Set Me Free (5 page)

“Lara, just for you to know,” Mr Kearns said as we were about to leave his office, “Mrs Akerele is leaving here because her husband took a job in Devon. Her decision has nothing to do with you or with your class. She always enjoyed working with you.”

Lara nodded again, like a sad marionette. I just wanted to hug her. “Is it okay if I take her home?” I didn't want her to have to face her classmates again, not today.

“Of course. And Mrs Ward?” I turned around and once again met Mr Kearns' eyes. He wasn't long for retirement, the pictures of his granddaughters hanging on the wall underneath official-looking diplomas and pupils' achievements. He had a mellow way that I'd always liked, but I still felt somehow on trial, as guilty as my daughter. Like I was a young girl again. “Don't worry. It'll all be sorted,” he said. “Just give me a call in the next few days and we can have a good chat.”

I was touched, but there was no way I would not worry. In fact, I was pretty much terrified.

I decided to wait for Lara to open up, instead of jumping in there with a row or requests for an explanation. She was contrite. In the car, she was quiet for a bit, listening to her iPod. Then she removed her earphones and I saw her shuffling, like she was getting ready to tell me something. I held my breath.

“Mum?”

“Yes?”

“What Mrs Akerele said about hitting her—”

“I know, I know. Nonsense,” I interrupted, and I clutched the steering wheel, feeling the tension rise in my body once again.

“I nearly did.”

I was stunned into silence.

My Lara. My Lara and her demons.

“Nearly, but you didn't,” I said firmly. Inside, I was drowning. What was happening to my daughter?

“No,” she whispered. And then she read my mind. “I don't know what's happening to me. I get so angry and I can't stop.”

“Whatever is happening, we'll sort it together. You don't need to worry.”

A short silence followed, while I tried to hide how upset I was. How exactly could we sort it? Could something like this be
sorted
? I was so frightened for Lara, but I could never, never show it. If only I could slay all her demons for her – if only I could protect her from everything, even from what had already happened to her but wasn't there to prevent.

I slipped on my sunglasses and switched the radio on.

“Is it time to get Leo from nursery already?” Lara asked, and I knew why she was so keen to see him. Leo always seemed to comfort her, to pacify her.

“Yes. We'll go straight there.”

She was glued to her brother and me for the rest of the afternoon and evening, never letting either of us out of her sight. I wasn't surprised when later on, as I went to check on Leo just after midnight, I found her in his bed, sleeping beside him. Leo had his small arm around her waist, keeping her close.

The incident with Mrs Akerele was just the beginning. Lara's unhappiness and distress had come to a head. Her outbursts were sudden and explosive, and always followed by intense shame and upset. She was never hungry, and she couldn't sleep at night either.

“Maybe you could go back to Sheridan.”

“I don't want to.”

“Perhaps talking about it, talking it all out, would help.”

“It wouldn't change anything. It happened,” she shrugged. “I don't want to talk to a stranger about that stuff.”

“Sheridan is not a stranger. You spoke to her before.”

She wrung her hands. “I don't want to, Mum. Please don't make me.”

“No, my love, of course not. I won't make you. We'll find another way. We'll see this through, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and she slipped her earphones back on.

Lara needed help. And I did too, because apart from loving her and listening to her and being there for her, I didn't know what else to do. I was spreading myself so thin I was see-through. I was trying to be everywhere, to be everything to everybody. I went to bed at night with barely the energy to pull the blankets over me, and that's when Lara's nightmares would start, and I was up again. I was exhausted physically and mentally.

I missed my mum. I missed her wisdom, her practical help, her advice. I missed her good humour and her ability to see the best in every situation. The phone just wasn't enough. And I desperately, desperately needed a change of scene, the chance to
breathe
.

That night, during our little chamomile ritual, I decided to speak to Lara and test the waters about going to Glen Avich for the summer.

“Lara, I was thinking,” I began carefully, “maybe it would be nice to go and see Nonna—”

“Yes!”

I laughed. “You didn't need much convincing, there!”

“I
want
to go, Mum. I want to go away from here and not see anybody from my school this summer. No one. I could start packing now!” she said, and it was lovely to see the enthusiasm in her eyes again. Since the incident with Mrs Akerele, she'd been so low.

“Fine. But honestly, Lara, if the summer is too long, well, we'll only stay a couple of weeks . . .”

She shook her head. “No, please! Let's go for the whole summer! I want away from here, I really do.” She shrugged and looked into her mug. “I'm fed up with everything.”

“I know. I'm fed up, too. You wouldn't see your dad for six weeks though, do you understand that?”

“It's not like I see him much anyway.” She shrugged. But I could see the hurt behind her indifference. I couldn't bring myself to say that maybe she could spend half of the time with him, or even just a week or two – not out of selfishness, but because I was genuinely worried she would end up distressed, or rejected.

“But do
you
want me to come?” she said in a small voice, looking down. I'd just asked her if it was okay for us to go, but it wasn't quite enough for her. She always looked for reassurance, she always feared being unwanted. And every time she needed to know how loved she was, every single time she needed me to tell her, if it was once or ten times or a hundred, I would do that. I would always be the safety net for my little trapeze girl, walking on a tightrope of self-doubt and past hurt.

“I'm not going anywhere without you.” I took the mug from her hands and dared to wrap my arms around her, breathing in her fresh, clean scent of young girl and cherry shampoo. Hugs had become rare between us: she'd outgrown them, so fast, so soon. Only yesterday she'd been my baby, falling asleep in my arms and running to me for cuddles all the time . . . She was slipping away from me, and still, she needed me so much.

“And after the summer?” she asked in a small voice. “What's going to happen?”

“You don't need to worry about a thing, Lara. Whatever happens, both Dad and I love you so much and we'll always be there for you.”

“But Dad is
not
there for me. He doesn't care about Leo either.”

“Of course he does . . . he just doesn't know how to show it. I think he never had much love when he was growing up . . .” I was furious at myself for feeling the tears gather in my throat again.

Ash. My Ash, and all our history, all the years we had together.

My Ash, mine no more.

“I know. I know unloved when I see it,” Lara said in one of those moments of insight where she was fourteen going on forty. “Oh, Mum, don't cry . . .”

“I'm fine. Really, I'm okay. Everything will be fine. Promise me you won't worry about anything,” I said. She took off her glasses and rested them on her bedside table. Without them she looked younger, with her thin face and big blue eyes. She looked just like her birth mother in the picture I'd seen, with bones like a bird's and wavy, dark-blond hair.

“I promise. Goodnight, Mum.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

I turned around to glance at her one last time. By the sliver of light that came from the corridor I could see her hair fanned on the pillow, her small body curled under the blankets like a blossom waiting to unfurl. I hoped she would sleep through, the same hope I had every night, though I knew it was unlikely. I was so relieved she had agreed to go to Glen Avich; we would all get away from this house where there had been so much conflict, so much heartache, at least for a while. Once again I thanked in my heart whatever or whoever it was that had brought her to me – God, or the universe, or fate. If karma existed, I thought I must have done something very, very good in my previous life to deserve my children.

Before going to bed I went to check on Leo. Every time I went to see him through the night I found him tangled with the duvet and never actually under it. His little, dense body was relaxed like a sleeping puppy, and his hair smelled of puppy too, I often thought, especially when he slept: warm, tender, not quite fully human yet. A man cub.
My
man cub.

“Night, baby,” I whispered in his ear and leaned over to kiss him. I tucked him in; I knew he was going to wriggle out of the blankets once more, but I did it anyway. He turned over and slipped his thumb into his mouth. I knew he was too old for it, but hey, who was there to see? And with all the upheaval we had ahead of us, he needed all the reassurance he could get.

Margherita

The next day, with Lara in school and Leo in nursery, I sat at the kitchen table, ready to make two phone calls. The first one was the hardest.

“Oh, Margherita.” Ash said my name like a sigh. Like a chore.

Was this really my husband? Was this really the man I'd loved so much? This man who sounded like he felt nothing for me any more?

Nobody, nobody in the world had the ability to make me feel as cold as he did.

“I just wanted to let you know I'm taking the children on holiday,” I said. “We'll go to my mum's for the summer.”

A pause. “To Scotland?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure it's a good idea to uproot Lara for so long? With her state of mind . . .”

“It's hardly uprooting. It's just for the six weeks.”

“Look, nobody wants you to go so far away.” Oh, how he loved patronising me.

“Maybe I want my family around me, Ash. Have you thought of that?”

“Your sister is here, and you spend a lot of time with her, certainly more than you do with me.”

“Now you're jealous of my sister? You're never around, Ash. Who else should I spend time with?” It was starting again, and I hated myself for letting him get to me. “I just want to see Mum, Ash, that's all.”

“At the expense of your daughter?”

“I'm taking her on holiday to Scotland, not to a labour camp! And I notice you didn't even mention Leo.”

“This again.” A deep sigh. “Leo is always at the top of my priorities.”

“You hide it well,” I said, recalling all the times he'd let Leo down, all the times he'd shown his indifference, openly and unashamedly: like when he missed his first Nativity play in nursery; like when he left him at a party for an extra hour because he had something urgent to do. Once, Leo had drawn our family: there was me, him and Lara as stick people under a tree dotted with apples, and far away, in a corner, was Daddy. Leo was extending a spindly arm to him, but Daddy's arms were at his sides. I left the drawing on the kitchen table, hoping that he'd see it and maybe do something about Leo's feelings, but he never showed signs of having seen it. This made it all the more heartbreaking: that Leo
knew
. He could feel with a child's instinct that his father had somehow rejected him.

I dreaded the day he'd be old enough to ask me why, and I would have no answer.

“Talking to you is just impossible, Margherita. All you do is throw accusations at me.”

“Well, all you need to know is that we're going to see my mum and Lara will be fine. You're welcome to come and see them if you want.”

A pause. “I'll be very busy, workwise . . .”

Of course. Of course.

“Bye, Ash.”

“Right. Fine. Bye.”

I put the phone down and I felt empty. I hoped that the second call would restore me a bit, but first I needed coffee. I made myself a cappuccino and sat at the table once again. I dialled the number for La Piazza. It rang a few times and I began to feel apprehensive – would it be okay to go to Glen Avich for so long? Had I made a mistake to assume she would have us? Oh God, I should have asked her first, before telling Lara and Ash . . .

But my doubts melted as soon as I heard her voice. That was my mum, my ally and best friend through thick and thin. She would not let me fall.

“Hi, it's me,” I said, stirring my cappuccino, hoping it would keep me going after the sleepless night.

“Margherita! What's wrong? You sound stressed.”

“Yes, well, I am. Oh, it's Ash, it's a million things, really. But mainly . . . Lara is having some trouble in school. She needs a change of scene.
I
need a change of scene. So I was thinking—”

“Of course! Nothing would make me happier.”

I smiled. “You guessed! I was going to ask you if I could come up.”

“Please do. Please, please do.” The joy in her voice was like a balm for my aching heart. “It would be such a treat to have you up. How long are you coming for? Why not the whole summer?”

“I was hoping so. But what about Michael?”

“What about him?” she said, and I could hear the fondness in her voice.

“Will he be okay with us being there for so long?”

“Of course! He'll love having you around. You know his daughter and his grandchildren are in Canada, and he misses them a lot. Honestly, he'll be delighted to have you.”

“Thank you, Mum,” I said tearily. The strife of the recent months was really getting to me – I was crying more often than ever in my life, even more than when I was going through fertility treatment.

“No need to thank me. I'm so glad also because I won't be seeing either of your sisters. Laura is working all summer and Anna—”

“Yes, she told me. She's going to Colorado to see Paul's family. I'll miss her.”

“So, will I be expecting you tomorrow?” she said hopefully.

I couldn't help laughing, even between my tears. “Tomorrow? I haven't even packed yet!”

“Sorry. It's never too soon . . . I can't wait to see you. The day after, then?”

I smiled again. “Schools break up next week down here. I'll be there next Saturday.”

“Okay, then. I'm so sorry this is happening to you . . . but I'm so glad to have you up for so long! I'll get the cottage ready and everything sorted for you.”

The cottage was a miniature two-room building at the bottom of their garden. They were once stables, but my mum and Michael had had them done up for us and for Michael's daughter to come and visit.

“Thank you. Really.”

“Are Lara and Leo happy to come up?”

“Lara jumped at the chance. She wants to leave her friends . . . her
so-called
friends behind. They have been
vile
to her, after she started having trouble. Especially Polly and Tanya, you know, the girls who were supposed to be her best friends? The ones she'd been in class with since Reception.”

“Vile indeed! Girls can be so cruel. And is she eating okay?”

“We're up and down with that too. She's so small, like a bird.”

“We can work on that,” my mum said, and I imagined her rubbing her hands in glee. She loves nothing more than feeding people, and she has passed on her love of food to my sisters and me. Laura is tall and slender and she seems to stay that way even if she works as a chef; Anna eats like a horse but sweats all the calories off with her love of sport; and I happily accumulate them on my five-foot-two frame. You only live once, after all.

“I hope Lara will relax a bit, up there. She's not sleeping well. She never did, but recently it's got worse. I think she should see someone. I really do.”

“I think the summer in Glen Avich will do her a world of good. And you too. And after that, you can decide what to do about Lara.”

“Yes. Leo doesn't know yet. I'll speak to him later, but he's so young, I'll just tell him we're going to see Nonna and he'll be happy. Six weeks is a long time to be away from his dad, but he never really sees him anyway.”

“Is Ash still coming round every weekend?”

“No. Something always comes up. It's been every two weeks for a little while, now it's if and when. He wasn't involved at all with Lara's school either. It's so sad to see, you know . . . Every time Ash is around Leo follows him like a little shadow. He tries to catch his attention and never quite manages.”

“Well, he'll get plenty of attention here; we'll give him a really good time, I promise. There are quite a few kids his age in Glen Avich and there's a really good play park just across the road from our house, he'll have plenty of little friends to play with.”

“That's good,” I said in a shaky voice, and took a sip of my cappuccino. The caffeine was slowly waking me up after the sleepless night.

“Margherita?”

“Yes?”

“You told me something happened at Lara's school, but never the details . . .”

I swallowed the coffee through the lump in my throat. “She shouted at her English teacher. Apparently she was about to hit her.” It was horrifying to say it aloud.

“
Lara?
”

“Yes.”

“My poor little girl . . .”

“Yes. She's been through a lot.”

“I meant
you
,” my mum said. “Don't worry,
tesoro
. We'll sort things out, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered, feeling like a little girl for real. And a lost one, at that. I was a thirty-eight-year-old mother of two, but I wanted my mum.