‘Look, Anna. I know you’re angry, I know you’re hurt, and perhaps you have a right to be, but it wasn’t like that. I didn’t abuse anyone. She was doing that work legally and of her own volition …’
‘That’s what you have to tell yourself, isn’t it? That she actually enjoyed it? That she chose to have dick after disgusting dick inside her?’ Anna moves closer to Seb. ‘I don’t think you’re that stupid or that naive. I think you know she hated every second of it, that she was doing it for drugs or because she was abused as a child, probably both. But still you went along with it, you still paid her so you could rape her, and that makes you a monster.’
Seb’s never heard his darkest fears spoken out loud before, even by himself, let alone someone else. These screaming accusations should turn him to ash, but they don’t because Seb is certain that the person Anna’s describing is not him. What she’s describing is not what happened in that tiny, soulless W1 studio. He knows it, and he also knows that there’s no way he can prove it.
Instead, he does the only thing he can.
‘That’s enough.’ He moves to open the door for her to leave, but she grabs him by the arm, her sharp nails digging painfully into his skin.
‘No, you fucking don’t. I’m not finished yet.’
Seb pulls his arm away from her. ‘Anna. Stop. I know you’re upset, but that’s enough. I have done something wrong, you’re right. I betrayed my wife, broke promises we made to each other – I get that. I regret it bitterly but I’m not going to stand here and let you call me a monster. What happened was legal and it was between two consenting adults.’ He pauses for a bit, thinks, Fuck it, before adding, ‘In a way, there’s no difference between what Eddy did in Singapore and what I did.’
Anna’s face turns a strange puce colour; she looks like she’s about to vomit. ‘Eddy didn’t pay, he didn’t abuse anyone.’
‘No, he didn’t pay, but he did flirt, laugh and, let’s be honest, he definitely didn’t mention your name.’
A sob rises in Anna’s throat then, winding her and making her fall forward. She shakes her head at him, like she can shake his words out of her ears. ‘Eddy’s different now.’
‘OK, Anna.’
She starts crying – big, angry, rasping sobs – but Seb holds himself steady, stops himself from comforting her.
She holds up her hand, making a small space between her thumb and forefinger. ‘I’m that close, I swear to God, I’m that close to telling everyone what a shit you really are.’
Seb stares at her and tries to feel if this threat is genuine or not. He forces calm into his voice and says, ‘I have a right to a private life, Anna.’
‘And I have a right to ensure my kids are guided by someone who isn’t a liar and who doesn’t abuse women. And now, knowing what I know about you, I have a duty to all the other parents who have a right to know who you really are, the real man making huge decisions about their kids’ futures.’
‘Anna …’
‘The only reason I haven’t so far is because of Rosie and the kids, of course.’
Seb’s heart sinks. His poor children.
‘I think you know, deep down, that you’re not fit to lead this school, Seb.’
‘Anna, what I did has no bearing at all on my position here. That hasn’t changed. I’m still just as capable, I’m still the same person …’
‘Not to me you’re not. And if you stay in your position, you’ll leave me with no choice.’
‘You’re threatening me?’
‘If that’s what you call it. I don’t care. I’m just looking out for the children. All our children.’
‘What do you want, then, Anna? Seriously, what do you want from me?’
She doesn’t pause; it’s like the words are right there, waiting for her. ‘I want you to know that we’ve had enough. Men like you pretending you’re safe, feigning friendship, when you’re the worst abusers of all. Men like you – entitled, educated, privileged men – can’t keep treating women like we’re dolls to be played with when you feel like it. I want you to feel what it’s like to be publicly shamed and then I want you to disappear.’
The bell rings for the school to gather for assembly but Anna doesn’t take her eyes off Seb. ‘You should come clean, Seb. Tell the whole school that you can’t continue as head teacher. It’s your one chance to do something that is truly right, and if you don’t, then I will.’
She turns and, with one last disgusted glance at him, opens the door and walks away.
Seb stays perched on his desk, holding his head in his hands, adrenaline flooding his body, his thoughts like fire ants. Anna hadn’t shut the door behind her and suddenly Mr Clegg, the geography teacher and deputy head, pokes his bald head into Seb’s office and asks, ‘You all right?’
Seb looks up at him and, standing, says, ‘Yeah, just a bit of a headache, that’s all. I’ll take some paracetamol.’
Mr Clegg nods, backing out into the hall.
Seb nudges his office door shut. He is right, isn’t he? Everyone’s entitled to a private life. Even teachers, even head teachers. What if Mr Clegg secretly loves dressing up in leather and being spanked with a paddle? That’s none of anyone else’s business. Would that make him unsafe to do his job? No, no, of course it wouldn’t. Anna is wrong. He can be both: a reliable professional and a fallible man who messed up big-time. Anna is always so ready to explode, so full of rage. Eddy will help calm her down, just like Seb calmed her down when she found out about Eddy’s affair. All Seb has to do is call Eddy and ask. He just needs to get through the next few days. Just needs to help Rosie understand that he did what he did because he felt so stuck, so scared, so lonely. If he can find the softness in himself to share all that with her then maybe, just maybe, they can heal together.
He picks up his notepad and a pen, and takes a sip of water from the glass that has sat stale on his desk all weekend.
When he enters the hall, he feels every one of the six hundred pairs of eyes on him.
He lets his gaze blur as he turns towards them. Just get through this.
‘Morning, everyone,’ Seb says, his mouth twitching. ‘I hope you all had a good weekend …’
He swallows, the saliva bitter in his throat.
‘We’re starting today with an assembly from the Year Nines with a “celebration of autumn”, which sounds wonderful. So, over to you, Year Nine.’
Before he leaves the stage, he looks up briefly at the blur of young people in front of him, and one face lifts into focus. Lily. She’s sitting next to Blake, at the back, looking at him like everyone else, but she’s serene, composed, smiling faintly, and Seb knows he not only holds his own fragile family’s future in his shaking hands, but also that of this talented young woman. His body fills like a sack of wet cement; he can’t sit where he’s supposed to but rushes out of the side door, the sniggers and whispers from the students like falling arrows at his back.
Chapter 11
Abi spent the whole of Sunday at home with her girls. They are good at spending a day together, just the three of them, with no need for anyone or anything else. They built a den, watched a movie, did a bit of yoga, cooked. It was slow and it was simple, the perfect antidote to the intensity of the restaurant opening. Every now and then Abi could feel herself drifting back to the previous night, remembering what one of the teenage waitresses had told her, about the middle-aged couples who left abruptly, their dessert menus abandoned on the table, who went outside to scream at each other while Abi was in the wine cellar searching for a bottle. Abi had smiled even as she felt cold stones drop into the well of her stomach; they could have been arguing about anything, she told herself strictly, but she didn’t believe it. Then Margot would stick her head up in the den to complain, ‘Mum! You’re not listening!’ And she’d be brought back to the present. Saved by her girls again.