Naked?”
“As the day I was born.”
Ray laughs uproariously, banging the table and Geoff looks smug.
I slip around the counter, trying to be as quiet as possible. But Geoff notices me. “Teach! What are you skulking about for?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted coffee.”
Ray turns in their chair to look at me. “You’re looking a bit peaky, hun. You feeling okay?”
My cheeks are probably pink from the wind, my nose from the cold. “Oh, yes, I just went up the hill to call my family.”
“They doing well?”
“Yes, thank you. All’s good.” I nearly knock over my mug. For someone who’s not actually up to anything suspicious, you wouldn’t know it to look at me. The truth is, Geoff still makes me nervous. Aside from tattling on me the other day, he’s often staring at me a fraction too long or making comments that could be interpreted as him knowing the truth about me—like the skulking thing.
They seem appeased though. Geoff goes back to his story. “So that’s how I ended up spending the night on a super yacht.”
“Now, hold up. You said you left!”
“I left the cabin . I couldn’t very well jump overboard, could I?”
“Knowing you? It would hardly surprise me.”
The door crashes open. All three of us jump. I spill my coffee everywhere. Adam storms in and slams a magazine down on the table in front of Geoff. “What the fuck is this?”
I duck to clean up my mess, but it feels like I’m ducking for cover.
“It’s the feature,” Geoff says, innocently.
“I know it’s the damned feature. What are these photos?”
“You wouldn’t let them send photographers. We had to compromise.”
“These are private !”
Geoff is completely unruffled. “Oh, I have private photos, they weren’t interested in those.”
“This is not a joke!”
Geoff’s chair scrapes against the stone floor as he stands. “Do you think they would have covered your story without any photos? What, get a court reporter to do a nice sketch of you and the kids? You didn’t leave me any option.”
“You should have asked .”
Geoff blows air out between his lips. “As if you would have agreed.” I hear him turning the pages of the magazine. “These are nice. They humanize you. That’s exactly what you wanted, right? Heartbroken widower dedicates his life to children in need? It’s perfect.”
I rise slowly, so as not to startle anyone. Adam is looking down at the pages and the expression on his face is… broken. He looks completely and utterly destroyed by what he sees there.
Geoff lifts the magazine and reads an extract. “‘As De Villeneuve talks, there’s a fire behind his eyes and it’s easy to get swept up in his passion.’ This is gold. You can’t pay for this kind of press. I mean, we did, but?—”
Adam slaps the magazine out of his grip and Geoff takes a step back. He holds up his hands in front of his chest, but he’s still smiling. “I’m just doing my job here.”
Adam’s voice is that low growl when he responds. “You had no right.”
And then he turns and stalks out.
Geoff drops into his chair again. Ray reaches for the magazine. “Where did you get these pictures?”
“I had them on hand.”
“By which you mean you went through his things?”
Geoff shrugs. “I really don’t know what he expected me to do. They weren’t going to run the piece without pictures.”
Ray levels a look at him.
“Oh, not you too?”
“Maybe you should go talk to him. You know, the thing you shoulda done before? Apologize.”
“I can’t apologize because I’m not sorry. He needs to get over it. It’s been, what? Thirteen years? And he’s still going to freak whenever he sees his face?”
I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten I’m here.
“Seeing his face and seeing it in the press like this are two different things and you know it,” Ray says. “Go talk to him.”
Geoff shakes his head. “No. Screw him.”
“You tried that, it didn’t work out, remember?”
Oh. The private photos dig suddenly makes sense.
Geoff flips Ray off lazily. “I’ll talk to him when he calms down. Or I’ll get Meredith to do it. She can usually get him to see sense.”
“Geoff, baby, he’s hurting.”
Geoff drains his mug. “Yeah, well, what else is new?”
He leaves. Whether or not he’s going to talk to Adam is unconfirmed, but signs point to no.
Ray leans back and closes their eyes. “You can come out now, sweetie.”
I laugh nervously. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“No one would blame you if you were.”
I take a seat at my usual corner of the table. The magazine is still spread out. Next to an advertisement for Burberry, there’s an image of Adam and his late husband standing with their arms around each other in front of this house. Lloyd is tall, like Adam, but fragile-looking. His face and frame are narrow, and his features are delicate but defined. If it weren’t for his pale hair and eyes, I could picture Benedict Cumberbatch playing him in a biopic.
“Adam must have loved him very much.” He’s still so torn up about him so many years later.
Ray lets out a long breath. “I think… I think it’s more that he worries he didn’t love him enough, when he was alive. All this?” Ray waves a hand in a circle, encompassing the room and the foundation as a whole. “He’s trying to make it up to him now. Do what he never did when the man was actually here to appreciate it.”
I look back at the photo. Adam looks so happy. His eyes are crinkled and there’s a dimple on his cheek that’s now covered by beard. Or perhaps I haven’t seen it because he doesn’t smile anymore.
“You see,” Ray continues, “This was always something they were going to do together… but, well, it was always one more match, one more sponsorship opportunity. The crowds loved him. They were invested in his gimmick. So he kept delaying and delaying and… then it was too late.”
“And he blames himself?”
“He does. But I don’t think what happened was his fault.”
“What did happen? If… if you don’t mind me asking.”
Ray seems to sink in on themself and frowns deeply. “To Lloyd? No one’s really sure. One day he filled his pockets with big, heavy stones and walked himself into the lake.”
The lake. The lake I was just admiring. A chill races through me that has nothing to do with the weather.
“There were theories at the time that The Beast drove him to it. They were always… passionate, and never cared who overheard. But I know Beast and he was never like that, believe me. Whatever Lloyd’s reasons were, it wasn’t his husband.”