Prime Time (9 page)

Chapter Nine

Nope. I can't say I did. Some things just weren't funny.

The rubbish bag splitting as I dragged it from kitchen bin to front door wasn't at all amusing, for example. Particularly when an empty tin of spaghetti hoops bounced out of it and left tomato sauce drips all along the hall carpet. The house being in a mess didn't make me laugh either, nor did discovering Stanley's school trousers were totally covered in mud while the other pair were still in the washing machine, or him wailing that he would get detention if he went to school without his tie again and he'd looked everywhere and still didn't know where it was (it eventually turned up beneath Boris).

I didn't smile once when I dropped a cup of coffee and the china not only smashed into a thousand pieces on the quarry tiles but the dregs managed to splash all over the front of every kitchen cupboard and half way up the wall. (How does that
happen
? How does a mere inch of liquid left in a cup manage to drench an entire room?)

By the time Stanley and I had finished yelling at each other and I'd driven him to the bus stop as it was pouring with rain, and given in to his request to pull up round the corner so his friends wouldn't see me in my dressing gown if the bus happened to arrive at the same time as we did, and had narrowly avoided driving into the back of a rubbish truck while I did it, I was at screaming point.

I let myself back into the house and took seven Oil of Evening Primrose capsules – and some vitamin B which is supposed to be good for one's nerves. Mine were shredded – it being Day 24, which is only one step down from Day 19. I still felt ready to explode.

‘I wish I had your life,' I told Boris, who was laid out on the floor with the length of his body pressed against the radiator, sleeping peacefully. I could have done with being comatose myself.

Instead, there was the joy of another catalogue of garden artefacts and water features for Mike's newest client, and some ad copy for a series of uninspiring-looking shelving units.

I'd already had three emails from Mike and it was only a matter of time before he started phoning as well. In a moment of weakness, I'd promised him some slogans by lunchtime for a presentation he was making at 2 p.m. so I averted my eyes from the washing up and trudged upstairs to get going.

If I could get a load of work done this morning, I could catch up on other things this afternoon. I still needed to get hold of Roger. I'd come up with the cunning plan of phoning him up at work but giving a false name until I actually got him on the line – so that if he wasn't there and didn't have time to ring me back, there'd be no danger of him doing so from home and/or saying to Charlotte, as he was bound to, Laura called me today.

I'd pretend I was a client, with something private to say and avoid giving any details since I wasn't entirely sure exactly what sort of solicitor Roger was. Saying it was strictly confidential and I could only speak directly to Roger seemed foolproof enough.

As soon as my thousand words of dullness had safely disappeared down the line to Mike and I figured Roger would be back after lunch, I got the number from the Internet and dialled. A female voice answered at once.

‘Hammond and Barnes.'

‘Roger Forbes, please.'

‘Who shall I say is calling?'

‘Lucille Hamilton.'

‘Just putting you through.'

There was a pause and then another voice came on the line.

‘Mr Forbes' office.'

Must be the secretary. I adopted a chummy tone. ‘Is Roger there, please?'

‘I'm afraid he's in a meeting. How can I help you?' Her tone was cool. She probably thought I was being over-familiar. But I was pretty sure it wasn't the same voice I'd heard before.

‘Thank you but I need to speak to him personally, really.'

‘If you'd like to give me your number, I'll pass the message on.'

Unless, of course, this was her professional telephone voice and she only went into the breathy one when she was being a stalker out of hours.

‘No, don't worry, I'll call back later.' If I gave my mobile number and he wrote it down and took it home, Charlotte would recognise it at once and how would I explain that? ‘When will he be free?'

‘Perhaps after three. I'll tell Mr Forbes you called, Mrs Hamilton.'

Damn it. Now he'll say he doesn't know me and it will be even more difficult next time.

‘Thank you.'

Sure enough, he wasn't there after three either. The secretary was chilly and polite. ‘If you could tell me what it's concerning, maybe one of the other partners could help you?'

‘No, thank you. I'll phone back again.'

But not today. In the meantime I'd realised that not only were we almost out of cat food and there was no milk for Stanley's cereal in the morning, but I only had about £2.50 in my purse.

Fortunately I had thought to look at the calendar on the kitchen wall which had revealed it was parents' evening. That started at five and went on till God knows when, so I needed something I could cook quickly for dinner once we got back. I looked at the clock. There was just time to get to the cash point and the small Tesco in the High Street before Stanley got home.

Or there would have been if Mike hadn't phoned to drone on about his presentation and how marvellous everyone thought it had been and how I'd be pleased to know they loved my ideas for the ads and wanted me to do their next brochure as well.

‘Great, great,' I said with forced jollity, one eye on my watch.

‘So I'm emailing the brief and can we be looking at the end of the month?'

‘Yes, yes, that's fine,' I said, thinking I'd worry about the fact it was already the 23rd later. ‘Must go now, Mike. Got to dash – need to pick up Stanley.'

It was raining again by the time I'd run into Tesco for some free-range chicken Kievs and salad, so since I knew Stanley would be getting off the bus soon, I found a space on a double yellow line just up the road from the bus stop and waited.

I answered a text from Charlotte, demanding to know where I was, just when she needed a coffee, and despatched another to Sarah from Greens Wine Bar who'd sent one days ago saying she'd seen me on TV (thanks Clive!) and to whom I kept forgetting to reply.

I was just contemplating a quick game of Mine Sweeper to pass the time when I looked up and saw Stanley trudging up the hill toward me. He looked rather red in the face. A group of boys trailed behind him. I saw Stanley look back as if someone had called out to him. I wound the window down and waved.

Stanley looked behind him once more and then hurried over to the car and got in. ‘What are you doing here?' he said crossly.

‘I was shopping – I thought I'd save you getting wet.'

‘Oh. Thanks,' he said shortly without looking at me.

I started the engine. ‘Were those boys being horrible?'

‘No.'

‘I thought some of your friends got that bus with you. Were they the ones behind you?'

‘No – they weren't there today.'

I glanced sideways at him as we made our way down the High Street. ‘Stanley – is everything all right?'

‘Yes.'

‘You would tell me if it wasn't, wouldn't you?'

‘Just leave it, mum.'

I changed the subject on to cheerier matters. ‘Have you remembered it's parents' evening?'

‘Yes, said Stanley glumly.

‘We have to be there at five. I'm not sure how it works, but –'

‘I've got you some appointments.' Beside me, Stanley rummaged in his rucksack and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. ‘We had to fill in these times when you could see the teachers. I didn't do all of them but Mr Lazlett said if we didn't have a time, we could just wait about till one of them's free. He said sometimes it's a bit of a bun fight.'

I smiled. ‘Did he? Oh well, at least we've been warned. I've got us some of that chicken you like for later. Do you want a baked potato with it or oven chips?

‘Don't mind.'

‘We'll have baked potatoes,' I decided, as we pulled up outside our house. ‘Then I can put them in now on low. Are you staying in your school uniform? We're going to have to leave as soon as I've put the oven on.'

I started to get out of the car but Stanley didn't move. ‘Mum?'

‘Yes?'

‘Do we have to go?'

‘Yes, of course we do. I want to hear how you're getting on. What are you worried about?'

‘Nothing. I'd just rather watch TV.'

‘Well, I don't want to leave you at home on your own and –' I smiled at him ‘–I'll probably get lost without you to show me where to go.'

He didn't smile back. Just looked at his feet.

‘Why don't you bring a book or something,' I offered. ‘Then you can sit in a corner while I talk to the teachers if you're going to feel embarrassed.'

‘It's not that.'

‘What's the problem then?'

‘Nothing.'

Stanley was quiet all the way there and I began to think perhaps I should have dropped him off at Charlotte's or my mother's after all, instead of dragging him along with me, so that I could get to speak to the teachers privately. But it was too late now – we were turning into the school gates.

‘It's such a lovely setting, isn't it?' I said, looking at the old red brick building, the green fields sloping down toward the church beyond. Stanley nodded doubtfully. Some boys, ties discarded, shirts hanging out, were on the grass playing football, rolled-up blazers doubling as goal posts.

‘Yeeesssssss!' yelled one, careering past us as a ball narrowly missed Stanley's head.

Perhaps joining them would prove a suitable distraction while I quizzed Stanley's form tutor.

‘Are any of those your friends?' I asked my son as we walked on past.

‘No,' he said.

I stopped by the main entrance to the school, consulting my piece of paper. ‘We have to go to the main hall –'

Beside me, Stanley was pointing. ‘There's Dad.' I looked round, an unpleasant feeling rising in my stomach at the sight of a familiar, dark-suited figure standing a few yards away, and beside him, in a short red coat, blonde hair clipped back from her face …

I scowled as Daniel came toward us. ‘What's she doing here?'

Daniel looked instantly defensive. ‘She's come with me. Because of course I want to come to parents' evening, and it's lucky,' he added nastily, ‘that I thought to give the school my address and request a copy of all the correspondence because you obviously weren't going to tell me about it.'

I glanced sideways at Stanley, then pulled crossly at Daniel's arm before striding ten metres away and jerking my head for him to follow me.

‘I didn't think you'd be interested since I don't recall you ever attending a single school meeting in the whole of Stanley's life,' I said, when he reached my side.

‘Don't be so unfair, Laura,' Daniel did that thing with his lips that was half sneer, half smirk. ‘That's only because you always said you'd go and I stayed at home to look after him.'

‘Not last time, I countered triumphantly. ‘When we came for the new parents' introduction, you said you had to work late – again – and I came on my own with Stanley.'

‘I did have to work late.'

I raised my eyebrows and glanced over my shoulder to where Emily was inspecting her handbag next to Stanley. ‘Is that what you call it?'

‘Don't start,' said Daniel. ‘The fact is that I'm here now. I want to be involved with Stanley's schooling and I want to hear what his teachers have to say and so does Emily.'

I snorted. ‘What for?'

‘Because she is my partner and she takes an interest. There's no easy way of saying this,' he went on pompously, ‘but we're getting married. Emily is going to be my wife.'

I glared. ‘I'm your wife, in case you'd forgotten. Unfortunately,' I added quickly, in case he thought I cared what he did, even though the news had sent a sickening jolt through my solar plexus.

‘I'm going to talk to you about that,' said Daniel.

‘Not now, you're not.' I looked back to where Stanley was watching us anxiously. ‘Look,' I said, in a low voice. ‘Please can I just do this on my own tonight? I need to talk to his form tutor privately. I'll tell you everything afterwards but right now why don't you take Stanley off somewhere and let me see the teachers alone? I want to check how he's settling in and they might not tell me as honestly if he's sitting next to me. I'm worried about him.'

I could see Daniel hesitating and I looked at him hard. ‘And, quite honestly, I think he's going to find it stressful with all three of us dragging around and so,' I said, in a sudden moment of honesty, ‘am I. I do not want to do this with Emily there too and I don't think it's the right thing for Stanley – so soon.'

I looked at him, feeling suddenly upset and hoping I wouldn't cry.

Daniel looked back at me, as if deciding. ‘I don't want the staff thinking I don't care,' he said peevishly.

I sighed, exasperated. ‘It's always about what other people think of you, isn't it? It's not about Stanley at all – just bloody appearances. Look, there's the headmaster – go and shake his hand and say how thrilled you are with the school but that you can't stay because you and your wife –' I gave a small derisory sniff ‘– are a little concerned about how he is settling down and Stanley's mother is going to raise these issues in confidence with the teachers while you take care of our son. Then he will think you are a jolly splendid chap and you can leave me to it.'

Daniel put back his shoulders and flicked something from his sleeve. ‘Good idea,' he said stiffly.

‘Tosser,' I muttered, as he strode away. I looked over to where Emily was still standing next to Stanley, fiddling with the strap of her bag, and gave Stanley a small wave. I watched Daniel shaking hands with the head and nodding vigorously at whatever was being said, and then plastered a bright smile across my face and walked back toward my son and The Twiglet.