My father shakes his head.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m an arsehole, Emma,” he says, more loudly than I’d expected. “I mean, look at me. I’ve got nothing. I walked out on your mother and I’m just a disappointment to you. Back then with Al, I was scared, I was out of my depth. I ran away like a wuss instead of facing up to my mistake and asking my friend to forgive me. I did everything wrong in life. I thought I could run away, but the past always catches up with you. I realized that when I met a couple of people from our year. They said he wasn’t doing well. He did get a degree, but not the one he’d wanted. He was bitter and was chugging pills like they were Smarties because of the pain, which never stopped.”
The pills in his office. Mr.Ward’s nervous expression that time we saw him in the pharmacy at Irvine’s. Hold on...
“You mean...?” I pause.
“I’ve seen a few people in the business get hooked on morphine. Especially in the States. You think you’ve got it under control, but it’s the exact opposite. It destroys you.”
Morphine. Painkillers. Strong painkillers...
Mum nods when I look at her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed at the parents’ evening. But I was afraid Al was on some kind of drug.”
I stand up. Dad lifts his head. “Thank you. I... You’ve been really helpful,” I manage. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”
“Sure.” Maybe I’m only imagining it, but there’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes for a second. It’s too much for me. Because today he’s so different from the last time we met. Regretful, resigned. As if he wasn’t as uninterested in me as I thought. Maybe because he’s sober today. I have to think about what that means. Some other time, in peace, not now. Mum stands up too.
“How long are you staying?” he asks her.
“I don’t know, Jacob,” she says, reaching into her handbag. The cash she leaves on the table, like the unbridgeable chasm between them. “I wish you all the best.”
He stands up, saying nothing. You shouldn’t feel sorry for your own father. But I do when I grasp that he’s the one who made choices he’ll regret his whole life. It’s not my story. I shouldn’t judge. Accidents happen, people make mistakes. I should know. But my parents’ past became my present when Henry and I were unwittingly caught up in something that could have been prevented.
And now I have just one job: to get justice done, to salvage our future.
35
Emma
I’m feeling sick with nerves as we walk into Mrs.Sinclair’s office and Mum shakes hands with the head teacher. They make small talk about her journey and so on as we sit down.
“Thank you for making time for us at such short notice,” says Mum.
“Not at all.” I feel Mrs.Sinclair’s eyes on me. “I presume that this has to do with recent events in relation to Emma’s maths mock?”
Mum looks at me.
“Yes,” I say. “But mainly it’s about Henry. Because it’s not right that he got suspended. Please, you have to believe me, he had nothing...”
“Emma, we saw the photos of the exam papers on his phone,” says Mrs.Sinclair, and I can hear a regretful undertone in her voice.
“I know,” I say. “But they were only there because I sent them to him. Honestly, Henry had nothing to do with it. He took the blame because he thought you’d be more lenient on him than on me.”
“I’d like to believe you, Emma, but unfortunately we found the photos on his phone and not on yours. And Henry admitted that it was him.”
I reach for my own mobile and wrap my fingers tightly around it. “Yes, he did. But have you checked where Henry was at the time of my chat with Mr.Ward?” Mrs.Sinclair lifts her head. “He was at rugby training. The rest of the team can confirm that.” Mrs.Sinclair says nothing, but I can see a spark of hope in her eyes. She wants to believe Henry’s innocent. I just have to give her the proof. “You can ask Mr.Cormack. Please. My appointment was at five, which is the time training starts on Wednesdays.” I take a hasty breath and pull out my phone. “I’ve got a video where you can hear Mr.Ward telling me what time to come. And there’s something else...”
Mrs.Sinclair frowns but takes my phone as I push it over to her. Mum gives me a calming look. For a brief moment, as Mrs.Sinclair watches the video, I’m afraid that I’d only imagined Mr.Ward’s voice in the background. But no, I hadn’t.
“Hold on,” she says as the video ends. “Can I just...?” She plays it again. “That’s... He did give you the other room number, just as you said.”
“Yes.” Tears of despair sting my eyes.
“Where did you get this, Emma?”
“Grace Whitmore sent it to me. She was filming something else after class and happened to catch it.”
