A Desirable Residence - By Madeleine Wickham Page 0,81
mothers’ voices rose as one, in an outraged screech that carried right across the forecourt. Daniel looked over to the door of the school and winced. Some of the others from his form were coming out, and they’d absolutely kill him if they knew what he was doing.
‘Where?’
‘Who?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I go,’ said Daniel deliberately, ‘to the Silchester Tutorial College. I have Mr Chambers. He’s brilliant. I go every day,’ he added. ‘I’m going there now, aren’t I, Mummy?’
‘It’s not really coaching as such, is it, darling?’ said his mother in brittle tones. She looked at him furiously, then flashed a bright smile around the group. ‘More like supervised homework.’ Daniel thought for a moment.
‘We go through loads of exam papers,’ he said, smiling at Mrs Robertson, ‘and sometimes we do things that Mr Williams never told us about.’ He felt a fleeting pang of guilt towards Mr Williams as he said this. Mr Williams was definitely a brilliant teacher; Mr Chambers said he couldn’t be in better hands. But he had to say something like that to impress the mothers. ‘It’s the Silchester Tutorial College,’ he said again, just to make sure.
As his mother dragged him off to the car, he could hear a babble of talking break out behind him. Andrew was leaning against the passenger door, waiting for them, and he looked interestedly over at the gaggle of mothers.
‘What did she say?’ he mouthed at Daniel, jerking a thumb towards their mother.
‘Nothing,’ mouthed Daniel back. He hoped his mother wouldn’t mention it when they were in the car. But as soon as the doors were safely closed behind them, she turned round in her seat, a spot of colour on each cheek.
‘I told you, Daniel,’ she said, ‘not to tell everyone about your coaching.’
‘I didn’t tell everyone,’ said Daniel mildly. ‘I just told a few people.’ Anthea gave him an angry look, then turned round again and began to manoeuvre the car out of its parking space.
‘There are times,’ she said jerkily, ‘when it is better to be discreet. Do you know what that means?’ Andrew gave him an astounded look.
‘Did you tell the mothers about your coaching?’
‘Yes,’ said Daniel. ‘I’ll tell you why later,’ he whispered.
‘What are you whispering?’ called Anthea sharply.
‘Nothing,’ called back Daniel cheerfully. He felt buoyed up and, for the first time in his life, impervious to Anthea’s anger. Somehow he just knew that he’d done a good thing. Whatever his mother thought.
Alice had not looked Jonathan properly in the eye since the ECO parade. Her initial shuffling guilt and embarrassment had gradually hardened into a shell around her, until she couldn’t see or think of her father without inwardly turning away. And usually outwardly, too.
It had been the worst Christmas Day she could remember. She’d left buying Christmas presents for her parents until far too late, and then she’d panicked and bought her father a huge book on birds that she couldn’t really afford. It was only when she saw it actually in his hands, half out of the wrapping-paper, that she realized why it looked familiar.
‘I’ll get you something else!’ she exclaimed, cutting across his thanks. ‘I forgot you had it already.’
‘Don’t be silly!’ her father retorted, opening the book and running his finger across the glossy pages. ‘This is a new edition. What a super present!’
But what good was a book that you’d already got? He was just being polite. And, obscurely, Alice resented it. She would almost rather he’d shouted at her. At least she could have shouted back. But her father never shouted. It was her mother who usually shouted. Except that this Christmas her mother had been on another planet. She’d forgotten to buy the crackers, so they had to do without, and she hadn’t joined in decorating the tree, and she’d hardly taken any notice of her presents.
Altogether, thought Alice, as she made her way that evening to Russell Street, Christmas had been a disaster. Not like bloody lucky Genevieve, who had just written her a letter, telling Alice all about their Christmas in the sunshine, by the swimming pool. It wasn’t fair. Their life out in Saudi sounded like one long holiday. Genevieve had sent Alice a photo of herself on Christmas Day, wearing a tiny white bikini, and looking really brown, with hair even blonder than before, and a huge smile. She suddenly looked all grown-up and glamorous, and when she’d first seen it, Alice had felt an extraordinary pang of envy.