Her eyes are pebble-hard and her lips pout. ‘This evening is for current parents, not prospective parents.’
‘I like to get to know a school, inside and out,’ I say. ‘And it was most informative.’
‘I’m pleased that you enjoyed it. Good evening.’ She turns away before I can reply. An expert in cold-shouldering. She is half out of the door when I grab hold of her arm. She turns, glaring at my hand.
‘I wouldn’t mind a quick word about Nelly. Do you remember Nelly?’
‘Please direct your questions to our registrar, and I’m sure she’ll be only too pleased to assist.’
‘But I’ve tried and, if I can speak plainly, it’s like talking to the back end of a bus. All you get is exhaust fumes. I thought I’d go right to the top. I’m just trying to get some support.’
‘Well, I can’t help you,’ she says, removing my hand.
‘She finds the experience of examinations quite challenging. She has special needs. Would it be possible to give her extra time and I could provide evidence of her specific condition later?’ I stand in front of her to prevent her leaving.
‘No, Mrs Rook, we must be fair and act only where there is an actual diagnosis, not where there is merely a suspicion,’ she replies, and steps to the side. ‘You must use the resources you have. Now I’ve said my final word on this matter. And furthermore, please do not send me any more gifts.’ She must be referring to the Harrods hamper she received at Christmas.
‘Everyone deserves a chance,’ I say.
Her eyes blaze, but she quickly douses the flames with controlled calm, and says, ‘Goodnight, Mrs Rook. Good luck in the tests.’
I’m left standing alone in the hall, with the cleaner trying to get in. I just want Nelly to do well. Clearly, she will not do well without help, which leaves me feeling, I might as well admit it, vulnerable.
I return home deeply dissatisfied. Stephen isn’t there. Instead of a husband, I find a note telling me that he’s staying in his mother’s house in Kensington until Sunday morning, to give me ‘space’, and asks for the name of my solicitor, so that we can start to discuss a deal. Charming. He wants to force me to accept a reduced settlement. I don’t need space or a lawyer. I need the opposite. I need firm arms around me. I need to stop spinning.
The bed is cold and my mind is racing. Words likesimpletonandstrangekeep circling like vultures. I get up, look in on Nelly and Nathan. I sit on the edge of their beds and stroke their foreheads. I’m a mother, aren’t I? Even if I don’t... even if I’m not... and they deserve the best, don’t they?
I think I must fall asleep in the chair in their bedroom, because I awake suddenly to the image of Jason Mercer clawing his way out of wet concrete and pulling trampoline plastic from his face. Except, it’s not him at all. It’s Nelly’s face gasping for breath.
I sit bolt upright, sweating. I rush to Nelly, but she’s sleeping. She’s not a maniac. She’s just a girl who can’t quite conform. I kiss her head. Her smell smothers me. She’s the past as well as the future. Why do I let people insult my children, and do nothing?
I suddenly know what I have to do for my children. Ten minutes later, I’m driving towards Barnet in my pyjamas and dressing gown. I stop at an ATM and use four different cards to withdraw as much cash as they allow. Various passers-by give me rather odd looks. Of course, I realize I don’t look my best but that’s not important now. I get back into the car and stuff the cash into an envelope.
I park outside the house and march up to the door. There are no lights on, but it is after one in the morning. I press the bell and wait. Nothing happens, so I keep my finger on it for a full minute, until a light goes on, and a figure appears through the frosted glass.
‘Who is it?’ calls out a frightened voice.
‘It’s Mrs Rook. Nelly’s mum.’
‘What are you doing here?’ says the voice.
‘I need to speak to you,’ I say.
‘I can’t speak. Go away,’ says the voice, with a gulp of panic.
I take the envelope of cash from my dressing gown pocket and stuff it through the letter box.
‘I hope this helps. We all need extra in January.’
‘What are you doing?’ she squeals. ‘You can’t do this. You can’t give me money.’
‘You said I should use the resources available to me. I didn’t realize what you meant, and then it just came to me.’
The door opens on the chain, and Mrs Pembury holds out the envelope with a shaky hand. ‘Mrs Rook, you can’t give me money. I only meant that you should focus on Nelly’s strengths rather than seek extra time.’
‘You have it. Clearly, you need it more than I,’ I say, indicating the house.
She pushes the envelope further through the gap. ‘Go away, take your money, you can’t harass people like this,’ she says, her voice breaking.
