The Secretary

by Zoe Lea

  In a fit of rage and humiliation, I went to her house to confront her. And when she wouldn’t open the door to me, I grabbed a loose brick from her front wall and threw it at her window. I can still remember the dramatic smash, the satisfaction as her window shattered.

  What I didn’t expect was for her to call the police. To have me charged with criminal damage and for people still to be talking about it years after the event.

  Will was absent from our lives for a whole year. She came from money; her parents had several holiday lets and they bailed out Will by starting up a new business managing holiday homes. He happily ran to her and left us to drown in the debt he’d left behind. It was a clear case of picking sides, but he not only left me, he left Sam, his son. Without a second thought.

  After she pressed charges I lost my job, and we soon lost the house too. Then followed what my mother likes to call ‘the wilderness years’. Three years of sporadic work, hiding from my old colleagues, renting properties as far away from Will as I could, all while fighting anxiety and depression. And all while Will began to thrive. With the help of his new wealthy investors, his business took off and he expanded into letting commercial property. He lived in one of the bigger houses over in Stanwix with his new family, and when he finally offered to give us some money, I found I couldn’t take it.

  By then I wanted nothing from him, nothing at all. It was stupid, but I felt that by accepting money from him, I was giving him some control, and I couldn’t do that. So I took nothing, I wanted nothing from him. And now, the anger I felt towards him was still as strong as when he first left, so strong I thought it might rip me open.

  The next morning I felt slightly more optimistic. Sam had slept well, no night terrors, and no tantrums at having to get ready for school, and I felt better as a result of undisturbed sleep. I’d thought about what Becca had said of Will’s motivation in all of this. He didn’t want his son back, he wanted to impress Rob and Janine, and she was right, that would all stop soon. His battle to have Sam would disappear as soon as Rob and Janine learned what an idiot he was, and that wouldn’t take long.

  And what else did he have anyway? He hadn’t contributed financially since he left. Surely any sensible social worker would look at that and know that Will’s case was ridiculous. What else? My bouts of depression were under control, and you couldn’t take a child away from a parent for that, or for anxiety, or for being a homebody. It was a stupid suggestion. And surely it was better that a parent preferred to stay home instead of being out all the time? That only left the promised holiday that I couldn’t yet deliver on, and we could come up with something between us, I was sure.

  I couldn’t take Sam to Disney, but I could take him away. Somewhere in the UK, quiet with a beach. It would counter Will’s argument of me being an agoraphobic who refused to let her son get outside. And once I put my case forward about what Will was like when he left us, I was sure social services would be on my side. I planned to get online in the morning break and see what credit cards I could get. See if there were any more loans available I hadn’t tried.

  My mind was full of online banks and inflated APRs when I saw the envelope. Hand delivered. No address on the front, just my name in small black type. It was crumpled from where someone had shoved it through the letterbox, and there was a rip in the corner. Something bulky was inside. Checking Sam was still eating his breakfast in the other room, I opened it up carefully, and the smell made me recoil.

  There was only one thing inside. It was a cupcake. Battered and squashed, old and dried out, but it was one of mine. I recognised the case – I sourced them online, they were bright colours, neon, my trade mark. I pulled the cake out and dropped it on the floor as I did.

  It was my cake, but someone had replaced the filling. The sugar topping was still on, but instead of the buttercream centre, someone had replaced it with excrement.

  TWELVE

  Back to school is a shopping season. I had no idea of this, I thought retailers were just being really helpful by putting all the school stuff at the front of the store, but it’s an actual shopping season, like Christmas and Easter. And those promotions, adverts and online campaigns begin well before the school year, all persuading parents what their children need to ‘get a good start’. It affects around eight million households and something like £1.4 billion is spent in the UK getting our children ready for the start of term.

  I read one article that estimated, on average, it costs £200 to get everything needed for one child. Two hundred pounds. Seems a lot, doesn’t it? An exaggerated amount, but when you break it down to everything you really need to start a school year, such as the uniform, shoes, book bag, PE kit (including indoor and outdoor sports), lunch box, water bottle, stationery … the list goes on and, suddenly, getting it all for £200 seems realistic if not a little hopeful. Because nothing lasts. In our house, we seem to have nothing that can be reused from the previous year.

  Sam needs new things constantly, he’s always losing his PE kit or school jumper, always growing out of his trousers and shoes, always leaving his water bottle somewhere. It’s relentless, and that morning, as I searched online for credit card companies that I’d not yet applied to, I was more than feeling the pinch.

  I had two large boxes of Tupperware filled with cakes to drop off. I was pretty sure that Sue would pay cash. I had planned to put that money towards the electric bill but now it would have to wait. I wanted that money for a deposit; I was going to book a holiday. Use the money to secure something and try and get a loan for the rest.

  It was mid-morning and I was jumpy and fidgety. Since opening the parcel with the foul cupcake inside, I’d been constantly on edge. I could forgive Janine and Rob a one-word text, but actually taking one of my cakes, filling it with excrement and then posting it through my door? That was a bit much.

  I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. I thought about going to the police, but that wasn’t ideal with my history and the fact that Will was now threatening to go to social services. And then I thought about telling John, but I didn’t want to cause any more disruption where my job was concerned, so I did nothing. It was a cupcake, I told myself as I went about my tasks, not a bomb, not a horse’s head, but a cupcake.

  When I found out about Will sleeping with another woman I’d thrown a brick through her window. A cupcake was not a brick. It was weird and creepy, but it wasn’t a brick and that’s what made me keep a sense of reasoning about it.

  It was odd, sitting on this side of the fence. Being the ‘other woman’, as Janine thought of me, even though I wasn’t. But at least when I did throw that brick I was certain of my facts. I knew without doubt that Will was having an affair with her and how long it had been going on. I did research. I did not jump to conclusions as Janine had. By the time I was picking up the brick from her front wall and aiming it at her window, I knew exactly when the affair had started, what her part in it was and how much of a fool I’d been made of. I knew it wasn’t a one-night stand, and I knew she was well aware Will was married and had a small child.

  Janine didn’t know the truth, but I’d been in her shoes, I knew what it was to find out you’re being lied to. I’d been where she was, felt how she was feeling. I had compassion, and her anger was only to be expected. I just had to wait for it to exhaust itself, which it would. I figured, on balance, a text and a cupcake could be ignored.

  ‘Sue.’ I found her at the back of the kitchen. Most of the children had eaten and were now in the playground, leaving the dinner staff to clean up. I placed the two Tupperware boxes on the counter. ‘Rainbow frosting, neon cases and a fiftieth decoration on each one!’

  I looked up, expecting a surprised smile on her face. I was a day earlier than I’d said. I was already pulling off one of the lids, ready to show her the cakes, the way I’d painstakingly written ‘Happy 50th!’ in pink icing. Instead, she carried on wiping down the sink, busying herself with putting utensils away.

  ‘Sue?’

 
I saw her shoulders drop.

  ‘You’re early with those.’ She threw the cloth in the sink. ‘I was going to come and see you. After clearing up here.’ She looked at the Tupperware boxes. ‘About them. They’re only due tomorrow.’

  I nodded. ‘Just a day early, they’ll still be fresh for Friday night. Just be sure you keep them in these boxes and you might want to refrigerate—’

  ‘I don’t need them any more,’ she said, and looked at the floor. ‘I was going to tell you. I’m cancelling the order.’

  I felt my mouth drop open.

  ‘Truth of it is,’ she said, ‘I had a call last night, about you being inspected by the health and safety.’

  ‘What?’ I shook my head. ‘But I’ve already passed, my kitchen is—’

  ‘And then there’s the rugby club.’

  ‘The rugby club?’ I asked slowly. ‘What’s the rugby club got to do with it?’

  ‘That’s where I’m having the party,’ she said, ‘and they rang me last night. Sorry, Ruth, really I am, but we need that venue. It’s the only one that’s available and I’ve paid the deposit. I can’t lose that just because of your cakes.’

  ‘Sue –’ I shook my head ‘– I’m not following, what’s the rugby club got to do with my cakes?’

  ‘It was them who called,’ she sighed. ‘Said that due to you being inspected, and changes in their policy, people aren’t allowed to bring food onto the premises any more.’

  ‘But do the rugby club do catering? I thought you needed cake? You said—’

  ‘Changed now, apparently. Immediate effect. You’re only allowed to bring in food from agreed suppliers.’

  ‘And let me guess,’ I said, ‘I’m not an agreed supplier.’

  She shook her head. ‘As it’s such short notice, they’re giving me a cake. One from Simply Delicious. Do you know it, it’s the big one on the corner? They’re doing me a two tier one, pink icing.’

  I was stunned into silence for a moment.

  ‘I didn’t make the rules,’ she said, ‘and I’m really sorry, but it’s too late to change now. All the invites have gone out, I’ll not get anywhere else and so –’ she shrugged ‘– I don’t need any of your cakes. Sorry, Ruth, I really wanted to help with your business, but you can see I don’t have any choice. Here –’ she delved into her pocket and pulled out a £20 note ‘– I expect that should cover the cost of the baking materials. I’m really sorry.’

  I looked at the note in my hands. That wouldn’t do as a deposit on any holiday. That would barely cover the cost of ingredients.

  ‘Who called you?’ I asked. ‘You said it was someone from the rugby club. Is it the one down in Stanwix? That small one by the River Eden? Is it the one where … ’

  ‘It was him that phoned me,’ she said, and her cheeks went red. ‘The one you’ve been having that affair with.’

  I breathed in sharply. ‘I haven’t been having an affair—’

  ‘I don’t want to know,’ she held up her hand, stopping me from going on. ‘I don’t go in for gossip like the rest of them, but he’s the chairman of the place, Ruth –’ she shrugged ‘– and his wife, that Janine, she was the one on the PTA that made all that fuss last year about the school dinners. I can’t deal with her again, it was a nightmare. She’s not someone you want to get on the wrong side of.’

  I took the Tupperware boxes, trembling. It was a personal attack, of that much I was sure. How they knew that I was providing the cakes for that party I had no idea, but they had, and they’d just cost me over £150. I had one hundred cupcakes, all personalised with a fiftieth birthday message, that needed eating within two days. I could freeze them, but they were no good unless I redid all the decorating. Took off all the personalised pink icing that had taken an age and replaced it with something else.

  Once inside my office, I looked at the boxes.

  I picked up my phone, then put it back down. What was I going to do, call her? Call Rob and ask them to stop? Ask them if they changed the food policy at the rugby club so I’d lose this order? Ask if they’d posted things through my letterbox? Sent texts? They’d deny it – I had no proof it was them – and then what?

  I heard Becca’s voice in my head, warning me that it could all go very wrong if I contacted them again. They could accuse me of harassment, and there might be another letter from Ashley about my professional behaviour. If they went to the police, my criminal record would be brought up. And what would social services make of it all if they got involved?

  I went to the filing cabinet and got out the Walkers’ file. There it was, Janine Walker’s emergency contact number. I stared at it for a moment, ran my thumb over her writing. And then, despite the voices in my head telling me not to, I picked up my phone. I needed to let her know that I was on her side, that I wasn’t the villain in all this.

  I hesitated, my fingers hovering over my keypad, unsure what to send. How to explain it all, how to let her know my side of the story? If she understood that then all this would stop. Becca had said she was nice; she’d said she was a nice woman. John had said she made donations to the school, she was that type of person, caring and thoughtful. She was head of the PTA, bringing in gifts for the teachers. Surely she’d relent if I got in touch and told her the truth? Offered her an explanation?

  I decided on a simple text. Something I would’ve liked to have got when I found out about Will.

  Janine, I’ve already said how sorry I am. But I feel it’s all got a little out of control with you throwing your phone at me and my threat to go to the police, and now other things that are happening, so I thought I’d reach out to see if we can meet? Please believe me when I say that I did not know Rob was your husband when I met him. I did not know he was married. He told me he was single. He told me he’d recently broken up with his girlfriend. He lied to me. He lied to you. He’s still lying to you now. I’m so sorry, Janine. Can we meet up so I can explain everything to you? Ruth x

  I debated a long time over that kiss at the end. Over the words I’d used. I read over the message and argued through the consequences in my head for an age, but this wasn’t a cupcake through my letterbox or a nasty message. This was them taking away my business. Taking money from me that was meant to pay for a holiday for Sam. This was something I had to stop. I hit send and then put my phone away, the cakes still on my desk.

  Now useless. I could give them to Gary, make a huge donation to the charity event, but would he want them as they were clearly for a fiftieth celebration? Probably not, and then, as I sat there trying to calm down after the text I’d just sent, I had a better idea.

  I picked up the Tupperware boxes and went into the staffroom. The lunch hour was almost over, but not quite yet. The room was filled with smells of coffee and food and there was a slight hush as I walked in. I couldn’t see exactly who was staring at me as the boxes obscured my view. I went straight over to the coffee table in the centre.

  The staffroom was silent, everyone watching me negotiate two large Tupperware boxes onto the table.

  ‘Well!’ I said brightly to them all, as I put the boxes down. ‘It seems I made a few too many cakes for Sue’s party. Sue from the dinner staff? I don’t know if anyone’s going to her party? It’s tomorrow night, at the rugby club, and I know we’ve already done the collection and card, but I thought it would be nice if we celebrated in here as well.’

  I peeled off the lids to the boxes. My cakes were in rows, lined up, bright pink, neon cases. They looked amazing. I took one out, held it up to the room.

  ‘So, please, everyone, help yourself! These cakes are on me! Take home as many as you like.’

  I didn’t wait to see the reaction – I left as my legs were shaking. I went back to my office, collapsed in the chair and put the cupcake on my desk in front of me. Food always went down well in the staffroom, and hadn’t Becca said that Janine was always sending treats in? So my cupcakes should go down a storm. It was a peace offering. I’d explain it all to Janine, treat the st
aff to free cakes and everything could go back to normal.

  I figured that by the end of the day, the atmosphere would be over. Whatever was being said on Facebook wouldn’t have such an impact and I would have an even footing. Perhaps even Lisa, Sam’s teacher, once she’d had a few of my cakes, might be easier to deal with. I reasoned that by leaving those cakes in the staffroom I was reminding everyone how nice I was.

  At the end of the school day, I went to collect my boxes. I purposely went just after the final ring of the bell, the time when all staff were busy sending the children home.

  I faltered when I walked in. I’d expected a few cakes to be left, there were a hundred after all, but not one had been taken. My boxes were exactly as I had left them. Full. My cakes, all in rows, and not one had been removed.

  THIRTEEN

  ‘Got into any more trouble lately?’

  I jumped.

  ‘Relax!’ he laughed. ‘I’m just getting a coffee.’

  ‘But … ?’

  ‘Oh the TAs can deal with letting the kids out of school. It’s year five, they’re not toddlers, they don’t need me there to wave them off.’

  He came over and stood next to me, my cakes on the coffee table in front of us.

  ‘They look amazing,’ he said.

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  ‘If I wasn’t diabetic, I’d have wolfed the lot down.’

  ‘You’re diabetic?’

  He nodded. ‘But I don’t think the rest of them are, so why’s no one eating your cakes?’

  I shook my head. Didn’t answer.

  ‘Teachers refusing free cake?’ he said after a moment. ‘This isn’t like any other school I’ve worked at before. Hang on –’ he went forward and looked at the other side of the Tupperware box, then back at me ‘– I think this might be the reason.’