His eyelid twitches again, his jaw pulses. He sounds like it’s very much a big deal even as he says, ‘Look, it’s not a big deal. It’s been glitching for ages; we had to do something about it eventually, didn’t we? I’ve already called someone; they’re coming over tomorrow to replace it.’
There is a brief pause, then over his scrubbing Seb asks, ‘How was it? Anna OK?’
Rosie laughs into the glass cupboard at the memory of Anna’s breasts bursting out either side of her costume. ‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘Anna’s great.’
Seb turns and smiles at her; he once told her he loves watching her laugh.
As he looks back down at his pan, Rosie keeps her eyes on him, noticing how quickly his smile drops. It’s as if he is suddenly lit differently, new, unfamiliar shadows darkening his features.
She moves towards him, puts her hand on his scrubbing arm, feels his tendons leap against her touch as he stops abruptly and she asks, ‘You OK?’
He turns, just slightly towards her. Their eyes don’t meet but his voice is unusually sharp as he says, ‘Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’
She pulls her hand away. ‘You just seem a bit … I don’t know, a bit tense.’
‘Do I?’ He lifts the pan out of the sink, suds running, his eyelid pulsing. ‘Well, yeah, sorry. The smoke alarm thing put me on edge, to be honest, and, you know, Sylvie and Heath arguing the whole time.’ He stares at the still-blackened pan in his hand and says, doleful, ‘I think we’re going to have to throw this away, sadly. What a bloody waste.’
He carries it across the kitchen, splattering water on the floor as he opens the back door. Rosie watches as he props it up in the pile of stuff they’ve been saying they’ll take to the tip for months, silvered now by hungry autumn snails.
Heath slides sloppily into the kitchen, caressing a rugby ball between his hands. Rosie kisses the perfect freckles on his perfect nose and Heath nudges Seb with the ball, code for them to go outside. Seb musses his son’s hair before kissing Rosie’s cheek.
‘Glad you had a good time, love.’ He follows their son, who is now chattering away about rugby, out into the garden. Rosie turns on the outside light for them, smiles at their retreating backs and thinks, yes, she’s right not to worry. Everything is fine. Everything is absolutely fine, isn’t it?
Chapter 5
Seb perches on the edge of his desk and looks at the cocky young man staring at him from under a curtain of dark hair. Seb starts to fold his arms together but stops himself, places his palms flat on the desk behind him instead. Ethan stares at him, his expression strangely knowing, and panic suddenly licks inside Seb’s stomach. He drops his eyes as Ethan says, ‘I know what you’re going to say, Mr Kent.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Seb addresses the floor in front of Ethan because he’s slime, and this kid is amazing.
Ethan keeps staring at Seb as he says, ‘Yeah. You’re going to say that I’m letting myself down getting rubbish marks, that I’m going to mess up my GCSEs if I don’t sort it out.’
At the end of last term, Ethan was top of every subject and now he’s right at the bottom. Today he hasn’t handed in his GCSE coursework, without offering an explanation. Seb has talked to his mum, asked if there’s anything going on at home, but she said everything is steady on that front. No changes.
Seb lifts his eyes up to Ethan as he says, ‘I just wanted to ask how you’re doing.’
It’s Ethan who looks away this time, towards the door, then back to Seb. Seb gets it. He wants to run away, too.
In front of him, Ethan shrugs. ‘I’m just not as clever as I let on, I suppose.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked.’ Seb’s voice is gentle, but he has to force himself to keep looking at the teen. ‘How are you doing, Ethan?’ Seb asks again.
‘Fine.’ Ethan lifts his chin to Seb, warning him to back off. ‘How are you doing,
Seb glances out of the window at the football pitches, thrumming with players. For a second, he wonders what would happen to Ethan’s young face if he told him the truth. Would it lift with shock, cresting into laughter, or would his expression twist, sour with disgust as his brain processed the truth?
Of course, Seb won’t tell the whole truth. He seldom does these days. ‘I’m finding life quite intense at the moment, actually.’
Ethan raises his eyebrows.
‘Don’t tell anyone, but I’m worrying a lot. Worrying I’m not doing a good enough job as head teacher. It’s a big responsibility, this job. I worry sometimes that I’ll let you guys down.’
Ethan stares at Seb and, as he talks, Seb notices something waking up in Ethan. He’s listening, not just staring dully, but really listening. It’s like Seb can feel his words trickling into Ethan’s ears.
‘I’m trying my hardest, but I worry it’s not enough.’
Ethan nods slowly, thoughtfully, and Seb wants to grab him by his shoulders, shake him and tell him to wake up! He needs to learn when he’s being lied to! He just keeps talking, like he always does, like he’s thinking aloud, like he’s forgotten Ethan’s right there, in front of him.