“Hi, Miss Clara,” Ozzie said, giving me a small wave from where he stood next to his dad and a gap-toothed grin. “I told Daddy ’bout the new game and ’bout the reading level.”
I smiled at him, relieved not to have to look up at his father. “That’s great, love. I hope you told your dad how fantastically you did today in the reading circle?”
He nodded, completely oblivious to the waves of frustration coming off his father towards me.
“Yes,” Lord Sterling snapped. “I understand Ozzie is doing brilliantly. I’m very proud of him.” He ruffled Ozzie’s hair and gave him one of those glorious knicker-melting smiles before looking back at me and letting it drop to a glare that made a shiver go down my spine. “And it would beeven betterif the teacher who he achieved these goals with would do me the courtesy of discussing them with me.”
“I gave my report to Miss Summerfield and––”
“I’m not talking about the fu—” he broke off and glanced down at his son, then back at me, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I’m not talking about the report. That was, of course, very comprehensive. I wanted to talk to you more about Ozzie and try to?—”
“Rafe Sterling,” Mrs Clayton said in her firm, no-nonsense voice. “What are you doing here, young man?” God knows where the woman got her courage from. She was even shorter than I was. “You know you’re to pick up Ozzie at the gates. Meetings with teachers are by arrangement only.”
“Mrs Clayton,” Lord Sterling said through gritted teeth, two flags of colour appearing high on his cheekbones, “that is what I’m trying to do. I need to speak to Miss Clara as a matter of urgency.”
“You can talk to my secretary and?—”
“I don’t want to talk to your bloody secretary!” he semi-shouted. “She’s standing right there, for God’s sake. I want to talk to Claranow.”
“Daddy,” Ozzie said, his tone accusatory. “You gotta use your inside voice in the school. And you can’t say the Lord’s name in pain.”
“That would be vain rather than pain, but otherwise quite right, Oscar,” Mrs Clayton said briskly. “Now, Rafe, listen to your son. I’ll set up something with Miss Summerfield.”
“I don’t want to meet with Miss Summerfield. I––”
“Off you go now,” Mrs Clayton cut him off, then proceeded to actually shoo him down the corridor. If I wasn’t so scared I would have burst out laughing at the ridiculous image of a well-over-six-foot peer of the realm being shooed out of the school like a misbehaving toddler.
“Sorry, dear,” she said when she locked the doors after them. “He’s becoming a real nuisance. Don’t worry, I’ll speak to his mother. She’ll sort him out. I won’t have him harassing my staff members. Bloody cheek.”
So Mrs Clayton had put him off for the moment, but she couldn’t keep him away forever. I got the impression that Lord Sterling wasn’t easily put off when he wanted something.
“Right, enough about me, Zach,” I said briskly. “You wanted to do some revision cards? I brought you a new set for chemistry.”
Zach’s face lit up as he pushed back to sit cross-legged on the bed, just like he had done since he was small, and reached for the cards. I smiled at him and handed them over, taking a seat cross-legged at the other end of the bed. It was a familiar position for us. We’d sat facing each other in this room, trying to ignore the chaos below us countless times.
“You are a massive dweeb,” I teased. “I’ve never seen anyone so excited about revision cards.”
“I’ve got to do well in these exams, Cla-Cla,” Zach said, his expression turning serious. “I have to get out of here. I have to build a life separate fromthem.”
“I know,” I said softly. “And you will, Zach. You’re the brightest in your year. All your teachers told me that last parents’ evening.”
Seeing as it was me who filled in Zach’s forms for secondary school, I was the one who received the emails about school, and the one who was invited to his parents’ evenings. My parents had very little interest in education, and even if they did turn up to meet the teachers, my dad would scare the absolute shite out of them, which would be counterproductive.
I’d told the school that my dad was busy working and that Mum was “unwell”. They didn’t seem to mind. It was a busy comprehensive and they likely had more pressing concerns than one skinny kid whose sister attended parents’ evening instead of the parents.
A dark look passed over Zach’s face. “I have to have the stuff to learn though. How can I do that if Dad’s gonna be such a twat?”
“Just stay out of his way,” I whispered, and his eyebrows went up.
“I do try to stay out of his way, but that fucker took all my books, revision notes and test cards and binned them when I was at school. I’m gonna have to lug all this lot around with me every day now just to keep it safe.”
For some reason, Zach’s education rubbed my father up the wrong way. Prior to Freddie’s arrest, he’d largely ignored it, but since he’d lost his eldest son – likely for a good long time – Dad had refocused his efforts into putting Zach off school and instead getting him interested in “the family business”. This was why Dad had gone off at me a month ago when he caught me tutoring Zach, grabbing my arm and throwing me out of the house. The only injury I’d sustained then was the bruising around my wrist where he’d held onto me too tight, which Ozzie had subsequently spotted, but it was enough to serve as a warning.
“He hasn’t…” I paused and swallowed the lump in my throat. “He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
Zach shook his head, and a wave of relief washed over me.
“No, Clara, he reserves that for girls half his size or men he has restrained and kneeling in front of him because he’s a fucking coward. You know this.”
