“Same. I think we can get to an agreement tomorrow. Then we’re going to need another two days to agree on the details. That’s the best-case scenario.” She finished her tea and stood up. “I’d also like to be finished for six tomorrow. I have a date.”
For some reason I didn’t like that fact.
“Well, we’ll all have to make sure we finish in a timely manner so you can make that date.” My words were laced with sarcasm. “We’ll align our priorities with yours.”
She collected up the cups and teapot, putting them back onto the tray with a slight bang each time. “It’s as well to remember that we don’t live to work, and having interests and experiences that aren’t to do with ourdayjob makes us well-rounded people.” A glare was sent my way at the same time as she snatched my cup away.
“Maybe some of us are more career minded than others and sacrifice everything else for the benefit of our clients.”
She froze, her stare this time full of sympathy rather than irritation.
“I think you should consider what you’ve just said. Maybe you’ll obtain some useful insight into yourself.” With that, she picked up the tray and left the room, leaving me staring at her very nice arse.
“Daddy, this nanny isn’t very nice to Callum.” My eldest’s tone was serious. “She refused to change his nappy and said he should be using the potty by now.”
“I’ll speak to her. Have you learned your Latin?” Maxwell had a tutor once a week for the subjects his local private school wouldn’t cover. It wasn’t a bad school, Max seemed to like it and he was top of his class, but I doubted that being top was a challenge. He was a bright kid, argumentative and easily bored, which meant he needed to be kept busy.
He recited a couple of lines back to me, sounding uninterested. “Amelie’s mum has offered to look after Callum. She heard the nanny shouting at him today and Cal was really upset.”
“I’ll speak to the nanny, Max. How’s your sister? Is she feeling better?” Claire hadn’t been her usual self when I’d left. She’d been complaining of a tummy ache and for the first time ever had cried when I was leaving.
I loved my children hugely but I couldn’t understand why they loved me. I provided for them, made sure they could live in a lovely house and have everything they needed – good education, the best food, access to hobbies that were good for them – but I didn’t know how to do the other stuff.
Their mother had been my childhood sweetheart. She was the daughter of one of my father’s business associates and we’dmet when we were sixteen. We’d married when I’d graduated and she was pregnant by the time I’d qualified. We hadn’t planned it; I’d wanted to wait until I was established and I wasn’t working fourteen hour days most days. Max was born, and then she got pregnant again with Jackson, then with Claire. We’d argued about it – I thought she was on the Pill, but she’d lied about it, saying it made her depressed. I knew she was bored back in Oxford when I was in London, she was starting to resent me and my father was concerned that the marriage was going to end.
The last time we’d slept together was the time Callum had been conceived. After he was born, she’d become depressed, more so than before, not getting out of bed or so she said – I was aware she’d managed to make it over to our next door neighbours’ house especially when Amelie’s mum, Helen, was away with the rest of the children.
I carried round that can of worms which had only been slightly opened. At some point, I’d need to take the lid off and see where they headed.
“Claire’s not said anything today. She just nods or shakes her head. Her teacher asked me if everything was okay at home.” Max sounded flat. “I said you were away.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “How’s Callum now? Is he still upset?”
“He’s okay if me or Jackson or Claire are with him. I’m going to let him sleep in my bed tonight. He keeps waking up in the night with bad dreams.”
“Do you want him to stay with Amelie’s mum until I’m back?” Not that I’d be much use when I got back. I had another court case two days after landing. “I don’t want you to be too tired for school.”
There was silence.
“Max, what’s the matter?”
“I’m not allowed to go back to school.”
I felt white hot rage fill up everywhere from my toes to my scalp. “What do you mean, you’re not allowed to go back to school?”
“I punched one of the boys in Jackson’s class. They said I’m dangerous and I’m not allowed back. He was taunting Jackson, Dad, and saying bad things about Mum, so I hit him. I’m sorry.”
I heard my son cry, not a sound I was familiar with.
I was aware that this was a critical point of my parenting journey. I could tell him off – this would cause me an untold amount of extra work that I didn’t have time for – or I could take his side.
“It was a shit school anyway.”
The tears turned to a laugh. “Daddy, you swore.”
I laughed back. “I did. Because it’s true. You know you’ve done wrong – you don’t hit anyone, unless it’s something like karate or jiu jitsu.”
“What will I do for school though and can I try karate? I saw Karate Kid at Amelie’s and it was really good.” There were still tears in his voice.
