‘What a complete arsehole!’ Vita says.
‘Didn’t he say that what he did wasn’t illegal? Is that even true?’ Lotte spits.
‘I think it is legal, it just depends on, like, the circumstances,’ Clarissa explains. ‘Like, if the woman is being controlled or whatever. If it was between two adults and was consensual then I don’t really see what the …’
A couple of women recoil, their eyes thin slits of disdain. One of them says, ‘He’s a head teacher, Clarissa!’
Anna is holding up her hands, saying, ‘Guys, guys, I know it’s upsetting …’ But, for the first time, she’s ignored.
‘It’s a position of responsibility, respect. How can we possibly respect him now?’
‘Yeah, but he isn’t always a head teacher, is he? Like he said in the assembly, he has a right to live his life outside of the school, doesn’t he?’
‘Ah, yes, he does, but,’ Anna interrupts, ‘I’m afraid it gets worse.’ Eddy watches as eyes widen, become livelier with possibility – imagining all the titillating, exotic, disgusting things Seb could have done to make it worse.
‘He used a school laptop.’ The eyes become blank; brows furrowed. Anna ploughs on, ‘To look for her, I mean. He searched for prostitutes using school property and most likely while he was at school. Which means, as a public employee, we are literally paying for him to spend his time fuelling a cruel and abusive industry.’
Everyone’s listening again now; Anna is on to something. ‘That’s what I was alluding to when I talked about him being unsafe, that he was putting our kids at risk. I mean, imagine if one of the children saw some of the sick things he was looking at on his school computer in his school office?’
Clarissa is the first to look away, her face twisted in thought. ‘Sounds pretty unlikely that one of the kids would see,’ she says, but the others ignore her because Lotte suddenly looks like she’s about to burst into tears as she says, ‘He’s a monster, an absolute monster.’
Vita turns to hug Lotte, who whimpers over her shoulder for a moment before pulling away and saying, ‘I can’t believe I trusted him, really. I thought he was so safe, so wonderful.’
Others coo, pat and soothe Lotte, who first checks her mascara hasn’t run before looking at the whole group and, shifting with impressive agility from sadness to venom, saying, ‘He’s a pervert. We need to get him away from our children.’
Anna looks up at Eddy and for a moment he sees that she’s scared and alone. The realization settling in that she’s doing this. That she’s done this. She reaches for his hand, and he lets her take it. Their palms are cold; there’s no warmth between them any more. He pulls his hand away. He wants to get out of here, wants to go home and guard Blake and Lily. Even though Anna hasn’t mentioned Abi’s name she’s just one slip away.
‘It’s toxic patriarchy, is what it is – men abusing women for their own gratification and …’ She doesn’t get to finish because Lotte’s voice is louder.
‘No, it’s complete perversion. Dangerous. He’s a pervert and a pervert has no place anywhere near a school.’
‘Oh, that’s a bit strong …’ Martin counters. ‘I mean, I thought the same at first, panicked – especially when I heard those rumours that children were involved – but, you know, we live opposite Rosie and Seb, and I always thought he seemed like a good guy. Always stops for a quick chat.’
‘Would you be comfortable leaving your girls in his care knowing what you now know?’ Vita asks, lifting her eyebrows at Martin.
Martin looks away, says nothing, which Lotte interprets as a ‘no’.
‘There you go, then. You just proved our point. We don’t know what other perversions he’s hiding.’
Eddy moves quickly, in case Anna notices him leaving, calls his name for him to stay. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her, because she’s chosen her own righteousness, her own anger above their son’s fragile heart. Eddy isn’t sure what he can do to protect his boy, but he knows he can’t be here, by Anna’s side, any more and so he walks quietly, back out into the rain, alone.
Chapter 17
Rosie sits at the kitchen table after the assembly. Upstairs, there are clothes all over the kids’ rooms, half-packed suitcases for all three and for herself. She’s wanted to leave so many times, but the truth is she can’t think of anywhere they could go. Her parents would ask too many questions; they’d find the kids too noisy, too messy. Rosie has been out of touch with old friends for too long to ask for refuge for the four of them, and the thought of staying in a cheap hotel is soul-crushing and still way too expensive.
She’d flipped, laughing hysterically, when Seb told her yesterday afternoon that he wasn’t going to resign, that he was going to hold an assembly to face the petition head-on instead. When she saw that he wasn’t laughing along with her, she’d told him he was selfish, that he wasn’t thinking about the impact on her or their kids, that he should just quietly resign, but even as she’d said the words, she’d known, of course, that that wouldn’t be the end. There would still be endless speculation about why he was resigning. The petition was just too noisy to let him slip away quietly. There was also a belief swelling up in her, a momentary pulse of possibility, that Seb was right: he wasn’t dangerous and of course he had a right to make private mistakes. But she’d stamped on these thoughts like they were on fire.
He’d wanted her to go to the assembly and she’d pictured herself standing by his side, limp and pathetic, like some insipid shamed politician’s wife. She’d shoved him in the chest and called him all the worst things she could think of.
Later that night, lying sleepless in bed, she’d imagined not going to the assembly, not knowing what he said, another blank spot for her imagination to colour in like it did every time she thought of Seb and Abi. This morning, when Seb had suggested again that Mrs Greene could sneak Rosie into the hall at the last minute, that Rosie could listen, unseen, behind the curtains at the side of the stage, she’d nodded and reluctantly agreed.
She’d watched Abi as she hovered by the entrance to the school, unsure whether to go in or not. She’d seen how Mrs Greene said something cursory to her and how Abi had stumbled forward. She’d felt Abi’s isolation, seen her bravery as she went into the hall, like she was eager to participate in her own downfall. She wanted to hate Abi, but she couldn’t because out of all the people there, the people Rosie counted as friends, their voices bouncing excitedly to each other, Abi was the only one who understood. The only one who arguably had even more to lose than Rosie but was going in anyway.
Mrs Greene pointed, wordlessly, to where Rosie should hide. She saw Eddy standing, nodding, as Vita babbled in his ear. Then she found who she was really looking for in the crowd: Abi, smiling briefly at the people next to her, but not talking to them. Rosie watched as Abi scanned the students and knew she was searching for her child. Rosie had to fight the urge to go and stand by her side. What would happen, she wondered, inside Seb if he looked up from his place on the stage to see them, Rosie and Abi, standing together?
While Seb talked, Rosie mostly watched the reactions of the students. Some chattered and laughed, becoming quiet and still as Seb talked about making mistakes, about trying to do the right thing. One boy looked at his hands in his lap, as though thinking about all his future fuck-ups. She was glad for these kids, glad they were having this experience so young in life. She watched their eyes widen in surprise. She thought perhaps they’d never heard an adult talk like this, and then she realized that she’d never heard anyone do anything like this before, either. She looked at her weary, ragged husband, the bright lights highlighting how alone he was. She saw all the faces of the parents, their jaws snapping in judgement, and was surprised to find herself crying, because it was such a relief to see him stand before all that judgement and disbelief. To see him standing flawed, fallible and so incredibly real, and suddenly her heart felt like it had tripled in size.