“I’m always nice,” he said.
Ozzie laughed at this obvious lie as Lord Sterling looked back over at me and raised an eyebrow. For a moment, I had the most outrageous urge to laugh. It was like we’d gone back in time a couple of centuries, and he was Lord of the Manor expecting a subject to do his bidding in response to a simple facial expression. Lily gave me another shove from behind, and I swallowed down the nervous laugh as I made my way over to him with leaden feet. I stopped about five yards away. Any closer, and I felt like I might self-combust with nerves.
“Miss Clara, I presume?” Lord Sterling said. I had to look away from the intense blue of his eyes, instead focusing on his tie as I nodded. “You are a difficult lady to access.” I felt heat spread up my neck at the accusation in his tone. “But if you could spare me a moment of your time, it would be much appreciated. I presume your hair-dressing duties can wait for now?”
Ugh, the condescending prick was taking the piss. Well, Margot’s hair was important to her. It made her happy, and making children happy was my jam. Belittling me for doing my job was adick moveas Margot and Ozzie would say. But then I was used to men in authority behaving like entitled dicks, so I didn’t know why Lord Sterling doing it made me feel so let down. He’d demanded this meeting hadn’t he? Itmay have been because the Lord Sterling I fantasised about wasn’t an entitled, condescending prick, so the IRL version was always going to be a disappointment.
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, wishing I could reply like a normal human, but knowing that if I did speak just then it would probably come out more like a small squeak and make me look even more odd. So, I just nodded again, still focusing on his tie.
“Wonderful,” he snapped, his tone even more irritated than before. He swept out his arm to the door next to him, saying, “After you,” as if he, rather than Mrs Clayton, ran the school.
Lily gave my arm a quick squeeze, whispering, “You’ll be fine,” in my ear and then giving me yet another gentle shove. I managed to make my feet move towards Lord Sterling, but in order to pass him and go through the door, I had to come within a couple of feet of him, and his proximity was completely overwhelming.
He was absolutely huge up close – well over six feet, with broad shoulders under his tailored suit; he towered over us women and all the kids.
I got a light waft of expensive aftershave and clean male scent that made my heart rate stutter then pick up at double time as I walked out of the room, concentrating on not tripping over my own feet. Lily was talking to Ozzie now and leading him away. Lord Sterling and Mrs Clayton had followed me and I heard the door shut behind us. When it was just the three of us, Mrs Clayton turned to Lord Sterling with a stern expression.
“Remember what we talked about, Rafe,” she said in an equally stern voice. I blinked in shock. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would never have imaginedanyonewould have the guts to address Lord Sterlingby his first name and certainly not to speak to him like he was a naughty child.
“Yes, okay, Mrs Clayton,” Lord Sterling replied in a resigned tone. “You don’t have to give me another lecture.”
She gave a sharp nod, then her expression softened as she turned to me. “You can use the Art Room, Clara. Lord Sterling just wants a quick chat about Ozzie. Like we talked about, okay?”
I nodded again, still not able to speak, and she sighed. “Right then. I’ll be back soon.” This was directed at Rafe and sounded very much like a warning. As she walked away down the corridor, I had the most ridiculous urge to shout after her to come back, which was cowardly in the extreme. I could do this. I could talk to a concerned father like a normal person.
Couldn’t I?
“Shall we?” Lord Sterling asked after a few moments of silence. Impatience was creeping into his tone now, and I realised that he didn’t actually know where the Art Room was. I needed to start being a functioning human and lead the way, so I nodded again and turned towards the right door, opening it up into the bright space. The Art Room was the best-lit room in the building, with lots of natural light pouring in from the double-aspect windows. I moved next to the teacher’s desk and then nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the door closing behind us. Not knowing whether to sit down, I just stood on the spot and fiddled with the sleeves of my jumper. I was looking down at the floor when the large feet, clad in expensive Italian leather shoes came into my eyeline. I jumped at that too.
“Miss Clara,” Lord Sterling snapped, and my eyes flew to his for a brief moment before going back to the far safer territory of his tie. “Do you, by any chance, actually speak?”
Oh dear. Clearly, Icouldn’ttalk to a concerned father like a normal person.
I started nodding again but then closed my eyes in humiliation as I realised my mistake. Right, time to woman up. I cleared my throat in an attempt to loosen up my vocal cords. His expensive, manly smell was surrounding me now, his broad chest filling my entire line of sight.
After swallowing twice, I managed a small, “Yes.” I meant to say it at a normal volume but it came out as a hoarse whisper.
“Well, thatisa relief,” he said with an edge to his voice, “I was beginning to become concerned.”
“S-sorry,” I whispered.
Apologising was a nervous habit for me, along with the stutter I developed when I was stressed.
My brother Freddie’s voice filled my head then:“Every other fucking word out of your mouth is sorry, you useless bitch. Sorry this, sorry that. You’re fucking pathetic. I can’t believe I’m related to you.”
I felt that heat in my neck creep up to my face. Great, now I was full-on blushing in front of this man. He made a muted sound of impatience, and his feet shifted slightly in front of me.
“I’m not asking for an apology, Clara,” he said, his tone softening just slightly. He sighed. “Listen, I just want to discuss Ozzie. He talks about you all the time, and last week he told me you said that his brain works differently.”
I nodded again. Ugh, Clara, get it together and actually form words, you numpty!
“Ozzie’s braindoeswork differently,” I said after a long pause, relieved that I didn’t stutter and that, at least this time, my voice was just above a whisper. Lord Sterlingcrossed his arms over his broad chest, and I kept my eyes focused on his tie.
“I would appreciate you not filling my child’s head with ideas without formally assessing him. Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun?”
I shook my head, frowning at that. My need to communicate how important this was overriding some of my shyness. “N-n-no,” I said, annoyed by my bloody stutter but soldiering on. This was important for Ozzie and his father needed to understand it. “There shouldn’t be any waiting. It’s super important that Ozzie doesn’t fall behind anymore, or his confidence could be affected. I––”
“Exactly what qualifications do you have to diagnose my son with dyslexia, Clara?”
