It Always Rains in November

by Richard Hoffman

  “Yeah, you could be right. I don’t want to slag her off. I hardly know her.”

  “What does your boyfriend think?”

  “He’s a good guy, it’s difficult.”

  “However good he is it must be difficult for a teenage girl to get through to her Dad. Does your boyfriend’s daughter not have a Mum?”

  “She does but apparently she’s pretty useless, only interested in her career and making my boyfriend feeling inadequate.”

  At that moment Louis came back with the photocopying.

  “I should get back upstairs,” said Janice looking at her watch. “I’m only here this morning so I’d better get some work done.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Now I know where you are, I’ll pop down again once I have the rest of your files. And we can swap more tales about teenage terrors.”

  “I’ll look forward to that,” replied Marie and, being the consummate professional, offered her hand for a formal handshake. “I’m Marie by the way.”

  Janice smiled “There’s a coincidence, that’s the name of Carl’s... my boyfriend’s ex-wife.” With that she was out the door and disappearing up the stairs.

  Marie put her hand to her mouth. “No……it couldn’t be… could it?”

  Chapter 20

  Tuesday November 9th – Meet the teacher

  Carl Price was on his way to Carly’s school. He was not pleased about having to take the morning off work. So soon after having been caught in the pub with Janice, he hoped that Martin would not give him a hard time later.

  His mind turned to Janice. As he had the morning off, and she then had the afternoon off, they wouldn’t see each other at work today. He wondered whether it would be weird in the office now that they were an item. He decided to call her later that evening and was looking forward to it. Not only was she was an attractive woman, but because they were already friends, the awkwardness of dating had been avoided. Best of all, she had been willing to sleep with him after the first date. That had surprised him but he had no doubt that the lunchtime drinking had released some of her inhibitions. After Carly’s intervention, he was not sure if she’d be up for going back to his place again. Still, a great start, and he did fancy her.

  Arriving at school, Carl went to reception and asked for Mr. Philips. Sat waiting, he grew irritated. He was missing work for this, why should they make him wait? After a few minutes, a small, black man approached him. Carl’s initial thought was that a small black kid in his old school would have had the shit kicked out of him. Not by Carl, though.

  “Mr Price. Sorry to keep you waiting. Follow me please.”

  Carl followed the Head of Year to his office.

  “I am missing work, so...”

  “Please take a seat.”

  Carl sat down, annoyed that Mr Philips had not responded to his complaint. Looking around, there were photos of groups of kids on the wall, sports teams mainly, and a couple of trophies. None of Carly, obviously. She didn’t do extra-curricular or sport.

  “Can I get you a tea or coffee?” Mr Philips asked, with an affable smile.

  “No, let’s just get this over with.”

  The teacher took a deep breath.

  “Mr Price, I have asked you here today because I am worried about Carly’s class work and her behaviour. Her class work was on or around a B grade average at the start of the term, but now it is more like a C, or even lower and with GCSE courses beginning in year 9, I wanted to address this now. The decline in behaviour has also been marked this term. I have always liked Carly, I’ve always thought that although she is relatively loud, she is a decent girl, good at the core, but her recent behaviour, culminating in the fight with a year 8 girl last week, is giving me cause for concern.”

  It was a long speech – who did this guy think he was? Barack Obama? So Carly had a fight. Big wow. Carl’s mind wandered. Listening to this teacher droning on was not sustaining his attention. Last night, he’d had sex with Janice and it would have been repeated if Carly had not interrupted them. Janice had very voluptuous breasts – definitely not fake.

  He looked up, realising the teacher had stopped talking.

  “I don’t know what to say. She’s going through a phase at the moment. Gives me and her mum a hard time. Hopefully, it’ll pass soon.”

  Dennis Philips frowned. Carl detected a look of disdain.

  “Mr Price, with all due respect, can I ask if you feel I am wasting your time talking to you about Carly? You appear resentful about being here.”

  Carl gritted his teeth.Who was this...this...teacher, to criticise him?

  “No, not resentful. Am I on trial here?”

  “Not at all, Mr Price. My concern is that if we wait for Carly’s behaviour to improve it might be too late for her. I was wondering if you could think of anything specific that might explain your daughter’s decline in standards.”

  Hard to stay offended. This guy was Mr Calm. Maybe he was Obama’s shorter, less successful, younger brother. Either way, Carl had no input that might assist.

  “I don’t know. If I’m honest, me and Carly used to be close but that’s gone a bit south recently. It’s the same with her and her mum.”

  Mr Philips nodded in sympathy.

  “Could there be something else, perhaps a boyfriend?”

  “She’s only twelve,” Carl protested. “I’ve heard her talking to her friends about boys on her mobile but she’s too young for a boyfriend.” He broke off and considered for a moment. “You could ask her Mum about that though – Carly’s more likely to confide in her. Mind you, the way Carly talks to both of us. Half the time, it’s a different language, as if she’s bl...”

  “A New York Rapper, that’s what you were going to say,” Mr Philips interjected in the same calm tone. “Like Vanilla Ice, if you remember him.”

  Carl ran his hands through his thinning brown locks. He didn’t fully understand Dennis Philips’ comment but knew he had fallen into the trap of political correctness. He wanted to assure the teacher that he was no racist.

  “Mr Philips, I ...”

  “Mr Price, I would like to show you something.”

  For the second time during the meeting, Carl was not given the opportunity to make his point. It was like being at work. Someone always keeping him down.

  Mr Philips opened up his desk drawer and pulled out the essay that Carly had written for Miss Payne.

  “Carly wrote this essay last week. I’d be interested to hear what you think about it.”

  He slid the essay across the desk to Carl, and then sat back in his chair while Carl read his daughter’s thoughts.

  As he read, he remembered reading ‘Not Now George’ to Carly when she was four or five. She had been Daddy’s little girl back then. Always smiling and enjoying a kid’s life, sitting on his lap and playing games, such as Hungry Hippos, together. Seems a whole other life now. Before the angst took over.

  “What do you think of it, Mr. Price?”

  Carl stared down at the page, his stomach churning.

  “It is… I mean she is… not happy…very unhappy. She wants one big happy family, but it isn’t happening.”

  “What do you thinks she means by this bit?”

  Dennis pointed to the essay’s penultimate paragraph that read “...and that it will be Dad and Mum sleeping in Dad’s bedroom together again. He won’t be on my case anymore and will be more like a proper Dad. My nightmairs will stop forever and I am really pleased.”

  “She wants us all to be back together. Me and her Mum, Carly and her half sister. But it won’t happen.”

  Mr Philips appeared to consider that possibility for a moment, and responded quietly.

  “Could be that’s what she meant.”

  “What else do..?”

  “Mr Price, I am worried about Carly. I think she’s a good kid, but this essay and her recent general behaviour worry me.”

  “What did you mean by.
..?”

  “Has anything happened lately that might have caused this decline?”

  “...That comment ‘could be...’”

  “Anything, anything at all?”

  Once again, Carl had tried to make a point but been overridden by the quietly spoken force. His verbal momentum made an exit and he temporarily forgot what point he had been trying to make.

  “I’m sorry. What did you just ask?”

  “Not to worry. Take your time. I was asking you about any explanation for Carly’s recent behaviour.”

  Carl was again driven by recent memories of sex with Janice.

  “Well, last night, for the first time, I brought a woman to our home. It’s been six years since my wife left me and last night was the first time I’ve, well, you know, in the house? That’s how sad I am.”

  “Mr Price, with all due respect, how is last night relevant here? I’m talking about behaviour over a number of weeks.”

  Carl took a considered breath. This was like being at work.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

  Before the meeting, Carl resented Carly for interrupting his night of passion, but now he was attacked by guilt for not considering her sufficiently.

  “Mr Price, there is one thing the school would like to try with you and your wife’s…”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “Ex-wife, sorry. We are fortunate to have a behavioural psychologist affiliated to the school, for the benefit of the pupils. She comes in on a non-fee basis, funded by the Council grant. We think that this would assist Carly and help her come to terms with whatever is troubling her. We will talk to Mrs Price, but are you agreeable to this?”

  Carl pursed his lips.

  “Mmh, not sure about that. Carly might feel that we think she has mental problems if we go that route.”

  “No, I don’t think she will. Therapy is common in the school. We can advise her that it is a compulsory element of the punishment following the fight. There is no stigma and lots of pupils have gone through these sessions.”

  “How many will it be?”

  “One, two, maybe more if Carly wants them. Enough to assist her deal with any demons that exist or confront her unhappiness. Surely, Mr Price, you would like to get to the bottom of this issue and steer Carly back to her real potential?”

  “Yes, yes of course.”

  “OK, I think that’s enough. Do you have any other questions for me before we bring Carly in?”

  Carl did not want to ask anything. This bloke had put him down without criticising, had humiliated him without raising his voice. Carl wanted to leave. Now. Instead he was asked to wait whilst the teacher fetched Carly. This could be double hell. He hadn’t coped with Mr Philips well and if Carly gave him a hard time, this could be a public execution.

  He needn’t have worried. Carly muttered, “Hi, Dad,” and Mr Philips outlined to her the suggestion of counselling sessions as a fitting punishment for her behaviour. Carl watched her nodding her head politely and listening attentively and decided that school must be giving her a valium breakfast each morning. Or was this teacher some kind of voodoo hypnotist? Carly went the whole three minute meeting without an atom of backchat or swearing.

  The meeting finished at 11.30. Mr Philips thanked Carl, and Carly returned to her lessons. By the time Carl was in his car, his mind had returned to Janice, and whether he would be having proper adult sex again tonight.

  * * *

  Marie arrived at the school at ten to two. Carly was in year eight, her second year at senior school, but this was the first time her Mum had been inside the school grounds. Couple this with the accounts assistant at Crouts, who was almost certainly her ex husband’s new girlfriend, telling her that “she was pretty useless as a Mum, solely interested in her career and making her ex-husband feeling inadequate” and Marie was determined to reverse her maternal approach.

  Janice may have been correct about her being useless as a Mum, but not about her rendering Carl inadequate. He was weak, unambitious and didn’t appear to have made a much better job than Marie at being a parent. But this was her opportunity to salvage something from her own underperforming.

  Entering the school, Marie was struck by its modernity. Not the pre-Victorian prison cells she remembered as a teenager. This place was not imposing. It had newly built chalet type, portakabins. Looked like a Butlins holiday camp. Probably was like that as well. She remembered being caned twice, once for smoking and once for being caught snogging Danny Smith. Illegal now, it was probably illegal then. Today’s kids had it so...God, she was becoming her mother.

  At the reception, she asked for Mr Philips and before she sat down on one of the ill suited school chairs, he was next to her, beneath her. She still had her Laura J shoes on and he was so tiny. And black. Marie had never seen a black teacher before and worried whether her eyes gave away her surprise.

  He hadn’t sounded black. Shit, she definitely was becoming her mother. Stereotypical middle class white woman views.

  She followed the short teacher to his office. He was so diddy and had a bald head. This was a serious occasion, but she wanted to pat his head. She gave herself a rallying call. “Come on, Marie, be serious. Do this for Carly.”

  She sat in the seat occupied earlier by her ex husband and the teacher offered her tea or coffee.

  “No, I’m fine thanks,” she replied, looking at his adorned wall. “I don’t see Carly on your wall.”

  “I’m afraid Carly doesn’t take part in outside school activities or sport. A pity, because I understand from her form teacher that she is a good sprinter.”

  Marie returned his gaze.

  “If that was her only crime, I guess you wouldn’t have called me in today.”

  “No, that’s true. The thing is, Mrs Price, I ...”

  “It’s not Mrs Price. It’s Mrs O’Brien. I remarried.”

  Mr Philips apologised and then set out his concerns, with Carly’s classwork and behaviour, for the second time that day.

  “I’m so sorry,” Marie said when he’d finished. “I wasn’t aware that things had got so out of hand. But it’s not only Carly’s fault. Both me and her dad have been failing her recently. I have been saying the wrong things, making the wrong decisions and I know she’s going through it at the moment.”

  Mr Philips looked at her, and his kindly expression only encouraged her tear ducts. She reached for a tissue in her handbag.

  “Mrs O’Brien. You don’t need to beat yourself up. Like I said before, I like Carly. If there are problems maybe I, or the school, can help.”

  His voice was soft and empathetic. Marie warmed to his calm tones.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “My concern, Mrs Price, is that if we wait for Carly’s behaviour to improve it might be too late. If you can expand on anything specific that might explain Carly’s decline in standards. Your ‘wrong decisions,’ perhaps.”

  Marie sighed and wiped away a tear before composing herself.

  “It could be a number of things. I have recently left my husband… that’s er… not Carly’s Dad, but my second husband…God, that makes me sound terrible…”

  “I’m not here to judge, Mrs O’Brien. Please, go on.”

  “Call me Marie, please…”

  As she spoke, Marie fixed upon Dennis Philips’ face. Sitting, he appeared less of a short arse, and he was a good looking guy. He was looking at her as well. Was he focusing on her face or further down her body? What would she say if he made a play for her? She’d say yes but have to wear flat shoes. Again, she chastised herself, “you’re here for Carly, not to pull.”

  “I recently left my second husband and at first I was only thinking about revenge. I think Carly was disappointed in me but then when I stopped being vindictive and started planning for a future for me and Gemma – that’s Carly’s younger sister by my second husband – she, I mean Carly, was more disappointed in me because she was
hoping that she would at least be invited to live with me. So it’s probably all my fault. I’ve let her down again and again.”

  Marie surprised herself by her verbal waterfall. She had not controlled her vocabulary, and had poured out a nasty truth, making her appear both a bad mother and an idiot. Worse, and she semi-despised herself for this thought, was that she had unveiled this to a highly fanciable guy. Dennis Philips offered a consoling word.

  “You blame yourself and yet you say that Carly wanted to live with you. Why would she want that if you were such a bad mother?”

  This man was so sweet, she could hug him. Instead, she was visited by a second and more virulent onset of tears. Marie reached for a tissue wiping her eyes and, trying to ensure that any phlegm and snot were disposed of before Dennis could see her.

  “Probably because her father is even worse.”

  It was a throwaway line from Marie who was sniffling into a tissue. The teacher was serious now and he definitely was not looking at her breasts. Marie looked up and reacted to his grave expression.

  “I didn’t mean that about Carl, but your reaction...something I should know?”

  “No – it was what you said. I was only reacting to your comment. However Carly did come into school a week or two ago with a black eye.”

  “I know about that. It was an accident. Carl isn’t violent, Mr Philips. I was married to him long enough to know that.”

  “Could there be something else, perhaps a boyfriend?”

  Marie shook her head and placed the tissue back into her bag. She was a strong, capable woman and resolved to curtail the waterworks. What must this man think of her? Again, she composed herself.

  “I know Carly is at the age when she is interested in boys but I know she isn’t seeing anyone. Or at least I am 99% certain. You could ask her dad – they do live together.”

  Mr Philips reached for Carly’s essay.

  “Carly wrote this essay last week. What do you think about it?

  Marie read both pages, shaking her head and muttering “Oh my God." to herself. When she finished reading she took a deep sigh and addressed Mr Philips "This is awful. I don’t speak to her Dad any more, me and her constantly argue and yet she still wants us all back together. It’s so sad.” She swallowed hard, determined not to cry again. “I’m so sorry that I left her behind when I walked out on her Dad.”