Private Lives

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.

She was spotted walking away from the school after the assembly. A couple of mums asked if she was OK, if they could do anything to help.

‘It’s brave, I think, what he’s doing,’ one of them said. Rosie looked up at her and, even though she didn’t say anything, the woman’s words were like milk on a burn and Rosie realized that she agreed. Her husband was still a liar, still an arsehole, but at least, she thought, this time he wasn’t a coward.

It was raining, so she decided not to go to the beach and instead drove home. She’s sure she’s only been sitting at the table numbly for a few minutes, but her tea is stone cold when she hears a key in the front door lock. She sits up, stares as Seb comes down the few steps into the kitchen. He looks hollow, all the confidence he’d shown on the stage totally spent. They stare at each other for a moment before he slowly pulls up a chair, close enough to touch Rosie, but careful not to. He sits, his hands between his knobbly knees. She looks at him as he looks at her. She sees his distress, his panic and sadness, but she also sees something else in him now, something quiet but determined, a commitment to the truth. But, she can’t avoid it; the anger and humiliation are still alive in her. She moves a little away from him. He keeps his eyes down as he says, ‘I just want to say thank you for coming this morning.’

She clenches her jaw to dam any tears.

‘I also want to say that if you decide that you need to end our marriage, I would understand.’ He looks up at her as he says, ‘You don’t deserve any of this, Ro. None of this is your fault.’

She nods, but his admission doesn’t feel as good as she thought it would. Her teeth ache as she presses them together. Neither of them says anything and it’s a relief for a moment just to be with him in silence.

They both startle when Seb’s phone rings loudly in his pocket. He pulls it out to shut it up, muttering, ‘Sorry,’ but then he looks up at Rosie and says, ‘It’s Mrs Greene.’ Rosie shrugs; she doesn’t mind if Seb wants to accept the call. He stands and clears his throat before he answers, ‘Hello.’

Rosie can’t hear what Mrs Greene is saying on the other end, but she gets the gist.

‘Yes, I expected as much. I’ve just come home to see Rosie, but I’ll start replying to them all as soon as I’m back, OK? Yes, please tell everyone that I’ll be in the staff room over lunch, they can ask me anything then, that’s fine.’

He’s about to hang up when Mrs Greene says something else, making Seb pause for a moment before adding, ‘Which radio show?’

His gaze is restless as he listens to her response, before becoming still on Rosie’s face again. ‘Ah, OK. I see. OK. I’ll see you soon, then, Mrs Greene.’

He hangs up.

Seb swallows again, puts his phone in his pocket before sitting back down.

Rosie looks at him, lifts her eyebrows slightly for him to explain.

‘Apparently it’s all over the school WhatsApp groups that Anna is going to do a kind of response to my assembly, one p.m. on East Sussex Radio.’

Rosie closes her eyes. ‘Oh no.’ They’re the first words she’s spoken since he got here and they make Seb wince.

‘I know. I’m so sorry, Ro.’

She nods, taking his apology quietly. She’d been so focused on trying to understand her feelings after the assembly, she hadn’t thought about what would happen next.

‘I think this is going to get worse, much worse, before it gets better.’

Rosie nods slowly.

‘Listen, if you think it’s best to get away for a while with the kids, I would understand.’

‘I don’t want to do that.’ Her words are clear, and she adds, ‘I don’t know what I want, but I know that for now, at least, we’re staying here.’

Seb nods; a couple of tears fall from his eyes. She doesn’t want to touch him and doesn’t want to say any more so she just watches him cry until his phone starts ringing again and she says, ‘You should go. We’ll speak later.’

He nods, wipes his eyes and does as she says.

Rosie considers not listening to Anna on the radio, but she has no idea what else to do with herself. The interviewer – Lydia someone – is in the middle of explaining to the audience about the petition, describing in her low, silky voice that it now has over three hundred signatures, and outlining Seb’s decision not to step down and his subsequent address to the students and parents earlier that morning.

‘Welcome, Anna Mayhew, author of the aforementioned petition, to I Heart Sussex.’

‘Afternoon, Lydia.’ Anna sounds calm, well prepared. ‘I’m very happy to be here.’

‘I understand that you and Sebastian Kent are good friends, have been for a long time – is that right?’

Anna’s voice bounces. ‘I think probably the past tense is more applicable now.’

‘Ahh.’ Lydia clarifies, ‘You aren’t any more?’

Anna patronizes her. ‘I can’t be friends with someone so lacking in basic human decency, someone who would put children at risk.’

‘You’re referring to the “disturbing, transgressive and immoral behaviours” you allude to in the petition?’

‘That’s right, Lydia. I was hoping he’d have the courage this morning to say exactly what it was he did so parents could decide for themselves, but I’m afraid he managed to dodge the issue.

‘I’ve decided that he’s left me with little choice but to tell the truth. I didn’t want to, I wanted to protect his wife and his children whom I adore.’ Anna’s voice takes on a sorrowful edge; Rosie bites her bottom lip, mutters, ‘Bullshit.’

‘I’ve thought about it deeply, and I feel that I have a duty to the other parents and their children who attend the school. They have the right to know that the reason I wrote that petition was because twice, in the last few months, Sebastian Kent paid a woman for sex.’

There’s a pause before Lydia says, ‘Do we know if the woman was working legally and of her own volition?’

Rosie wonders if Lydia’s thinking about how many times her little radio show will be listened to, how many shares it’ll get online. If she is, Lydia does well to keep the excitement out of her voice.

‘Yes. That is what he’s been saying. But we can’t be sure that he only saw one woman.’

‘As far as you’re aware, this woman consented, so this isn’t a matter for the police?’

‘As far as I’m able to gather at this stage, it was legal, but just because she consented doesn’t mean that people in power should be able to do whatever they like to people with less power!’

‘I see your point. And how did you find out this information?’ Lydia keeps her tone neutral.

‘Seb told my husband and then, well, there were other clues. Look, the point is that he’s not fit to be headmaster. What I really want to encourage people to think about – especially parents with kids at the school – is what kind of a man treats women – and here I include both the prostitute and Sebastian Kent’s poor wife’ – Rosie bristles, swears again at the radio – ‘as playthings, either paying them for his own gratification or lying to them time and time again. As a feminist, I don’t want this kind of person anywhere near our sons and our daughters.’

‘You think he’s unsafe?’

‘Possibly. He’s a man who used a school computer to search for prostitutes. Most likely he searched for them during school hours in his office. I don’t trust him and that means I don’t think he should be anywhere near kids.’

‘Ahh.’ Lydia’s voice drops a note. ‘Do you have evidence to support these claims?’

There’s a beat; it lasts too long, making any conviction sound hollow.

‘I do.’

‘I can see how that might change things for—’

‘Of course it changes things! He was using school property to look at sex sites on time that is being paid for by us, the tax-paying public.’ Anna starts galloping away again, relieved to be on firmer footing.

‘Hmm,’ Lydia replies, careful not to add to Anna’s speculations but probably thinking about those all-important listener numbers as Anna keeps going.

‘I actually grew up in Ruston, so I’ve already experienced first-hand how prostitutes and drug users invite crime and tear a community apart. I’ve seen young lives destroyed by this so-called “work” and I will do everything in my power to stop that from happening here in Waverly.’

‘Interesting,’ Lydia says, a little vague, trying to steer Anna back to the issue. ‘It seems Sebastian Kent’s not without his supporters, though. He has a strong level of support, especially from the students themselves at Waverly Community. They’ve taken to social media, with some calling him “the best head teacher” and “a really cool example”, and there are a few mentions of them organizing some kind of response. It seems they’re making up their own minds and some parents are behind them, too. I’m interested, as you have a son at the school – I wonder what he thinks about it all?’

Anna replies immediately, ‘He’s really upset, quite frankly, horrified that this has happened, and those other supportive students you mention are a tiny minority. The vast majority agree with me and my son that a head has a responsibility to uphold basic moral standards and not pay some poor woman so he can abuse her.’

‘Thank you, Anna, that was really illuminating. As you can imagine, our phone lines have been going crazy, so I’d like to ask if you could stay with us a little while longer so we can hear what a few of our listeners have to say.’

‘Of course,’ Anna replies, full of generosity, ‘I’d be delighted.’

‘Our first caller is Carol from Withington, near Waverly. Hello, Carol.’

‘Hello, Lydia. Hello, Anna. I just wanted to say how horrified I am hearing this news. My own kids went to Waverly Community and they loved it. In fact, just the other day I was talking about my son’s plans to move back to Waverly so his daughter, my granddaughter, can go when she’s old enough, but let me tell you, there’s no way he’ll be doing that now. No way. After all, like you said, if he can treat women like things, then what other perversions could he be hiding? Don’t forget Jack the Ripper! All I can say is thank God there are still people out there, like you, Anna, putting our children and our community first. God bless you.’

‘Gosh, thank you so much, Carol,’ Anna gets in immediately, her voice throbbing with feeling.

‘Yes, thank you, Carol,’ Lydia adds, a little taut. ‘Now we’ve got Lucy on the line from an undisclosed location. Hello, Lucy.’

‘Good afternoon.’ Lucy’s voice is strong, like she’d shout if she wasn’t on live radio. ‘I’m a sex worker and have been working in and around Waverly for – wow – almost twenty years now, and although I’ve never called in to any radio show, today I felt I had to after listening to Anna.’

‘Hello, Lucy,’ Anna says, warmly, but Rosie recognizes a little wariness in her tone.

‘Hi, Anna. I’m wondering how many sex workers you actually know. How many have you spoken with?’

Anna doesn’t say anything; Rosie can practically hear her frown through the radio.

‘Just as I thought …’ Lucy continues.

‘Well, obviously, I know one!’ Anna blurts, desperate to claw back some authority.

‘For fuck’s sake, Anna!’ Rosie shouts at the radio, missing whether it’s Lydia or Lucy who asks, ‘Who?’

‘The woman – Seb Kent’s prostitute – has moved to Waverly.’

Suddenly Rosie feels like a mosquito is trapped, whining inside her head.

‘Poor woman!’ Lucy mutters.

‘Is that confirmed information?’ Lydia asks, in an uncertain tone.

‘It is,’ Anna replies, and Rosie knows from her clipped tone that Anna will be jutting out her chin, trying her best to ignore the doubts that will already be poking her conscience. Rosie remembers Lily and Margot sitting around the table she sits at now. She thinks about the repercussions for them of this, Anna’s fifteen minutes of fame, and kicks the table leg.

‘Have you talked to her much about her life and experiences?’ Lucy asks Anna.

This time the silence stretches on longer, turning into a clear ‘no’.

‘Because you seem to think you know an awful lot but there are a few major things, in my humble opinion, that you’re missing.’

Lucy quickly clears her throat, not giving either Lydia or Anna the chance to interrupt. Rosie sits up to listen better as Lucy starts talking again.

‘Firstly, I do this work even though I have other options. I don’t love it. I do this work because it pays the bills better than anything else I’ve found.’

Lucy talks like a woman who has been unplugged, who has been forced to hide her real thoughts and feelings for too long. Rosie feels something chime within her, clean and clear: Lucy isn’t a victim. ‘Secondly, it’s not sex workers or drug takers themselves that destroy communities. It’s poverty. It’s critical services like nurseries and mental health support groups closing. It’s benefits decreasing as everything gets more expensive. Most sex workers are just women, many are mothers – and some men, I might add – trying to survive in these completely untenable circumstances – like most of the population. And lastly, I must admit I swore pretty loudly when you called yourself a feminist. You’re not a feminist, Anna, you’re a middle-class woman on a completely stupid, hare-brained crusade. My guess is you’re bored as anything, possibly angry about something as well. Because how else could you delude yourself into thinking you’re helping anyone by further stigmatizing an already vulnerable group – us sex workers – and perpetuating centuries-old lies and propaganda about us to the non-sex-working community? It just makes no sense. No sense at all. You are more dangerous to me, Anna, than the men I let through my door.’

For the first time, Lucy pauses, and Lydia jumps in with, ‘Thank you for your views, Lucy,’ before adding, ‘I’d love to know what you think about Sebastian Kent, the head teacher who has been engaging sex workers.’

‘Listen, I’ve got regulars who are teachers, GPs and, yes, I’ve seen more than one politician in my time. Even police officers. An urge to have sex is very, very human and cannot and should not be legislated against. Furthermore, I think this public shaming thing is awful. Who hasn’t done something in their private lives they don’t want everyone knowing about?’

‘You don’t think he’s done anything wrong?’

‘Well, I think he’s been stupid using his work computer and doing it on work time. But we don’t know if that is even true, given all the other misinformation Anna’s spouting out today, and I don’t want to give her any more oxygen until her claims have been proven.’

‘One final question, Lucy,’ Lydia asks. ‘What about those women who aren’t like you, working out of choice – what of those people forced or coerced into it?’

Lucy sounds weary as she replies, ‘Look, I’m not claiming to have all the answers, but I will say we should start with decriminalizing sex work so sex workers can enjoy the same rights as everyone else, like the right to work free from discrimination and violence. That would be a good start. Then I’d look at the root causes of why some people end up in terrible circumstances – poverty and lack of opportunity, to name a couple. But really, please, just start listening to us and not to people like Anna.’

‘Some strong feelings there from Lucy – thank you, Lucy. Anna, in the final few seconds, have you got anything you’d like to say in response?’

‘Umm.’ Rosie can hear Anna squirm; she clearly has no idea what to say, but not saying anything isn’t an option. ‘I just want to thank Lucy for her opinions and I want to remind listeners that Sebastian Kent is still in a position of huge trust and influence and has behaved completely inappropriately, given his unique position. We know he hired a vulnerable woman for sex. It is absolutely in the public interest to know these things.’

‘OK. Thank you, Lucy, for calling in, and thank you, Anna, so much, for joining me today.’ Lydia’s voice is all smiles.

‘Thank you, Lydia.’ Anna sounds a bit lost, distracted, like she’s forgotten the final few points she really wanted to hammer home, but Lydia’s already moved on.

‘Well, I think, listeners, we can all agree this is a very fiery start to our programme today. As ever, comments welcome, so please do text or leave us a message on our socials at I Heart …’

Rosie clicks the radio off and settles back into her chair. Almost immediately her phone starts ringing. It’s Anna. She must have just got out of the recording room, Rosie her first thought. Rosie rejects her call. She can’t listen to her apologies, her justifications.

Seb’s laptop bag is still on the kitchen floor where he’d forgotten it earlier. She’s made her decision before she’s even stood up from her chair and pulled the computer out of the bag. Suddenly, where she once felt anger and repulsion at what Seb has done, she feels a great aching loneliness. She still has no idea what the future holds for them, whether she’ll be able to look at him without seeing Abi twisted around him, without seeing the empty eyes of all those naked women, but she does know, in the same way she knows she loves her children, that Seb is not a danger to anyone. She opens up the laptop and follows the steps to delete the search history. Her finger hovers for just a moment above the return key and as she presses the button she feels a great rush of warmth. It’s unusual and she’s not exactly sure where it comes from, but as she closes the laptop, she realizes that the feeling isn’t for Seb or even for the kids; the warmth is from Rosie to Rosie. A small gift of appreciation for listening at last to what she knows to be true.

Her phone buzzes on the table. Anna is calling her again. This time, too, she rejects her call; she doesn’t want to talk to Anna. She picks up her keys, feeling strangely energized as she ignores the third call from Anna, and walks out of her home to find the other person she should have been listening to all along.