‘I guess.’
There’s a brief, awkward pause.
The deputy head clears her throat. ‘Well, let’s hope that after today Ryan settles down.’ From her tone of voice, it sounds as though our meeting is coming to an end. It feels wrong not to go straight to my son right now and see if he’s okay, but I know from experience that when I ask him direct questions, I tend to make things worse. Ryan opens up in his own way, in his own time. At least, I hope he will. I hate having to walk on eggshells around him.
Mrs Lovatt is on her feet now, so I follow suit.
‘Thanks for coming in, Mrs Taylor.’ She thrusts out a hand and I reluctantly shake it.
‘Are you sure I shouldn’t see him now? I could just have a quick word…’
‘Best not. It may disrupt things further,’ she says. ‘Mr Nichols will make sure he’s calm before going back to class.’
I take a breath and debate whether or not to kick up a fuss. But, quite honestly, I don’t have the energy to push her on it. And she’s probably right. If I give him time to calm down, our chat later will probably end up going better. Plus, I need to get home and work out what I’m going to do about Sophie. That’s if she’s even still there.
I leave the school wondering if I should have pushed to see Ryan. I know Mrs Lovatt said that he’ll be fine, but I can’t bear to think of him sad and angry without friends. It takes all of my willpower not to march back into her office and demand to see him. But I guess it’s only a few hours until home time. My mind boomerangs back to the Sophie predicament. Part of me hopes that she’s gone when I return. At least that would solve that problem. I really shouldn’t have agreed to help her, not while my own family is having troubles. But I suppose I’ve always found it easier to focus on other people’s problems than on my own.
Seven
FIONA
I fall asleep literally minutes before the alarm on my phone burrows into my consciousness. The soft tinkling alarm is one of those where the volume gradually increases, supposedly to gently ease the person awake, but, let’s face it, there is no good sound for a wake-up alarm. They’re all brutal. Even more so, as the events of yesterday come crashing back to me.
I open my eyes to see my husband Nathan on the other side of the bedroom, already suited and booted, moments away from heading out to the city, where he works in finance as a trader. He was late back last night. I didn’t – and still don’t – have the words to tell him about the tax audit.
Nathan and I have always prided ourselves on being this super-successful couple. The type of people who have a handle on life. It might sound arrogant, pompous even. But it’s not like that. It’s about being in control of things. Nathan always talks aboutstaying ahead of the game. If you’re ahead, then a few knockbacks can’t send you spiralling into the gutter. But, with Nathan, even the knockbacks are theoretical. They’re something that happen to other people. Not to us. Not to Fiona and Nathan Salinger. Sometimes it’s exhausting trying to be perfect.
‘Hey, sleepyhead.’ Nathan bends down to kiss me, his brown waves held back with wax, his Nautica cologne evoking all kinds of emotions.
‘Morning.’ I sit up, attempting to banish the anxiety in my gut. ‘You’re up early.’
‘We can’t all lie in bed all day.’ He fiddles with his cufflinks. ‘I’ll try to get back earlier tonight, but I can’t promise anything. Things are crazy at work right now.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s pretty busy at the showroom too. I’ll be working quite late.’
‘It’s a good thing we don’t have kids,’ he comments.
‘Yeah. We barely have time for ourselves these days.’
‘Tell me about it. I’m looking forward to Saturday though.’
‘Saturday?’
His face darkens and I desperately try to remember what’s happening on Saturday, but my mind has gone blank.
‘The regatta,’ he says coldly.
‘Oh, yes, of course. Sorry, I’m still half asleep.’
Thankfully, his earlier good mood hasn’t been dampened by my memory lapse. ‘Okay, well, we’ll take a picnic, yeah? Champagne and strawberries, the works.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out.’
He rubs his hands together. ‘I’m planning on whipping Ed’s butt.’ Nathan and Ed are both entered in one of the races.
‘Remember, Ed’s only been sailing for a year or so. You might want to go easy.’
Nathan grins. ‘Nah, he’s getting pretty good. You should have seen him at the trials.’
