by Zoe Lea
‘You told him it was a stomach bug?’ I asked. ‘Please tell me you told him that?’
‘What do you take me for?’ She shook her head. ‘Of course I told him that.’ She took another careful sip of her tea.
‘Mother?’
‘I may have mentioned your car, the tyres. How that woman who is his solicitor has another agenda.’
I put my head in my hands.
‘He asked why I went to your house, why Sammy didn’t come here. I told him about the well and he said I was so nice to go traipsing across the city to my grandson. He said that you were taking advantage of me and so I told him that you weren’t. That of course I’d go anywhere you asked, and that Sammy didn’t like the bus and it was no trouble for me … ’
I was shaking my head. ‘So, basically, you told him that someone had vandalised my car and Sam couldn’t come to you because there’s a death trap of a well here? He played you.’ I ran my hands through my hair. ‘He was here checking up on the reason Sam wasn’t in school and now he’ll know that it was because of my car.’
‘I told him what you told the school, that Sam had a tummy bug.’
I shrugged. I didn’t even know if that would matter, if Will finding out the real reason for Sam’s absence from school would help build his case. If Ashley was still helping him or dealing with the animal rights group that I’d set against her.
‘Will won’t do anything about that anyway,’ my mother went on. ‘He was quite shocked to find out that someone had done that to your car, he had no idea. Quite concerned, and he seemed quite reasonable. He explained that he just wants the best for Sam and I think that if you talked to him, properly, somewhere neutral. Jean and I could be there, act as facilitators, make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. Jean’s already offered … ’
I started to gather my things.
‘Ruth.’ She put her hand out to stop me. ‘Ruth, really, this might be the answer. If you talk to Will, with me and Jean, work out a proper schedule that we all stick to, he’ll drop all this going to court nonsense. I’m sure of it.’
‘C’mon, Sammy,’ I shouted, and went towards the door. I couldn’t listen to any more of it.
‘Ruth, please don’t be like this,’ my mother was pleading. ‘I just want to do what’s right, can’t you see? This might work? Ruth … ’
‘Will knows exactly what’s going on,’ I told her. ‘He knows them all. The more I think about it, the more it seems like he’s working with them on some level.’ I handed her my phone. ‘See that? We’ll leave you alone. It’s more than one of them. I thought it was just a few women from school, but now I think there’s more. There has to be.’
She looked up at me. ‘You’re getting texts now? Threats? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It’s got to be Will,’ I told her. ‘He might not have sent this, but he’ll know who did.’
‘I don’t understand. Ruth, this text is worrying, someone saying they’ll leave you alone if you go? What happens if you stay? Why would Will—’
‘To get Sam! To prove that it’s better if Sam lives with him rather than me!’ I snatched the phone back from her, deleted the text.
‘Ruth, I don’t think Will would—’
‘Of course he would.’
‘But he wouldn’t want to scare Sam. Sam’s his son, he wouldn’t let people write that on your car, send you nasty text messages … ’
‘It’s his son that he forced to go on a rugby pitch, his son that he made have a massive panic attack. He doesn’t care about Sam!’
‘Mummy?’
I hadn’t realised we’d been shouting.
‘Who’s sending nasty texts to you?’
He was at the door, looking at both of us. I wiped a hand over my face. Took a deep breath.
‘No one, sweetie,’ I told him as calmly as I could. ‘It’s just part of that silly joke I told you about.’
‘The person who wrote on your car?’
I nodded. ‘But I’m sorting it.’ I smiled. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. They think they’re being funny, but they’re not. Go get your coat on, time for us to go.’
I turned back to my mother. ‘Don’t try to be friends with Will, not after this. Not after what he’s threatened, not when he’s a part of all this. He comes here and says a few nice words and suddenly you’re forgiving him?’
‘I’m just thinking of Sam, I just want him to be—’
But I was gone. Out the door. I left Sam saying goodbye.
‘Ruth!’ she shouted after us as we got in the car. ‘I’m only thinking of Sam!’
TWENTY-EIGHT
The next evening, I was in the Swan and Duck, glass of red wine in hand, unsure of myself. There was a buzz to my emotions. I felt both reckless and empowered, guilty and remorseful. I wasn’t sure what was going on with me, this feeling was new to me and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I was checking my phone constantly for any messages from Becca, who was at my house watching Sam, but also to check Facebook. To see if there was any progress on Janine, Ashley or Will. Not being friends with any of them, I was only privy to the stuff they shared publicly, but it was enough.
Photographs they were tagged in, places they’d checked in to. For instance, I knew, as I sat there sipping my drink, that Janine was feeling ‘anxious’ and had attached a GIF of a monkey sat hammering a keyboard. I imagined her trying desperately to fabricate invoices and ringing parents for receipts. The copied newspaper article was in my handbag, nestled in between the pages of my diary, and the thought of it gave me a strange sense of pleasure. I still had that. Hadn’t decided how to use it yet.
A quick check on Ashley and there was nothing new. She’d more or less come off Facebook altogether in the past few days. Her last post was still up, a rant about how the human race was a despicable thing. I didn’t know what she was referring to, but the comments gave me a clearer idea. It seemed someone had posted something pretty vicious through her letterbox, some kind of organic matter, and it made me smile. It felt like good karma after opening my cupcakes that had been filled with excrement.
And then there was Will. His posts were more or less useless, all to do with sport in some capacity or other. Comments about rugby scores, football players, boring, useless updates, but he was still worth keeping an eye on.
‘Everything OK?’
I switched my phone off quickly and took the menu Glen was offering me.
He’d dressed up. On our last date he’d been wearing a checked shirt, open at the collar, and jeans. He was still wearing the jeans but this time he had on a crisp white shirt and a tweed waistcoat. It made me want to use the word ‘dapper’, and that in itself made me want to giggle.
‘What?’ He looked down at his waistcoat, checked it for marks. ‘I put this on for you.’
I smiled warmly. ‘I know.’
‘Since you’ve been dressing up all … ’ He waved in my general direction. I looked down at the gold jumper dress I was wearing. It was new, bought a few hours earlier from the cash I’d got from one of my baking jobs. It had been money that was meant to go towards the repairs on my car; that invoice was still waiting to be paid, but I hadn’t done that.
Once I’d collected Sam from the after-school club, I’d visited two shops. A dress for me and a new game for Sam. In half an hour I’d spent £150. Money we didn’t have, but it felt so good. I’d felt the need to celebrate, to do something because it was all working. Sam was having uneventful days at school. Janine and Ashley were suffering. I knew I should be saving the money – paying off something or putting it towards taking Sam away at half term – but I was fed up with that attitude.
I’d past the retail park and, before I knew it, I was driving us in. Something I’ve never done, something I’ve gone out of my way to avoid, but the money was in my pocket, begging to be spent. It was quiet, five o’clock, the time when people are just leaving work and the shops are getting ready to close.
‘Mum?’ Sam had asked, confused. ‘What
are we doing here?’
I’d grinned. ‘I think we both deserve a bit of a treat, don’t you?’
Sam had looked at the shops in front of us.
‘There’s hardly anyone here,’ I’d told him. ‘If we’re quick, we can get you that game you’re after and me a new dress and be back in the car before you know it.’
‘That new game?’ he’d asked in a small voice. ‘The game where you get to choose your own parachute and you said it was too expensive?’
I’d nodded, and the look on his face was priceless. A new game. Brand new. Sam never got new games.
‘C’mon,’ I’d told him excitedly, and within minutes the game was in his small hands. Gripped tight while we’d gone to the shop next door and straight to the party dresses. They were fresh in, and I’d picked out a gold coloured one. I’d almost laughed out loud with the foolishness of it as I paid. It had made me light-headed and woozy, a giddy sensation filling my chest, Sam’s shocked and delighted face at the side of me.
I’d started to laugh and Sam had joined in. It was silly, I felt like we’d just robbed a bank, the adrenalin rush was intense, but it felt good. Sam hadn’t had anything that wasn’t from a second-hand website in years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d physically taken him into a shop and let him choose what he wanted. It had been exhilarating.
I smoothed down the metallic threads of my dress. It was outrageously flashy for me, not my usual style, probably meant for someone much younger than I was, but I loved it.
‘Do you like it?’
‘You look sensational,’ Glen said, and took a sip of his pint. ‘I’ve noticed you’ve been looking very sensational all the time lately, anyone would think you had a new man in your life.’
He smiled and I felt myself flush slightly. He was right, I had been dressing differently, wearing items that I usually put aside for ‘going out’ or ‘best’. But I realised the other day that there was no reason why I shouldn’t be wearing the nicer blouses or the shorter skirts instead of the supermarket clothes that were my normal working attire. It felt nice to be a bit more dressed up, and if it was for Glen, or because of how I was acting, I had no idea. I only knew that it felt better.
‘So,’ he took another sip of his pint, ‘how is everything in the world of Ruth?’
I raised my eyebrows, pretended I didn’t know what he was referring to.
‘OK.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘I went on Facebook the other day, onto the Top Marks page and –’ he paused, looked at me ‘– sorry, I know you’re not interested in this. What shall we talk about instead? The weather?’
I gave him a small kick under the table and he winced dramatically.
‘She’s having a hard time of it, Janine Walker.’ He took another drink. ‘Feel quite sorry for her actually. She’s under investigation by HMRC and, apparently, she’s lost all of her invoices and receipts and is trying to get information out of all the parents so she can replicate them, which is a bit … ’ He let his words trail off, took another drink. ‘So, understandably a few of the parents are complaining and not playing nice, because they paid in cash and are adamant they were never given a receipt or invoice, so it looks like –’ he made a slashing motion across his neck ‘– for Top Marks.’
I bit my lip.
‘And I see that Sam is doing well? Lisa was practically gushing over him at the last staff meeting, which is a real turnaround.’
‘Was she?’ I felt a rush of pleasure and smiled. ‘That’s brilliant news, I’ll have to thank her tomorrow. Let Sam know.’
‘Karma,’ he said. ‘Sorts everything out in the end, doesn’t it, Ruth?’
I looked up, and he was staring at me. I smiled but he didn’t return it.
‘What?’ I asked after a moment, and then let out a laugh when he didn’t answer. ‘Glen, stop looking at me like that, you’re scaring me.’
He held the stare and then, when I was just about to ask him to stop again, let out a loud laugh. He took another sip of his drink and sat back. ‘All I’m saying is, what we did in the staffroom a couple of weeks ago? Messing around with the timetable? I think that was the catalyst for all of this, the thing that put it all into action.’ He held up his hand. ‘You can thank me later.’
‘Well—’ I began, then stopped myself.
For a moment I’d wanted to tell him, confess it all. See his face when I told him that I was responsible, that I’d phoned HMRC, that I threatened Lisa. Tell him what I’d done to Ashley and the animal rights group, but I didn’t. Instead we ordered, got more drinks, and the conversation turned to teaching and, more importantly, why he wasn’t doing it full time.
‘But you’re a good teacher,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard it from Becca and I saw you the other day. Peeked in your classroom as I was passing.’
‘You’ve been spying on me?’
‘I know you’re good,’ I told him, ‘and you love it and the kids love you, so why all the “teaching’s not for me” stuff? Your contract’s up at half term and I notice you’ve not signed a new one. John would give you a full-time post eventually, you know he would, and I’m sure you could get any permanent job you applied for.’
‘I love it because I’m not a teacher.’ He took another drink. ‘I used to be full time, I did it for three years before I heard myself in the staffroom talking about a nine-year-old as if he were an old man. Calling this poor lad who wasn’t even ten a misery, complaining about his lack of enthusiasm, as if his personality was set.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I know some of them are little sods, but at the end of the day, they’re still just kids.’
I took a moment.
‘You don’t agree?’
‘I think,’ I said, thinking of Toby, ‘that a lot of children get away with too much now. I think we’d all benefit if stricter rules were in place.’
He coughed on his drink. ‘Bloody hell, Ruth, I didn’t expect that from you. I thought you were all liberal and equal rights.’
‘I am, but lately I think too much of that attitude can be destructive. It doesn’t hurt to be stern once in a while. Y’know, like this thing with my ex-husband. The custody battle he’s insistent on. My mother thinks it would be best to meet up with him, talk it out, but I’ve been there, done that, and if it didn’t work then, then it’s not going to work now. I’m going to fight him. All the way.’ I took a sip of my wine. ‘And I’m going to win.’
His face broke out into a broad grin. ‘Very assertive,’ he said, ‘if you’re sure that Sam will be better off without—’
‘The last time my ex-husband had Sam, he ended up in A & E.’
Glen’s eyes went wide and I waved my hand. ‘Sam’s fine,’ I told him. ‘He had a panic attack and Will didn’t know how to deal with it, but it was enough to show me. Show me that Will’s not fit to have him, even for the weekend. I’m going to take Sam away in half term, prove to social services that I’m not denying my son anything. That Sam’s capable of travelling, that I am, that we’re having a nice time thank you very much, and all of Will’s allegations are fabrications. I just need to find somewhere that’s free.’
I smiled broadly and took a gulp of the wine that I could already feel was going to my head, and Glen looked at me a moment, a smile playing on his lips.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Glen said, ‘the half term thing. I’ve delayed going on my next cruise, and my parents live in Anglesey, but they’re going away that week. Their house is near the beach – nothing fancy, but it’s by the coast. Sam could do some fishing. It’s a bit soon, and you can say no. I mean, this is only our second date, but we could go there if you fancy? As soon as I’m back from the residential, travel down mid-week?’
I put down my glass and stared at him. ‘Are you offering to take us on holiday?’
He let out a laugh. ‘I suppose I am.’
I was stunned.
He held up his hands. ‘Too much, too soon,’ he said. ‘Forget I ever mentioned it, I’m way ahead o
f myself—’
‘No, no,’ I stopped him from talking, and put my hand out. Tears had come to my eyes. ‘It’s perfect. You’re perfect. We’d love to. Thank you.’
The whole evening was relaxed and soft. I had another glass of wine along with braised duck, and we shared a dessert of sorbet and berries, Glen eating the berries whilst I ate the sorbet, the plate between us, using a small fork that we shared. By the time I was sitting in Glen’s van, being driven home, I was happily merry. Everything was coming together, it was all working out. As I listened to Glen relay stories of his time working on the cruise ships, I’d go so far as to say that, for a brief time, I was immensely happy. I couldn’t wait to tell Becca, to tell my mother. I couldn’t wait to tell Will.
‘I’m going to have to pull over,’ Glen said.
We’d been in his van about ten minutes. Glen had driven us to a quiet pub just on the outskirts of the city and the journey, although through a myriad of country lanes, was lovely. It was a dark night and I was enjoying the solitude it gave us. I was enjoying being so close to him. So alone with just the beam of the headlights marking our way home.
‘Why?’
‘Some idiot behind me.’ His eyes glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘They’ve been on my tail since we left the pub. Right up my arse. Thought they’d turn off, towards the motorway, but they’ve followed me all the way through to this back road. Probably lost tourists, but they’ve got their full beams in my eyes.’
I swivelled around in my seat, then shielded my eyes from the glare. ‘They’ve forgotten they’ve still got them on. Pull over. Let them pass.’
‘First chance I get.’
We drove for a while, waiting for a place where we could pull over and, eventually, we saw an opening. Glen flicked on his indicator and pulled aside. We waited, expecting the car to pass, but it also stopped. We were in a county lane, miles from anywhere in total darkness.
‘What the … ?’ Glen undid his seatbelt.
‘Don’t!’ It was too late, Glen had the door open.
I’d started to shake slightly; all my mellow mood had evaporated and the fuzziness from the wine was gone. I was suddenly razor sharp. There was a chill breeze from Glen’s open door. I undid my seatbelt and swivelled around in my seat to watch. Glen raised his arms to the stationary driver of the other vehicle, as if in a question.