by Mandy Baggot
He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, seeing the judgement all over the woman’s face.
‘Mrs Clark,’ Emily interrupted. ‘Ray is here to play the piano. No one at school can play the piano and the things that have been reported in the news, they’re not true and…’
‘Why didn’t I know you were hiring a pianist? Why don’t I know that you’re bringing someone like this into school?’ Mrs Clark hissed. ‘I can’t have anyone who isn’t checked, working at the school, you know that.’
‘He is checked,’ Emily replied. ‘He’s worked in schools before and—’
‘Listen, I’ll go,’ Ray said, taking a step away from the piano.
There was a moan of despair from the class of children followed by calls of:
‘Don’t go, Ray!’
‘Miss Parker isn’t very good on the glockenspiel.’
‘We can’t do it properly without you.’
He turned to the stage full of children and smiled at them. ‘Listen, guys, you’ve got this. You’re going to be amazing. Miss Parker doesn’t need me to make you great. You’re all already great. Really great.’
‘Susan,’ Emily said, looking pleadingly at her superior. ‘We need a pianist for the show and the children need to practise. We—’
‘I’ll call Mr Jarvis,’ Susan said tightly, arms clamping over her bosom. ‘He’s been itching for something more than his allotment since he retired.’
Ray looked to Emily who was still on the stage. ‘I’ll see you.’ This was his past with Ida coming back to haunt him, haunt them, spoil things for these children who only deserved the best.
‘Ray, listen, we’ll work this out,’ Emily said, voice shaking. ‘You’re part of the show. You have to be part of the show.’
‘It’s OK,’ Ray answered her. ‘It’s your show. And it’s going to be fantastic.’
‘This isn’t fair!’ Frema announced, stamping her foot. ‘Ray knows all the right notes to play in the right time when I turn from rabbi to vicar! Mr Jarvis won’t.’
Ray stepped out of the door.
‘To the left,’ Susan ordered him. ‘You can take the hedgehog with you.’
Fifty-Five
‘No!’ Emily roared. She didn’t head for the stairs to get herself off the stage, she sat down on it and propelled herself forward, feet meeting wooden floor in what probably could have been an ankle-breaking manoeuvre but thankfully wasn’t. ‘Ray, stop! Don’t go anywhere!’ She was moving across the room to Susan now and could only imagine the expression on her children’s faces. What was she doing? Probably kissing goodbye to any hopes of promotion, but hadn’t she always told her children to stand up for what they believed to be right? She wouldn’t be being true to that mantra if she didn’t make a stand now, no matter what it cost her.
Ray was standing in the doorway, his back to one of the swing doors, neither in nor out. She wasn’t going to let him be rubbished like this. He had been nothing but supportive to her since they had met in the playground on that very first frosty day…
‘Miss Parker,’ Susan began. ‘I suggest you return to the stage and get on with your rehearsal.’
‘I can’t rehearse the show without a pianist,’ Emily said defiantly.
‘I’ve just told you I will telephone Mr Jarvis.’
‘I need someone who can play more than an off key “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands”.’
The children erupted into fits of laughter, their palms finding their lips but actually muffling nothing.
‘That is,’ Emily continued, ‘if you want this show to be a roaring success to impress the diocese and get the future funding we all so desperately need.’
Susan withdrew the arms that were clamping her breasts and suddenly seemed to bloat herself out like an engorged pheasant in a show of authority. ‘That sounds a little like blackmail to me. Is that really where we are at, Miss Parker?’
‘Of course not, Mrs Clark,’ Emily replied. ‘It’s just that you put me in charge of the Christmas show and that means that I have ordered the costumes and I have painted most of the set and I have written the script and had to insert all kinds of ridiculous lines about “buy one poppadum get one free” and “pensioners haddock special every Wednesday” and the children have worked tirelessly to learn lines for songs that Ray has written in his spare time to help us make this show the best Stretton Park has ever seen.’
‘That does not change the fact that the children’s welfare is my responsibility and—’
‘You would be letting an accomplished musician, someone who has had an enhanced DBS check already, continue to help me and Year Six with this show. So that we can all celebrate this winter term and look forward to buying new equipment come January.’
Susan was still looking very dour, yet Emily knew there was no stopping now. This was the right thing to do.
‘I too have the children’s best interests at heart, Mrs Clark, and I would never, ever put them at risk. Plus, I am always telling the children what a magnificent leader you are. How you always treat people equally and fairly no matter who they are or where they come from. I would hate for that not to be the case simply because you listened to a rumour Lorraine Kelly’s show helped to fuel.’
Perhaps that last statement had been a little too blackmail-y. There was standing up for something you believed in and then there was coercion… Emily didn’t say any more and she watched Susan adjust her stance a little and then turn her gaze to Ray. Ray looked awkward and she felt for him. She had put him in this situation when he already had enough on his plate. Maybe it would be better for him if he did bow out. She swallowed. But very selfishly, for the school and her long-forgotten libido, she really wanted him in. Heart-to-heart in the chorus line…
Susan shook her head before speaking again. ‘If I wasn’t under so much financial pressure from the council then this would be ending quite a different way. I can assure you of that.’
‘You won’t be calling Mr Jarvis?’ Emily clarified.
‘You will not leave the children alone for a second,’ Susan said firmly. ‘Is that clear?’
‘Absolutely,’ Emily answered.
‘And this show,’ Susan breathed, ‘better be worthy of the West End. And I mean one of the good shows… not Viva Forever.’
‘Understood,’ Emily replied.
Next, Susan looked directly at Ray. ‘And you! Please, please stop bringing wildlife into my school!’
He nodded. ‘I’ll make sure Idris gets to the rescue centre tonight.’
Susan bustled out of the hall, Ray took a step back inside and the whole class let out a huge cheer.
*
‘And now, Angelica, you run in a circle, run, hands in the air, looking excited because the baby is coming. Good!’ Emily directed, flicking through her pages of the script. ‘And then we will all get into the stable to sing the big nativity finale song and…’
‘What is the actual big nativity final song?’ Cherry asked.
‘We haven’t quite got that yet,’ Emily answered.
‘But we don’t have many days left,’ Lucas reminded.
‘And we need to learn the words,’ Matthew added.
‘And we have the final final song to do too, remember?’ Emily said. ‘The song Ray is writing especially for us.’
‘Is that finished yet?’ Charlie wanted to know.
‘Not quite,’ Ray answered, writing something down on his script. He was stationed back at the piano but had been very quiet since Susan Clark’s comments of earlier. Emily hoped she had done the right thing standing up to Susan. Maybe Ray resented her stepping in and making a spectacle of him. Despite being known for standing on stage keeping audiences in raptures, he really didn’t like the attention his fame gave to his every day. She would talk to him later, maybe they could get the kebabs he liked from the Turkish grill house and eat them on the roof terrace…
‘Miss Parker,’ Jayden called.
‘Yes, Jayden.’
&nbs
p; ‘Me and Rashid know what we want to sing about, you know, to our mums.’
‘Oh, really?’ Emily said. ‘Brilliant. What is it?’
‘They both play Candy Crush,’ Rashid announced. ‘All the time.’
‘My mum plays it with one hand while she stirs dinner with the other one,’ Jayden said.
‘And my mum plays it in the car when my dad is driving. He says she never listens to him when she’s playing that,’ Rashid added.
‘Right,’ Emily said. ‘Let’s go and talk to Ray, see if we can all think of a song that works around Candy Crush.’
‘Hey,’ Ray greeted, suddenly by her side. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go. I got this weird text from my dad. He says he needs to see me. He never texts. He never needs to see me so… I have to go.’
‘Of course,’ Emily said. ‘You go. I will see you when you get home.’ God, she hadn’t meant to say ‘home’ in front of Jayden and Rashid. ‘I mean, I will see you later, for rehearsing and things.’
‘OK,’ Ray said, slipping on his coat.
‘I hope everything’s OK,’ Emily said softly.
‘Me too.’
Fifty-Six
New North Road, N1
‘Hello, love, come in out of the cold. Your dad’s let me put the actual heating on today, not just the wavy fake flames that are meant to make you feel warmer just by looking at them.’
‘Is my dad OK?’ Ray asked Brenda as she ushered him through the front door like a hefty security person desperate to move on a crowd. Today she was wearing a bright red all-in-one with gold boots on her feet. She looked like a cross between a superhero and a bit part in Star Trek.
‘Yes, love, he’s fine.’
‘But the message he sent me…’ Ray found he had to duck his head to enter the living room now, as there was a giant glittering ball that seemed to be making shadow Father Christmases and reindeers dance all over the opposite wall. There was also a myriad of festive animals dotted around the cosy room all looking like they could perform Christmas boogying if set to ‘on’.
‘Oh, you know,’ Brenda said, wafting a hand in the air. ‘I told him not to be so dramatic. I said you’d worry and there’s really… you know… not that much to worry about.’
Not that much didn’t sound very convincing. Now he was imagining all sorts. Was his dad ill? Was he hiding an operation he sorely needed just like Ray was? Had smoking most of his life finally caught up with him? It was unusual in itself that Ray was standing in the lounge and Len wasn’t sitting in his favourite old chair…
‘Is he… not here?’ Ray asked, suddenly fearful. Perhaps it would have been more sensible to call, or message back, not dive straight over here. And he had abandoned Emily’s rehearsal…
‘Oh, yes he is here, love,’ Brenda said quickly. ‘He’s in your room… the spare room… I was just going to make some tea. Would you like a cup? Or I’ve got some of those fancy sachets of coffee if that’s more your thing. They were on special offer this week.’
His room. Why would Len be in Ray’s room? Not that it was theoretically his room anymore. It hadn’t been his room for some years, but it had never been a place his dad usually hung out. Only that one time, when they had both drunk whisky, well before he was eighteen, and talked about his mum…
‘Go on,’ Brenda urged, giving him a gentle shove. ‘Go and see him and I’ll make the fancy coffee.’
‘Just normal coffee,’ Ray croaked out. ‘I’d rather have normal coffee. If that’s OK.’
‘Perfect,’ Brenda answered. ‘Because I haven’t been able to make the fancy coffee without getting lumps in it yet.’
Ray stepped towards the hallway.
When he pushed open the door of his room there was an outcry.
‘Ow! Hang on! Give me a minute!’
‘Dad? Are you alright?’
‘Yep, fine, the ladder’s moved that’s all. I just need to shift it over a bit and…’ The door opened wider and there was Len, cigarette hanging from his lips, flecks of paint on his face, a cap covering his balding head.
‘You alright?’ Ray asked, stepping into the room.
‘You know how I love decorating,’ Len said with a scoff. ‘Brenda’s got a vision of this becoming a purple grotto before Christmas Eve. Her sister’s coming down to stay and the woodchip won’t do.’ Len suddenly looked concerned. ‘You don’t mind, do you? Me, you know, changing your room.’
‘No, Dad,’ Ray answered. ‘It’s not been my room for years.’ Except only a few weeks ago he had been here asking for the bed back.
‘I know,’ Len answered. ‘But, you still, you know, kept some of your stuff here, didn’t you?’
‘Well, there was a guitar I said you could have and…’ He stopped talking and straightaway a chill ran over his whole body, like someone had opened up the meant-to-be-unopenable-window and the icy wind had blasted in. He suddenly didn’t feel so steady on his feet. He put a hand on the stepladder and tried to remain composed. There was only one other thing he had left here, one time after a visit, and he’d hidden it behind the skirting board.
‘Sit down, Ray,’ Len urged.
‘I… don’t want to sit down. If you’re OK and you’re obviously OK if you’re here painting and climbing ladders and…’
‘You’re not OK though,’ Len stated brutally. ‘Are you, lad?’
‘I’m fine. I’m good. I’m…’ His throat was hurting badly now. The stress and strain moving up and down with every attempt to get the words out. He needed to keep calm. His larynx needed serenity or the Ronnie Scott’s show wasn’t going to happen.
‘I found it,’ Len stated simply. ‘I found it. And I’ve seen it.’ He huffed a sigh. ‘I don’t know how to work these things. These chips you stick into computers. Chips into computers! The only place chips should be is bubbling in cooking oil.’ He laughed briefly, then his expression reverted to concerned. ‘But Brenda’s got a laptop she got on the shopping channel and she knows how to use them. We thought it would be videos or pictures or something, of you singing. It was Brenda’s idea.’
Ray knew then that the game was up, and his world began to swim before his eyes. This was the worst thing. The very worst thing. He took a step backwards, wanting to leave. His dad was fine. He wasn’t ill or in trouble, or anything like that, therefore he could go. He really, really didn’t want to face this. Not now. Not ever.
‘Don’t you even think about leaving, lad,’ Len warned. ‘I think all this nonsense has been going on too long.’
‘Dad,’ Ray began.
‘Sit down,’ Len ordered. ‘We need to talk.’
The need to run was taking over, simmering under his surface, his everything crying out to retreat and escape. But equally he was paralysed.
‘Sit down,’ Len said again.
The single bed was warping and moving amid his blurry eyes, suddenly becoming the biggest thing in the room. Its uncovered mattress was calling out to support him. But sitting down on it meant staying. And staying meant talking.
‘Sit down,’ Len repeated. ‘Please, lad.’
Ray could no longer look at his father. Shame and failure were taunting him like bullies, ready to take over.
‘Is what I’ve seen on those videos the real truth? The truth you’ve not told anyone despite them all slagging you down on the telly and in the papers?’ Len asked.
Ray cast his eyes to the carpet, the seventies swirls the council had put in long ago that he had once recreated for an art project. ‘That depends what videos you’ve seen.’ Still now he hoped it was something else. Or perhaps he simply needed Len to be the one to say the words out loud.
Len made a noise of exasperation and Ray didn’t blame him. But Ray couldn’t say the words. That was the crux of this whole issue. He had never been able to say the words. He felt the weight of his father’s body lower down next to him on the bed.
‘What I’ve seen is a terrified young man talking to a camera, saying he is in fear of his life… while he mops up deep
cuts and ices fresh bruises, while someone hammers on the bathroom door screaming like they’re possessed by the Devil.’
Ray dropped his head even lower, eyes focusing on the green and blue patterns in the carpet that had always looked a little bit solar system to him. Right now, he wished he was there, flying out of this atmosphere, suspended in space and heading for a faraway intergalactic destination.
‘Ray,’ Len said, ‘all this time people have been thinking and saying you’re some sort of girlfriend batterer and… it was her. It was all her.’ Len took a breath. ‘It was this Ida woman. It was her… attacking you.’
‘She’s not well,’ Ray said immediately. ‘I don’t know whether it’s her upbringing. I think it’s probably that.’ He sniffed. ‘Her mother is distant, and she doesn’t even know her father at all and—’
‘Ray,’ Len interrupted.
‘Or, I don’t know, maybe it was me,’ Ray continued. The videos he had made when he was alone and desperate, locked in the bathroom tending his wounds while Ida raged outside, were now all running through his mind. He didn’t even know why he had made them. Self-preservation? A diary to share his feelings with while he believed there was no one else he could confide in? Evidence? If he was ever going to be brave enough to admit what he was going through? ‘Maybe I did something or said something that made her act that way?’
‘No!’ Len said furiously, slamming a hand down onto the mattress. ‘Don’t you dare say that.’ His dad’s voice was choked up now and Len removed the cigarette, stubbing it out hard into the ashtray on Ray’s old school desk. ‘It killed me to watch it. To see you in pain like that. And I don’t mean from where she hit you or… whatever she did to you…’ Len shook his head, the emotion making his voice quake. ‘I mean, pain in your gut.’ Len struck his own midriff with his hand. ‘In your heart and your soul. I could hear it coming from you and… it broke me in two.’
Ray couldn’t stop the tears now. He cried out in the deepest anguish. Everything he had suffered with Ida over the years was all spilling from him in a torrent of despair. Len drew him into a hug he’d never felt from his father before, his dad’s strength undiminished despite his age, holding him tightly as they both shed equal emotion.