by K T Bowes
Chapter 10
The school was a hub of activity, right from the start of the recreation ground to the playground itself. The school building dated back to the late 1800s, a Victorian structure with huge sash windows and an imposing presence on the landscape. The play areas were enclosed behind a six foot brick wall which ran around the perimeter. The park spread beyond it, attractive green trees and wide open spaces. Nicky walked down the long concrete pavement underneath laden conker trees, clutching Emma’s hand and sticking close to her body. Other children bobbed around them, rucksacks bumping on their backs and lunch boxes swinging from their hands. Mothers pushed buggies with other pre-schoolers wrapped up warm against the biting breeze which whipped eagerly at coats and scarves.
“It’s a pretty park, isn’t it?” Emma smiled and wiggled her son’s hand. The confidence left his gait with each passing moment and his blue eyes projected fear as he nodded.
“When you get to Year 3, you get to play soccer in those tennis courts,” Rohan said, pointing at the wire fence adjacent to the school. He strutted along next to them, his black coat collar turned up against the cold. Emma’s thin fleece flapped around her body and she smiled at him with gratitude.
“I’m Year 2,” Nicky said. “Next year’s a long way away. Lots can happen in a year.” He took a sharp inward breath filled with biting cold. “I looked forward to going to my school in Aber for ages and then my gran died, we lost our house and had to move to Lincoln.” He turned wide blue eyes on Rohan in accusation. “That’s why you can’t make promises like that. I might not ever get in there.” He jabbed a small finger at the tennis courts. Rohan looked at Emma for help, his face grieved and his eyes showing confusion.
“Nick, we can’t live like that. We have to enjoy today and look forward to tomorrow,” she said.
Nicky nodded and Emma looked relieved. They came to a large step up to a tall gate and Emma pushed her son up first. A bottle neck formed behind Rohan as Nicky stood in the gateway, eyeing his new life with disdain. He turned to Emma, her face level with his as she pivoted with one foot on the high threshold between park and school. She looked up at him with her trusting brown eyes showing sudden realisation. Her hand wasn’t quick enough to cover his pouting mouth as pure Big Jason came volleying out from between the rosebud lips. “Love today because today is it; don’t think about tomorrow ‘cause it’s probably shit.”
Emma closed her eyes and felt the hush behind her in the growing knot of people. Then she heard Rohan snort and pushed her backside into him in reprimand. He gave a little, “Oof,” in response and by the time Emma collected herself enough to turn around, she caught him wiping the smile off his handsome face.
“Not helpful!” she mouthed to him.
Large wooden planters decorated one corner of the playground and Emma took Nicky behind them to give him the no swearing rule again. “I mean it,” she said forcefully. “It’s not that kind of place and you’ll end up with no friends if you swear. Nobody will want to know us and it will become impossible to stay here.”
Nicky came out from behind the planters looking sorry and Emma gripped his hand as Rohan led them through a main door into the building. Everyone else watched them go in with open curiosity as the children lined up in designated groups outside. The ceilings were high, reaching up in the corridor to touch an apex above their heads. Enormous doors opened on the right hand side, showing classrooms with orderly desks and chairs. Artwork lined the walls of the corridor and created a cheery atmosphere against the gloom showing through the windows. Hands in pockets, Rohan led them to the end of the wide corridor and Emma got a great view of his bum with the denim pulled tightly over his physique. She looked away and sighed. They turned down another smaller passage and Rohan knocked on an office door.
Emma whipped round and spoke quickly to Nicky. “Why don’t you take Uncle Ro to look at the displays?” she asked, begging him with her eyes. He shook his head and looked horrified.
“Noooo! I wanna stay wiv you.” Panic infused his body language and he sidled closer, all trace of the confident Greyfriars child swallowed up in this terrifying new life.
Rohan jerked his head in the doorway, stepping back so Emma could enter the small office. Her heart sank as Felicity rose to greet her. “Oh, hi, Emma! I didn’t know you had children. How cool.”
Emma smiled woodenly and tried to occupy the doorway to stop Rohan coming in behind her. Nicky pushed his curious face between her leg and the doorframe and peered at Felicity. “Oh great!” Emma heard him mutter. “It’s the screechy voice lady with the weird laugh.”
Emma batted him lightly with her thigh, squishing him against the doorframe and chastised, Nicky turned doleful puppy dog eyes on her in apology.
“You’re fortunately in zone, so we’ve definitely got a place for your son,” Felicity intoned as though Emma was a bit thick. “Here’s a form to fill in and I’ll need an original birth certificate to copy. Then we can find your little chap a sweatshirt with the school logo on and some shorts for sports classes. After that, I’ll take you to his new class.”
“Mum, it’s ok. I don’t need a sweatshirt and stuff,” Nicky stage whispered and Emma cringed. She saw Rohan ruffle Nicky’s hair with his large hand in her peripheral vision as she concentrated on taking the form from Felicity’s outstretched hand.
“I’ll buy it,” Rohan said quietly and Nicky grinned with relief and patted Emma’s leg, to reassure her she wasn’t about to be financially embarrassed. Felicity gave Rohan a curious look, eyeing the likeness between him and Nicky nervously. “Nicky would like school dinners too, please,” Rohan stated and Emma exhaled in a whoosh.
Nicky’s eyes were huge in his small head as he twisted his neck round to stare at Rohan. “Really? What, like proper dinners?”
Rohan laughed and Emma squeaked in protest at the cost. Rohan drew his wallet out of his pocket and held out his Visa card. Nicky held onto his wrist in a momentary flash of magnanimity. “You don’t have to pay for pudding if you don’t want to.”
Rohan handed his card over to Felicity and with the other hand, stroked Nicky’s hair back from his forehead. “It’s fine, mate. I figure it costs the same whether you have it or not.”
Emma’s silence left it too late for her to back out of the terrible situation unfolding in front of her. Until Rohan produced the money, it was on the tip of her tongue to say they were just enquiring and perhaps sneak back later. She glanced down at the form which shook in her fingers, seeing the boxes in which she was to write the name of Nicky’s mother...and father. Her breath came in huge gulps as Felicity processed the payment and handed the card back, stroking against Rohan’s fingers on purpose. Emma glanced at his face as it remained impassive and unaffected.
“You need to fill the form in,” Felicity stated, watching Emma with curiosity.
“Can I bring it back later?” Emma asked, working hard to keep the pleading from her voice.
“No, sorry. You need to do it before your son starts. Do you have his birth certificate here with you?”
Emma nodded, her neck feeling wooden as she bobbed her chin. She seized a pen from Felicity’s desk and turned her back on the males, feeling Nicky’s arms hugging her thigh in excitement as his mind strayed no further than his promised hot lunch. She filled in every box apart from Nicky’s full name and the name of Nicky’s father. The required sighting of his birth certificate denied her the option of writing ‘Nicky’ under the child’s name and the damning word ‘unknown’ in the accusing rectangle demanding his father’s. She took a deep breath and scribbled in the words, keeping the sheets hidden as she handed them over to Felicity.
The woman made a pretence of scanning the sheet, but Emma watched her eyes fix on the declaration of Nicky’s parentage, the likeness to Rohan making her suspicious. She heaved a visible sigh of relief and beamed. “That all looks in order,” she gushed. “I’ll just make a copy of this and be right back.” She flapped the birth certificate in her red
nailed hand and smiled at Rohan. “You never said your brother had a son.” Then having dropped her bombshell, she clip clopped from the room in her high shoes.
Rohan watched her retreating back in confusion. “What does she mean?” His eyes clouded in fury. The look he gave Emma was enough to make her want to wither on the spot. She met his eyes with burning intensity, seeing surprise there as he expected her to look away first. “Anton? No, tell me you didn’t?”
When Emma held her ground and kept her face impassive, Rohan’s cheeks flushed and he stepped back towards the door, retreating from the room and sitting in the corridor.
Emma smiled reassuringly at her son as he was placed into his new class of Year 2 children. Poor Nicky looked terrified.
“Who else has school dinners?” the pretty blonde teacher asked the children assembled on the carpet in front of her. A little brown boy put his hand up high into the air. “Thank you, Mohammed.” She smiled in gratitude. “Please will you be responsible for Nicky today and show him everything he needs to know?”
The dark-skinned child fixed beautiful liquid brown eyes on Emma’s son and beamed. “Yes Mrs Clarke,” he intoned in a formal voice. Then he patted the space next to him on the carpet and flapped his hand so the other children moved outwards to make room.
Nicky turned amused blue eyes on his mother and lifted his face for a kiss. As she pulled back, he grabbed at the lapels of her fleece and yanked her forwards so he could whisper in her ear. “I’ve been prayin’ like Father Delaney said and God sent me another Mo!” He squeezed his face into a look of pure pleasure and shrugged happily.
Emma backed reluctantly from the doorway and Felicity closed it behind them. The silence in the corridor as school got underway caused them to whisper. “School ends at 3.15 pm and we keep the younger children lined up by the rails outside the playground door. We won’t let them go unless their carer is there.”
Emma nodded and headed back the way they came. It felt like hours ago instead of minutes, her heart enduring agonies in her chest as she strode towards the large red door. Rohan’s face was hard to look at and Emma didn’t have the energy to explain her son’s parentage to her extremely angry husband.
Felicity hissed a warning to her. “Oh, the park gate gets locked until playtime. Then the juniors go into the ball courts. You’ll have to use the front gate.” She raised her delicate arm and pointed towards her office, making sure Emma understood, before slipping it seductively around Rohan’s waist in one fluid motion.
Emma felt the awful moan rage inside her chest, bursting to get out. It overwhelmed her with its intensity and she lurched for the exit, leaving Rohan staring after her. Outside in the fresh air, Emma gasped and heaved huge breaths into lungs which ached as though starved. She fumbled with the gate, reading the notice ordering her to ‘push the red button,’ numerous times before actually understanding. Out on the street she experienced momentary panic. She didn’t recognise anything about the neat road or ancient towering trees and halted, calming herself by an act of will. She set off left, striding around the perimeter wall and following it as it turned a corner. Emma found herself on the wide concrete path through the park and on an impulse, broke into a run.
She ran past the gate opposite the ball courts and found the play park beyond, the space empty and the swings moving slightly in the breeze as though ridden by invisible children. Emma ran towards them and sank onto a swing, feeling the wet seeping through the hole between her boot and its worn sole. “Damn you, Anton!” she sobbed, hugging her arms around herself in misery. “I warned you it would come back to bite me, didn’t I?” She heard the rustle of Nicky’s birth certificate in her pocket and groaned.
Emma cried herself empty, watching the tears splash onto the rubbery black surface underneath the swing. She reached into her pocket for a tissue, feeling the rough paper against her fingers. A fresh wave of grief washed over her and Emma pulled it out, smoothing out the creases and pressing it against her forehead.
“When were you gonna tell me?” Rohan restrained his bitterness as he slumped onto the swing next to her, sitting heavily and stretching one leg out in front of him.
“Nothing to tell.” Emma folded the certificate and stuffed it back into her pocket. “It’s none of your business.”
Rohan’s blue eyes fixed on her, flickering with anger. “Like hell it isn’t! So when I was getting shot to shit in a war I didn’t want to be in, you were shagging my brother!”
Emma turned to face him, recognising the sense of betrayal and disappointment she saw in the mirror every morning. It reflected back at her, Rohan’s agony raw and open. She held his gaze with steady eyes that wore no guilt and saw him flinch under her stare. “I loved you, Em!” he spat.
She smiled sadly, blinking away tears that fluttered to her cheeks, glittering there like diamonds. “And I loved you. I always loved you.”
“So why?” Rohan’s jaw worked in anger and he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. Emma reached out to touch him and then withdrew her hand.
“There’re things you don’t understand. I’m not ready to explain them yet. You can think what you like of me, but don’t you dare drag Anton’s name through the mud. Everything he did was out of kindness and he doesn’t deserve your hatred!”
Rohan shook his head and leaned his elbows on his knees. His eyes bore into the ground as he swallowed all the terrible things he wanted to say. “What does it matter? My brother’s dead.”
Emma stood up and offered him her hand. He stared at it for a moment as though it was distasteful to him. As Emma gave up and withdrew it, Rohan’s hands shot out and seized her fingers and her wrist. He pulled her hand into him and kissed her fingers. He pressed his cheek against them, his face hot against her cold flesh. “Do you want us to leave now?” Emma asked, keeping her voice level. “We can go.”
“No! Don’t be stupid! I asked you here; I’m not going to kick you out.” Rohan stood up and pulled her into him, his eyes filled with unreadable emotions. They walked back to his house, his arm heavy around her shoulders. His hand caressed the curls at her neck and Emma shivered as his fingers brushed her skin. Occasionally he kissed her temple with slow, deliberate touches of his lips which seemed to turn her inside out with misery. He sighed many times in the fifteen minute walk and Emma bit her lip and wished for the millionth time, she could go back and do things differently. Nicky’s birth certificate nestled in her pocket, not a symbol of accusation, but proof there were still kind, good men in the world. Anton Andreyev had been one of them. Now even he was gone.