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I’ve madesure to leave for the school run extra early as I don’t want to be late again. The scowl Isaac met me with the other afternoon was quite spectacular and could have frozen a summer storm. Freddy gave me a grin and a cheeky wave as he walked on by with Bailey, and I was left in a lockdown with a stroppy nine-year-old.
Today, I’m going to be on time.
I’m standing at the school door, waiting for it to open, ready for my night of popcorn with Isaac. I’m determined to dig around until I find out what’s causing his mood this week.
I give Mai a wave when she pitches up to wait for the end of the school week release. “Still anti-family-dinner, tonight?”
“I’m not family.” I laugh, repeating my statement from the other day.
“How’s the car?”
“Do you guys gossip about everything like a bunch of old women?”
“It’s a small town and a lot of Bale conversation is about you, as it always has been.”
I’m going to ask what she’s talking about, but the school door flies open and the teacher comes out with the class clamouring behind her.
I grin at Isaac as he rushes through the door. He looks like he’s trying to hide, his head is down, and his shoulders slumped. That’s not a great start to our evening together. But then the worst thing happens, the thing that all parents dread. The teacher catches my eye and motions for me to come over. I’m reaching out to grab Isaac, so he can live through whatever humiliating pain this ‘chat’ may be when he shouts, “Dad!”
Spinning, I see Elliot standing behind me. The bastard must have been there the whole time. He has his habitual smirk smattered on his face and despite the fact I’m not susceptible to violent outbursts, I want to punch the fucker in the face.
“What are you doing here?” I can’t even manage to lower my voice and we get a fair few interested glances. Elliot breaks out into a full-on beam.
“I think Isaac’s teacher wants to see us?” He starts to walk to the door and the waiting telling-off.
“This is highly inappropriate,” I mutter under my breath, my teeth clenched so tight they actually ache.
“Oh, no, Amber.” He taunts me with his tone. “I think we both know which of us is inappropriate.”
I can’t believe this is happening. I actually just can’t believe it at all. This is my very worst nightmare.
Isaac’s teacher keeps her expression blank as we walk up to her. She knows about the separation; I told the school everything on Isaac’s first day. I wanted them to make sure he was okay.
“Mrs Williamson,” she greets me and then looks expectantly at Elliot.
“Mr Williamson.” He offers his hand.
“Oh, hi,” she says, her gaze flickering between the two of us, taking note of my stiff body language and grimace. “Well, Isaac’s been in a bit of trouble today and he had to go and see the Head at lunch for fighting.”
“Isaac,” I gasp. “You don’t do fighting, that’s not you.”
My shock knows no bounds.
He shrugs and stubs the toe of his school shoe into the playground asphalt.
“What’re you fighting for, Son?” asks Elliot, and I swear on my life I’m going to punch him or kick him in the balls.
Isaac just shrugs again, so with speedy apologies and promises of parental chats and good behaviour next week, we make our escape.
Once we are clear of the school, I drag Isaac away from Elliot’s grasp. “You shouldn’t be here.” I try to keep my tone light for Isaac’s sake, but my anger is not veiled well and Isaac sends a questioning glance in my direction.
“I came to see if Isaac wanted to do this with me tomorrow?” He pulls two tickets out of his back pocket. Isaac grabs them and then quickly starts to bounce, vibrate almost, with excitement.
“Manchester United tickets?” he screeches at full volume.
My eyes widen in shock, and Elliot’s smirk gets wider, if that’s even possible. “Isaac, you and I have plans tonight.” I remind him about the special time I have been waiting for all week.
He turns to me, his eyes beseeching. “Mum, it’s Man U. We can eat popcorn together any night.”
