Back in his office, he opens a new document on his computer and, eyes still stinging, he types:
To: Chair of Governors
Dear Harriet Carvin,
I am writing to formally announce my resignation as head teacher at Waverly …
There’s a knock at the door. Seb considers pretending he’s not in; he can’t take another confrontation. All he wants is to write this shitty thing and go back to Eva’s, lock the door and never unlock it again.
‘Mr Kent?’
Seb looks up from his computer. Mrs Greene has opened the door and pushed her grave face into the gap. ‘Can I come in?’
Seb desperately doesn’t want anyone near him, but it’s Mrs Greene and the school, he knows, means everything to her. He suspects she’d be lost without it. She deserves an apology if not an explanation. Seb lifts his hands away from the keyboard. ‘Of course.’
She shuffles in, closes the door deliberately firmly behind her and stays standing, staring before she asks, ‘What is all this nonsense about, Mr Kent?’
What would Mrs Greene say if he told her the truth? She’d tell him to resign, that’s certain, but would she fly into a rage?
Either way, nothing would change if he told the truth, but he would at least have treated Mrs Greene with honesty, with respect.
‘If I tell you, Mrs Greene, I want to ask you to please remember the children – both the students here and my own children – and keep this information to yourself.’
Mrs Greene nods, a little impatient, a little irritated, because she’s known for her discretion.
Seb looks at her, this woman who has always had such faith – such misplaced faith – and he hears himself say the words, ‘I betrayed Rosie.’
‘You had an affair?’
Seb shakes his head. ‘No, I had sex with someone else. Someone I paid.’
He waits for it. The moment her belief in him shatters. She becomes very still, tilts her head, before saying plainly, ‘You had sex with a prostitute.’
Seb hangs his head and then lifts it up again in surprise because he thinks he hears her say, ‘OK.’
There must have been some communication issue.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
Mrs Greene shrugs. ‘I said, OK. This is based on the assumption, of course, that the woman was working legally, of her own free will.’
‘What?’
She moves forward and sits in the chair opposite Seb’s desk, breathes out like she’s just taken something heavy off her back. ‘I’ve been worried it was something much, much worse. Honestly, the things they’re saying in the staff room.’
Mrs Greene shudders and Seb feels as though he’s banged his head hard and woken up to some alternative reality.
‘Mrs Greene, you did just hear what I said?’
She looks up at him; her mouth flickers, suppressing a smile. ‘It might surprise you, Mr Kent, to hear that I don’t live under a rock, and it might surprise you even more to know I’ve lived what my parents always called a rather colourful life. Not many people know that about me – well, people here at school, anyway.’
She looks away from him for a moment, allows herself a little smile. Seb suddenly sees her as a child of the seventies. Long hair, baggy clothes, hitch-hiking somewhere exotic … but the image blurs. Seb doesn’t know what to say; he just stares.
‘Now, obviously I’m not going to start applauding your behaviour, but, well, people are people, and we all have … needs. And I do think this awful petition is completely wrong. What goes on in your marriage should, in my opinion, be between you and Mrs Kent. That’s it. The person who wrote it clearly doesn’t understand that what interests the public and what is in the public’s interest are two completely different things.’
Seb opens his mouth to say something but shuts it again. He just wants to listen.
‘Now, back to that resignation letter I think you’ve started writing. My advice to you is to delete it immediately.’
‘But …’ Seb starts before realizing he doesn’t know what to say so instead squeaks, ‘Why?’
‘Because, believe it or not, Mr Kent, this is a golden opportunity.’
‘What?’
Perhaps she’s gone mad. Mrs Greene leans forward in her chair, towards Seb, and says, ‘Us adults get this wrong time and time again, don’t you agree? We think we have to be perfect, blemish-free examples for young people but it’s complete nonsense!’ She throws her arms wide. ‘What young people need more than anything are role models who get things wrong, who mess up catastrophically, and when they do mess up, they need to see those authority figures apologize, accept their failings and try as hard as they can not to let people down again. They don’t need to watch you be hounded out of your position, tail between your legs, full of shame – especially not when your mistake should stay where it belongs: in your private life! These kids need to know that when they inevitably get something wrong or let themselves and others down, their lives are not over.’
As she says the last bit Mrs Greene’s eyes fill and she turns her head for a moment, pausing as though to tend to a private battle, before turning back to Seb.
‘You could be an excellent head teacher here for many years to come. You know it, I know it. But you’re going to have to fight this one tooth and nail. You’re going to have to decide who is more important: the young people at this school or what your friends, colleagues and acquaintances think about your choices in your personal life.’
They sit in silence for a moment. Seb feels like he’s taken a hallucinogen, each one of Mrs Greene’s words like a tiny drug lifting him into a new world of technicolour, an unvisited place of courage and possibility. She’s right. He is going to have to disappoint some people, but it’s up to him to decide which people he lets down. Mrs Greene stands slowly and says, ‘Well, that’s my two pennies’ worth. Hope I didn’t say too much – I do get riled up sometimes. It’s my half-day today so I’m heading off home now. Don’t forget the cleaners will be in later, so lock all confidential stuff away, and I very much hope to see you back in tomorrow.’
Chapter 15
Abi’s grating cheese for Margot’s packed lunch when her phone buzzes with a new email. This time it’s from Sebastian Kent and the title is ‘A Response to the Petition’. The timing feels intentional; the petition was sent at a similar time yesterday morning and has passed around countless WhatsApp groups since – including one for Lily’s class that Abi is part of. After just a couple of minutes the thread was covered in horrified emojis and ‘WTF?’ comments. The school gates have been fizzing with speculation and Abi knows, being new and still an unknown quantity, she doesn’t hear the worst of it. She feels like her lungs are collapsing again as she opens Seb’s email. She reassures herself that she can still whisk her daughters away if she needs to, if this is the moment Seb has cracked and given up her name to distract attention away from himself. She reads it hurriedly, one palm flat, pressing against the countertop.
Dear Parents, Guardians and Carers,
I’m writing to invite you to a school assembly this morning at 9.15 a.m., when I shall deliver a response to the petition that was posted about me yesterday morning. The students will also be in attendance, and I hope you are able to join us in the main school hall. I’m aware this is all last-minute and I apologize for any disruption caused, but it feels important to respond to the petition quickly. For those unable to attend, or for those who do not wish to come this morning, I would be happy to arrange another time to meet in person at your convenience.