Private Lives

Chapter 8

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.’

She tilts her head to show she’s listening but keeps counting candles. ‘Do you think she’ll mind having thirty-seven candles? Half of her real age?’

‘No, she won’t mind at all.’

‘I mean, I could chop them all in half, I suppose – we never use the whole candle anyway – might look a bit odd …’

‘Ro, please, it doesn’t matter about the candles,’ he retorts sharply, taking her hand. She turns in surprise, taken aback by his tone.

‘Sorry. It’s just, I want to talk about tomorrow night before Mum gets here.’

‘OK,’ Rosie says, still frowning at him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Well, it’s … I’m … I just don’t think we should go.’

‘Why not? It’s been in the diary for ages! Eva’s coming over to do bedtime, Lotte and Richard are expecting us and so are Eddy and Anna. They’d all be pissed off if we cancelled so last-minute!’

Seb looks away, worried about what Rosie will read on his face: his fear etched in the crease of his brow, the sadness in his eyes, the betrayal stiff around his mouth. ‘I know. It’s just that this thing with Abi and her daughter still isn’t resolved, so …’

She takes a sharp little breath, her face strangely expressionless, her voice low, as if she’s speaking from a dark place within herself. ‘What is this really about, Seb? Ever since you met Abi in our kitchen, I feel like you haven’t been honest with me.’

Seb recoils, a part of him shocked because they come easily, these lies.

‘Ro, I told you! It’s just this ongoing thing …’

‘You promise me there’s nothing else I need to know?’

She looks desperate suddenly, a little teary. He’s making her feel mad but what choice does he have? He’s not lying to protect himself; he’s lying to protect her and their whole family.

‘Ro, please. Come on. You know I’m crap at lying.’

He tries to take her arms, tries to hold her, but she resists. ‘Fine. If you don’t want to go, I’ll just go on my own.’

Panic glistens through him. This hasn’t gone well. The only thing worse than going to the restaurant would be Rosie going without him, especially now that Eddy knows what happened. Well, a version of what happened. If he has any hope of containing this thing, stopping them from figuring out the whole truth, he must be there tomorrow.

The doorbell shrieks through the house and the kids start shouting, ‘Granny!’ They race to the front door and Rosie starts singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as she follows behind them. Seb watches this bundle of people in the hall, his heart a ball of pain in his chest, and marvels at how even as everything is dismantling itself all around him, nothing, absolutely nothing, has changed.

Dinner is the usual mix of cajoling food into Greer’s mouth, trying to ignore Heath as he dissects his plate to ensure he won’t accidentally eat anything green, and listening to Sylvie’s long and detailed description of the book she’s been reading. Eva looks happy, smiling as the kids moan, her love for them all so uncomplicated, so easy. No one seems to notice the force field of tension Seb can feel crackling around him.

The kids whoop when it’s time for cake and ice cream and argue over whose turn it is to light the candles, while Eva gamely pretends she has no idea what’s going on.

Sylvie wins the candle row while Greer cries on Seb’s lap and Heath chips a spoon like a pickaxe into some frozen vanilla ice cream. Rosie goes to the loo and when she comes back to the kitchen announces, ‘Guess who I found skulking outside the front door?’

‘Uncle Eddy!’ Greer exclaims, like he’s a present she’s just unwrapped. Seb’s stomach plummets as Eddy shuffles forward in his tennis gear, holding a box of chocolates and offering the room a little wave. ‘Hi, everyone.’

Seb stares at Eddy, watching as he wraps his arms around Eva. ‘I had to come and give the birthday girl a kiss!’ Eddy hands Eva the chocolates.

‘Edward!’ Her palm against his face, just like she does to Seb. ‘You look tired!’

‘I always look tired, Mrs K. I think I was just born this way,’ he replies, which makes Eva pat his cheek, laugh and tut all at the same time. Eddy briefly hugs each of the kids before he slaps Seb on the back, and Seb feels the eyes of his children, his mother, his wife on him and so he pats Eddy’s back in return.

‘You want some food, Edward?’ Eva asks, already half standing, holding the edge of the table for support, to make him a plate.

Eddy stops her and shakes his head while next to him Heath says, ‘No, Granny, he just wants cake and ice cream. Don’t you, Uncle Eddy?’

Heath always treats Eddy like he’s one of the kids. But Eddy’s still shaking his head, running his hand over his beard, keeping his eyes on Seb as he says, ‘Actually, guys, my own dinner is waiting for me at home, so I just came by really quickly to say happy birthday but also to ask your dad something.’

‘Is it because he’s head teacher?’ Greer asks Eddy, her expression serious.

Eddy smiles at her and lies, so easily, ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’

Greer nods, satisfied, before looking down at her bowl and crying out in outrage, ‘Heath! You gave me a tiny bit!’

The inevitable battle over ice-cream portions ensues and Eddy beckons Seb, who mouths, ‘Sorry,’ to his mum as they back into the hall, Eddy waving them all a quick goodbye.

Eddy opens the front door, steps outside, and Seb has an urge to slam the door behind him, to leave Eddy in the chilled air, alone. But he resists and stands opposite Eddy, who nods, breathes out. ‘Look, mate, I’ve been feeling pretty weird since our chat last week.’

Everyone Seb loves is just a wall away and stupid Eddy is too entranced by his own feelings; he hasn’t even considered how precarious this is for Seb. Eddy knows too much, he must be placated, so Seb closes the door behind them and gestures for Eddy to move down the path a few paces away from the house.

They stand and face each other just outside Seb and Rosie’s front gate, where Seb asks, ‘What’s going on, Eddy?’

Eddy swallows, glances over Seb’s shoulder back at the house and says, ‘You have to tell Rosie before tomorrow night.’

‘What?’ Seb feels his face twist.

‘I know it won’t be easy but it’s not right, Seb, Rosie not knowing. You must see that.’

‘Eddy, you don’t get to come and tell me what to do in my marriage.’

‘Anything else, anything else I’d agree with you, but she’s my friend too …’

‘I trusted you.’ Seb hears his own voice, too loud, too dangerous, too close to everything he loves. He forces himself to quieten, moves closer to Eddy as he says, ‘I trusted you with my biggest secret. I’m not proud of what I did, you know I’m not, but it’s up to me to figure out what to do, what’s best for my family. Not you.’

‘It’s Abi isn’t it? Abigail Matthews.’

Everything around Seb – the whistling birch trees, Eddy, the cool autumn air – seems to slow and blur. The shock of her name makes Seb forget what his face is doing and as Eddy slowly comes back into focus opposite him, he knows he’s given himself away, knows there’s no denying what Eddy now knows to be true. Eddy shakes his head. ‘Shit, Seb. What a bloody mess you’ve made.’

‘How did you …?’

Now Eddy can’t meet Seb’s eye and Seb knows, of course, knows immediately that it was Anna who figured it out, and for some reason this makes Seb laugh, hard and joyless.

‘Anna,’ Seb says, her name like a claw in his throat. ‘You told Anna. How fucking dare you, Eddy …’

Eddy freezes; there’s heat rising in his cheeks, too.

’You betrayed me. Betrayed my trust. All these years of promising me that I could tell you anything …’

‘Listen to yourself, Seb.’ Eddy’s shaking his head, eyes wide, appalled by the stranger in front of him. ‘That’s not the betrayal here, the betrayal is that you cheated on your wife – our friend, Anna’s best friend – and you’re not coming clean. Frankly, I don’t give a shit what you think about me; it’s Rosie I’m thinking about. She’s the reason I’m here. We won’t let you humiliate her …’

‘Your hypocrisy is unbelievable.’

‘Seb, what I did was a momentary lapse of judgement. I was so drunk I could hardly stand, it was …’

‘So that makes it OK, does it?’

‘No. Of course not, but at least I didn’t shop around online, at least I didn’t plan it, and at least I had the balls to tell Anna as soon as I could—’

‘Yeah, Eddy, you’re a real saint …’ Seb interrupts but Eddy ignores him, ploughing on to his headline point.

‘… Which is why I’m here to ask you to please tell Rosie before tomorrow, because if you don’t then Anna will and, trust me, it’ll be …’

‘Fine. Fine. Yes. I’ll tell her. OK? I’ll tell her …’

‘What are you two plotting?’ Seb spins around; Rosie is standing in the doorway. She’s staring directly at Seb, her head to one side, her voice light, but she’s frowning. She’s too far away; she can’t have heard anything.

‘Tennis,’ Eddy says, unconvincingly. ‘We’re talking about our last tennis match.’

Rosie moves forward, towards them, her hands resting on the gate between them. ‘Was one of you cheating again?’

Seb stares at his beautiful, smiling wife and he feels the first wash of tears as Eddy says, ‘Something like that, but it’s all sorted now.’

‘Oh, good. You two are both such bad losers.’ Then she turns to Eddy and asks, ‘Ed, can you please convince him to stop being an arse about tomorrow night? He keeps saying he won’t come and …’

‘Ro, please stop. I’ll be there.’

She raises her eyebrows before immediately wrinkling her forehead. ‘Good.’

They say goodbye quickly and Seb keeps his hand on Rosie’s back as he guides her gently inside.

That night, Seb lies sleepless in bed next to Rosie. He wants to stay there, next to her, as close as she’ll allow, but she must feel his buzzing mind because one of her eyes cranks half open and her voice is heavy with sleep as she slurs, ‘Get up if you can’t sleep.’

He does as he’s told. Pulls on tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt and pads barefoot through the kitchen into the garden.

He lifts his face to the clear sky, to the stars and the moon; the air smells rich, of distant bonfires. He used to do this, stand in the garden alone at night, when he was just a kid. It started when his dad got his cancer diagnosis, and they’d had no idea how long he’d survive. His dad had asked him to be good, to help Eva, not to cause any problems. And that’s what he’d done. He’d tried so hard for so long to keep himself neat, to do the right thing, and now all that effort is dissolving, revealing Seb for who he really is, a mess of wants and desires.

His mind keeps playing forward to tomorrow, to the opening of the restaurant. He can’t go, but he also can’t risk Rosie going without him. Eddy will be there, licking his lips, ready to tell Rosie he cheated. But he only knows half the story – what if Abi reveals the other more shameful half tomorrow night? At least if Seb is there, he can try to protect Rosie from Eddy and Anna. And what about Anna and Eddy knowing it was Abi? She’ll assume it was Seb who broke their agreement, Seb who told them. She’ll have no reason to protect him and, more importantly, no reason to protect Rosie. She won’t go quietly; she promised him that.

There is, of course, the other way. A cleaner way. He could tell Rosie tonight, as he promised Eddy he would. He could tell her. He could open himself up, tell her everything, pluck out his deceitful, broken heart and let her do what she will with it. He can do no more. He’s done.

The house is quiet. He takes the stairs three at a time; he needs to move quickly, outpace his fear, his doubt. It’ll be over soon.

In their bedroom, Rosie is fast asleep, but while Seb’s been gone, Greer’s taken his space. They’re like two apostrophes in the bed facing each other, their arms entwined, beautiful. He tries to move Greer away, but she moans and clings tighter to her mum. He can’t wake either of them without waking the other. He can’t ruin Rosie’s life without also destroying his daughter’s.

He leaves them to sleep as he collapses on the floor, next to the bed, and he holds his disgusting head in his hands as he feels himself break.