Cathy Williams - Wife For Hire

Not precisely, Rebecca thought. She couldn’t quite understand why Nicholas Knight felt obliged to fill her in on any of this, but, as a teacher, she knew that she had a duty to listen. Underneath his cool, self-contained acknowledgement of the situation, he no doubt was feeling pangs of guilt and this was his way of releasing some of it. That being the case, she tilted her head obligingly to one side, prepared to listen. He wasn’t to know that everything he said she would take with a hefty pinch of salt. Emily might have done a fair bit of exaggerating, but the truth doubtless lay somewhere between the two accounts.

‘When Veronica died, I found myself with a teenager I didn’t know and who seemed quite incapable of accepting the generous efforts made by us to smooth the path.’

‘Us?’ Rebecca’s ears pricked up. This introduced a complete new line into the story. Had Nicholas Knight remarried? Emily had made no mention of a stepmother. In fact, she had made no mention of a woman on the scene at all, but now, thinking about it, and delving back into her memories of him, he was not the sort of man who cultivated celibacy as a chosen lifestyle.

‘So she didn’t mention Fiona to you?’ The black eyes narrowed. He uncrossed his legs and stretched them out in front of him.

‘Fiona being…your wife?’

‘Fiona being my girlfriend. My dearest ex-wife rather tarnished my belief in the institution of marriage, I’m afraid.’

‘No, Emily didn’t mention a Fiona.’

‘I’m surprised. Fiona did her utmost to get to know her.’

Rebecca thought that that manoeuvre was probably the one thing guaranteed to put off someone like Emily. She would have seen it as the threat of a mother substitute in the offing and would have instinctively reacted against it.

‘Well, I’m sure that you and your girlfriend will be able to sort everything out suitably,’ she said vaguely.

There was a knock on the door and Mrs Williams poked her head around it, her eyes flitting between the two of them questioningly. Rebecca smiled, relieved, but her relief lasted approximately three seconds, until he said, without the slightest hint of apology in his voice, ‘We’re not quite finished here. Perhaps you could give us another…’ he glanced at his watch ‘…half an hour?’ It was just lip-service to politeness. The three of them knew that the principal would give him just as long as he wanted, and she nodded and retreated back, shutting the door behind her.

‘Where were we…?’ he asked, settling back to look at Rebecca.

‘You were just agreeing that once you get Emily back everything will be fine. I’m sure your girlfriend will rise to the occasion and give you both all the support you need.’

‘Well, now, I’m not at all sure I want to throw poor little Fiona into any such situation…’ he ruminated, and Rebecca ground her teeth together in sheer frustration. She had no idea where all this was going, but she had a suspicion that it was going somewhere.

‘If she loves you,’ Rebecca said firmly, ‘then she’d want to help you deal with it. And she’d also want to help Emily deal with it.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she’d like nothing better than to busily try and make herself indispensable, but, you see, I don’t want any such thing.’

‘Oh, right. Well, that’ll be up to the two of you to sort out between yourselves.’

‘But then I’m back with my little problem, aren’t I? One wayward, pregnant daughter who needs home tutoring. Even if I find the time to interview a series of prospective candidates, I’m abroad a hell of a lot, and I won’t be available to supervise how things are going. And you have to admit, knowing Emily as you seem to do, that supervision is going to be essential.’

‘Not if you find someone you feel confident in.’

‘I’m glad you said that.’ He smiled at her. The smile of a rampaging barracuda that had successfully managed to trap its prey through sheer cunning. Rebecca stared back at him blankly.

‘Because you are going to be Emily’s home tutor.’ He sat back and watched her, and she could feel her face transparently revealing every single thing that was going through her head. Stunned surprise, followed swiftly by incredulity, followed even more swiftly by a complete rejection of the idea.

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised, ‘but there’s no way that I can…’

‘Why not? This is an appalling business and you yourself stated that the only way out of it for Emily, without ruining her chances in life for ever, is to employ a home tutor.’ He tapped his finger. ‘She trusts you, first of all.’ He tapped another finger. ‘You’re a good teacher from all accounts, well able to get her through her exams.’ He tapped a third finger. ‘I won’t need to supervise the situation if I know that whoever is with Emily can be trusted. So where’s the problem?’

‘Where’s the problem? Where’s the problem? How can you ask that?’ Her voice had risen and she had leant forward, so that her bun now did the dirty on her and collapsed. With one hand she yanked her hair free and it fell around her face, straight, shiny and ludicrously image-altering. ‘The problem is that I already have a job! Just in case it’s passed you by! I can’t just up sticks and take on a temporary private job because it suits you!’

‘I’m not the one at stake,’ he pointed out calmly. ‘Emily is. If her education fails her now, then I needn’t paint you a picture of what life holds in store for her.’ Having said that he needn’t paint a picture, he then proceeded to paint a complete and graphic picture of his daughter’s supposed state of affairs, should home tutoring prove impossible for one reason or another. He, too, leant forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and skewered her with his eyes so that she felt as though she was personally under attack.

‘Suppose I do manage to find her someone to tutor her at home,’ he began, making it sound as if the task would be along the lines of finding a needle, possibly even a broken one, in an enormous haystack, ‘you know my daughter probably as well as I do. In fact, probably much better. She would eat the poor person alive. Or else she would do her best to ensure that the minimum of work was done, so that the duration of each tutor would be approximately a fortnight. Which,’ he emphasised, ‘would mean that any educational benefits would be eradicated.

‘She would see this situation through and emerge from it well behind her peer group. With that immediate disadvantage dogging her, where would she find the impetus to suddenly pick things up and get going again? With a baby in tow? Far easier to simply let the whole damned thing slide, and in a couple of years’ time, when she became utterly bored of being at home, supported by me, she would find herself some nondescript, badly paid, lowly job totally unworthy of her wasted talents.’

Rebecca felt physically besieged by his onslaught.

‘Well,’ she began, ‘that all seems a bit on the extreme side, Mr Knight. I’m sure—’

‘What you’re sure of, at the end of the day, is that you don’t want to become involved. You’ve uttered your little words of wisdom, but beyond that…well…’ He sat back and gave an infuriatingly Gallic shrug of his shoulders.

‘That’s not what I’m saying at all!’ she responded heatedly. How dared he imply that she didn’t care? Of course she cared! And who was he to speak, anyway? Wherever the truth lay as far as his relationship with his daughter was concerned, she would bet her last pay cheque that it didn’t fall on the side of Nicholas Knight, devoted father, mysteriously slandered by his only daughter. Oh, no, sir!

‘Then please clarify. I’m all ears.’ He cocked his head to one side and she could have hit him.