I swallow my queasiness as I walk into the office on Monday. I arrive early, mainly to avoid the humiliation of Susi’s wrath played out in front of mild-mannered Kath. I can’t shake the awful dread that presses down on me that I might have lost my job.
Susi’s office door is ajar and I can see her sitting at her desk, frowning at her computer screen, her half-moon glasses on a chain around her neck. I notice the tops of her arms are sunburnt, clashing with her yellow blouse and bringing out her freckles. I knock gently, my heart pounding.
She looks up, her mouth tensing when she sees me. ‘Ah, Lena. Come in.’ She’s not smiling, but she hardly ever does. She indicates the chair and I slump into it.
Susi lifts her glasses to her face and blinks at me. ‘Let’s cut to the chase.’
My stomach lurches.
‘As you know, we’re here to talk about Drew Mayhew.’ She’s eyeing me sternly. ‘It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been visiting Drew at home. That’s totally overstepping the mark. What were you thinking?’
How does she know this? Has Drew complained about me? But he’d been so happy on the phone on Friday evening when he told me he’d found his sister. He’d thanked me for my help. He hadn’t sounded cross with me.
‘I – I only went to his house once. He really believed something terrible had happened to his sister and I wanted to help him.’
She clicks her tongue in exasperation. ‘You know we aren’t a missing-persons service and that it was beyond our remit. Yet you took it into your own hands. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Drew –’
‘Nothing!’ I blurt out. ‘He’s just a client.’
She purses her lips as though she doesn’t believe me. ‘In that case, you were acting as his adviser, and how you conducted yourself isn’t the way an adviser should behave. We don’t make home visits. We don’t make empty promises and we don’t do anything to make our clients’ lives more upsetting and stressful.’
I look down at my hands folded in my lap. I swallow the lump in my throat.
‘In light of all this, we should put a pin in this holiday cover. I’ll give the hours to someone else. You’re lucky, quite frankly, that you’ve still got your job. But consider this a verbal warning.’
When Rufus gets back from college I’m lying on the sofa in the front room with the curtains closed, my eyes puffy and red. Phoenix is curled up by my side, his head resting on my leg, his sorrowful eyes looking up at me when Rufus charges into the room in a cloud of Lynx and sweat. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, in alarm, when he sees me.
I sit up, dislodging Phoenix, who jumps to the floor and nuzzles his nose in Rufus’s hand. I decide to give a half-truth. ‘I’m okay. I just … I was hoping to go full-time at work but they’ve decided to keep me on part-time.’
Rufus gently taps my legs to make room for him on the sofa. ‘Why?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Your mother got over-involved.’ I force out a laugh.
‘Oh, Mum!’
I bite my lip. ‘It’s okay.’ I don’t want to tell him I’m worried about Charlie selling the house, but Rufus isn’t stupid.
‘I finish college on Wednesday and then have some work experience. But after that I can get a summer job. That will help moneywise,’ he says, and my heart swells with love for him.
I pat his knee and flash him a watery smile. ‘Thanks, love, but I don’t want you worrying about that. It will all be fine.’
He stands up. ‘Drink?’
‘I’ll have a glass of water, thank you.’
He leaves the room and I swing my legs around, wiping under my eyes, and follow him into the kitchen. I sit at the table while he fetches me the water.
His T-shirt is clinging to him but despite the heat he’s still wearing jeans. I haven’t seen Rufus in a pair of shorts since he was little. He’s always self-conscious about being too skinny. Not helped by those horrible kids from his school.
I survey my son, on the cusp of adulthood. I only want to protect him, especially since his father and I split up.He’d been understandably upset: we’d blown his safe, ordered world apart. Whatever else had been happening in his life, all the other worries he had, home was always his safe space. But now I see I underestimated him. He’s happier than he’s ever been now he’s at college with like-minded people, and away from that constricted school environment where everybody is put into boxes. He’s thriving. Before he started college he always walked around as though he was trying to make himself smaller, invisible, back hunched, hands almost dragging, like an ape. But now he walks taller. He smiles more readily. He meets the eyes of strangers when they address him.
He takes a seat next to me. ‘Has this got something to do with next door?’
‘It’s just …’ I sigh. ‘I don’t trust them.’
