“What about...”
Marie ignored the teacher’s attempt to interrupt and continued.“We both need to sit down with her and explain that we love her but not each other.”
“What do you think she means by this bit?”
For the second time today, 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.”
“It means that she wants us...” Marie stopped mid-sentence and re-read the words, frowning. “What do you think it means? Why have you picked on this particular bit?”
“I don’t think anything. I’m just asking you.”
Marie was impressed by Mr Philips never raising his voice, but that didn’t stop her increasing her own decibel level.
“No, you don’t. You think it’s odd, don’t you? The whole paragraph is weird – why wouldn’t she write ‘Dad and Mum will be together again?’ And what’s the bit about him being on her case and not being a proper dad.” There was a brief pause as Marie reflected on the possibility “Wait a moment – it’s obvious – the whole thing is about Carl bringing his girlfriend to our bed and not being a proper dad because she isn’t me and...”
“I’m sure that this is nothing but I can tell you that Carly did not refer to Mr Price’s girlfriend. That I do know.”
“Go on then, explain.”
Marie had approached the meeting hoping to improve Carly’s behaviour. Now it appeared that her ex husband might be a paedophile. Dennis Philips hadn’t said as much, but that was his implication, from a couple of lines in an essay. Couldn’t be right, not Carl, he was never a pervert, surely not.
“Mr Price was in here this morning. He mentioned a girlfriend, but from what he told me, Carly only found out about her yesterday, whereas the essay was written last week.”
“So you’re saying Carly meant me instead of her sleeping in Carl’s bed? And that he hasn’t been acting in a proper manner towards her? That’s what you’re implying, aren’t you.”
Despite Marie’s growing anger, Mr Philips remained calm in replying.
“Mrs O’Brien, I am not saying anything of the sort. All I know is that Carly is troubled. No more, no less. Certainly there is no evidence to suggest that Carly is a victim of any abuse…”
“Apart from the black eye.”
“We have 800 kids in this school. Black eyes are a common sight here. Doesn’t mean any are the victims of abuse. Look, I would like to suggest something that the school would like to try with you and your husband’s…”
“Ex-husband,” Marie corrected.
“Ex husband, sorry. With your permission – Mr Price has already given his.” Mr Philips outlined the services of the behavioural psychologist.
Marie was becalmed. This appeared to a solution to the issue.
“Of course! Absolutely! Anything that helps Carly is worth trying.”
“I think it would be a good thing, yes. I’ll arrange it as soon as possible, but there might be a fortnight or so to wait before it begins.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You said Carl agreed the sessions, that’s a good sign,” she gasped. “What am I saying? He can’t be like that.” Marie thought some more. “Can I be present at the sessions; surely a parent has to sit in?”
“Carly is nearly 13, so we will let her decide. She might elect for a teacher to attend but it’s her call. She can be in on her own if she chooses.” He paused, and they exchanged smiles. “Unless you have any further questions it might be an idea to ask Carly to join us at this point.”
Marie nodded, her mind evaluating the discussion and developments.
“We can tell her about the therapy. I’ll explain it is an element of her punishment for the fight – but if I were you, I definitely wouldn’t start saying things about her dad that might unsettle her. You wouldn’t want to unduly influence or worry her.”
“No, no of course not.”
“Let the professional sort this out now. I’m sure it’s not going to be your worst fears but our counsellor will help Carly work through her problems.”
Dennis Philips was already out of his chair and out the office to collect Carly. As was the norm these days, when Carly saw her Mum it followed a big row and Marie was apprehensive. The teacher arrived back within a minute, with Carly following behind him. She was almost as tall as him. Marie wondered how he managed with year 10 and year 11 boys, who must be up to a foot taller.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Hi, Carly. You OK?”
Carly sat next to Marie with Mr Philips sat opposite. He told Carly that both her parents had sanctioned the therapy and stressed that everyone was keen for her to be back on track, both results wise and behaviourally.
Marie listened intently but she wanted to provide practical support.
“Something else, Carly,” she said when the teacher finished speaking, “I thought it might be a good idea for you to stay at mine for a couple of weeks. It would be a change for you and Gemma would love it.”
Carly shook her head.
“Why, Mum? I’ve got my birthday on Friday. Beth and Jacquie are coming for a sleepover. I don’t want to go to yours, it’s miles away. I’d be stuck out there.”
“But Gemma would love to have you there, she…”
Carly turned to face her mum and wagged a finger under Marie’s nose.
“Oh, I get it, Mum. You want an unpaid baby sitter, so you can go out looking for husband number 3.”
Marie put her hand on her mouth. Carly had argued with, and undermined, her. In front of Dennis Philips. Well, he would never ask her out now. No, that wasn’t the point. Marie was trying to be a good mum and do the right thing, but Carly had tossed her parental effort back onto the slag heap. Marie wanted to shout back, but not in front of Dennis. He had not raised his voice once. So she covered her mouth, and waited for intervention. But he didn’t speak. Still, by waiting a few seconds and allowing the anger to melt, she was able to answer calmly.
“It’s nothing to do with me wanting you as a sitter. I thought that I’d give you and your dad a break.”
Carly was in full velocity, and her pigeon had joined in.
“My dad! Have you been talking to him? He never talks to you. Is it because he has his own slapper now? He doesn’t want me around either? I...”
This time Marie had no need to pretend to be a model mum. Mr Philips had heard enough teenage tantrums from Carly.
“Carly, that’s enough!”
Marie was again respectful of Mr Philips’ ability to invoke obedience without raising his voice. Carly immediately shut up on her Head of Year’s command.
“Your mum wants to give you a change of scenery because she is worried about you and cares. There is no agenda here. Sometimes you have to accept kindness at face value.”
“Sir, I know that, but...”
“No buts here, Carly. If you want to stay at your dad’s, that’s fine as well, as long as you are OK with everything. And, for the record, I was the one who told your mum about your dad’s new girlfriend because it came up in the conversation, not your dad.”
“Yes, sir...I’m OK with, like, everything, sir.”
Mr Philips sat back in his chair and smiled.
“OK, now that peace has broken out, let’s recap. Carly, are you OK to see Mrs Green, the school counsellor for regular chats over the next few weeks?”
Carly replied, staring at the floor. “Yeah, it’s cool. I can tell her about my fantastic parents... NOT.”
“That’s enough, Carly. By coming here, both your parents have demonstrated that they have your best interests at heart. You need to think long and hard about your own behaviour.”
“But, sir, I...”
“I think we’ve gone as far as we can with this today. I propose that we end the meeting but a
ll meet up in a month’s time to catch up and discuss what progress has been made. And that’s going to be down to you, Carly. Your parents will be there to help and to listen, but it’s up to you to sort out your behaviour and grades, whilst using the resources and people around who are there to listen and help. Your mum, your dad, Mrs Green and even me or Miss Payne. If ever you want to talk, we’ll be here for you. OK?”
Sulky but compliant, Carly nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Right, do you have any final questions?”
“No, no, that’s, like, OK. Thanks, er, sir.”
Marie still had one question – why had Mr Philips pointed to that particular paragraph in the essay? Maybe Carly wanting to stay with her dad had killed the teacher’s doubt about Carl. Unless he’d decided that Marie was even worse. No, that was daft. If her ex had touched her little girl, there was no way she would let the bastard get away with it. She mentally checked herself – this was Carl, he was a good bloke, she’d have known he was dodgy when she was married to him, she was being ridiculous – but the idea was in her head.
Before she could think about how to phrase the question, both Carly and Mr Philips had risen from their chairs in readiness to leave. Marie followed suit.
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you Mrs O’Brien”. The teacher offered his hand. His handshake was firm, masculine and their grip was retained for a few seconds longer than etiquette required.
“It’s Marie,” she said with a smile.
“Mum, he’s my teacher. Get out of his face.”
Marie couldn’t ask him the question now.
As they left his office, Marie was sure she heard Mr Philips breathe a sigh of relief.
Walking back to where she had left her car, she sought reassurance.
“Carly, are you sure you’re alright at home with your Dad?”
Carly glared at her mother.
“Are you sure you’re alright left on your own with a man? That was my teacher you were flirt...”
“I was not flirting with him,” Marie remonstrated. “When you’re an adult, you’ll understand these...”
Carly snarled.
“Yeah, of course, Mum. Whatever.”
“I came here for you. All this fighting...”
“It was one fight, Mum...”
“OK, but it’s still a fight, and your behaviour. Mr Philips seemed worried about you.”
“I’m fine, Mum, honest.”
“And your Dad, you’re OK with him?”
“Yeah, course. He’s the same as ever. Still annoying, like you.”
“And this girlfriend. Is she...?”
A sly smile appeared on Carly’s face.
“Hope you’re not jealous, Mum. You left us, remember. I’m pleased he’s got a girlfriend, because he’ll leave me in peace.”
Carly had spotted Jacquie and with a, “See you Mum,” she was gone. Marie stood, watching her run off. Dennis was right, she could run fast. Marie was left regurgitating Carly’s comment about being left in peace by her Dad. What the hell did that mean?
Marie sat in her BMW 5 series thinking about what action to take. Rain started falling on the windscreen. Always rains in November. She contemplated everything that had been said and her options, jotting them down in her blackberry.
Call the police
Talk to Carl
Talk to Dennis Philips
Talk to Carly
Talk to Janice
All of the above
None of the above
She decided that she would talk to Carl.
Chapter 21
Tuesday November 9th – The scam
Nathan was still in bed when the doorbell rang. He had organised the meet with Kelly by text, the night before. Ten in the morning, giving them all day whilst his Mum was at work. Now he had overslept. He opened his window and sprayed Joop for a 30 second period in order to fumigate the bedroom. No time to make the bed, he dumped the duvet and sheet in his Mum’s bedroom, along with two days of clothes, three topless posters, a soft toy he’d received from Faye as a present, and three back copies of FHM. He sprayed more Joop in his room, put on a pair of shorts and then ran downstairs to open the front door.
“Hi, F...Kel. You look nice. Come on upstairs. Jam in my room while I have a shower.”
Kelly looked disappointed. “Not even a kiss?”
“I’ve got to smell good for you. Won’t be long.”
Twenty minutes later, Nathan was clean enough for sex with Kelly. He had almost called her Faye earlier. Mustn’t make that mistake again. This was gonna be sweet. A whole day on the gash.
Kelly was sat on his bed singing along to Girls Aloud downloaded on her mobile.
“Hi Kel. Do you wanna drink or munch?”
Before she could answer she received a text.
“It’s from Becky asking me why I’m not at school. I’m telling her I’m with you. Oh shit, my battery’s run out. Think it’s sent. Not...”
“Leave it, Kel,” and he took the phone from her, throwing it onto the armchair at the foot of his bed. He didn’t want her texting all day.
They were both sat on his bed, but as he put his arm round her, they were both soon lying on it. He wasn’t going to ask her again if she was hungry or thirsty. She’d missed that opportunity. It wasn’t long before they were both naked and the first of Nathan’s remaining fourteen condoms had been used.
Afterwards, Nathan raided the kitchen and they both drank a fruit shoot and ate a flake cake in bed. Nathan was momentarily distracted from the day’s major objective.
“Kelly, don’t get crumbs in the bed. That’s moist. Just stuff it in.”
“My gob ain’t as big as yours, Nath.”
“I’m sure it could fit on my c...”
Kelly put her fingers in her mouth and pretended to heave.
“Not now, Nath. Not after eating a cake.”
“OK, then Kel. You fancy something different, like tryin’ it from behind?”
“Nath, all we do is fuck,” Kelly complained.“I wanna talk to you. I wanna know things about you.”
Nathan was surprised Kelly wanted to take the relationship to a dark place – talking was not on his agenda, he thought that she felt the same.
“Talk about what?”
“I wanna get to know you. When’s your birthday?”
“September 12th. Now can we…?” He didn’t want to talk birthdays. He moved next to her and put his arm around her, hoping to guide her to an orgasm – for him.
“What star sign is that? I think it’s Taurus. A bull. That’s you alright, babe.”
Horoscope bullshit. That’s what she wanted to talk about. Man, she could be proper jarring.
“If I’m a bull, I have a big need to take a cow from behind. Let’s…” Again he went to move her to a horizontal position, but she again resisted, shaking him off.
“Wait a sec. Don’t you want to know about me? My birthday or star sign?”
Nathan didn’t want to show that he was irritated, so he grinned at her as he responded, in a light-hearted manner.
“Kel, all that star sign shit. It’s all bollocks. All you need to know about me is that I’m gangsta and my graf is Clumsey. And all I need to know about is you is that you’re chung and I want to fuck your arse off. We can talk anytime afterwards.”
Not good enough for Kelly
“Nath, I like you and I wanna be your girlfriend. I don’t wanna be a whore like my mum who gets screwed by bastards who keep leavin’ her. I want more than that.”
Nathan maintained the smile, but he did feel sorry for her. Her mum was proper moist.
“Kel, babe, I do like you. I really like you a lot. I really wanna be with you. You could be the girl for me, but having sex, it’s part of it. Part of our relationship. Helps make it…makes you great. Honest, Kel, we don’t have a lot of privacy. We can chat all you want when my mum’s here later.”
> That did the trick. This time, she didn’t push him away. This time, she allowed him to hold her, kiss her…and take her from behind.
* * *
Janice Richardson left work straight after lunch at 12.45, and walked home. She had done very little work at Crouts. Apart from chatting to Marion and the auditor, she had spent the morning daydreaming. Going home on foot took her around half an hour, but she enjoyed having the time to think. Good exercise as well, although walking on its own had not removed the excess tummy blubber that she hated. Mind you, she had little choice about walking, following her previous boyfriend’s theft. To settle her debts she binned both the loser and her old Fiat Uno. That was a couple of years ago, and Janice had walked alone ever since.
She had to admit, she was nervous. The Education Authorities were due to come round at 4 p.m. to talk about Nathan. The solution Carl had suggested entailed another appointment at 2 p.m. Both meetings preyed on her mind. Before she was half way home all her nails were bitten to their minimum.
Janice was also indulging in self torture over her own behaviour. Before yesterday, she had been an honest, hardworking, single mum. Now she had taken a three hour lunch break at the Pub, had sex with a man within four hours of going out with him, and was about to lie to the Authorities. Was she becoming a sex mad criminal, and worse, enjoying her new life as a gangster’s moll? Or was she the gangster? Did that make Carl a moll, and what is a moll anyway? Did her new role as a femme fatale make her a bad person, a bad mother? And this badness in her, was that the explanation for Nathan’s delinquency?
Carl was at his daughter’s school, so she hadn’t been able to talk over her concerns with him. Yesterday’s good idea now seemed a ridiculous plot. Lie after lie. It was all so futile anyway. Nathan should be going to school instead of inventing complex cover stories; she should have insisted that he returned. The authorities were no better. So easy for them to point to parental responsibility and discipline, but they weren’t mother to a teenage terror.
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