Do No Harm

by L. V. Hay

  I knew Maxwell, though: he liked to play games. But he would only bother if the odds were in his favour, and only if there was a clear objective – one that benefitted him. Try as I might, I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly my ex-husband was aiming for with this one.

  What was I missing?

  Twenty-five

  ‘The Mum Mafia is having a field day, Seb.’

  Harry paced nervously around Sebastian’s office. Watching him go back and forth was making Seb feel ever so slightly seasick. Harry was only about forty but had the lines of a much older man. He was a glimpse of Sebastian’s future, if he let stress take its toll.

  Sebastian looked back at the printouts in front of him. ‘I know. Sadie says the PTA has had at least five parents saying they’re pulling their kids out, as of September.’

  ‘Arseholes!’ Harry blustered, though whether his interjection was aimed at the parents, or the situation itself, was unclear.

  The school inspection had fallen in the final week of term, as they’d all realised it would. People outside of teaching could have been forgiven for thinking the never-ending paperwork and preparation should have paid off; in reality, old-fashioned nerves had counted against them. The staff at Avonwood had overcompensated, somehow drawing attention to, rather than away from, any deficiencies. Sebastian loathed the whole system: how could the inspectors gauge a teacher’s effectiveness from observing just fifteen minutes’ worth of lessons?

  ‘Every school loses pupils when it gets a report like this,’ Sebastian reminded his deputy. ‘Some parents will always chase that “outstanding” rating, regardless of whether their kids are happy in school.’

  Still pacing, Harry didn’t hear Sebastian’s reassurances. ‘All the bloody parents can see is that damned report.’ He read out from his own printout: ‘“Teaching is inconsistent across the school and is not good enough to secure good outcomes for pupils”.’ He rounded back on Sebastian, eyes shining. ‘I know it’s not fashionable to say it, but teachers are human beings! Some are brilliant, some are good, some are average. If the bloody government sacks all the average and good teachers in the country, what schools would be left?’

  Sebastian raised a palm. He didn’t need a lecture on the shortsightedness of league tables, nor on middle-class parents’ obsession with them. ‘I hear you. Look, we just have to wait it out. It’s not like there’s going to be a mass exodus.’

  Sebastian also didn’t want to hear how his own brush with Maxwell in the school playground – or Denny getting lost at the school fête three days before – had made a dent in the Avonwood parents’ confidence. He’d heard the mutters at the school gates that morning. It had taken no time at all for rumours and yet more condemnation to spread.

  The meeting over, Sebastian sat back in his chair and massaged his temples. He admired his colleague’s passion for the job – that was why he’d chosen Harry as his deputy and right-hand man – but sometimes his fervour and idealism drained him.

  The clock read half past two. Sebastian was considering packing up early and surprising Lily, when there was a soft knock on his door. Rosanna appeared, her shoulders hunched, obvious resentment at actually having to do some work on her round face.

  ‘Erm, Mr Adair? Someone to see you.’

  Sebastian glanced at his open appointment book. The section for that afternoon was blank, as was customary on the last afternoon of school before the six-week summer holiday. Must be a parent – and probably bad news at that.

  He sighed. ‘Send them in.’

  Moments later, a tall woman with impossibly broad shoulders swooped into the room. She was about thirty-five, with the grace of a catwalk model. Her clothes didn’t match her demeanour; she was wearing worn jeans, scuffed trainers and a top with a ditsy flower pattern.

  She grinned at Sebastian, taking his proffered hand. Her grip was stronger than he expected. ‘Mr Adair. Thanks for seeing me at such short notice. I’m Hina Bokhari, Social Services.’ She held up the card ID that hung from a lanyard around her neck.

  Dread like concrete sank in Sebastian’s belly. ‘I see.’

  Hina glanced around Sebastian’s office, taking it all in. ‘Lovely school. Kids look happy. That’s how you tell a good school, I reckon.’

  ‘I wish everyone thought the same,’ Sebastian replied. ‘So, what can I do for you?’ He indicated the chair in front of his desk.

  Hina threw herself into it, dug in the bag that hung from her shoulder and pulled out a clipboard. ‘Don’t look so worried. There’s been a complaint of reckless endangerment of a minor. As I’m sure you realise, we just have to follow up on these things.’

  The words dropped on Sebastian’s head, as if from a great height. Reckless. Endagerment. Minor. Each one sent his senses reeling.

  He felt the tension in his jaw grow. ‘A complaint from…?’

  Hina bowed her head in mock deference. ‘Ah. Well, that is confidential, I’m afraid. As I’m sure you also realise.’

  Sebastian nodded. ‘I understand. Is this about the school fête?’

  ‘It is.’ Hina consulted the clipboard in front of her, thumbing through some papers. ‘Apparently a child – a Dennis Stevens, aged six – was missing for almost an hour?’

  ‘A misunderstanding,’ Sebastian declared. He’d decided to stick to the party line the school had put out on the blog, Facebook page and as a text to parents. ‘Denny was never actually missing. He was here the whole time.’

  Hina took in Sebastian’s explanation and appeared to consider it, before dropping her bombshell. ‘That’s not what our complainant says.’

  Sebastian gritted his teeth. ‘And where does the complainant say Denny was?’

  Hina flicked through another form. ‘On the common. On his own, apparently. For at least twenty minutes.’

  Sebastian shook his head, incredulous, though he knew he shouldn’t be. The audacity of that man… ‘Is the complainant Maxwell Stevens?’

  Hina smiled. ‘You know I can’t confirm that.’

  So, yes, then. Sebastian puffed out his cheeks. ‘Can anyone else confirm Denny was alone on the common that day?’

  ‘Again, I can’t comment on that. But do you have anyone who can confirm that Denny didn’t leave the school site on Saturday?’

  Sebastian considered the odds. There was a strong chance Maxwell was bluffing them. It had been raining on Saturday, so it was likely that he and Denny would not have seen anyone if he had taken the boy off-site as he and Lily suspected. But they had not called or gone to see Maxwell after the fête, feeling that was what he’d have wanted. Now Sebastian wondered if that had been a mistake.

  ‘I can confirm I had sixty parents looking for Denny, as soon as the alarm was raised. Plus, the child won’t admit to being off-site. And even though it was pouring with rain that day, he was dry when we found him. So, I believe he never left.’

  He expected her to say something in return, but she didn’t. Sebastian watched Hina scribble on her forms. Then she shut her clipboard and slipped it in her bag, standing as she did so.

  ‘Well, that’s all for now. Thank you, Mr Adair.’

  Sebastian ushered Hina towards the door, reaching to open it for her. As he did, Hina stopped, as if she’d only just remembered something. Sebastian recognised the technique at once.

  ‘Dennis … he’s your stepson as well as your student, right? Bit strange you didn’t mention that.’

  ‘I just assumed you would have known that, that’s all.’ Sebastian could feel the breath, shallow in his chest. He felt light-headed. It was obvious she wanted him on the back foot.

  ‘That’s all?’ Hina echoed. There was a sense of anticipation in the air. Then she grinned her Cheshire cat smile again, shattering the feeling like glass. ‘Well. If there’s anything else, we’ll be in touch.’

  The door shut behind her.

  ME: So, safe to say they bought it, then?

  OUR MUTUAL FRIEND: Now what?

  ME: We wait


  OMF: I don’t like it.

  ME: You’ve done the hard part.

  OMF: Tell me about it. This is getting out of control … It feels too risky. What if they make the connection?

  ME: They won’t. Besides, he who dares wins and all that…

  OMF: I’m the one who’ll get it in the neck first when they find out. I could lose everything!

  ME: Just keep your nerve.

  OMF: Easy for you to say.

  NO REPLY

  OMF: Can you at least make it worth my while? Come over to mine tonight?

  NO REPLY

  OMF: Come on. You owe me. We can have some fun.

  NO REPLY

  OMF: Fine. Fuck you.

  NO REPLY

  OMF: I’m sorry. I need you. PLEASE reply.

  NO REPLY

  Twenty-six

  ‘But I didn’t wet the bed!’

  Denny’s face was painted with dark, six-year-old fury. His little arms crossed, legs spread wide, his body language screamed hostility. He abruptly threw himself down on the floor next to the sofa, rolling under the coffee table. Typical kid response to stress: I am not here … You can’t see me if I can’t see you. I felt like joining him under there.

  ‘He keeps saying that.’ Maxwell’s voice was apologetic.

  I bit my tongue. I could not pretend I wasn’t relieved to get an appointment so soon, especially after what had happened at the fête the previous week. But I hated the fact I was here with Maxwell, even if he was Denny’s father. As I’d agreed with Sebastian, I had not mentioned our suspicions to my ex-husband, or the fact we were rattled by his sending Social Services to the school afterwards. Even so, the sight of the bruising cut on Maxwell’s cheekbone, the legacy of Sebastian’s tussle with him, made me want to hit my ex-husband myself.

  ‘Come on now, darling.’ I attempted to grab Denny, pull him back out from under the table. ‘We’re not angry with you, I promise.’

  But he writhed out of my touch, as if he hated me. Discomfort rankled through me, made worse by the humidity in the office. I could taste sweat on my upper lip and I was self-conscious: there had to be perspiration marks under my arms. In contrast, Maxwell looked as if he’d wandered off a Caribbean beach. He was wearing all white and flip-flops, his perfect, pedicured toes on display.

  The psychologist, Sally, looked up from her notes, just in time to see Maxwell place a hand on mine, as if to comfort me. I jerked it away automatically.

  ‘I’m noting some tension.’ Sally spoke quickly and succinctly, as if someone had pressed her fast-forward button. ‘Could that be a contributory factor to Denny’s … issues, do you think, Mum?’

  Sally was probably in her late forties, but called us Mum and Dad.

  ‘Could be.’ I fought the urge to shrug like a recalcitrant teen. I was conscious of Denny grabbing at my feet from under the coffee table.

  We were seated on a ridiculously low and overstuffed sofa, in a room that was supposed to put children at ease. Posters on the wall proclaimed this a ‘safe space’, and basically it was a paradise for kids. Everything was at child height. There was an easel, with paints and chalks and felt tips. There was a box of plastic games; a deep bin full of cuddly toys. Various board games; modelling clay; a box of musical instruments. There was even a games console. They’d thought of everything.

  But despite Sally’s open invitation to play with whatever he wanted, Denny remained where he was, under the table. Despair welled up within me, tears not far behind. What the hell was going on?

  ‘Also, we should mention … Lily remarried recently.’

  Maxwell shot me another contrite look as Sally’s eyes seemed to light up at this new titbit. She scribbled some more on her clipboard.

  I felt the familiar anger pool itself in my belly. I couldn’t let Maxwell get away with this – using our son’s issues to get between Sebastian and me. What kind of mother would that make me? I had to get a grip. Okay, Denny had obviously been having a harder time of my remarriage than I realised, but bed-wetting was a phase many kids went through. That was why we were at the appointment: we would get Denny sorted and he would be happier. I could not let Maxwell sabotage my relationship.

  ‘Sebastian and Denny get on very well,’ I told Sally.

  More scribbles. ‘Have you and – sorry, Sebastian, is it? – have you been together long, Lily?’

  I started to say, ‘Since last September,’ but Maxwell jumped in with, ‘Not long.’

  Now I really did want to punch him. I glowered at him.

  ‘So, coming up to a year. But Denny knew Sebastian before this?’

  ‘That’s right. Sebastian is the head teacher at Denny’s school. I work there too.’ I eyeballed Maxwell. ‘I would never just bring a stranger into the house.’

  ‘Well, technically you moved into his house.’ Maxwell picked an imaginary piece of lint from his white linen slacks. He caught my vitriolic gaze and raised both palms. ‘I’m just trying to help paint a picture, that’s all.’

  I counted to ten. Then I glanced up at Sally, eager to continue, but the older woman was not looking at me. Denny had emerged from under the table while I was busy shooting daggers at his father. She started moving her pencil across the paper now, as if sketching him. Perhaps she was. He moved a toy car across the floor, then crashed it into an action figure.

  ‘He’s dead!’ Denny announced as he sat back on his heels. ‘Flat as a pancake!’

  He laughed, his face almost demon-like. A shudder made its way down my spine as I considered his behaviour. I always checked his YouTube history and not found anything other than his usual superhero cartoons and toy unboxings. Denny played soldier games on the Xbox, but I tried to vet them, looking out for extreme kinds of violence. Before now, I’d certainly never seen him delight in violent games with his toys. He was the type of child who served imaginary tea to his dinosaurs and cried if someone pretended to steal his nose.

  Before I could confess my fears, though, another woman came in. This one was petite, but with a round, tight drum of a belly, like she’d swallowed a basketball. Pregnant. I felt jealousy leap out of me, shocking and unexpected. She folded her hands over the top of her bump and smiled at both Maxwell and me, beatific.

  Sally raised one tanned arm in the pregnant woman’s direction. ‘This is Anna, our play specialist.’

  The rotund Anna gave us an absurd little wave. I swallowed an incongruous smile. How much was Sally assessing me? Maybe she already had and it was written down on her little clipboard: Mum is clearly neurotic and a negative influence on her child.

  Sally gave us a shark-like smile. ‘Now, if you could give me, Anna and Denny a moment, please?’

  I blinked. ‘Yes, of course.’

  We shuffled out, like chided kids leaving the headmaster’s office. I’d expected the room to have one of those one-way windows, so we could see in, like in police interrogations. Instead, we were shown to a little waiting area further down the corridor. Maxwell collapsed into a chair with a sigh. I paced up and down the small hallway. A female receptionist with tightly cropped blue hair and a nose ring asked us if we wanted a drink. We both declined, so she turned back to her workstation.

  ‘Sit down, you look exhausted, Lil.’ Maxwell leaned back as if he were on a throne, not a plastic orange chair.

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ I snapped.

  Maxwell regarded me with his big blue eyes, his feelings supposedly hurt. ‘You see, all this acrimony, it’s not good for the boy.’

  ‘Then maybe you shouldn’t be playing your stupid games.’ The words leaped out and I cursed myself for showing our hand.

  ‘Like I told Sebastian, I’m not playing games,’ Maxwell said the words slowly, as if he was talking to a child.

  ‘When did you tell Sebastian this?’ I demanded.

  Maxwell raised an eyebrow, pointing to the bruise on his cheekbone. ‘When he did this.’

  ‘When you made him do it, you mean,’ I hissed.

  ‘You’re exc
using violence now? Wow.’ Maxwell sat back in his chair, shock on his face. ‘I know we’ve had our differences, Lil, but you know I would never raise a hand to you or Denny. I can’t believe you’d be with a man who might. I’m scared for you, but you’re a big girl and it’s your life. It’s my son I’m worried about.’

  I couldn’t believe how he’d twisted my words. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else, in case he used it against me, back in the room with Sally. Was this Maxwell’s endgame – taking Denny away from me? I felt my mouth quivering, and ground the heel of my hand into my eye to stop frustrated, angry tears from spilling out. Maxwell mustn’t see me cry. I didn’t want him thinking he was getting somewhere.

  About twenty-five silent minutes later, the door opened again. Sally appeared and crouched beside my chair. Normally I would feel the need to move away, or even mimic her and crouch too. But I was bone-weary with it all, so I stayed where I was. Sally’s position was weird, but no weirder than anything else about this situation.

  ‘So, Denny’s been quite forthcoming,’ she said.

  I felt trepidation bloom in my chest. ‘…Right…’

  ‘He is adamant about the bed-wetting not being him. He’s not even blaming someone else: a cat or dog, a friend or a sibling…’

  ‘He’s an only child,’ said Maxwell. ‘And they don’t have any pets.’

  Sally swivelled towards Maxwell, still in her crouched position. I wondered if he could see up her short skirt.

  ‘Yes, I understand that. But sometimes only children will invent friends or people as being at fault, rather than them … an imaginary friend, if you like.’

  I raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘So, he’s strange because he doesn’t have an imaginary friend?’

  Sally tipped her head at me, like an admonishing parent. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  She stood up and led us into the playroom. We saw Denny sprawled on the floor. The games console was on. Despite her enormous stomach, Anna had somehow got down on the floor with our son. They were engrossed in a racing game.