Shit. What the hell has Ajay done? It doesn’t make sense that he would undermine me. We both need Cracking Crafts to be successful. When I screw up here, it’s a disaster for the business, a business we’re equal partners in. And then I begin to doubt myself. Did Ajay tell me? Was there an email I’ve overlooked perhaps? I’ve had so much going on recently, it’s quite possible that I have screwed up. Did I research the wrong machine? All I know for sure is that I have totally mucked up. We will have made no sales, and quite possibly BUYIT TV will delist us. And if that happens, we will lose a major revenue stream, and I will have put our business in jeopardy.
Quickly, I gather up my coat and bag and hurry out of the building. It isn’t until I’m outside on the pavement, jostling with other Londoners, their heads down, in a hurry to go about their business, that I remember the phone call from the school. It was less than an hour ago, but it seems like a lifetime. And now I feel even more wretched. How could I forget that my daughter needs me? Business problems are irrelevant in comparison to her well-being.
I try calling her mobile phone, but frustratingly, and unsurprisingly, it is turned off. I leave a message.
‘Darling, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m leaving London now. I should be at school within the next couple of hours. Call me.’
She doesn’t.
It is strange driving to the kids’ school and being able to park directly outside, not having to jostle for a parking space. I dump the car and hurry up to the gates. After I press the electronic buzzer, I explain that the school secretary has asked me to come in urgently. The gate opens. The school is quiet, and I make my way through to the main building where I have to press another buzzer.
‘Mrs Kenner is expecting you,’ the secretary says. My heart sinks. I am being called to speak to the head of the school. The only time I have had a conversation with her was on the school’s open day, and even though she was doing her sales spiel, I found her impressive; the sort of woman you would definitely want to be on your side. I follow the signs to the head’s room, and just as I’m turning the corner, I see Mia sitting on a chair, her head bent low.
‘Darling!’ I exclaim, hurrying towards her. She looks up at me, her eyes red and her cheeks tearstained. ‘What’s happened? Has someone done something to you?’
She cowers away from me, but before I can say anything else, the door opens.
‘Mrs Grant, thank you for coming into school. Please come in.’ Mrs Kenner holds the door open and I step into her study. She is a tall woman with short-cropped grey hair, a slash of cerise lipstick and massive pom-pom black-and-turquoise earrings. Wearing a cerise boiled wool jacket and black trousers, she looks more like the head of an advertising agency than the headmistress of a leading co-ed day school.
‘Please have a seat.’ She sits down behind her wooden pedestal desk piled high with papers. ‘I won’t beat about the bush. I’m suspending Mia for a week as of today.’
‘Why?’
‘She was caught smoking weed in the girls’ toilets.’
‘Mia, smoking drugs!’ I can’t believe it. ‘She must have been set up. There’s no way that Mia would do something like that. And where would she find weed anyway?’
‘That’s something we are investigating, and the reason why she’s being suspended rather than expelled. We don’t believe that Mia fully appreciated the consequences of her actions. We are also aware that she was, up until this term, an exemplary student, and her form teacher is in 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.’