I tried to argue. I tried to explain that James had been abused as a child, that he felt stifled living with his mother, that he’d been such a romantic he’d hung onto his virginity until he was twenty-four and that he really did love me, he was just struggling with disappointment and jealousy but Hels kept on shaking her head.
‘That’s not love, Sue. The things he says, the way he treats you, that’s not love.’
‘But …’ I tried to explain how it wasn’t all bad, how things could be magical between us, how we had so much in common, how I’d never felt so alive, how every day could be an adventure when James was in a good mood.
‘Exactly – when he’s in a good mood. Because we both know what happens when he’s not. Is it worth it, Sue? Is it worth being criticized, degraded and judged just for a few happy moments? Is it worth walking on eggshells, constantly wondering when he’s going to have a go at you next?’
‘But it’s not like he hits me. He’s never done that, not once.’
‘Yet.’ She shook her head. ‘Just because James doesn’t raise his fists doesn’t mean he’s not abusing you, Susan. You need to get out. Now.’
She didn’t need to say any more because everything she had said I’d thought myself a hundred times. But it was different hearing someone else say it, it was different seeing the shock and concern in her eyes. It made me feel like I wasn’t overreacting or going mad, that James wasn’t treating me how I should be treated, that I’d be happier alone.
So I’m going to do it. I’m going to leave him. I’ll do it on Friday when we’ve agreed to go for a drink.
I just hope I’m not shaking as much as I am now.
Chapter 17
‘Brian!’ I shout into my mobile as I sprint down the corridor, past artwork displays, sporting achievements and tall metal lockers. ‘Brian, you need to come home now. James Evans is working at Charlotte’s school. I read a conversation on your computer between her and Ella and they were scared of him. Call the police, Brian. I’m at the school now.’
I reach the stairs and speed up them, using the banister to yank myself up, cursing my legs for not moving faster. I haven’t been to Brighton Academy for at least a year but I can still remember where the headmaster’s office is.
‘Can I help you?’
A fair-haired middle-aged woman in a pale pink blouse with pearls at her neck looks up from her desk as I charge into the small room adjacent to the headmaster’s office. She’s about the same age as me, maybe four or five years older. Her name is Clarissa Gordon. She was here the last time I came to see the Head.
‘I’m here to see Mr Anderson.’ I make a half-hearted attempt to pat down my hair. ‘It’s urgent.’
I can tell from the expression on Clarissa’s face as she looks me up and down that she remembers me. Her nose narrows and the hint of a smile plays on her pursed lips. ‘And your name is?’
‘Jackson. Sue Jackson. It’s very important that I see him. The safety of two of the pupils is at stake.’
Clarissa raises her eyebrows. She’s remembering the last time I was here – when I stormed into Charlotte’s biology lesson and demanded she leave with me. We’d been burgled a month earlier and a news report I’d just watched on the TV about a teenager being raped in a local park had convinced me that James was after her. I was shaking so much I couldn’t breathe. Mr Prosser, the biology teacher, took me through to see Mr Anderson and he called the school nurse. I can still remember Clarissa’s pinched face peering at me through the glass panel in the head teacher’s door as the nurse instructed me to take slow, deep breaths as I desperately pleaded with her to listen to me. Why did no one understand how much danger my daughter was in? I was on high-dose anti-anxiety medication for six months afterwards.
‘The safety of two pupils you say? Gosh. Well, if you could give me a few more details perhaps I could call through to Mr Anderson and …’ she tails off, distracted by half a dozen staff chatting noisily as they stroll past the window behind me.
‘There’s no time.’ I side-step her desk and reach for the door handle to her right. ‘I need to speak to him now.’
‘Excuse me. Excuse me, Mrs Jack—’
Her chair squeaks as she rises to come after me but I turn the handle and I’m in the headmaster’s study before she can reach me.
‘Clarissa, I—’ the Head looks up from his desk, his lips parting in surprise as I burst into the room, his secretary in close pursuit.
‘Sorry Mr Anderson,’ she breathes, ‘she just burst in. There was nothing I could do to stop her.’
‘It’s okay, Clarissa.’ He nods. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
‘But you specifically said you didn’t want to be disturbed. You said you had to prepare a report for the governors about—’
‘I’ll take it from here, Clarissa. Thank you.’
‘Yes Mr Anderson.’ She retreats, stepping backwards out of the room. From her expression I’m fairly certain that if we were thirty years younger she’d be waiting for me at the gates later with two of her mates.
‘I’ll just be outside,’ she says, closing the door with a click.
Ian Anderson eyes me from under his heavy brow and waves a hand in the direction of the empty chair in front of me. ‘Do take a seat, Mrs …’
‘Jackson. I’ll stand, thank you.’
‘Okay.’ He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his broad chest. ‘What can I do for you, Mrs Jackson?’
‘I’m sorry for bursting in on you but,’ I grip the back of the chair, ‘it’s urgent. One of your teachers poses a very real danger to the children.’
He sits up sharply. ‘One of our teachers?’
‘I have reason to believe that one of your teachers is working at this school under false pretences. I think he may have harmed Charlotte and possibly her friend Ella too.’
‘Charlotte …’ Mr Anderson looks at me as though seeing me for the first time. ‘Not Charlotte Jackson? You’re her—’
‘Mother? Yes.’