‘You don’t have to appease me. I don’t think of you as replacing me. Even if I’d remained in London we would have needed a good PR. Someone who can sell and promote us successfully.’
‘It’s much easier to sell other people. I could sell my own grandmother. You know how persistent I am, but I can’t design clothes, so there’s no competition, is there?’
No, Jenny thought. Except you will be living in my house. In Tom’s and my space.
They stopped and faced each other. Jenny said, surprising herself with a shadow of a memory, ‘Were we competitive as children? I can’t remember that we were.’
Ruth laughed. ‘Not when we were small. Maybe a little as we got older. Everyone’s slightly competitive. Danielle and Flo feel bereft without you. I envy you that sort of friendship. I’ve never seemed to have the time, or maybe the facility.’
They moved on and sat on a garden bench facing the sea.
Jenny caught the regret in Ruth’s voice. ‘Well, the London house works as a team and Flo and Danielle wouldn’t consider you if they didn’t like you or think that you could be part of the team.’
‘Thank you,’ Ruth said quietly. ‘That’s a nice thing to say.’ Across the rooftops the sea glittered in the arc of the bay below them. ‘Do you remember how we used to have somersault races down this lawn to the gate?’ she murmured.
‘Yes. Doesn’t it seem a long time ago? And yet…’
‘Sometimes it seems like yesterday. As if we could close our eyes and slide back to childhood.’
‘But we can’t,’ Jenny said. ‘We can’t.’
Harry said, ‘I’ve got the bumph on Truro School here for you. It tells you about different scholarships and things. Mum says your mum can ring the bursar, too, for information.’
‘Don’t say anything about it in front of my mum. I want to read up everything first. She’s just been up to London. I don’t know whether she’s going to change jobs again, but if she does, that’s when I’ll tell her.’
‘What if she doesn’t change jobs and you stay in Birmingham?’
Adam’s face closed. ‘I’m going to tell her anyway. I’m going to tell her how I seriously hate that school. Peter made it a bit better. He was away a lot, but he coached me at home and he took me out to the cinema and concerts and things, and I could talk to him. He never wanted me to go there. I think he offered to pay for me to go to a private school.’
‘So why didn’t your mum let him?’
‘Because he was my stepdad, not my real dad. Anyway, he left in the end.’
‘Why? Did they argue?’
‘Nope. Hardly ever. But they never kissed and that either.’
‘No lovey-dovey to make you puke?’
Adam laughed. ‘Never! What happened to your dad?’
Harry kicked at a tin can. ‘He died. He was a lifeboat man and he drowned when I was seven.’
Adam caught the bleak expression that flitted shadowlike across Harry’s face. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Race you to the Sloop.’
The two boys ran, swerving past the people on the pavements. Harry won. He said, breathless, leaning against the sea wall, ‘They were always lovey-dovey and soppy, my mum and dad. I used to put a cushion over my head, it was so embarrassing.’
As Adam listened to the concert in the parish church that evening he felt acutely affected by the passionate playing of the Australians. He was aware of nothing except the music. He felt as if he were curled inside a closed warm shell of sound. Dean, the oboe player, coaxed out sounds that Adam only dreamt of. The music trembled off the walls and rafters, hovered hauntingly like floating gulls in the thick hot air. Adam held his breath in awe, consumed.
The church was candlelit, the audience rapt, and packed to the altar and choir stalls. The Australians belied their faded, sun-drenched appearance. They were young and intense, as if their very souls were in their music.
Maggie played a Mozart violin piece that sounded to Adam almost perfect. A side door had been left open because of the heat of the crowded church and Adam could hear the rhythmic sound of the sea. Longing caught and tore at his heart. He was unaware that he was crying. Tears silently flowed down his cheeks in the darkened church and as the aching sound of the violin shivered through him he prayed: Dear God, please help me. I want to live in Cornwall. I want to go to school with Harry. I love my mum but I don’t want to live in Birmingham or London. I want to live near the sea. I want to know everything about my father. I want Jenny to tell me and there is never time. Please make it so these things happen and I get a scholarship and my mum lets me and lives here too near James and Bea. If you help me I will try not to ask anything again. Thank you, God.
FORTY-FOUR
The house in Birmingham seemed cold when Ruth and Adam got home. Ruth shivered, it had never felt cold before. She had told Adam about the job in London on the drive home. ‘I know it would mean a change of schools for you, Adam, but you’re unhappy where you are. London has so much to offer and the good thing is that I would see more of you because I would be living and working from Jenny’s house.’
‘When you weren’t away, travelling,’ Adam said flatly. ‘You’ve just said that they need you to promote their business and sell their clothes. That means you going away, like you’ve always done, doesn’t it?’
‘Well, yes, Adam, sometimes.’
‘So I’d be left in a house in London with people I don’t know. No, thank you.’
‘Adam, listen. We’d have our own private rooms in the house. We’d go up to London and look into schools together. This is such an opportunity for us both. This house feels sad without Peter. You’ve never settled in school here. We can both move on. I really believe you’d love London and all it has to offer.’
‘Have you said yes?’
‘Well, I’m waiting to have a formal offer from Danielle and Flo.’
Adam stuck another tape in his CD and prepared to put his earplugs back in his ears. ‘Will you get more money? Is that one of the reasons you want to move?’
‘No, it’s not the money, Adam. This is a great chance for me to work for a small business, build it up and make my mark, like I used to in Glasgow.’ Ruth heard her overweening enthusiasm and knew her pitch was entirely wrong.
Adam looked at her with his unnerving, clear-sighted blue eyes. ’You’re going to take the job. It doesn’t matter what I think or feel. You always do what you want.’ He put his earplugs back and closed his eyes, shutting Ruth out. The rest of the journey was spent in silence.
Ruth felt a little core of anger growing inside her. He had been sweet with Bea and James. His sullen act seemed to be entirely reserved for her.
On Monday Adam returned to school. On Tuesday morning she had a letter in the post from London offering her the job. Ruth’s heart soared. Yes! The money was better than she had expected. It meant that if she and Peter sold the house and got rid of their mortgage it would make her significantly better off.
Before accepting, she rang Peter to ask his advice about Adam and to discuss the sale of the Birmingham house. It was good to hear his voice, but he sounded tense and tired. ‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘So-so. Adjustment is difficult, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Ruth. ‘It’s bloody difficult.’
‘Problems?’
Ruth explained about the job in London and Adam’s resistance.
‘Well, it’s not an ideal age to move schools. Is he any happier at that school, then?’
‘No. It’s change per se, I think.’
‘I don’t suppose Adam knows what he does want. You’re the adult, Ruth, you may have to make the decision for him and hope he is happier in a London school. You know what I think of the school he’s at now. You can only do better for him, but if you jump from a prestigious and well-paid job and sell up Adam’s home to live in someone else’s house, you’ve got to be very sure it is the right thing for you. Then everything else will fall into place.’
‘If I could, I would offer to help with private school fees, but my circumstances have changed and I’m not in a position to do that any more.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Peter, that’s not why I rang. I wouldn’t accept then and I certainly wouldn’t accept now we are divorcing.’
‘Actually, I haven’t started proceedings yet, I’ve been so busy.’
‘Oh.’ Ruth was taken by surprise. ‘Right. It will be a relief if I do put this house up for sale, won’t it? I expect you would like your share, whatever you said before?’
‘Well, yes. I need to sort out some accommodation of my own over here. I’ve had a few problems.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Ruth waited to see if he would tell her what sort of problems, but he didn’t. ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘I should be working and you must be busy.’
‘I was going to ring Adam anyway. He might offload to me. I miss him.’
Ruth heard the regret in his voice for a life gone wrong. ‘He misses you too. Thanks, Peter. Take care,’ she said gently.
‘You too.’
Ruth was working from home and as she replaced the receiver the telephone rang again immediately. ‘Mrs Hallam?’
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘This is the school secretary here. Mr Hastings is taking a class but he asked me to ring to find out if Adam is unwell or if you were still on holiday as Adam has not returned to school after the break.’
Ruth felt her stomach plummet. ‘What do you mean? I saw him get on the school bus this morning. You mean he was not in school yesterday or today?’ She could hear her own panic.
‘No, I’m afraid he wasn’t. You’ve always notified us if Adam was going to be absent and Mr Hastings overheard two of the boys talking, and he thought we ought to ring you.’
‘Talking about Adam? What were they saying?’
‘Apparently, that he wasn’t coming back to school at all.’
‘Oh, God. Are George Woo and Darren Singh in school? Those two and Adam are good friends.’
‘Yes, they’re here, but if they know where Adam is they are not saying.’
‘Look, I’m going to come down to the school. They might talk to me.’
Ruth grabbed her car keys and ran out to the car. Surely this wasn’t happening. Adam roaming around Birmingham when he should be safe in school, at the mercy of pimps and addicts and…She snapped off her mind and concentrated on her driving. She had no idea where he had been yesterday because she had worked late.
At the school Mr Hastings, a tall, weary man, was waiting for her with George and Darren.
‘If it had been anyone but Adam I probably wouldn’t have worried you, but Adam is not as streetwise as some. This isn’t like him. Have you any idea what’s worrying him?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid I have. I might be moving to London to take up a new job.’
Mr Hastings smiled thinly. ‘I would have thought he might welcome that, Mrs Hallam. I don’t think he’s entirely happy here. A bit of difficulty fitting in.’
‘Why do you think that is?’ Ruth felt a flash of anger. ‘Is he bullied?’
‘We have zero tolerance on bullying.’ As he spoke Ruth heard the irony in his voice. He was obviously parodying the headmaster. ‘Adam and the two boys sitting over there are brighter than most. They enjoy learning and they are articulate. Being verbally adept here threatens the intellectually challenged who, I am sad to say, are in the majority in this school. Your son is not flourishing. If you can afford to send Adam anywhere else, I suggest you do so. George Woo is off to boarding school and Darren Singh is returning with his family to school in India. This could have a bearing on Adam’s twoday absence.’ He turned and guided Ruth towards the two boys sitting on chairs at the end of the corridor. ‘We have never had this politically incorrect conversation, unless you wish me to be unemployed and my pension halved. See what you can get out of these two. I will be here until five thirty, if I can be of any assistance. I’ll be glad to know when you’ve found him.’
Darren Singh broke first. George was made of sterner stuff. ‘He was going to the library looking up stuff.’
‘What library? What stuff?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Was he upset when he knew you two were leaving the school?’
‘Yeah, sort of, but excited too.’
‘Excited?’
‘Yeah. Like he had this plan.’ George kicked Darren hard.
‘This is not a game,’ Ruth snapped. ‘You know what Adam’s like. He did not grow up in a big city like you two, he’s not streetwise. If you are really his friends you will look out for him, not put him at risk.’
‘He had this plan about some school he wanted to go to. He wanted to find out all about it before he told you. He is dead miserable because he thinks you won’t let him go there. You’ll make him go to London.’
Ruth felt suddenly dizzy and sat down beside them. No. Please no. ‘Which library, boys?’
The boys were alarmed. Adam’s mum had gone dead white.
‘County Library on Fairfield Road, I think,’ George said quickly.
‘Thank you. You haven’t been disloyal to Adam, either of you.’
Ruth turned and hurried back to her car. She got her map from the glove compartment and when she found the library she parked and sat for a moment taking deep breaths.
Adam was in the reading room poring over heavy books. Ruth let out her breath with relief. He had pulled an old Aran sweater over his school clothes. His hair was flopping over his face and he looked, in the empty room, thin, angular and defenceless.
Ruth, watching him, felt wretched. She remembered, as a child, how she used to cry out to her parents when she was endlessly berated, I didn’t ask to be born. I never asked to be born.
Adam hadn’t either and his fears and his yearnings had to be listened to. He was floundering suddenly in an insecure world where there were no absolute certainties.
Ruth knew herself. She was too selfish to turn down the job in London. She could not do it. So she must try to make it all right for Adam. It was all she could do. She was not going to let him drown, whatever the cost to herself.
She slid into the seat beside him.
Adam laid out all his research on the kitchen table. Warily, he put Harry’s prospectus for Truro School next to it and started to explain to his mother what he’d found out about various different scholarships and what they were worth. Ruth, hiding her misery as her worst fears materialised, made herself look at them. She read them all carefully for threequarters of an hour while Adam had a bath.
When he came down again Ruth said brightly, ‘I’m impressed, you’ve been very thorough. Did you notice that you can take a scholarship for any Methodist school in any county, not just Truro? That includes London.’
‘I know. But Truro School does five music scholarships a year, Mum. I could try for a music scholarship and an academic scholarship based on the entrance exam. Then I get two chances.’
‘What if they give preferences to local boys and what if you’re disappointed? I mean, the competition will be stiff. We have to be realistic here.’
‘Harry’s uncle coached Harry in his weakest subjects and went over old entrance exam papers with him. And music is the one thing I’ve always kept up. Please let me try. Please.’
Ruth sighed. ‘OK. I’m not promising anything but in the morning I’ll ring the bursar of Truro School. We’ll find out more and look into all the possibilities. In return, will you at least come with me to London and look at some private schools there that also award scholarships?’
Adam bit his lip for a moment and then, reluctantly, nodded.
Ruth smiled. ‘Give us a hug. Please don’t give me a fright like that again.’
Adam went over and hugged her. ‘Sorry. Thanks, Mum. Thanks a lot.’
‘Darling, just don’t get your hopes
too high.’
When he had gone to bed, Ruth poured herself a drink. There was no way she could commit herself to four years of school fees. If Adam didn’t win a scholarship, and he certainly hadn’t been stretched here in Birmingham, what was she going to do?
What had made her so selfishly pigheaded that she had refused Peter’s help with Adam when she had been married to him? It seemed inconceivably selfish now. What had she been thinking? That Adam was bright, so he would prosper despite the handicap of a vast class? It had been something far more selfish than that. She had wanted a get-out if her marriage to Peter failed. She had not wanted to be financially tied or indebted to him. Well, good for her. With a bit more financial dependency she might have worked harder at her marriage to a perfectly nice and loving man, and Adam would have felt safe at home instead of dreaming of Harry Potter boarding schools miles away from her.
She thought that in the morning she might ring Mr Hastings to see if Adam could get extra coaching from somewhere. She went up to her bedroom. The stars glittered in a cloudless night sky. This was the house and the life she had so carelessly taken for granted and devalued. Her life with Peter had not just been hers. It had been Adam’s and Peter’s lives too.
What goes round comes round. What a bloody little homily that was. She had misjudged Adam’s feelings about a father he had never known; over Peter leaving; over Adam’s small everyday uncomplaining life in a school he hated. What did she expect, for God’s sake? Of course he looked towards the settled, stable lives of Bea and James; to the routine and comparative safety of a small school in Cornwall; towards the vulnerable, warm Jenny, the only person in the world who could talk to him of his father. The one human being who could breathe life and breadth into the central shadowy figure that had dominated his childhood dreams.
Tom. A figure Ruth had always fantasised as bursting into their lives again. And he had.
FORTY-FIVE
When I’d had the little house cleared completely, Bea and Loveday, who had cleaned for Mum for as long as I could remember, came to help. I wanted the place scrubbed and bare before deciding what major alterations needed doing. In good Cornish fashion we kept it in the family and Loveday’s son Roger, who was a builder when he wasn’t a fisherman, came and gave me advice.
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