The Classroom

by A. L. Bird

  * * *

  While Harriet and Ruby play in the toy-strewn conservatory, Kirsten, Nina and Becky sit in the adjoining kitchen drinking tea. They could be three mum friends catching up on a play date. Except they’re not that friendly. And it’s a moot call who deserves the title ‘mum.’

  ‘It must have been so difficult for you,’ Nina says, to Becky. There’s a filthy look but no sympathy for Kirsten.

  ‘It was Ian who was in the wrong, not Kirsten,’ Becky says. Kirsten would like to believe that. But she knows it’s not altogether true. And she doubts Becky believes it either. From the look on her face, Nina certainly doesn’t.

  ‘I thought I was saving a baby who would be put in care or adopted,’ Kirsten says. Even though she already explained it to Nina, five years ago, and Nina wouldn’t listen then.

  ‘You should have done more,’ Nina says. ‘And certainly before now.’

  ‘Finish playing your game, Harriet,’ Kirsten calls out. ‘I think we’re going soon.’ She shouldn’t have bothered coming. It’s the same argument as five years ago.

  ‘No, wait,’ Becky says. ‘Come on – if I can forgive Kirsten, you can,’ she says to Nina.

  Nina looks at Becky. ‘You can’t have forgiven her,’ she says. ‘You’re just tolerating her to be close to your daughter.’

  Kirsten used to admire Nina for saying the things no one else would say, for calling them on their bullshit. Now she just wants to kick her. What right does she have to be so judgemental, so smug?

  Kirsten looks over at Ruby and Harriet playing together. It’s a lovely sight. They’re both clever, beautiful girls. It reminds Kirsten of when she and Nina used to play together. Except as ‘cousins’ there is less conflict than there was between her and Nina as sisters. They know that when the play date ends, that’s that. You can’t send your sister packing after an hour. Or maybe you can.

  Kirsten tries a different approach. ‘When did you first fall in love with Ruby?’ she asks Nina.

  ‘The first moment I saw her,’ Nina responds, automatically.

  ‘Exactly,’ says Kirsten. ‘So what would you have done, in my place?’ she asks.

  She sees Nina look over to Ruby, her flesh-and-blood daughter. She knows Nina understands the question. She knows Nina would never have given Ruby away. That once you are mother to a child, however that comes about, you will do your utmost to hold on to it, if you can.

  ‘It must have been so difficult for you, Becky,’ Nina says again.

  Quietly, Kirsten, Becky and Harriet take their leave. Kirsten tries not to cry as she opens the front door. She’d just hoped that biological bond, the nostalgic bind, would release some rush of love from Nina. But apparently not. Apparently she was on her own. Apart from a daughter who wasn’t really hers. And the daughter’s mother, who had saved their lives. Who knew what she planned to do with those lives now?

  But at the door, just as they are about to leave, Kirsten feels a hand on her shoulder, a scribbled phone number thrust into her palm.

  ‘Call me,’ Nina whispers.

  And there it is. Finally. The love.

  Kirsten nods. She wants to hug Nina, seal the emotion. But maybe it’s too much, too soon. So she just reaches out a hand to Nina, puts it on her elbow, holds her gaze, lets her eyes fill with tears.

  When she turns, she sees Becky halfway down the path with Harriet.

  She’s stealing my child! is the immediate panic message from Kirsten’s brain.

  Except Becky and Harriet are hand in hand. No one is being stolen away; Harriet is going willingly.

  Which is exactly what Kirsten can’t allow. She cannot be distracted by whatever happens with Ian. She must keep herself in Harriet’s life. Somehow.

  Chapter 56

  BECKY

  Two days later, they’re holed up in Becky’s Croydon flat – Becky, Kirsten, Harriet. It’s safe to be there again; the media reported yesterday that following Caitlin Parsons’ shocking revelations about underage sex with a teacher, a man was being held in custody. Julia’s joined them too, bringing sleeping bags. They’re all sleeping like squashed sardines in the living room. No one can work out who would share with who without fracturing the fragile peace.

  ‘Can we have Cheerios and ice cream?’ Harriet had squealed when she saw Auntie Julia at the front door.

  Julia ruffles Harriet’s hair then flicks up the blind in the living room. She’s warier than when Becky stayed with her in Bristol, her movements less fluid. That will be Ian’s doing. ‘How are those press vultures still out there? Haven’t they got homes to go to?’

  ‘Maybe Ian’s burnt theirs down too,’ Kirsten mutters. ‘Come on, pull the blind down; we don’t want to be papped!’

  ‘All right, snappy,’ Julia says. ‘I know the insurers have pissed you off, but don’t take it out on us!’

  ‘I just don’t know why they can’t pay out pending an investigation. I didn’t burn it down myself, that’s for sure!’

  ‘Um, because they know they’d never get the money back once they’d given it to you?’ Julia suggests.

  ‘Just be grateful they’ve offered you the temporary rental space,’ Becky says.

  She’d seen the pictures they’d sent through. It all looked fine. Kirsten would have one bedroom, Harriet another, and Becky could sleep on the sofa-bed in the living room. As long as they were all under one roof, it didn’t matter. Except Becky suspects they’d somehow all end up sleeping in the same room, like they are now. Becky wants to see Harriet in the night, check she’s still there. Kirsten had said that after the trauma of the fire, it was good to be together. But Becky suspects their reasons are the same. It’s a question of trust.

  Harriet had seen the photos of the insurer-properties they could move into too, and had expressed her opinion on which was the nicest. It was in Harrow, not Islington. Becky said they should go with that choice. She’d received a glare from Kirsten in return. Now, Harriet was sitting on the floor playing games on Becky’s mobile. Occasionally Becky helped her get to the next level, but mostly she just sat watching. Her child. Finally, she was having a proper, meaningful relationship with her child.

  Becky’s landline phone goes again. She goes to answer it. ‘Bound to be the insurers for you, though, Kirsten – more forms coming in the post, I’m sure.’

  Kirsten groans and puts her head in her hands. ‘I don’t know where they think they’re posting them to!’ she exclaims. ‘Idiots!’

  Laughing, Becky picks up the receiver. It’s not the insurer, though.

  It’s Ian.

  ‘They said I was allowed a phone call,’ he tells her.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asks.

  ‘You know it’s not true,’ he says. ‘Call her off. Make Caitlin tell the truth.’

  Becky pauses. If only he’d called on her mobile. She could have taken it into her room. Now, she’s stuck in the middle of Julia, Kirsten and Harriet. With Ian saying what he’s saying. She’ll have to be smart – she doesn’t want Kirsten finding out. Who knows what wifely feelings of empathy may still lurk in that treacherous breast?

  ‘And are they going to add charges of attempted murder, arson and assault to that?’ Becky says to Ian. She’s going to have to play the part for her assembled audience, pretending he’s said something else – hopefully he’s not speaking loudly enough for the others to hear him. She’ll put on a show, learn the lessons that he taught her, at drama camp. But keep Ian’s name out of it. Harriet mustn’t know it’s her daddy. They must somehow preserve her innocence through all of this. And Ian needs to get the message. If he denies this, there’s worse to come.

  There’s a silence in the room. The grown-ups know who it is now. Kirsten is staring.

  ‘Becky, I’ll be on the sex offenders list. I’ll be in prison as a child rapist; I’ll be slaughtered. Tell her to stop her accusations. I can’t be that person. I can’t.’

  She thinks he might be crying.

  ‘I think you know you have to pl
ead guilty,’ she says into the phone.

  ‘I know I’m guilty, just not of that. Tell Kirsten, tell Harriet, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just, I wanted it all to go away.’ Now he is definitely crying.

  ‘No one wants to hear it, Ian.’

  ‘I could ruin you, you know,’ he says. His voice sounds wild, desperate. ‘I could have you put in prison for perverting the court of justice, getting an old school friend to stitch me up. I bet you haven’t been careful on your messages, on your calls. I’m not as stupid as you seem to think.’

  ‘It’s no good threatening me,’ Becky says loudly.

  She sees Julia frown. Kirsten mouths ‘Can I speak to him?’

  ‘I’d just like to point this out to you,’ Becky continues. ‘I’m sitting in a room with my sister, who you threatened with a knife. And there’s a witness who saw you visiting the house. Oh, and here I am, another student you slept with. Good luck with your denial.’

  The phone goes silent for a while. ‘I’m not how you make me sound,’ Ian says.

  ‘I think you are,’ Becky says. ‘I think you have to accept your guilt.’

  ‘I was only trying to do what was best,’ he says. ‘At least tell Kirsten I didn’t do it – the underage stuff. Please.’

  Becky covers the mouthpiece and addresses Kirsten. ‘Ian says he loves you and he’s sorry for what he’s done.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Kirsten says. Becky sees her turn white, her hands shaking.

  ‘Do you still want to speak to him?’ Becky asks.

  Kirsten shakes her head, and hugs Harriet to her. Becky will forgive that, this once.

  Becky takes her hand away from the receiver again.

  ‘It’s over, Ian. You have to face up to your crimes.’

  ‘After all I’ve done for you!’ Ian shouts down the phone. ‘Becky, please!’

  ‘For you. It’s always been you doing the best for you. Caitlin is going to do what’s best for everyone.’

  ‘Becky—’

  ‘Don’t phone again.’

  Becky puts down the phone. She blows out her cheeks, like someone who’s just been through a trial.

  ‘That man is sick,’ she finally says.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Kirsten says, coming over to her. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Oh, that he’d come and get us, that he was going to deny everything, bring us all into it, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Bring it on!’ says Julia.

  ‘Do you think he will?’ asks Kirsten, biting her lip.

  Becky shakes her head. ‘He’s got too much to lose,’ she says. ‘We’ve got too much on him.’

  She walks over to Julia, Kirsten and Harriet in turn, puts one hand on their heads, as if blessing them. ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  ‘Is Daddy in prison?’ Harriet asks.

  Becky stares at her. This wonderful, intelligent creature that she and Kirsten have been pussy-footing around, trying to protect. And she knows everything. She really was Becky’s own little Matilda.

  ‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ Becky tells her.

  And there’s nothing to worry about. As long as Ian’s sensible, and Caitlin plays her part. And Kirsten sticks to her word.

  Becky’s mobile flashes, and Harriet hands it to her. ‘You’ve got a message,’ she says.

  Becky takes the phone from Harriet. It’s a SnapChat message. Caitlin pouting in a selfie, giving her the thumbs-up. Becky smiles. Five years on, it’s still the same Caitlin – long blonde hair, pink lip gloss. Presumably cut-off shorts too. Becky had called in the promised favour from Caitlin, given after Harriet’s birth all those years ago. ‘If there’s anything I can ever do’, Caitlin had said. And there was. Fit Ian up. It was the least Caitlin could do. Even though she’d done so much already – inadvertently giving Becky her Harriet.

  ‘It’s good to know people have got your back,’ she says, out loud.

  Kirsten nods. ‘It is,’ she says. ‘We’ll all look after each other,’ she says. Becky hopes, for Kirsten’s sake – for Harriet’s sake – that she means it.

  Chapter 57

  KIRSTEN

  It could be a normal school day. A mother fussing over her child’s hair. Insisting that the little pink clips stay in, that the neat braids are not untied.

  But it’s not a normal day. Because the mother doing the fussing isn’t her. It’s the other mother. For herself, Kirsten thinks that the clips are too pink. That they should be gender-neutral, purple, if they’re there at all. Becky disagrees. Kirsten’s running late, so the pink clips stay in.

  What a lucky girl Harriet is to have two mothers! What a lucky woman Kirsten is to be able to leave the house on time, knowing that her daughter’s other mother will take their child to school, while Kirsten goes to her practice! Isn’t this just the happiest, most idyllic scenario? Won’t she just cry with anger and frustration as she drives the Lexus over from Alexandra Palace to Islington, while Harriet walks (presumably hand in hand) with Becky to the local primary school?

  At least the house is just temporary – the rental accommodation that the insurers are providing. Kirsten told Becky that Harrow had fallen through, but really she just couldn’t face the drive, even for a little while. She’s pretty confident that now, three weeks after the fire, she’ll be getting the payout after all.

  ‘You should make it a life change,’ Becky told her. ‘Give up work, spend more time with Harriet.’ This, from the woman who practically throws the keys at her to get her out of the door each morning.

  Except at weekends. At weekends, they all have to sit eating croissants together at the breakfast table. Kirsten slathers her croissant with jam to stop herself choking on the crumbs. When Becky perkily announces that they should all go to the park together, Kirsten acquiesces. Except she usually insists on the red coat, not the pink one. And so Becky asks Harriet which one she’d prefer. Harriet doesn’t want a coat at all. She just wants to run, by herself, in the park.

  Just as Kirsten is about to leave this morning, looking forward to planting her customary kiss on gorgeous Harriet’s head, Becky pulls Kirsten to one side.

  ‘I think we’re doing a marvellous job, you know,’ Becky says. ‘It’s working so well. Thank you. Look how happy everyone is! I told you it would be just like having a nanny, but so much better!’

  And Becky hugs Harriet to her. If Kirsten were to kiss Harriet’s head now, she’d have to put her head into Becky’s belly. She can’t work out if Becky knows this, if Becky also has a plan. Either way, she has to leave without her kiss – she can’t face the physical contact with Becky. She might snap, and headbutt her in the stomach by mistake. Destroy the illusion of perfection.

  So instead she fakes a grin, and waves goodbye. Looking back at them, as they stand on the doorstep, she feels like she’s been ejected from an Eden that Becky has created. There were three in the enchanted garden, which was too many; the serpent should have been the one that was ejected. Everyone knows it had to be two people, who if left to their own devices would have stayed in their gilded harmony for ever. And Becky makes sure that for a few minutes every day it is just her and Harriet.

  But it was a false Eden, Becky must know that. Because a child cannot have two mothers, not like this. Two people trying to occupy exactly the same relationship space. Trying to fuss in different ways about the same things. Each having different models for their child’s success. Both knowing they are right. Both trusting that, somehow, they will be supreme, and they will win.

  And Kirsten fears so, so much that Becky will win. Because Becky can stay at home and help Harriet with her homework. She can be there at the school gates. She can stay up late making fun crafts and toys because she doesn’t need to go to work the next day. She’s a kept woman, the ideal stay-at-home mum. She is, of course, the real mother that Kirsten can never be. And so, Becky and Harriet drift ever closer.

  But Kirsten goes out to work. Becky tells her she doesn�
�t have to. But she does, doesn’t she? Not because of a mortgage or school fees anymore – she can’t use that excuse. ‘Are we still on this topic, in the twenty-first century, questioning mothers going to work?’ she says to Becky, playing the feminist, every time Becky makes the point. Yet that’s not why. It’s because of Harriet and Becky. Or not just because of them. She knows, though, that she can’t be around them all the time; the jealousy would become too much. It’s also because of herself. Because she has to keep something, out of the horror of knowing that her husband is sure at his forthcoming trial to be labelled a rapist, a sex offender; something of the life that came before these three weeks. Something to make her own existence feel real. And the medical practice does that.

  Plus the time out gives her time to think. Time to think about how she can end this situation, the solution that doesn’t solve anything. She thinks back to Ian and his knife. If only he’d got it right, if only he hadn’t got greedy and tried to kill them all. Or if only she hadn’t delegated it to him. Because this arrangement she and Becky have struck is unbearable. They can’t just pretend they are both simply different sides of the same mothering coin – that this is an ideal situation, that Harriet has the luxury of a stay-at-home mum and a working mum, that they have somehow merged into one perfect woman who is doing it all. Life isn’t like that. It’s messier, more of a compromise. People have emotional agendas. Expectations. Resentments.

  But this, this situation with Becky, it’s too much of a compromise. It simply can’t go on. Can it?

  If it can’t, Kirsten is going to have to take decisive action. Action that will no doubt harm her child, emotionally. Kirsten won’t be popular. Motherhood isn’t about popularity though, is it, or friendship? It’s about doing what’s best in the long run, not shying away from the difficult scenes.

  Maybe. She doesn’t know. Maybe you never know what motherhood is until you’re right at the very end. Until your child is grown-up, and they have their own children, and you can see then whether they understand. All you did for them. All the choices you made. All the times you were torn.