Because I was, also, an idiot. It wasn’t just him, and he kept saying he was one too. I had a sneaky feeling the two of us were just as stupid as the other. That in itself was soothing.
“Sorry,” he said into the receiver. “I shouldn’t have pulled that all on you earlier. I was just… It hit a nerve?”
“I can see that, and don’t ever apologise. You can always tell me things.”
“You being a doctor and all that. Do I still get patientprivileges?”
“Who would I tell, Fox? My only friend is my neighbour next door, she’s ninety-four and refuses to wear her hearing aids. It’s not like we have meaningful conversations.”
That made him laugh.
“Not that I have any secrets,” he said calmly. “I think you know them all.”
“I probably don’t either, but I like that you think I do,” I mused, a smile now permanently etched on my face.
“It all got a bit much. I haven’t had much time to process everything. Last week…it was traumatic. I’m still fuming about everyone just letting things happen and nobody standing up for… Crap. I don’t even know what was said, and it still makes me mad.”
“You need better friends,” I said quietly. I was one to speak because I didn’t have any friends. Apart from the elderly neighbour who waved at me when I came and went, and the postman on a Saturday, and everyone at work seemed to assume my life was filled to the brim, making me too busy to engage with them outside practice hours. Which suited me fine.
“I have my colleagues,” he said quietly. “They are great, really, they are. I have all my boys, which gives me enough interaction to make me sleep far too well at night. Sometimes I remember I have a hundred kids to look after, and it can be a bit tough on the old brain cells.”
“Do you remember all their names?”
“I do, actually. I make a point to get to know everyone. I have individual meetings monthly, and spend time with all the classes.” He let out a sigh, the line going quiet. “Sorry. I shouldn’t bore you with work stuff.”
“I don’t mind, I told you.” I didn’t. Not at all. Just sat here with his voice in my ear was more than I’d dared to ask for. “Why did you end up at boarding school? You said something earlier?”
“Army kid. My parents got divorced, my mum got a new life, and I was this annoying kid who was attention seeking and getting himself into fights at school and Mum just decided to ship me off to get some peace and quiet. Well, that’s what she told eight-year-old me. Not the thing you want to hear when you’re a kid, is it? I hated it. The trauma was real, Noah. You don’t do that to a kid, and you bloody don’t tell them it’s their fault.”
“I agree.” Again, I was kicking myself for being here and not where he was, because right now I just wanted him against my chest, my fingers in his hair, and I didn’t give a flying monkey’s about anything else. My response to him was a little more restrained, but he still laughed.
“I’m still traumatised. But I have all these kids here whom I make a promise to every year. I tell them they are not alone, and that they have a solid team of teachers and staff here who will always listen. Never judge. And I tell them that they are safe here. I make a lot of promises, and sometimes I’m scared that I promise too much. But I’d rather do that than tell anyone that they’re an annoyance.”
“I hope one day you’ll take me there. Show me where you work.”
“I’d like that.”
“Where did you grow up then?” I asked, and he went quiet.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I stuttered out. Perhaps I’d asked the wrong thing.
“I grew up…” More silence. “Here.”
“In Scotland?”
“No… It’s embarrassing.”
“Nothing is embarrassing, Fox. It’s just me.”
“I’ve left that part behind. Honestly, Noah, it’s not important to me anymore. I went to school here… Then I left for uni and then? I ended up coming back. And it’s stupid, but you know, I preach to all the kids here that there’s a big, wide world out there to explore, and that they have great futures awaiting them away from this place. They said the same to me, and I was just a kid and I was really unhappy here. For years, I hated this place. I suffered and I cried, and I still came back. I didn’t go out and explore anything, Noah. I just…came home. Because it felt safe. And I had this stupid idea of making this a better place, better for the boys, and better than the way I had it when I went here. It’s taken a while and… I don’t even know if I am making a damn bit of difference.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said. The wobble in his voice was concerning. I wanted to be there with him. I wanted to hug him.
“No wonder people make fun of me. The guy who… I don’t know. ”
“You’re amazing. I looked up Kilmartin online earlier. It looks beautiful.”
“It looks better on the website. In reality it’s cold and damp.”
