Seb catches himself whistling down the corridor, notebook and pen in hand, making his way through the science block that hasn’t changed in decades. He’s meeting with some of the Year 11 parents to discuss how best to prepare and support their children through their GCSE year. It’s one of the changes he promised during his interview and a proposal that Harriet – the chair of governors – especially welcomed. As head teacher, Seb wants to have more direct communication with the parents, especially during important exam years. Yes. Seb is back on track – all that bullshit last week was scary and no doubt it will continue to be awkward when he sees Abi at the school gates, but they’ve promised to stay out of each other’s way and, most importantly, Rosie seems to believe his lie about Lily and a situation at school. Eddy is his best mate. He’ll keep his secret and there’s no need for Rosie to ever know the duplicitous man she married. He’s going to let all his grubby secrets go. From now on, this new, reborn Seb is going to appreciate the extraordinarily good fortune of his life. He’s going to love Rosie better, actually book that romantic weekend away instead of just planning it in his head. From now on he’ll be more patient with the kids – perhaps they could introduce a day when all five of them play board games all day and paint pictures of each other. Maybe that last bit is optimistic. Maybe it should be just half a day but, whatever, Seb is feeling good and believes for the first time that he is going to survive everything that’s happened. Better than survive, in fact – the whole experience is going to make him change his ways.
Even though it’s a school rule that no teachers use their phones outside of the staff room, he can’t resist texting Rosie a quick, LOVE YOU. The capitals are accidental, but he decides not to change them. From now on he is going to love her loudly.
He reaches classroom 6D where Harriet is standing in front of a few rows of parents. Harriet – a retired teacher herself – likes to be involved.
Harriet turns and says, ‘Afternoon, Mr Kent. Good to see you.’
Seb walks confidently into the classroom, smiles at the whole room and says to Harriet, ‘Please call me Seb.’ He addresses the seated rows of parents, all of whom he recognizes. ‘Afternoon, everyone.’
Eddy and Anna are both working so can’t come along. But that’s OK; they are reassured Seb will be looking out for his godson.
‘We were just running through the agenda.’ Harriet beams at him and raises a hand towards the empty chair positioned next to her own at the front of the classroom. Seb nod-walks to his seat as Harriet turns back to her notes.
He sees her as soon as he sits. She’s in the third row, close to the window, a denim jacket slung over her lap, her ringed hands loosely clasping each other, her head tilted to one side, and that mouth – oh God, that mouth that made him do unspeakable things – is smiling at him.
She must be mad.
Seb stares at Abi; it’s like she’s got her hand around his windpipe and is squeezing.
What does she want from him?
He remembers her voice. The faint rasp of it.
Hey, try and relax …
Seb leans forward, over his knees, coughs into his hand. Harriet starts fussing about fetching him a glass of water but he waves his hand at her, feels his eyes bulging in their sockets, his neck straining against his collar, looks up at the gently concerned faces before him and says, ‘Excuse me, sorry everyone.’
When she’s reassured that he has recovered, Harriet says, ‘Well, maybe that’s my cue to hand over to you, Seb, and ask you to address our first item: exam anxiety; how to spot it and support your child through it.’
Standing, Seb plugs his laptop into the classroom’s interactive whiteboard and immediately launches into his slideshow, never once looking back at Abi.
The meeting rumbles along, the parents take notes and ask questions, then finally they get to ‘AOB’. Harriet turns to him, smiling so widely Seb can see the silver fillings at the back of her mouth before she says, ‘I just wanted to feed back some of the responses we’ve been getting from parents about your first few weeks in the post and they are, of course, unanimously glowing. We know you’re still finding your feet in your new role but your commitment and enthusiasm for the school and, most importantly, the students is palpable and, really, that is all the parents’ – Harriet points to the room before indicating herself – ‘and us governors can ask.’
The parents look to one another, unsure whether they should clap, so Seb saves them all by saying, ‘Thanks for making me blush, Harriet! No, that’s good to hear, and thank you, everyone, for coming along,’ before starting to pack up his laptop. Seb makes sure his smile doesn’t slip once as everyone files out of the room. He asks Abi if she has a moment to chat privately, his face aching.
He ensures the door is closed behind Harriet, the last to leave. He’s stronger than when they spoke at the restaurant; she’s clearly fucking with him, and he needs to be absolutely crystal clear with her this time. He stands solid and firm. ‘What are you doing?’
Abi runs her fingers through her short hair, standing opposite him. ‘I was invited. That’s why I’m here. I have the same rights as everyone else, even if it makes you uncomfortable.’
He forces himself to sound calm. ‘We said we’d stay out of each other’s way, Abi.’
Abi’s forehead wrinkles; she shakes her head. ‘We agreed we’d stay out of each other’s private lives.’
Seb lifts his face to the ceiling, shakes his head and whispers, ‘Fuck’s sake.’ He opens his arms, indicating the classroom, the entire school. ‘This is my life. This is my work. Don’t ambush me at work.’
She stares at him, and he has to resist the urge to look away. She’s everything he despises about himself.
‘Then why are you and your wife and friends coming to the opening night of the restaurant? If you’re allowed to show up at my work, then why can’t I show up at yours? Unlike you, I’ve done nothing wrong. I haven’t betrayed anyone.’
His stomach twists with revulsion for her, for himself, as the meanest, cruellest part of him snaps, ‘Tell your kids that.’
She comes so close he can feel the heat off her. ‘Don’t think for a moment I don’t know what I’m doing, Seb. I’ve known men like you my whole life. And you should know, I’ve got my own tussle going on’ – she knocks her knuckles gently against her chest – ‘because let me tell you, there’s a part of me that would love to tear your privileged bullshit life apart. Would love to tell the world what a fucked-up little liar you really are. You’re the one who came looking for me. Remember that.’
She gathers up her bag and jacket, ignoring Seb’s hurried, quiet apologies as she walks quickly away.
Later that evening, steam billows from the oven as he opens the door and pulls out the celebratory moussaka he made earlier for Eva’s birthday. Seb always makes moussaka when there is something to celebrate. The tradition started when Rosie went into labour with Sylvie; Rosie had gone to sleep but he needed something to do. Twenty-four hours later, in bed, they’d eaten it, with Sylvie sleeping in the crook of Rosie’s arm. He makes it for special occasions and the kids, incredibly, have yet to tire of it.
The kids are upstairs playing while Seb and Rosie are getting things ready for Eva. Rosie’s hanging their trusty silver ‘Happy Birthday’ banner over the table while Seb makes a salad dressing. Once he’s done, he glances at his phone; there’s another message from Eddy waiting, unread. Seb puts it back on the table, screen down. Eddy will just be whining about Seb missing their game again. Eddy, for once, can wait.
Seb loosens his jaw; he needs to talk to Rosie now. This could be his only chance.
‘Hey, Ro,’ he says, turning towards her as she sticks candles into the shop-bought cake he picked up on his way back from school. ‘I’ve been thinking about tomorrow night.’