“I’m just a kid to him.” And I meant it. I did feel like a kid to him, just a stupid kid, a stupid virgin.
“You’d better be, for his sake.” He pulled onto our estate and parked up in the driveway. “He looked really fucking shifty to me.”
“Everyone looks shifty to you.” I sighed. “I’m sure he was embarrassed, you charging in there like some kind of police raid.”
“You were late. Your phone was off. It’s irresponsible, Helen, what did you think we were going to do? Just wait for you to roll in later? You could have been anywhere for all we knew.”
“I’m eighteen years old, Dad. I was painting. You knew where I was. It’s hardly partying all night and smoking crack.”
“This isn’t a pissing joke.”
“I’m not laughing.” I got out of the car and took a breath, and there was that horrible lurch in my stomach, the one that makes me feel queasy.
Dad got out of the car, and his eyes met mine over the roof. “I don’t want you being on your own with him. No more cosy art nights, Helen, understood?”
“That’s ridiculous!” I folded my arms. “Dad! That’s just crazy.”
“Crazy or not, I know shifty when I see it, and that man was shifty.” He walked past me to the front door.
I followed him inside, and Mum was waiting. Her hair was in a messy bun and she had her fluffy slippers on, hardly at code-red alert level like Dad was. “You found her, then? Told you it would be nothing, George.”
Dad dropped his keys on the table. “Just as well I did.”
Mum pulled a face at the state of me. “What happened to you, love? Are you upset?”
There’s a universal law that when your mum asks you if you’re ok you start crying, even if you were ok before. The lump in my throat turned into a rock, and I couldn’t speak, just dithered my hands in the air like a stupid little girl.
“George! What did you say to her? What did you do?” She headed towards me and I turned from her, trying to blink the stupid tears away. “Take no notice of him, he’s like a bull in a china shop, getting all carried away.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Dad said. “There’s something not right about that bloody teacher, Angela. He was shifty.”
I felt Mum’s hand on my shoulder and heard the tut of disdain. “Don’t start, George. You think everyone’s shifty.”
That made me laugh, and it came out weird, like a choked little blub.
“Mock all you like, Angela, but I’m telling you now. That man was shifty.”
“Yes, George, I’m sure he was.” She turned me around by my shoulders. “Your dad’s just got himself all worked up, as usual. I told him you were just late.”
“We were painting,” I said in a stupid croaky voice. “I didn’t mean to be late.”
“I know, love. Forget about it now. Your dinner’s in the oven.”
“She isn’t going to be cavorting around with him on her own again, Angela. I don’t trust him.”
She shot him the evil eye. “I told you not to start, George. He’s her teacher, for God’s sake.”
“I don’t give a shit who he is, I know a letch when I see one.”
Katie poked her head around the door. “Helen and Mr Roberts, sitting in a tree. K.I.S.S.I.N.G! Ewww!” She giggled and poked her tongue out. I could have slapped her.
“Out!” Dad yelled, and Katie vanished upstairs.
Mum rolled her eyes and took my dinner from the oven. Business as usual, even though my chest ached and my knees were shaking and I felt like the world was ending. I forced down some lamb stew, and it felt like I was chewing bricks and gristle. Mum was smiling, trying to lighten the mood.
“How was the painting?” She looked at Dad. “Did you see Helen’s paintings, George? Were they good?”
“He didn’t notice,” I said. “He was too busy being angry.”
“I saw them!” he protested. “They were good, yeah.”
I landed him a look over my shoulder. “What were they, then? Tell me about one.”
He surprised me. “Stars and mountains and the desert and all that. It looked good.” He sighed. “You’ll understand one day, I’m just doing this for your own good. The world’s a seedy place, Helen, you just don’t see it. Even this town’s going to the dogs, it’s not like it used to be.”
“Mr Roberts isn’t seedy, Dad. He’s a really good person.”
Mum fetched me a juice, set it down on the table and ruffled my hair. “I’m sure he is, love, your dad’s just worried about you. That’s it, isn’t it, George?”
I heard him groan. “Nobody ever listens to me. Try to look out for people and nobody ever appreciates it.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and left for the other room, and Mum smiled at me.
“It’s all alright, love. Just forget about it now. He’ll calm down.”
I managed a smile but my heart was racing. “Please don’t let him stop me seeing Mr Roberts… it’ll ruin everything, all my art… everything…” The thought made me well up again, and she took my hand across the table.
“You leave your dad to me,” she said.
***
Mark