‘Did you?’ Marian seemed surprised. ‘Maybe they get more interesting and less needy as they get older. I bloody hope so.’
I stepped in. ‘OK, I’ll be in touch,’ I said, leading Marian to her car.
I waved her off and went back in to talk to Mum.
‘I don’t know why you’re friendly with that woman. She’s so coarse.’
I held up my hand. ‘I know that Marian can be a bit foul-mouthed, but she’s a really good and genuine friend. She’s been so kind to me over the years.’
Mum sniffed and put her handbag on the marble kitchen counter. ‘I’ll take your word for it. Now, what’s so urgent that you had to see me in person?’
I sat up beside her on a stool and took a deep breath. ‘I wanted to talk to you about Clara.’
Mum’s eyes narrowed. ‘Go on.’
‘I think she might have some …’ I paused and fidgeted with my earring, trying to find the right words.
‘Get to the point,’ Mum urged me.
‘I think she has Asperger’s,’ I blurted out.
Mum stared at me. Her eyes slowly filled with tears and she began to nod. ‘I think so too,’ she croaked.
Soon both of us were in need of tissues. As she dabbed her eyes, Mum said, ‘I’ve been worried about Clara for ages. I raised four children and I know a child that’s not quite right. About a month ago I was watching some programme on the BBC and it was all about these children with Asperger’s and Clara had a lot of the same symptoms.’
‘Did you say anything?’
Mum looked at me as if I was mad. ‘To Louise? She’d eat me alive for suggesting it. I was hoping she’d realize it herself soon.’
She had a point. Louise would have snapped her head off. We were all a bit afraid of her, even Mum and Dad.
‘Do you think she knows?’ Mum asked.
‘No. I tried to broach it last week when she came to collect Clara, but she completely dismissed it. She thinks Clara is a genius and that there’s nothing unusual about her behaviour.’
‘I think, deep down, she knows something is wrong but she doesn’t want to admit it. I don’t blame her.’ Mum dabbed her eyes with a tissue. ‘No one wants their child to be different. Life is difficult enough without having extra burdens. Poor little pet, she’s such a sweet child.’
‘I know, she’s a dote, but she is hard work. She’s so specific and particular. When Louise gave me her schedule I thought it was just her usual over-parenting. But if I was even ten seconds late with something, or did something out of Clara’s routine, she began to panic. It was really sad, Mum. She’s going to struggle in primary school and the “real” world. She needs professional help.’
Mum nodded. ‘All the websites I looked at say early intervention is vital. I have to talk to Louise. I was just trying to pluck up the courage and pick the right time.’
I smiled wanly. ‘There is no right time. Maybe if we talk to her together, we can persuade her to get Clara seen.’
‘I suppose we have to try. I just think if it was one of your boys or young Jess, you or Sophie would handle it better. Louise is so hard on herself. She’s spent her whole life pushing herself to achieve great goals. She always wanted to be top of the class, then she wanted to be the best lawyer and now she wants to be the perfect mother.’
Mum was right. Louise always strove for excellence in everything she did. She had a very competitive streak that had completely passed me by. Sophie had a little bit of it, and Gavin, like me, had none.
Louise would not take kindly to having a child who was different. I could see that she thought Clara was like her, incredibly bright and a high achiever, but Clara’s path would probably not be the same as Louise’s, she was going to need help negotiating life.
We agreed to take Louise out to dinner the following week and talk about Clara. Mum hugged me tight before she climbed into her car. ‘And to think I always thought it would be your wild boys who were going to need professional help.’
She drove off before I could tell her exactly what I thought of that.
23
Louise
When Clara’s teacher, Helen, asked me if I’d read her note, I told her that I had and that I thought it was nonsense. She seemed disappointed and upset, which irritated me. I couldn’t stand looking at her annoying face, and it was clear that she didn’t understand or appreciate Clara’s genius, so I decided to move my daughter to another school.
I found one that was a bit further away and twice as expensive, but the headmistress seemed a very intelligent woman. I explained about Clara being very bright and she said she’d be honoured to have her in the school.
Christelle was a bit put out when I told her on Friday evening after I’d got back from work. ‘But it’s going to take us at least twenty minutes to walk there and you know how much Clara hates walking.’
‘Well, you’ll just have to put her on the back of your bicycle. I’ll get you one of those child seats.’
‘What about all the rainy days?’ Christelle said.
I exhaled, keeping calm. ‘I’ll get you both rain ponchos.’
‘But Clara likes the school she’s in. Why are you moving her? You know how much she hates change.’
I didn’t want to be questioned about my decision. I knew better than anyone how much Clara loathed change, but it was for her own good. ‘Look, Christelle, Clara’s teacher was young and foolish and she completely overstepped her mark. I want Clara to be taught by someone intelligent and experienced.’
Christelle seemed surprised. ‘Really? I thought Helen was nice and smart. Clara seemed happy there.’
I tapped my foot impatiently. ‘Well, it wasn’t good enough. She needs more stimulation.’
Christelle put her hands up. ‘OK, she’s your kid. I’m just saying she’s not going to react well to a new school.’
‘She’ll be fine. I’ll bring her in the first few mornings and settle her. But I need you to collect her. OK?’
Christelle shrugged in that very nonchalant French way. ‘Sure. I’ll bring her to the pet store to look at the parrots after her first day. That always makes her happy.’
I felt myself relaxing. ‘Good idea. I’ll see you here on Monday, then, when I get home from work.’
Christelle went in to kiss a sleeping Clara goodbye. She had become really attached to her and it was wonderful to have someone I trusted with Clara while I was at work. Christelle understood Clara and her funny little ways.
As Christelle was leaving, I asked her what her plans were for the weekend.
‘I’m going to see the triplets play in a rugby match at their posh school tomorrow and then Julie invited me back for lunch. I’ll probably go to a gig tomorrow night. What about you?’
I pointed to my briefcase. ‘I’ve got tons of work to do and I’ll just hang out with Clara.’
‘Do you ever get lonely?’ Christelle asked.
‘Honestly, no. I’ve spent most of my life living alone. I’ve never shared a flat with anyone. I like my own company.’
‘I’m a bit like that, but I always thought it was because I was brought up as an only child. I don’t know how Julie stands the noise and the chaos.’
I smiled. ‘She’s a saint.’
‘She really is. Harry’s been such a pain lately. He’s always playing golf or talking about money. He keeps buying me things. I told him to stop. I want him to be my father, not a cash machine.’
‘He’s just excited about it, that’s all. He’ll calm down after a while. Maybe you should take the gifts and the money – you never know when you may need them. Look at Sophie. It was only by selling all of her possessions that she was able to get through those first few months when they lost everything.’
Christelle shook her head. ‘No. I’m going to be like my mother and you, Louise – completely independent.’
‘Good for you. It’s a great way to live.’
I spent a lovely weekend with Clara. I decided to wait until Sunday morn
ing to broach the new-school topic with her.
Clara was busy drawing birds when I said, ‘So, sweetie, you know your school?’
She nodded, not looking up.
‘Well, it’s a bit too babyish for you because you’re so clever. I’ve found another one that’s especially for super-bright children like you and they really want you to go there.’
Her hand froze in mid-air.
Damn. I kept talking, trying to reassure her. ‘You’ll be getting up at the same time, you’ll have the same breakfast and wear the same clothes. We might have to leave fifteen minutes earlier if we want to walk, or else Mummy can drive you there or Christelle can cycle you. You can sit on a special seat on the back of her bike. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
Without looking up, she asked, ‘Will Helen be my teacher?’
‘Well, no. You’ll have a new teacher, called Alice. She’s really nice and she can’t wait to meet you. There are only eight children in the class, so it’ll be smaller and less noisy.’
Clara continued to draw. ‘Is it the same classroom?’
‘No, Clara, it’s a different school, but it’s lovely.’
‘NO!’ she shouted. ‘I will not go there. I want to stay in my school.’
I had to get her to stay calm. I kept my voice even. ‘Clara, look.’ I placed my iPad under her eyes. ‘I took pictures of your new school and your new teacher and your new classroom. See?’
She examined the photos closely, flicking back and forth.
‘You’ll make new friends. It’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t make friends, Mummy.’ Clara’s blue eyes looked up at me.
‘Of course you will.’
‘No. I don’t like playing with other people. I want to play by myself. I don’t like it when other children try to play games with me. It makes me cross.’
‘Well, Clara pet, you must try to make more of an effort with the children in your class. It’s good to have friends. It makes school more fun.’
Clara slammed my iPad on the table. ‘I’m not going to the new school,’ she shouted.
‘Yes, darling, you are,’ I said firmly.
‘NONONONONONONONONONONO!’ She thumped the table with her fist and then began throwing her markers and paper all over the floor.
‘Pick them up,’ I ordered.
Ignoring me, she flung her bird book across the room.
‘Clara,’ I scolded her, without raising my voice.
She stood up and kicked me. I grabbed her arms and tried to calm her down, but she was lashing out. I held her in a tight hug and kept talking, trying to soothe her.
‘It’s OK. Don’t get upset, sweetie. Mummy will be with you. It’s going to be great. Everything else will be the same. It’s only one tiny change. I’ll come in and sit with you …’
Clara’s meltdown lasted more than half an hour. By the end of it, we were both exhausted. I had a piercing headache and, for once, was having second thoughts about my decision. But I couldn’t leave her in that school with Helen telling me she needed to see a psychologist. I had to protect Clara from people like her. I wanted to surround her with people who understood her. She was reading books that the average eight-year-old would struggle with. I had been that child. I had been bored at school. I knew how important it was to be stimulated and valued.
No. I had made the right decision. She’d see that. Clara would come round once she started at her new school, where they prized clever children and didn’t try to force them to play with other children if they didn’t want to.
I snuggled up with a worn-out Clara on the couch, and while she watched her favourite birds-of-prey DVD, I read through some files.
Clara clung to my leg. I bent down. ‘Clara sweetie, you must let go now. Mummy has to go to work.’
She tightened her grip. Alice, her new teacher, crouched beside her. ‘Clara, would you like to see the bird books we have? Your mummy told me you love birds so I took all the books with birds in them and put them on a table for you.’
Clara buried her face in my skirt. I glanced at my watch. Damn. I’d been here for twenty minutes. I had to go or I’d be late. I peeled Clara from my leg and held her by her shoulders. ‘Mummy has to go now. OK?’
‘Don’t leave me,’ she pleaded. ‘I don’t like it here. I want my old school.’
‘We talked about this, Clara. This is your school now and I know you’re going to like it.’
‘I want to go home with you, Mummy.’
‘But I have to go to work, you know that.’
‘Take me to your work. I’ll be quiet. I’ll read my books and you can do your work, like at home.’
I felt a wave of emotion creeping up my chest. Fighting it back, I said, ‘I have a lot of meetings today that children can’t come to. You need to stay at school and learn lots of new things. Now I really have to go.’
Alice leant down and took Clara’s hand. Clara tried to pull away. She reached out and grabbed the corner of my coat. ‘Don’t leave me, Mummy.’
I pulled my coat free and ran out of the door before the tears came. I cried all the way to work, almost crashing the car several times because I was blinded by tears.
Head down, I rushed into the cloakroom and locked myself in a cubicle to compose myself. I felt sick. Had I done the right thing? Clara had been distraught.
I never questioned my decisions at work, but with Clara it was so much harder. I only wanted the best for my little girl, but she was so sensitive and needed lots of care and support.
I gathered my things and went into my office, where Wendy was waiting for me. I really didn’t want to deal with her right now.
‘Is it important?’ I asked briskly. ‘I’ve got a crazy schedule today.’
Wendy paced up and down, refusing to meet my eye. Despite my urgings, she had refused to step down and had continued as junior partner. In the last few weeks she hadn’t been late or made any mistakes, so I presumed she had sorted out her life. I didn’t want the details, I just wanted professional behaviour in the office.
‘Wendy!’ I barked. ‘What is it?’
She wrung her hands. ‘It’s not my fault. I was just so tired. I didn’t mean to do it. It was just a small mistake, but it’s kind of a big deal, but I think I can fix it so –’
I held my hand up to interrupt her babbling. ‘Wendy,’ I said. ‘Tell me what happened. Get to the point.’
She bit her lip. ‘Don’t freak out, but I sent an email meant for a colleague to our client, Jay Goring.’
Judging by the state she was in, the email hadn’t been flattering. ‘What did it say?’
Wendy’s eyes welled up. ‘Well, it was kind of jokey and a bit … uhm … unprofessional.’
I really was not in the mood for Wendy and her bullshit. Clenching my jaw, I hissed, ‘Go and print out the email and bring it to me.’
She looked as if she might throw up. ‘There’s no need. I can sort it out. I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case Jay called you.’
Leaning across my desk, I roared, ‘Get me that bloody email NOW.’
Wendy scuttled out. I collapsed back into my chair. I really didn’t need this. My morning had been bad enough. I wanted to kill Wendy. I felt incredible rage towards the stupid, useless cow.
She came shuffling back in, holding a piece of paper in her trembling hands. I snatched it from her.
Holding it up, I read it out loud: ‘“Hey Suzie, I heard you got stuck with the admin on the Goring file. Can you believe what a moron Jay Boring is? He honestly thinks he’s God’s gift to business – and women! Don’t these people get it? The only reason we give him the time of day is because he’s stinking rich and we can bill him zillions of hours. He never questions the invoices, by the way, so a word from the wise – feel free to add in extra hours when you’re billing him.”’
I gasped and dropped the piece of paper onto my desk. I was in shock. Then I looked up at Wendy, who was now sobbing. ‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Are you men
tally unstable? Because I see no other excuse for this than complete insanity.’
This was beyond bad. This was the most appalling breach of trust and professionalism I’d ever experienced. It reflected horrendously on us as a firm and appallingly on me as head of the department. My blood was boiling. The headache I already had from the stress of leaving Clara so upset was now threatening to split my head open.
‘I’m sorry, Louise. He was never meant to see it.’
In a voice shaking with rage, I said, ‘Go to your desk, pack up your things and leave. Go home and do not contact anyone at this firm. I will have Human Resources contact you to discuss terminating your contract.’
It was Wendy’s turn to look shocked, but her remorse turned very quickly into defensive anger. ‘You can’t chuck me out. I have rights.’
How dare she? I took a step towards her. ‘Your mistake will probably lose us one of our top clients. Your lack of professionalism and respect, your carelessness and your complete disregard for timekeeping and the reputation of this firm are completely and utterly unacceptable. I don’t want you in my department, and I guarantee that, after this, no one else will either. You have sabotaged your own career with this piece of stupidity, so don’t try to blame anyone else.’
Wendy poked me in the chest. ‘You’re a bitch,’ she shouted. ‘You have no feelings or empathy for anyone. Do you know what we call you? The Ice Queen. You’re always so perfect and so in control. You’re like a fucking robot.’
I turned my back to her and went to sit down at my desk. ‘Get out, Wendy, before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.’
She leant across my desk and shoved her finger in my face. ‘I feel sorry for you. You’re a cold-hearted cow. I pity your kid. I’d hate to have a mother like you. I bet you make her feel like crap all the time because she’s not good enough. I bet you’re a bitch to her, too. I bet you never hug her or praise her. I hope she’s got her father’s genes and isn’t a freak like you –’
It happened so quickly that I didn’t even have time to register the action. I flung my coffee cup across the office. It smashed against the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces.
The Secrets Sisters Keep: A heartwarming, funny and emotional novel (The Devlin Sisters Book 2) Page 22