The Classroom

by A. L. Bird

Outside, it is no better. Groups of parents mill round. She keeps her face down, her eyes covered, like there’s something in them. Ian tries to steer her to a nearby pub, to calm himself as much as her, presumably. But she can’t, she needs to get home. He hails them a cab, makes to get in it with her. She closes the door in his face. She needs to be home, and she needs to be alone, and she needs to work out how to solve this situation. For good.

  Chapter 33

  KIRSTEN

  Once Kirsten has shown Yvette out from her babysitting duties and put the chain on, she does not move from Harriet’s bedside. Not when Ian is pushing and pulling the front door to protest about the chain, not when he is in the garden shouting up at the house, not even to check where he’s gone when all is silent. Perhaps he’s still there. Perhaps he’s left. It doesn’t matter.

  Harriet’s room is the only place she can think. If she is elsewhere, she just starts to panic: what if Miriam-Becky breaks in and takes her? And life choices become too academic, too theoretical, taken in isolation. If she is sitting there, in front of Harriet, the truth is clear – that nothing else matters.

  And so, Kirsten is free to think, to take it all in. Becky is Ms Robertson. And Ian knew, from the time that Becky ‘call me Miriam’ came over for afternoon tea, when she happened to be passing (hah) that Sunday afternoon, if not before. He knew that all those drop-offs at breakfast club were to the woman that Kirsten most feared. That Kirsten was unwittingly letting Harriet get closer to the woman who had both created and almost destroyed their family.

  When Kirsten was out of the house, that night, looking for Becky, was she here, snuggling up with Ian and Harriet? And what about all the other times, over the last weeks – Christ, over the years! The clandestine texts, the possessiveness over his phone. Has it all been Becky? Has he been seeing her illicitly all that time?

  And if so, what’s his game? To gradually get Kirsten out of the picture? Or to have his cake and eat it – see his daughter, have a comfortable lifestyle, also his young bit on the side? Does he like the sex? She assumes they are sleeping together; it makes sense. Or is he just desperate to keep his name out of the press? Perhaps he’s being blackmailed, maybe that’s where all their money evaporates to, all of the time?

  She doesn’t know. It’s like a nightmare version of one of the climbs she and Ian used to do. All the time she was going up, she thought Ian had neatly belayed all the ropes she would need for her ascent. But they were loose, illusory, and she’s been left hanging, feet dangling in mid-air.

  One thing is clear: Ian cannot be trusted to answer a single one of her questions. Why would he give her a straight answer now, after deceiving her for so long? Whatever plan he’s working to, he knows what he wants. And he’s presumably going to stick to that. If it was Kirsten, Harriet, and Ian as a family unit, he wouldn’t have given everything away this evening. His tongue wouldn’t have slipped, out of concern for his young lover. He would have absented himself. Anything, but that.

  And as for Becky – well, there’s no way she can be trusted with anything. Let alone Harriet. It’s all too obvious now what Becky’s plan had been: get close to Harriet, then lure her away, never let Kirsten see her again. Unless it was also money? Was that where Ian came in, or the letters to psychiatrist Clare? Was Becky going to blackmail her first, with their threats of ruining what she had built up, and give her no option but to hand over her child? And how did Ian think that would play out for him – Becky wasn’t a pupil at his school when he slept with her, and she was over sixteen, but a good prosecution lawyer would still tear him to shreds over his breach of responsibility. And he’d never work as a headteacher, or any kind of teacher, again. His precious school’s reputation and his own would be ruined. He can’t want all this in the public domain. So what, really, is the game?

  Kirsten exhales, and Harriet rolls over in her sleep. Harriet opens her eyes and rubs them briefly.

  ‘It’s OK, sweetie. Go back to sleep,’ Kirsten tells her, kissing the tip of that wonderful nose. And then a kiss on the cheek as well – so beautiful, so smooth. So innocent.

  Harriet wriggles a little, then rolls over away from Kirsten, and goes back to sleep.

  Kirsten lays her head on the edge of Harriet’s bed. Maybe she needs to stop working through what’s in Ian’s mind, or Becky’s mind, and sort out what’s in her own.

  She stands and walks to the window of Harriet’s room. Ian is still outside. Slipping on her dressing gown, she goes down to the kitchen and opens the French windows onto the garden, but stays inside. She’s not going to risk leaving Harriet alone in the house.

  Ian runs towards her and makes to come in but she holds up a hand to stop him.

  ‘You knew?’ she says.

  ‘Kirsten, I’m so sorry, I should have told you. I just thought—’

  ‘I can’t believe you knew! You let me send our daughter to her every day – not just to class but to breakfast club, after-school sessions, and you knew who she was! How could you?’

  ‘She kept going on about telling the press, telling the police. I just thought, if I helped her, played her game, she’d keep quiet, and we could buy some time, until maybe …’

  ‘Until what?’ Realising something, she snorts. ‘Oh, come on – this isn’t about your Ofsted report again, is it? If you’ve jeopardised our lives for your worry that you’re going to be exposed just when your grand project is coming off that’s absurd! This is our life, Ian!’

  ‘If you’d let me finish—’

  ‘I don’t have to let you do anything!’ Kirsten hugs her arms round herself. ‘Do you get how much of a betrayal this is? How could you let that woman move ever closer to us, to see our daughter every day? Christ, to think you care more about the kids in that washed-up school than you care—’

  ‘I wanted to wait until you were being more reasonable!’ Ian shouts. Kirsten stares at him. He lowers his voice slightly, but the message is the same. ‘I’ve been shielding you from her, but I thought if I bought time you’d come round to letting them have some time together. For everyone’s sakes. I figured if we could just avoid a confrontation, keep her happy, we might make it out OK.’

  ‘I thought we were in this together, Ian,’ Kirsten whispers. ‘I thought we always had each other’s backs. Literally. Climbing partners for life, we vowed. Remember?’

  ‘I can’t lose everything, Kirsten. I just can’t. I’ve worked too hard. Trust me, we’ll find a way—’

  ‘How can I possibly trust you if you keep something like this from me? Are you sleeping with her, is that it?’

  ‘Of course I’m not sleeping with her!’

  Kirsten wants to believe him, but why should she?

  ‘Listen,’ Ian says. ‘I’ll get her off our backs, OK? I’ll go round now, talk to her.’ And he explains what he might say, what he might do. She starts to filter out the individual words, the wheedling tone. She feels like she heard it all before, five years ago, when he swore he wouldn’t see Becky again.

  She can’t know, for sure, that Ian is still on her team. If he ever really has been. That’s it, for them, as far as she’s concerned. What’s their marriage worth if they can’t trust each other to guide them through? Instead, Kirsten must focus on her own plan, lay her own guide ropes, secure her own summit: Harriet. And she must do it now, before dawn.

  ‘I can’t see you anymore, tonight, Ian,’ she tells him. ‘Please, go.’

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Anywhere. To Becky. To a hotel. Just somewhere. Away from here. Away from us.’

  And she watches him go. Her husband. The father of her child. The most disappointing man she has ever met.

  Chapter 34

  BECKY

  At 8.30 the morning after parents’ evening, Becky is waiting outside Mrs McGee’s study. If she can just catch her before she walks to the weekly assembly, then Becky can put her plan into action. It’s not the plan she and Ian sat up all night discussing, once he’d given up trying to break into h
is own home. But for Becky, it’s the only real plan.

  She’s seen how Kirsten looks at Harriet. Kirsten won’t be blackmailed out of her child. She won’t put her career first, whatever Ian thinks of his basically estranged wife. Sure, Kirsten works too hard, when she should be looking after Harriet. But Becky understands the desperation for having a child. Once acquired, you don’t want to lose it. Everything else – cars, nice houses, the best interior design, the best job – might be a status symbol. But the ultimate status symbol is the child. Becky knows Kirsten won’t let herself be the person who gives that away.

  And so Becky must use her ultimate status symbol: the truth.

  Mrs McGee’s door opens. But to Becky’s surprise, the headmistress doesn’t rush out to assembly. Instead, she looks Becky up and down, and invites her in to the office.

  ‘Now, Ms Robertson. You’ve obviously anticipated me calling you in like this.’

  ‘I’ve got something I have to tell you, Mrs McGee. It’s about Harriet White. You see—’

  ‘Yes, I know it’s about Harriet White. Or rather Kirsten White. Now, nothing is proven yet, and of course you’ll get a full hearing by the disciplinary board but—’

  ‘What? What do you mean, disciplinary board? Harriet is my—’

  ‘Dr White has come to me this morning with some very serious allegations about your behaviour. You’ll receive a written copy, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to go into them now. For the meantime, I’m putting you on suspension until further notice.’

  ‘But Harriet White is my daughter!’

  Mrs McGee gives a shake of her head. ‘That’s exactly what Dr White said that you would say. I’ve heard of these cases of fixation before, but … anyway, I’ll be referring you to an occupational health specialist as well, who can speak to you about these delusions.’

  ‘They aren’t delusions! I can prove it! Do a DNA test!’

  ‘Ms Robertson, you must understand that I can’t run about asking parents to consent to invasive testing for their children. Anything you want to say, you can say to the disciplinary board.’

  Becky puts her hands on the edge of Ms McGee’s desk, knuckles white. ‘You don’t understand what she’s doing. She’s evil! Her husband basically raped me, when I was seventeen! Kidded me into giving Harriet up!’

  Mrs McGee whistles softly. ‘Listen to yourself, Ms Robertson. First the drunkenness at parents’ evening, then Dr White’s visit this morning, now this behaviour – do you expect me to believe you? Try to calm it down before the board. Now, I must ask you to leave the premises.’

  ‘I’m not going. I want to see Harriet! She’s my daughter.’

  ‘Harriet White no longer attends this school, as of this morning. And judging by your reaction, it seems Dr White is quite wise to have taken that step.’

  ‘Where is she? I want to see Harriet!’

  ‘Ms Robertson, I really hope I’m not going to have to involve the police at this stage, am I? You are to go home, and stay away from Dr White and her family. Is that understood?’

  Becky laughs despite herself. ‘Stay away from her family? I’m the mother of their child!’

  Mrs McGee puts a hand to the phone. ‘I’m calling our security desk, who’ll escort you out, and then I’m calling the police. I’m concerned about what action you might take. Is that understood?’

  Becky pushes back her chair. ‘You don’t need to. I’m leaving. I won’t go anywhere near Dr White or her family.’

  Mrs McGee keeps her hand on the phone.

  ‘I don’t fancy your future if you do,’ Mrs McGee says.

  Becky swallows a few times. ‘I understand. I over-reacted. I need to calm myself. I’ve got some meds. Sorry. I’ll go home now and wait for the letter about the hearing. OK?’

  Mrs McGee nods, and slowly takes her hand away from the phone. ‘OK.’

  Becky pushes back her chair. ‘It’s been a pleasure to work at your school,’ she says, as she leaves.

  And then she runs. She runs through the corridors, out through the school doors, down the steps, into the car park. In the hope that maybe, just maybe, Kirsten has taken her time, is only just leaving. That she will be able to catch up with her, that maybe she’ll have Harriet there. That she can confront the ‘mother’, see the child.

  But no. The car park is devoid of mums. Drop-off is over. Harriet is nowhere to be seen.

  Becky simply stands there for a long while. The truth should have worked. Why didn’t it work? How had Kirsten somehow alluded to the truth but presented it all as lies? Becky didn’t know what she had come up with. But she could imagine. Poor deranged Miriam, she would have said, with her fixations on my child. She obviously needs help, but my child’s safety can’t be compromised. The gall of it. But it means nothing – Becky will get that test done. She’ll prove her parenthood.

  Becky closes her eyes. But how? Mrs McGee was right. Kirsten is the one recognised as the mother. She’d have to consent on Harriet’s behalf, and of course, she won’t. The only way is a court order. And what judge is going to give her that – without some long drawn-out, costly court battle? There’s no adoption paperwork to fall back on – the birth and all visits were done at home, on a cash-in-hand basis, through a private network of midwives and doulas, and Kirsten had managed to get her name on the birth certificate. So that Becky wasn’t ‘shackled’ by the child, had been the argument at the time. How naïve she had been.

  Her family might vouch for her version of events. But would they support her having custody of Harriet? Her stupid sister, the boring one, Helen, will probably speak up against her, after that incident years ago, with her niece. But it was such a difficult time. She’d just found out she was pregnant. Her sister’s baby was terrifying and wonderful to her in equal measures. So she hadn’t been at her best in that moment, in that room. She’s definitely safe to look after children now. Her child.

  She has to see what the disciplinary letter says. She has to challenge every last allegation. And she has to find out where Kirsten is now schooling Harriet. Stay away from Dr White’s family? Of course she will. But to Becky, that means Kirsten’s mother, father, sister, whoever else there is. Harriet is not part of Kirsten’s family. She is part of Becky’s family. So Becky will get as close as she likes. As close as she can.

  Chapter 35

  KIRSTEN

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything? Not even some cake?’

  Harriet shakes her head fiercely.

  Kirsten sighs, and brings her head back out from under the desk. Most children would be delighted at being able to miss school and sit with Mummy at work, being offered cake. Perhaps it lost its appeal on the first day. Now, by day three, Harriet must quite rightly be wondering what is going on, and she’s demanding to see her friends. Also, apparently they’d been due to make and paint clay ships this week, for some project or other. When Kirsten had offered to send Jess out to buy some play dough for boat making, Harriet had told Kirsten dismissively that ‘Play dough’s for kids.’ Right. Of course.

  This probably wasn’t exactly what Mrs McGee had in mind when Kirsten told her that Harriet would be home-schooled for the foreseeable future. It also probably wasn’t what her patients had in mind when they had booked an appointment – a bored five-year-old staring out from under a desk as they went through the intimate details of their medical history. The theory had been that if the desk was angled correctly, patients couldn’t see Harriet underneath it, and Harriet could sit there reading or doing maths puzzles. Harriet, however, had not bought into this scheme.

  Kirsten knew she’d have to do something else. At some point, the local authorities were going to want to check out her arrangements for home-schooling Harriet. And at some point, patients would get onto comment boards that this was a doctor who couldn’t even offer a private consultation, as there was a surprise child staring out from under the desk.

  But what else was she meant to do? It wouldn’t be for long. Kirsten’s
plans didn’t stop here. In the interim, though, she couldn’t face the idea of letting Harriet play in the surgery reception, under the half-watchful eye of Jess. All it took was for Jess to be distracted on the phone, or to pop to the loo, and Becky could appear and snatch Harriet away. You wouldn’t leave your laptop unattended in a doctor’s waiting room, so why your child?

  Taking her out of school and bringing her to work had seemed the only option, though, that sleepless night after the parents’ evening. Attack is the best form of defence, right? And so, she had turned up at Mrs McGee’s office at 7.45 a.m., with a bleary-eyed Harriet, and explained that matters couldn’t go on. She’d explained about the impromptu, invasive weekend visit Ms Robertson had made (true), about the giving of inappropriate gifts (true – Kirsten had finally understood the ‘Miss Honey’ reference Becky had written in the front of Matilda), about the breakfast club that seemed to be centred around Harriet’s need (true), and, of course, the threats and allegations (less true, but Kirsten had needed something to make Ms Robertson seem mad rather than just keen). And of course, Kirsten had explained, only just keeping her sobs at bay, it had all made sense to her when she saw Ms Robertson’s chaotic behaviour at the parents’ evening.

  ‘Chaotic?’ Mrs McGee had asked her.

  ‘Well, I hadn’t liked to say – but drunk. She was drunk and couldn’t sit down with us. I’m convinced she’s got the hots for my husband, and has somehow got it into her head that Harriet should be her own child. If anything were to happen to Harriet at the school …’

  And of course, then Mrs McGee couldn’t take the risk. Particularly when Kirsten had made it clear that she would feel compelled to tell the other mums about what was going on, unless the school took decisive action because, as Kirsten said, wide-eyed: ‘She just couldn’t let them believe their children would be safe at the school.’

  Mrs McGee had confirmed that Ms Robertson would be suspended with immediate effect while they looked into the allegations.