there was no point expecting the boys to be discreet and not tell their mother. Andrew, in particular, would no doubt be bubbling over with the doings of Dennis the Menace when they went in to say good night.
‘Really?’ Anthea’s skin was so thin and fair that, although she was still young, every slight frown produced the thinnest of lines on her brow. ‘Where did they get them from?’
‘Someone at school.’ Marcus tried to downplay the matter. ‘Anyway, it’s good news about Daniel, isn’t it?’ As soon as he said the words, he realized he didn’t mean them. ‘Although I was wondering,’ he continued, feeling his way cautiously, ‘whether there was actually any need for him to sit a scholarship. I mean, we don’t really need the money, and it seems to be an awful palaver.’
‘Honestly, Marcus.’ Anthea’s voice snapped at him; too high pitched and defensive to be entirely natural. Marcus suddenly wondered whether she had been expecting him to say something like this. ‘The money’s not the point. It’s the achievement. It’ll set him up for life. A scholarship to Bourne. How many people can put that on their CV?’
‘Yes, well, I’m sure Daniel will have quite enough on his CV by the time he’s finished without scholarships here, there and everywhere,’ said Marcus.
‘Bourne College isn’t here, there and everywhere,’ retorted Anthea. ‘It’s one of the most prestigious public schools in the country.’
‘I do know that,’ said Marcus testily, suddenly feeling like an irate old man. ‘I did go there myself.’
‘Well then.’
‘But I didn’t have a scholarship. I didn’t need a scholarship.’
There was a short silence, during which Anthea pointedly said nothing.
‘Look,’ said Marcus eventually, in calmer tones, ‘I just want what’s best for Daniel. If that means him trying for a scholarship, well, fine. But I think he’s under enough pressure as it is.’ He paused, then generously said, ‘We should both try to lighten up a bit.’ As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake.
‘Oh, don’t pretend you really mean that,’ snapped Anthea. ‘What you really mean is I should lighten up a bit.’
‘No,’ protested Marcus weakly.
‘What would you know about what’s best for Daniel? You’ve no idea how hard it is out there, how important it is to be able to compete in the world. You’ve never even had to find yourself a job, have you?’
‘Well, no,’ admitted Marcus. And neither have you, he refrained from adding. ‘I just don’t want to see Daniel get into a state about it,’ he said instead. ‘You know what he’s like. Gets worried about everything.’
‘Yes, well, there’s no need for him to get worried,’ said Anthea shortly. ‘Not if he does all the work he’s supposed to. He’s a very clever boy. You don’t seem to appreciate that.’
‘I do,’ said Marcus indignantly. ‘I’m sure he can get a scholarship anywhere in the country if he wants to. I’m very proud of him,’ he added, in gentler tones. He drained his coffee, stood up, and reached for the cafetière. Anthea gave him a half-smile as he poured more coffee into her cup, a sign of temporary reconciliation.
And as he sat down again, he realized that it would be really quite irrational to expect Anthea to behave in any other way. Her academic success; her scholarship to Oxford; all the things that had attracted him to her in the first place, had been achieved with exactly the pushy determination that she was now displaying over poor old Daniel. It would be impossible for her to act otherwise. And in many ways, it would make all of their lives easier—at least in the short term—if he were just to leave her to get on with it.
CHAPTER THREE
A week later, Alice finally remembered to bring up the subject of the school skiing trip, which had been mentioned at assembly on the first day of term. She was eating breakfast in her school uniform at the time, sitting uncomfortably on a chrome and mock-leather stool in the tiny kitchen above the tutorial college.
It was a grim little room, with an ancient brown lino floor, grey-doored units and no space for a table. Really, it would have been more sensible for them all to take their breakfasts next door to the sitting-room, where at least there was a small dining table. But, as a family, Alice, Liz and Jonathan were used to breakfast in the kitchen. At Russell Street, there had been a big pine table and comfortable wicker chairs.