The Pupil

by Dawn Goodwin

  He turned slowly. I got to my feet to match him in height.

  I lowered my voice. ‘I will always be grateful for how you cared for me when I needed you, but now all you’re doing is suffocating me. I need to do this. I have a great opportunity and I’m not going to waste it. I think it’s time we accept that perhaps we have gone the distance.’

  ‘Are you saying what I think you are?’

  ‘I think we should separate.’

  He took two large strides, closing the distance between us, and grabbed my arms. His fingers pressed into the flesh and I gasped.

  ‘After everything I’ve done for you? I don’t think so. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.’

  ‘Paul, please, you’re hurting me.’

  ‘No, Katherine, you’re hurting me. I’ve cared for you, provided for you, given you a home and a lifestyle that any woman would beg for.’

  ‘But you haven’t loved me, Paul! I stepped in when you had no one else. Just like you filled the void left by my father, I did the same for you after your parents died. Do you remember when we first met, how lonely you were? Rattling around in your parents’ house a year after they died, eating in restaurants on your own so that you had noise around you. You told me that and I empathised with you because I was feeling it too. Then once you’d caught me, you took ownership of me, possessed me, kept me like a porcelain doll on show, making me dependent on you so that I couldn’t leave.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I cannot listen to you when you’re ranting.’

  ‘I am not ranting. I am speaking the truth for the first time. I want to be a success, I want a career, I want independence and freedom – and I can’t have that with you.’ Now that the words were hanging in the air between us, I realised how true they were.

  ‘And where do Jack and Lily fit into this plan of yours?’

  ‘We will come to an arrangement between us, but I have been their primary parent their entire lives and that is not about to change.’

  He squeezed my arms harder and started to shake me as rage flitted across his face. ‘How dare you! I have been working hard to provide for you! I’ve put up with everything, from nervous breakdowns to seeing my reputation dragged through the mud by the newspapers, propping you up endlessly, listening to you whine about how you can’t cope. And this is the thanks I get?’

  I had wanted to ignite some passion in him, but now I was scared at the cold fury in his eyes.

  ‘Paul, let me go.’

  ‘You think you can use me all this time and then walk away? With my children in tow?’ Each word was accompanied with a hard shake, but his voice was still ominously low. ‘Or is it because someone better has come along? Is that it? So that you can run off to Sam? Is that what this is actually about?’

  ‘No – Sam is married too. He’s a friend, that’s all.’ I kept my voice low despite feeling the urge to scream.

  ‘You bitch! You’re not going anywhere!’ He shoved me hard and I flew from his grasp, my head slamming into the table as I fell to the floor. The room dimmed around me and my ears began to ring. I felt like I had been plunged into a dark tunnel.

  Gradually, everything began to refocus and I found myself sprawled on the cold floor, with Paul leaning over me, his face pale and tight.

  ‘Katherine, can you hear me? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Katherine!’

  I tried to sit up, but dizziness pushed me down again. I gulped in air.

  ‘Don’t try to get up. You’ve hit your head.’

  I put a hand up and felt a throbbing lump already forming on the side of my head. ‘I’m okay,’ I said, my breath returning. I sat up again, slower this time.

  Paul sat back onto the floor, his face anguished. ‘What have I done?’

  Thoughts were reconnecting in my brain. I held onto the edge of the table and pulled myself up to my knees. He helped me to my feet and over to the chair, then rushed over to the freezer and began rummaging inside. He pulled out a bag of frozen tofu.

  ‘Here, put this on it.’

  ‘I think you should go, Paul.’

  ‘No! I’m so sorry, Katherine, I just got so panicked and angry and…’

  ‘Please, pack up some things and go. I need some space to process all of this.’

  ‘Please, don’t make me leave. Don’t take my kids. You, them, you’re all I have. I can’t.’

  ‘We’re not good for each other any more, you must see that. Think of Lily and Jack and what’s best for them.’

  ‘Mum? You okay?’ As if on cue, Lily stood in the doorway, concern wrinkling her perfect brow.

  ‘I just slipped and banged my head, angel. That’s all.’

  Paul looked from Lily to me, then back to Lily. His shoulders slumped, his face caved in. He was quiet for a moment, a thousand emotions flittering across his face, the last resignation, then he said in a choked voice, ‘Lily, I have to go away for a few days… for work, but can you do me a favour please?’

  ‘Sure.’ She still looked on edge, aware that this wasn’t quite right.

  ‘Can you keep a close eye on your mum for me, especially tonight, and call me on my mobile if you’re worried about anything? Can you do that?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was tiny and scared.

  ‘Do you know the number?’

  ‘Yes, Mummy taught me it.’

  ‘Good, good, of course.’

  ‘Don’t worry, honey, I’m fine,’ I said. ‘It’s just like when you bang your head. I feel a little woozy, but I’ll be fine in a minute.’

  Paul wouldn’t look at me, but shame pulled the colour from his skin. ‘I’m going to grab a quick shower, then I’ll go.’

  I watched him leave and breathed out in relief as soon as he did.

  ‘Would you like some water, Mum?’

  ‘Thank you, Lily, that would be nice.’ I touched the lump again and winced, but my head felt clearer now, despite the dull headache that was setting in.

  All I could think was that I’d been here before with Darren and I hadn’t had the courage to get out the first time it had happened. This time would be different.

  24

  A day had passed since my confrontation with Paul and we’d had little to say to each other in that time. He’d holed up in a local hotel, but on his way out the door he’d tried pleading with me again, apologised, promised it would never happen again, but I didn’t want to hear it. I’d heard it all before from different lips.

  With the kids at school and Bo sleeping peacefully in his bed after a long, therapeutic walk for both him and me, I sat at the kitchen table in the quiet, testing the weight of my decision. I didn’t feel overwhelmed or anxious; just quietly confident for the first time in years that everything would work out.

  But I also didn’t want to rush into anything. I wanted to make sure this was the right move, not just for me but for the children.

  I made a call to Dr Hathaway and confirmed the appointment Paul had made but told her I wanted to discuss other forms of treatment, maybe more therapy rather than relying on medicinal solutions.

  Then I called Viola. The line rang for a while and I fully expected her voicemail to kick in.

  ‘Hello Katherine.’

  ‘Viola, hi, how are you?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks. So sorry about your mother. I hope you are bearing up okay?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I was hoping to talk to you about the contract. Maybe get together and discuss it?’

  ‘Wonderful, a great idea. I tell you what, how do you fancy a day trip out to the beach house? Sam has holed himself up there this week and I was going to go and spend the weekend with him. It’s not far from London on the train. Perhaps you can come for the day on Friday?’

  I mentally ran through the logistics even as I heard myself say, ‘That sounds great.’

  ‘Fantastic, how about we meet around lunchtime then? I’ll email you the address and train details.’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘Wonderful, I think it’s time we br
ought this story to a conclusion, don’t you?’

  *

  I checked my train ticket for the hundredth time as I stood on the concourse at Waterloo, pulling my coat tight around me against the cavernous chill. Nerves jangled through me, but I felt alive and connected. Paul had agreed to finish work early and have the kids after school. He was trying to make amends and generally being very helpful, even asking to read my manuscript so that he could get an idea of what it was about, but I was loathe to let him in case he didn’t like it. The week had passed smoothly, although we hadn’t told the children about our separation yet, mostly because Paul was still trying to convince me we could make it work. We’d already discussed putting up the Christmas decorations as a family tomorrow and going out for dinner afterwards, but while he was hoping it would make me change my mind, l wanted Jack and Lily to feel secure in the knowledge that for them very little would change after our split, that we could be civil to each other and we would love them no matter what. That was really important to me, especially in light of the destruction my own parents’ divorce had left behind.

  I boarded the train to Poole according to Viola’s instructions and put all thoughts of Paul aside. Who’d have thought over a decade ago that I would be sitting on a train on my way to meet with my agent to discuss submitting my novel to publishers. Back then, I had been a snivelling wreck after one careless moment cost me my fledgling career and almost my sanity.

  Goosebumps prickled across my skin. I checked my phone.

  8 December 2017.

  The irony of the date struck home. Twelve years ago today.

  I pushed the thought aside.

  No, not today, Katherine. Keep your head.

  As the train accelerated towards the coast, my nerves ratcheted up in tandem with the sound of the tracks rattling underneath my feet. A computerised voice broke into my thoughts to inform me that the station we were approaching was my destination. I pulled on my coat, packed away the book I had not managed to concentrate on and took a deep breath.

  I emerged from the station to see a dark car parked across the road, guarded by a man in a formal-looking suit. He looked over at me and approached.

  ‘Ms Baxter?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My name is Henry. I’ll be driving you to Ms Matthew’s residence this afternoon. If you’d like to follow me.’

  With a start, I realised it was the same driver who had driven me to Waterloo in my inebriation. In daylight, he seemed much less imposing than he had that night.

  I blushed, mortified at the memory of what I must’ve looked like and pretended I didn’t recognise him. ‘Thank you.’

  He took my bag from me and crossed the road.

  The car was warm and smelled of expensive leather. I settled into the back seat as Henry stashed my bag in the boot.

  ‘It shouldn’t take longer than about ten minutes to get there, Ms Baxter.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I repeated.

  My phone vibrated in my handbag. My heart still stopped every time a text came through, even though I hadn’t received a threatening one for weeks.

  Good luck with your meeting. Paul x

  He really was trying hard.

  I watched the world scroll past the window. It was a beautiful part of the country, all narrow lanes with high hedgerows and green fields hidden behind wooden gates and dotted with sheep, with the occasional glimpse of the sea in the distance.

  Underlying the seductive scent of the car, I could smell a faint saltiness to the air that brought to mind childhood trips to Blackpool with sickly-sweet sticks of rock, screeching seagulls chasing pasty crumbs, and salt and vinegar chips in paper cones. I felt my heart lurch as a memory intruded of my mother in a ridiculous sunhat and burnt shoulders, laughing as she paddled her translucent toes in the cold sea. It must’ve been a birthday treat because I recalled my dad being there and a cake with candles. For once, we had all seemed content. I must’ve been about six at the time and I remembered wearing a swimming costume covered in brightly coloured daisies, even though the water was frigid and the air was as tepid as only the north of the country in summer could be. My mother was laughing and gazing at my father’s face, momentarily lit up by the candles on a Victoria sponge before the breeze blew them out and we had to relight them all again.

  This was a world away from the gaudy seaside towns I remembered visiting.

  The car pulled up to imposing black iron gates. The driver pushed a button on a remote and the gates swung inwards slowly. I raised an eyebrow at the ostentatiousness of it. Viola clearly liked a bit of drama.

  The long gravel driveway cut through a landscaped front garden leading to a beautiful stone house set on the edge of the cliff, with the sea laid out below. It was picture-perfect as expected.

  The car stopped and Henry got out to open my door.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said as I stepped onto the gravel.

  He nodded imperceptibly, then helped me with my bag. Placing it on the doorstep, he produced a front door key, opened it and stepped aside for me to enter. He followed me in and placed my bag just inside the doorway.

  I heard footsteps approach and I turned to see Sam walking towards me, his arms outstretched.

  ‘Katherine, you poor thing. How’ve you been? You got my flowers, I hope?’

  ‘Sam,’ I hugged him lightly. ‘I did, thank you. Very thoughtful.’

  ‘Was the funeral just awful?’

  ‘I’ve had better days.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’

  ‘How are you? How’s the writing?’

  ‘Ah, that, well… There’s time to discuss all of that. Here, let me take your coat. Viola is around here somewhere.’

  I looked around me, taking it all in. Much more comfortably decorated than the London apartment, this house seemed to ooze nautical charm. The room in front of me was a large, beautiful, open-plan living space decorated all in white with blue accents.

  ‘How very… nautical,’ I said as I handed him my coat.

  ‘Viola’s choice. Certainly not mine. What do you think?’ He indicated the wall-to-ceiling glass doors along the back of the room that looked directly out onto the sea above what appeared to be a sheer drop down to the beach. The two of them certainly loved their dramatic views.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ It really was breath-taking.

  ‘Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some drinks. Tea? Something stronger? Or is it not lunchtime yet?’

  ‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’

  I threw my bag over my shoulder and wandered further into the room, taking in the tasteful art on the walls and the crystal vases of flowers, the rows of bookshelves packed tightly with bestsellers, and the long jigsaw table set to one side in front of the impressive view, a puzzle waiting patiently on it to be finished.

  Dropping my bag by the ice blue velvet couch, I walked closer to the window and stared down towards the beach. A steep flight of stairs led from the side of the veranda to the sand and rocks below.

  ‘Katherine!’

  Viola walked into the room carrying a tray holding cups and saucers, a Victoria sponge and a plate with a lemon on it, next to a disconcertingly large knife with an elaborately carved handle that was spectacularly overqualified to cut slices of lemon and cake.

  ‘Hi Viola. Wow, this is a beautiful house.’

  ‘Isn’t it? The perfect place for isolation.’

  ‘No Christmas decorations up yet though?’ I smiled politely.

  ‘We don’t really celebrate Christmas. That’s for families with children, after all.’ She glared at me as she said it and I felt uncomfortable in my skin suddenly.

  To change the subject, I said, ‘Is that a private beach?’

  ‘Yes, it is. There is no one near here for miles – we spent a fortune on this land for that very reason. All very secluded, just how I like it.’

  ‘Anyone for tea?’ Sam offered, returning with a teapot. He made himself comfortable on the couch as Viola took the
teapot from him and poured.

  ‘Sam, I assume you would like fresh lemon in yours?’

  ‘Always, my darling.’ Their voices were stiff, as though they were on the brink of a disagreement.

  Viola took hold of the knife, the silver blade catching the light as it pierced the rind and sliced through the lemon. The sharp tang of citrus punctured the air.

  Aware as I was of the elephant in the room, I said quietly, ‘I wanted to apologise to you both, actually. My behaviour the last time we were together was appalling. I don’t normally drink and I think it all just went to my head.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense, we’ve all been there, haven’t we, Vi?’

  ‘No harm done. I do hope your husband wasn’t too worried though. You were in quite a state.’

  ‘Well, we’re not exactly together any more.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Sam said with genuine concern. ‘You really have been through the mill lately.’

  I smiled, touched at his sympathetic tone.

  ‘Well, perhaps we should be drinking champagne then?’ Viola said, less sensitively.

  ‘Viola! Some tact, please,’ Sam said shortly.

  ‘What?’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘He wasn’t very keen on your writing anyway, was he?’

  ‘I told you that?’

  ‘Yes, you said as much at dinner. I do wish I had stopped you taking those pills though when I had the chance.’

  My head was jumbled and something about what she said wasn’t sitting right in my memory. ‘It’s funny, but I don’t remember taking them – or telling you that.’

  ‘It’s the sign of a good night when your memory can’t keep up with the amount of fun you had. I can’t remember that either, so I’m guilty too,’ Sam said, chuckling.

  ‘It’s all forgotten.’ Viola waved a hand dismissively, but she was acting erratically, her movements staccato, as if on fast forward. ‘Anyway, I’ve got some papers to show you, Katherine, so if you’ll excuse me a moment while I get what I need. Sam, cut us some cake, would you?’ She jumped to her feet and left the room. Sam simply shrugged.

  My eyes were naturally drawn to the veranda with its stunning view. Sam was watching me closely. ‘Follow me,’ he said.