The Mummyfesto (37 page)

‘Esme’s doing some colouring at the table. If Will or Charlotte do emerge from their rooms, they can get their own breakfasts.’

‘Fine. No problem.’ He smiled at me. A guilty, awkward smile. I knew I should tell him about the photo, but I didn’t want to say anything before I had spoken to Sam. I knew already what his reaction would be. Which was maybe why I wanted to tell someone more supportive first.

‘Hi,’ I said, when Sam opened the door. ‘Sorry about this. Are you sure it’s OK?’

‘Yes. Stop apologising and come in and tell me what’s going on.’

I followed her into the kitchen, put my laptop down on the table and opened it up. ‘I’ve had a call,’ I said. ‘From
The Sun on Sunday
. They got this picture from Facebook. They’re going to use it tomorrow.’ I turned the screen around to show her.

She looked, then dropped her head down to her chest. It was a moment or two before she said anything. ‘Oh Anna. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘I feel responsible. This whole bloody thing was my idea.’

‘You weren’t to know it would end up like this. Besides, it’s not your fault that my son’s been up to no good.’

‘I just can’t believe it,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Not so soon after Jackie.’

‘How is she?’ I asked. ‘I’ve left a couple of messages and texted her.’

‘She stayed the night at her mum’s. I spoke to her very
briefly this morning. She sounded pretty cut up by the whole thing.’

‘You knew, didn’t you?’ I said.

Sam nodded. ‘I knew her sister had been killed in a road accident. I didn’t know all the details. She finds it really hard to talk about it. She’d hardly told anyone else.’

‘And now the whole bloody world knows,’ I said. I looked back at the screen. Tomorrow, the whole world would know about Will, as well.

‘What do you want to do about it?’ asked Sam.

I shrugged. ‘What can I do? I can’t deny it. I don’t know if I’m supposed to apologise or try to explain it away, or what.’

‘I think,’ said Sam. ‘That you ought to say that your son is not standing in this election. That he’s sixteen years old. He’s made a mistake. Clearly one he’s going to pay a heavy price for. And he should be allowed to make his mistakes in private, the way other teenagers do.’

‘The thing is, it doesn’t really matter what I say, does it? They’re clearly going to castigate me, and I have to say I don’t blame them. I’ve set myself up for this, haven’t I? I’m an adolescent counsellor and nutritionist, for Christ’s sake. A mummyblogger who writes on parenting issues. Not to mention a parliamentary candidate who’s standing on a family-friendly ticket. It’s an absolute joke.’

Sam gave me a hug. ‘You’ve never claimed your children were perfect,’ she said. ‘And you’ve never claimed to be a perfect parent. There’s no such thing, anyway. I read it on your blog once.’

I managed a smile. Albeit a thin one.

‘That may be so, but they’re still going to have a field day with this.

‘What does David say?’

I looked down at my hands. ‘I haven’t told him yet.’

Sam nodded slowly. The sort of nod that suggested she thought I should have.

‘I just wanted to speak to you first,’ I explained. ‘And I needed to get out of the house to try to get my head straight.’

‘I take it Will doesn’t know either, then.’

‘He wasn’t even up when I left.’

Sam walked over to the kitchen window and gazed out for a moment or two before turning back to face me. ‘Look, why don’t I email you a draft response? Have a look when you get home and see what you think. Obviously, it’s up to you what you say. You need to feel comfortable with it. I accept it’s only damage limitation, but I do think you need to stress that a sixteen-year-old lad who hasn’t got anything to do with this is not fair game.’

I nodded. I heard a bout of coughing from upstairs.

‘How is he?’ I asked.

‘Still no better. The doctor said we’re doing everything right. It’s just a matter of waiting and hoping he turns the corner.’

I noticed the dark circles under her eyes and realised that if you scraped back her current concerned expression there’d be a far more worried one underneath.

‘Poor thing. Give him a hug from me. We’re happy to
have Zach any time, you know. If it helps, I mean. Just give me a shout.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Anyway. I’d better go back. I guess I’ve got to face it sometime.’

‘You’re a brilliant mum,’ she said, giving me another hug. ‘Just you remember that.’

I nodded. Although I didn’t really believe it inside.

Will still hadn’t emerged from his bedroom when I got home. Esme was entertaining Charlotte in the kitchen with what appeared to be a re-enactment of
The Sound of Music
.

‘Morning, love,’ I said. ‘Where’s your father?’

‘Working. In the study. He left me in charge.’

‘Right,’ I said, wondering how long exactly he’d actually spent with either of them. ‘How about you do me a favour and take Esme down to the park so she can get rid of some of that excess energy?’

Charlotte looked at me, a slight frown on her forehead, as Esme squealed in delight.

‘I don’t have any choice in the matter, do I?’ ‘No,’ I said, rubbing her shoulder, ‘but I am very grateful.’

‘Is something up?’ Charlotte whispered in my ear, as she waited for Esme to get her shoes on.

‘Just need to have a chat about something with your brother. After I’ve had a chat about the same thing with your father.’

‘So Will’s screwed up,’ said Charlotte.

‘I’ll fill you in later,’ I said. She shrugged and opened the door for Esme. I waited until they were halfway down the street before I picked up my laptop and ventured into the study. David had put the election leaflets out of sight, perhaps hoping I’d somehow forgotten all about them in the intervening period.

‘I need to talk to you,’ I said, shutting the door behind me. I saw him straighten slightly, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught. ‘It’s about Will.’ He stopped short, the defence he had obviously prepared put on hold.

‘Oh,’ he managed to sound both relieved and concerned at the same time.

‘I thought I’d better show you this.’ I put the laptop down on his desk and brought up the photo.

David stared at it a long time before he said anything. ‘Where did you get this?’ he asked finally.

‘I was sent it by one of the Sunday newspapers. They’d got it off Facebook. They’re going to publish it tomorrow.’

David looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. ‘Fucking hell, Anna. Where is this all going to end?’ I’d thought he’d be mad at Will, but he wasn’t. He was mad at me.

‘I didn’t do this.’

‘You brought it on us by standing. I told you they’d all be out to get you, but you didn’t listen.’

‘This photo was posted months ago. It’s not as if the campaign has turned Will to drink and drugs. He was obviously managing quite well on his own.’

‘But it wouldn’t be in the bloody papers if you hadn’t stood, would it? We’d probably never even have known about it.’

‘Well, we do know about it now. The question is, what do we do about it?’

‘You pull out of the bloody election, that’s what.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘That’s the only way this whole thing will end. You bow out in disgrace and we hope that within a couple of months we can all get back to normal.’

‘I meant what do we do about Will?’

‘Don’t ask me. You’re the adolescent-behaviour expert.’

‘There’s no need to be like that.’

‘You’re not going to tell me you’re surprised? What did you think he was up to in the park? Playing Ring-o-Ring of Roses?’

I stared at him and shook my head. Any tiny shred of hope I’d had of getting some support from him, of having some sense that he took equal responsibility for Will’s behaviour, had now disappeared in a puff of facetiousness.

‘I’ll talk to him then, shall I?’ I said, staring up at the ceiling.

‘I’m not sure what good that’s going to do.’

‘Well I can’t not talk to him, can I?’

‘We could ground him. Stop his pocket money.’

‘He’s sixteen years old, David. He’ll probably have a summer job in a few weeks.’

‘Then I’ll leave it with you. I’m sure you know best.’

We stood there looking at each other. I wondered whether he was thinking what I was thinking. Somehow I doubted it though.

‘So you don’t mind what I say to the press?’

‘I told you what to say. You tell them you’re pulling out.’

‘And if I don’t want to?’

He gathered some things from his desk and stuffed them into his rucksack. The election leaflets were among them. ‘Then you’d better think very carefully about what’s more important to you: your family or this bloody campaign.’

He pushed past me to the door. A few seconds later I heard the front door slam shut behind him.

I walked out into the hallway, shaking my head.

‘What’s up with him?’ Will called from the landing.

‘You’d better come down,’ I said. ‘We need to have a chat.’

I sat across the kitchen table from Will. I’d made a mug of tea for both of us. It seemed a very English thing to do in a crisis.

‘You’d better look at this,’ I said, opening up the laptop.

His mouth gaped open. ‘Where did you get this?’ he asked.

‘A friend of yours posted it on Facebook.’

Will shook his head. ‘I can’t believe Connor could be such a twat.’

‘I don’t really care who posted it, Will. That’s not what I wanted to talk about.’

He stared at me. The cogs were clearly going round in his head. ‘How come you were looking at Connor’s Facebook page?’

‘I wasn’t,’ I said, sighing. ‘I got a phone call from a newspaper.’

Will stared at me even harder. He really wasn’t prepared for all of this. For the first time in ages he seemed a hell of a lot younger than sixteen.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said to him. ‘It’s the downside of having a mum who’s running in the general election. There’s no such thing as a private life any more.’

‘They’re going to publish it?’

‘Yeah. Tomorrow.’

‘Jeez.’ Will put his head in his hands. For a moment I thought he might actually start to cry.

‘They’ve asked me to make a statement, Will. I need to know how often this happened. Whether it was a one-off, whether you were caught out in some way. Or whether it was just another Friday night at the park for you.’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘I didn’t smoke any joints until I was sixteen.’

I nodded. ‘And is it just joints or do you ever have anything stronger?’

‘Just joints. I only started because of the exams. It was the only way I could wind down.’

‘I see. And what about the alcohol?’

‘Same thing. I have a can or two. I don’t get off my face like the rest of them.’

‘There are other ways, Will,’ I said. ‘If you were stressed
out with the exams you should have told me. Was it school putting pressure on you?’

‘Yeah, a bit. And Dad.’

‘What did he say to you?’

‘Nothing. He doesn’t have to say anything, does he?’

I looked down at my hands. Took a sip of tea, even though it was much too hot for me. ‘I want you to stop going down the park in the evenings,’ I said. ‘To be honest, I think you can find much better mates than that.’

‘It’s not my fault Sol got a girlfriend, is it?’

‘No, but you could still make better choices. Like stop smoking the joints. And yes, before you ask, I did smoke a couple myself at uni, but I also saw what they could lead on to and that’s why I decided not to have any more. And as for the alcohol, well, at least find something bloody better to drink than Special Brew. You can have a decent glass of wine at home, if you like.’

Will almost managed a smile before he looked back at the screen and sighed. ‘No wonder Dad’s gone ape.’

‘He’s not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘So who is he mad at? I heard all the shouting.’

‘He’s mad at me for standing in the first place. For bringing this all upon us.’

‘But that’s ridiculous.’

‘I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a point. Maybe I should accept that you can’t be a politician and have a private family life at the same time. He wants me to choose between our family and the election.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

I shrugged. ‘Pull out, I guess.’

Will stood up and pushed the chair away behind him, shaking his head at me.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘Why do you always have to be so fucking reasonable?’