The Education of Sebastian

“Yes, well… and who would you say Chester takes after?”


“His father!” asserted Shirley. Then she sighed. “I don’t know who Sebastian takes after: luckily the poor boy isn’t like either of his parents. I sometimes wonder if Donald is really his father.”

“Shirley!” said Donna, looking shocked.

“Well, you’ve said yourself he doesn’t take after either of them – he certainly doesn’t look like either of them. Then there’s Estelle’s reputation. And it would explain why they’re always so ghastly towards him.”

“Well,” said Donna, quietly, “I don’t think we should speculate on that. Not without facts.”

Shirley shrugged and for a moment there was an awkward silence in the car.

“You’re very quiet, Caroline. Are you okay?” asked Donna, her eyes inquiring.

“Just thinking about the week ahead,” I replied, my words deliberately bland.

The week. The month. The rest of my life.

In truth, I’d been fascinated to hear Shirley’s speculation about Sebastian’s heritage. I wondered if there was any shred of truth in it, or perhaps it was just the useless, baseless gossip that percolated through so many military facilities.

With a painful jolt I reminded myself that in all reality, it wasn’t any of my business; Sebastian wasn’t any of my business. But I couldn’t resist torturing myself a little more.

“What happened to Sebastian this evening?” I said, innocently, while nearly choking on my words. “They’d all vanished by the time I came back.”

“I think he left with Brenda,” said Shirley, confirming the thoughts that tormented me.

“Oh, I don’t know,” disagreed Donna. “He was talking to Chester for a while, wasn’t he? Or was it before that girl arrived? I thought she was rather… underdressed.”

I definitely agreed with that point of view. Tramp.

Shirley smiled. “All the young girls dress like that, Donna. And, frankly, if she wanted to catch Sebastian’s attention, which she obviously did, she certainly went about it the right way!” She paused. “Although, to be fair, I was a little surprised; she’d always seemed rather sweet when they were dating, hardly the siren of today’s little show and tell. But who knows: they’re probably off having mad, passionate sex behind the pier.”

I could have quite cheerfully stuck Shirley’s head in the passenger door and slammed it several times. It wasn’t that she was saying anything I hadn’t been thinking, but to hear it confirmed by a third party was a new source of humiliation and hurt.

“I should hope not!” said Donna severely.

“Oh, come on, Donna. You were young once. You’ve got two sons: you know what teenage boys are like. They think about sex every other second – or more often than that. You saw their faces when Brenda arrived – and what she practically wasn’t wearing. I wouldn’t be surprised if every dick within a hundred yards leapt to attention and saluted when she fiddled with her bikini strap. Which of them can say no when it’s offered up on a plate like that? I mean, I’ve tried to talk to Ches about waiting until he’s in love and respect for women and all that, but I’m definitely swimming against the tide there – and I’m probably too late anyway. Mostly I hope he’s being safe: I don’t relish the thought of being a grandmother just yet.”

Donna shook her head but it was clear she didn’t agree with Shirley’s more liberal views. “I think I’d be a nervous wreck if I’d had daughters instead of sons. And their father would have kept them locked up until they’d graduated college… or possibly longer.”

Just then my phone beeped. I decided to ignore it. Donna glanced at me, a quizzical expression on her face.

“It’s probably David making sure I’ve done the dry-cleaning,” I said, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Jane Harvey-Berrick's books