Page 6 of Unforgivable

I don’t know when I’d ever felt so happy as in that moment. I wrapped my arms around his neck and yelled that yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you! And I cried and he laughed and we danced and finally I said, “Wait. Don’t you have to get a divorce first?”

And he said yes, what a very good idea. But it was a joke, obviously. The divorce was well under way, the lawyers were trashing out the last parts.

We set a date. We gave ourselves nine months. That was six months ago. For reasons no one has managed to explain to me, Bronwyn has been dragging her feet.

“I’m sorry about the job,” I say now. “What went wrong, do you know?”

He slaps his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up. “I’ll go say hi to Charlie.”

We’re not talking about the job. Got it.

He disappears up the stairs and minutes later I follow him to take his jacket to our closet. I peer inside Charlie’s bedroom. He’s teaching her a boxing move. “No, like this, Watch. Uppercut.” He demonstrates, then takes her little fist and brings it up, like she’s a marionette. “You have to make contact with her chin, here.” He points to his own. Between the freezer and the boxing moves I’m beginning to feel sorry for Valerie.

Back downstairs I check myself in the hall mirror. I pat my hair, tuck it behind my ears, straighten my blouse. I’m about to ask Jack for money. Another nod to the 1950s.Take fifteen minutes to make sure you look your best. Put a ribbon in your hair. A slick of lipstick. He’s working hard all day and coming home to a happy pretty wife shows him you care.

“We’re late on the school fees, I don’t know if you remember?” I say when he returns. He pours himself another drink. “Jack? You listening? Tara brought it up today.”

“Who’s Tara?”

“The school principal. Apparently we still owe fifteen hundred dollars in fees.” I sayapparentlyto soften the blow, make it sound like it’s news to me, which it’s not. It’s not news to him either, or it shouldn’t be, and yet he turns around, face shocked.

“Are you serious? Fifteen hundred dollars? What the hell, Laura! She’s only ten years old! What are they teaching them in there? Keyhole surgery?”

“She’s seven, but okay, I get your point. However—”

“It’s time to move her to a state school. That’s what we pay taxes for.”

“Don’t say that. She needs to stay at Greenhills for now.”

“Why?”

“Because she still has problems and it’s the best school for her right now. All her friends are there.”

“She doesn’t have problems.”

“She was sent home because she bit a classmate.”

“So what? They’re just playing! I don’t know why you worry so much, Laura. Biting’s nothing! I used to do it all the time.”

“That’s nice, honey, but this is not about you.” At least he’s back to himself now. The old Jack, news about the job forgotten, Charlie’s fine, what’s the problem? I’ll give this to Jack: he loves Charlie, I know that, but he doesn’t understand her. When Charlie started biting other kids—and I mean biting hard, leaving purple bruised crescents behind—parents weren’t happy. Understandably. They were paying upwards of five thousand dollars a year and getting their kids back looking like they’d just had a run-in with a vampire. But Jack kept saying it was nothing.She’s just a kid! That’s what they do! In my day…

“She needs to stay there until high school, Jack. Jenny Lee is the best teacher for her. She’s done brilliantly there. And this is such a great school, they’ve got that great introductory math program, remember? That’s one of the reasons we enrolled her there! It will be a waste to move her now, the state school won’t introduce math until next year.” What I really want to say is that she’ll regress, and we do not want that. I want to grab him by the metaphorical lapels and shake him.We don’t want her to regress, Jack! She’ll hurt other kids! Remember what it was like? We’ve made such progress!

Jack can’t handle the idea that Charlie has emotional problems. But he was very excited to find a school that introduced advanced math so early, and as far as he’s concerned, that’s why Charlie goes to Greenhills.

“Well, babe, if you can find fifteen hundred bucks, knock yourself out.” He knocks back his drink.

I swallow a sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll sort it out. I’ll go get dinner ready.”

* * *

Later, when Charlie is asleep and it’s just Jack and I sipping red wine over the remnants of a beef bourguignon, I bring up Bronwyn’s visit.

“So, when are they coming?”

“Tuesday next week. But it’s just Bron. Leon can’t make it. He’s got too much work.”

“Just Bronwyn? This coming Tuesday?”

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