He didn’t seem to notice or care that Seb didn’t call him ‘mate’ in return, that he immediately showed him – still laughing – to the door. What all these parents had in common, Seb realizes later, was that they were there for themselves, the kids just a convenient excuse to get a good, proper look at him. They wanted to see if he really was sorry or if he really was a pervert as others suspected. It was all coming out.
One mum started crying, shaking her head and patting a ragged tissue under her nose. Seb wasn’t able to look at her while he listened because her sorrow was between her and her past; it wasn’t about him, not really.
Another, Adele, had already started a WhatsApp group ‘to help the sex worker’. She told Seb in a soft voice she wanted to ensure the woman was looked after, that she could access any resources she might need. Adele had special training in working with vulnerable women; Adele was entirely on her side but she needed to know, she asked, pen raised, who it was who so badly needed her help.
Now Seb is waiting nervously in his stuffy office for his godson.
Blake had – as Seb thought he might – been one of the first to put his name down for the student appointments Mrs Greene made available to the older years. Now Seb stands as Blake knocks gently at his door. He wants to hug his godson, to feel if there might be any forgiveness softening his young, strong body, but Blake keeps himself bowed over, his eyes flicking; he doesn’t look like he wants to be touched. His hair stands up from his head, like it has been raked many times by anxious fingers. Seb offers him a seat in front of his desk. Maintaining eye contact with the carpet, Blake sits, drooping in the chair like a plant deprived of sunlight and water. Seb pulls his own chair around the desk, so there is nothing between them, and waits, trying to gauge if Blake wants to talk first. Just when Seb is about to ask him how he’s doing, Blake mumbles, ‘It’s shitty. What Mum did, I mean.’
Seb feels his stomach drop.
‘Ethan and me listened to the radio show online at lunch.’
‘Blake, you don’t have to …’
‘She’s being an idiot, Uncle … I mean, Mr Kent.’
‘How about I’m just Seb right now – never mind the head teacher bit?’
Blake nods, glances briefly at Seb, nods again, before he looks away.
‘Blake, your mum is doing what she thinks is right.’
‘Yeah, but she’s talking bullshit. She said on the radio I was, like, fully behind what she’s doing, that I was angry with you, which …’ Blake shrugs again. ‘Which is a total lie. She’s never even asked what I think. It’s like you said in assembly: we all mess up, it’s about how we deal with it – that’s the most important bit.’
‘Blake, I really don’t want to upset anything between you and …’ Seb splutters.
‘I know you don’t, but Mum and her band of witches are saying how they’re trying to protect
Blake keeps his eyes on Seb as he says, ‘I want to help, if I can, and I know you’d feel the same if you were in my position.’
Seb wants to agree, wants to nod and say, ‘Yeah, course I would,’ but he can’t because he’d never have had Blake’s courage. Had Seb been in Blake’s position, he’d have done whatever he thought most people wanted him to do. Guaranteed. He wouldn’t have rocked the boat; he wouldn’t have stood up for what he thought was right. He’d have tried to be the person his dad had asked him to be. Solid. Safe. Good.
‘Listen, Blake, whatever happens between your parents and me, I want you to know that if you ever need me, I’ll be here for you, OK? I’m really proud to be your godfather and I’m so sorry you’re tangled up in all of this.’
‘What do you think I should do about Mum?’ Blake asks, his eyes narrow.
Seb thinks about the years of friendship. The holidays they’ve shared. The countless bottles of wine and long, laughter-filled evenings. The way Anna comforted him when he was so full of grief after his dad died, the way he did the same for her after Eddy’s affair. Had everything been so fragile between the four of them all along? It all seems like such a sorry waste of time. But Seb’s sorrow for their friendships won’t help Blake.
‘Your mum’s angry, which is fair enough. I think she needs to be angry and then, I hope, in time she’ll see the difference between what I did and who I really am.’
‘Yeah, but what should I
‘I can’t tell you that, Blake.’
Blake groans, kicks his foot, annoyed, so Seb adds, ‘Just remember that whatever she says or does, she loves you and she’s trying her best, in her way, to protect you.’
Blake looks away for a moment, weighing things up, before turning back to Seb and asking, ‘I don’t understand why she forgave Dad, but she can’t forgive you?’