Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
Camilla
‘Get out,’ he says. Not, ‘Hello,’ or ‘We’re back early,’ or anything like that. He is alone, without a suitcase. For a moment I think I’m actually seeing things.
‘Get out,’ he roars and I realise that this is indeed him. And he wants me out of the house. ‘And give me your key!’
‘I have… nowhere to go,’ I protest. My heart is in my throat, and I’m sweating all over.
‘You have half an hour and then I’m calling the police and charging you with breaking and entering,’ he says as he steps forward into the house and up to me so that I step back.
‘My mother wouldn’t like—’ I begin to say.
‘Your mother sent me,’ he yells. ‘And I’ve left her in Italy to come back and deal with you. Now get out.’
I am so shocked by what he’s done, by how extreme it is to fly all the way back from Italy to do this, that I don’t argue. I grab as much of my stuff as I can carry, shoving the rest under Sophie’s bed, and leave, but not before he takes my key.
I call a cab from outside the house while he watches me. The hate he feels for me radiates through the window, burning me like the summer sun never could. I am small again, young and powerless, and this man is here to ruin my life. Again.
Only when I am in the cab do I realise how hard my heart is beating. I thought he was going to hurt me. Was he?
‘Fly Quick Motel,’ I tell the cab driver because I know that at least the nightly rate will be cheap but I can’t believe I’m back here again. The woman at the front counter raises her eyebrows at me like she recognises me.
In my room where nothing has changed and the carpet is still brown, the bedspread still a weird orange and the small sachets of sugar are hard, I message Lawrence again.
Hey, I would really like to talk. I’m at the Fly Quick Motel by the airport.
He doesn’t reply. But I have hope that I’ll wear him down.
I get paid from both my jobs on Wednesday so I just need to get through the next few days and then I will have enough money for a room deposit in yet another share house.
I still need money to help Sophie get out of her current situation but I’ll have to take things one step at a time.
I pass the time scrolling through adverts for room-mates, trying to figure out which ones would be the least awful.
On Tuesday morning, Tina pulls me into her office for a ‘chat’ before I’ve even clocked in. I knew that old man from yesterday was going to report me. But I’ve had a terrible night and I’m in no mood for one of her gentle reprimands.
‘Look, Tina,’ I say as I sit down across from her at her messy desk piled high with paperwork. ‘I know I was rude to that old man and I’m sorry. I had a really bad weekend and I apologise for taking it out on him.’
‘Oh,’ says Tina and she purses her pink painted lips at me. ‘I didn’t know about that.’ She sits back in her chair as I think about the blouse she is wearing which is cream coloured with a giant fabric bow. I have no idea where she gets her clothes.
‘Obviously guiding requires patience and politeness, especially with our elderly clientele. But what I want to ask you about is a complaint I’ve had from a young mother about how you treated her son.
She said that you threatened to, and I quote, “Slap him if he didn’t shut up.
” Apparently, he was in your playtime group a couple of weeks ago. ’
‘What? I never…’ I stop speaking, wondering if I did say that to a kid. I really hate taking the museum playtime group.
Two weeks ago, I was given the lovely task of chaperoning ten kids of different ages through our small Egyptian exhibit.
They were raucous and paid little attention to what I was saying, only interested in playing in the sandpits at the end.
I remember complaining about it to Reese and Victoria in a text conversation.
‘I never said that. The woman is lying,’ I reply, knowing that offence is the best form of defence. I can’t remember but I’m sure I wouldn’t have said anything like that.
‘Yes, well,’ says Tina, shuffling some paperwork on her desk, ‘it’s not the first complaint we’ve had about you, Camilla.
And guiding is a profession that requires a delicate touch.
I realise that you have a degree, but then we all have degrees in history here at the museum.
Most of the guides have their master’s degrees.
It’s important that when dealing with the public you practise patience at all times, regardless of how qualified you feel you are.
’ She raises her eyebrows in a manner that lets me know what she thinks of my qualifications.
I know I should nod, and meekly apologise, but her mention of the fact that most of the other guides have master’s degrees makes me furious. ‘I’m one of the best guides you have,’ I snap.
‘Actually, Camilla, you’re not but I’m willing to overlook—’
‘Well, I’m not. You’ve taken the word of some idiot woman over mine. I quit.’
I stand up and storm out of her office, slamming the door closed behind me. I don’t need her and her stupid job. I still have my tutoring students and we’re getting to exam period. I can make hundreds by taking on more kids now that I don’t work at the museum.
Once I’m out of the museum, I cross the street and go into the park, where I find a bench and sit down.
Taking my phone out I message Brad, who is the head of my tutoring agency.
Hey Brad, just letting you know that I have a lot of free time over the next few weeks so I can tutor as many kids as you want, sign me up for everything.
I finish with two smiling emojis.
Five minutes later Brad messages me back.
Yeah, thanks for that. But actually, we’re moving some things around and we won’t really need you anymore. Thanks for all your work.
What??? You can’t just let me go!!
I know I’m casual but he can’t just tell me to stop coming to teach these kids. They rely on me.
Okay, really don’t want to get into it but we’ve had three anonymous complaints from parents on our website over the weekend that you’re actively rude to kids and that they don’t want to come anymore. Sorry but we have to put the kids’ needs first. Good luck with everything.
What is happening? What the hell is happening?