It was a long, tough, heartache of an evening. I sat down with Ellen, Will and Dawson straight after dinner, almost drowning in the guilt of not having spoken up earlier. And by the time I’d put the other children to bed, they were still talking, weeping, hugging, listening. Will insisted I stay. I witnessed a masterclass in family life that night. Marvelled at how Will and Ellen spoke hope and encouragement to their son, even as they wiped their own tears away. Reminded him of who he really was – loved, precious, amazing. Told him how proud they were. That they would find a way through. That he could do it, he was strong and brave. Shared stories to help him know he wasn’t alone in going through this. Reassured him that good teachers knew how to handle bullying.
Eventually Dawson leant into his daddy’s chest and agreed they would speak to his teacher.
Ellen drove me home.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said as soon as we pulled away. ‘I really messed up.’
‘Yes,’ Ellen said. ‘And right now my heart’s very sore, so I’m pretty angry about that. It was stupid, and wrong, to keep this from us.’
‘I thought if I betrayed his trust on this… I thought he needed an ally. Someone impartial to talk to…’
‘He needed his parents to know what was going on so they could help him,’ Ellen replied, her voice sharp. ‘You knew we were worried sick.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’
‘Honestly, Jenny. What were you doing, trying to be his friend, not the responsible adult?’
I sucked in some air, had to force my words past the lump wedged in the back of my throat. ‘I guess it was because I knew how he felt. And the worst thing I could have done was tell my parents. I don’t know if it’s my family that’s weird, but we never had a conversation like that. My whole childhood could be summed up as “pull yourself together, get over it and try harder’’.’
‘And you genuinely thought that’s howwewould deal with this? After being with us for this long?’
‘I wasn’t thinking at all. I was feeling – sad and scared and wretched. I was remembering.’
Ellen was silent for a while.
‘You got bullied at school?’
‘Andat home.’
We pulled up outside the house. ‘I’m sorry. That’s awful.’
I unbuckled my seat belt, gathered my things. ‘Ask Dawson about Squash Harris.’
‘Squash what?’
‘Just ask him. And thanks for the lift. And I am so, so sorry. Sorry this happened and sorry I made it worse. I’ll understand if you want to find a different nanny. Anyway. I hope it goes well with school tomorrow.’
As I skulked away, Ellen climbed out of the car and ran after me. I turned to her, half braced for a slap round the face, but instead Ellen wrapped her arms around me tightly, pressing her head against mine. ‘Forgiven. Forgotten. I’m sorry it took me this long.’ She squeezed me even tighter. ‘Thank you for loving my kids.’
I’ve never believed in angels. But if they did exist, they’d surely look a lot like Ellen Cameron.
* * *
Things chugged along fairly uneventfully for the next week or so. The roofers came and roofed. Dawson’s teacher started paying attention, so at the very least he got to eat his lunch in peace. I fumbled my way along, sorted and priced another load for the car boot sale. Played KerPlunk a hundred and twenty-two times with Edison. Lost a hundred and twenty-one times. Saw fleeting glimpses of my neighbour as he ran through the woods. Ignored the excellent excuses I thought up to knock on his door.
‘Urgh! How low the mighty New Jenny hath fallen!’ I railed at Mannequin Diana, resident relationship expert. ‘That is the worst, worst, WORST type of terrible thing to do. I might as well chain myself barefoot to the kitchen sink for the rest of my life if I’m going to play the helpless, hapless female to get a man’s attention. Amarriedman.’
I seized another load of yellowing nighties from the chest of drawers and stuffed them into a bin bag. ‘Well, yes, I could just go and ask him if he wants to come over for a cup of tea. But we both know that time alone with Mack is not a good idea. No. The best thing to do is keep busy and concentrate on my real friends.’
Before I knew it, May had arrived, drab and grey compared to the earlier spring sunshine. But the lighter evenings meant cycling home in the daylight, and every day the forest seemed to burst with new life amongst the bluebells and cow parsley. Pheasants, squawking in the bracken, grey squirrels darting up the branches. One evening a fawn sprang across the path and vanished into the trees up ahead of me. Why had I ever thought chugging to work in a car, spewing out carbon emissions, would be preferable to all this?
I would soon find out.
21
I had an idea. It might turn out to be a completely rubbish one, but might just be better than doing nothing. While Will had been coming home early once a week to take Dawson to see his friends, I couldn’t bear watching Dawson drag himself to school every morning, eyes on the ground, his spirit drooping behind him. If he walked into his new school like that in September, things were only going to get worse. Dawson desperately needed a boost.
I had a boost-tastic idea.
