no doubt that the tragic death of her father has caused her a great deal of anguish. I think it would be helpful if Mia had a course of counselling. Is that something you could organise?’
‘Um, yes. Of course. I already suggested it. Has Mia got in with a bad crowd of kids?’
Mrs Kenner bristles. ‘We don’t have bad kids at this school, Mrs Grant. If Mia does anything similar again in the future, please be in no doubt that she will be expelled immediately.’
‘Yes, of course.’ And now I feel like I’ve been hauled up in front of the head, my knuckles about to be rapped.
Mia and I walk to the car in silence. I cannot believe that my little girl has been caught smoking dope. How many times did Adam and I expound the dangers of drugs and alcohol? She climbs into the passenger seat, but I don’t turn on the engine.
‘What happened, Mia?’ I ask, my voice quiet.
She bursts into tears. I pull her towards me and give her a hug.
‘I know it’s been a terrible few months for you, darling. I know you miss your dad. But you need to talk to me. It’s no good bottling it all up.’
‘Sometimes I hate you, Mum,’ she says as she pulls away. ‘You care more about Patrick than you do about us. It’s not fair.’
I know that I mustn’t burst into tears too, and I fight the dismay that is tightening my throat and threatening to break me down. I turn on the car engine and gently pull away from the curb.
Am I really such a terrible mother?
19
Mia won’t talk to me, and I know that in her current state of distress, it would be futile to push her. She rushes to her bedroom and I sit at the kitchen table, trying to take stock of my horrendous day. I turn on the laptop and search through all my emails from Lucinda at BUYIT TV and all my emails from Ajay. There is nothing to suggest that the brands of knitting machines had been swapped. I pull up copies of the contract, and all the paperwork states that I will be presenting the Knit It Qwik. It doesn’t make any sense.
Reluctantly, I call Ajay.
‘What happened?’ he asks the moment he hears my voice. ‘I was watching BUYIT but your face was shown for a couple of seconds and then the cameras switched to another presenter.’
‘They pulled it. I had prepped for the Knit It Qwik, but another brand of machine was there and I didn’t know how to use it.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Lydia. Are you telling me we had no sales?’
‘Yes, and it’s because you rang up and switched the brand.’
‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!’
‘The conversation you had with Lucinda three days ago? I don’t understand what you’re doing, Ajay!’
‘I haven’t spoken to Lucinda for weeks! I know you’ve been under a lot of stress Lydia, but you’re losing your grip. You need to sort this!’
‘But–’
He interrupts me. ‘This one is down to you.’ He hangs up on me and I let out a screech.
Although it’s way too early, I pour myself a glass of wine. I deserve it after such a dreadful day.
Oliver is dropped off by a friend’s mother, and Patrick arrives home not long afterwards. He sweeps into the kitchen and pulls me towards him.
‘How was it?’ he asks, holding me by the shoulders as he stands back.
‘A terrible day. Everything has gone wrong. Mia has been suspended, and Ajay organised for the wrong machine to be on set, so I screwed it up.’
Patrick frowns. ‘Why would Ajay do that?’
‘Search me.’ I shrug. ‘He’s denying it, but Lucinda at BUYIT TV has no reason to lie to me.’
‘Mmm.’ Patrick scratches his chin. He walks over to our vast American fridge and takes out a beer, flipping off the lid and drinking it straight from the bottle.
‘Come and sit down,’ he says, taking my hand and pulling me towards the table and chairs. When I’m seated, he walks to the kitchen door and closes it.
‘There’s something I want to share with you that I haven’t mentioned before. I did a bit of digging into Ajay for you.’
‘What! Why?’
‘The police have got some new evidence that incriminates Ajay.’
‘How do you know?’ That doesn’t make sense.
‘I think the police might be questioning him this evening.’
‘What?’
‘Look, I don’t want to worry you, Lydia, which is why I haven’t said anything before. I’ve got a mate