Wallaker's Discovery
By S. Faith, © 2014
Words: 63,000 (in nine chapters and an epilogue)Rating: T / PG-13
Summary, Disclaimer, Notes: See Chapter 1.
Chapter 9
Thurs, 2 January 2014
Scott expected that Sarah would turn up late, because she always loved making an entrance, so he had no qualms about allowing himself and Bridget to be led to the table and order wine in advance of Sarah's arrival. Not unsurprisingly, Sarah strolled in twenty minutes late, stopping short when she got to the table.
"What's this?" Sarah said.
"Lunch?" offered Scott.
Her gaze bore down on Bridget. "I thought this was a discussion about our sons."
"I told you Bridget was coming when we spoke yesterday."
Her eyes moved to Scott. "You did not."
"I did," he said.
"Well, I was tired from travelling," she said dismissively, sitting down at the table with them.
Probably half-soused, thought Scott, as the server took her order for a glass of wine.
"So what did you want to discuss?" she asked, once the server had departed. "Is this a… you know, an official announcement thing?" Sarah pointed to Bridget with a cocked thumb.
He chuckled quietly to himself, reaching over to take Bridget's hand. "Not quite," he said. "But you can take it as such, if you like. No, this is about the boys. I want to take them out of boarding school. Bring them to live with me. Send them to the school at which I work."
It was, perhaps, the most speechless Scott had ever seen Sarah. She didn't blink, and he wasn't even sure she breathed. It was like her brain was a rebooting computer.
And then everything came online again.
"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed. "Their school is one of the most prestigious in England. Their attendance there will open doors others can't hope to. And you! You were the one so insistent in the first place that they be placed there! What on earth—" She broke off suddenly, her gaze darting to Bridget again. She didn't need to say a word for Scott to know what she was thinking.
"Do not even say it," he said, his tone low.
Sarah, of course, did not listen: "She talked you into it, didn't she?"
"You're being ridiculous," Scott said.
"What else has changed, Scott?" she asked. "What else would drive you to abandon your goals for them? Is she not happy with two children of her own, she has to take mine too?"
"Excuse me." This from Bridget. "In case you haven't noticed, I am sitting right here."
"Why did you even come?" asked Sarah. "So that you two could gang up on me? To make sure he didn't fold on you?"
"I came," she said evenly, "because I do care about your sons, and they are not happy where they are."
"How do you know they're not happy?" she said.
"Matt told me so."
"Oh, did he?" she said snottily. "Well, what about going to school is supposed to be 'happy'? You're there to learn, end of story."
"Enough of this," said Scott; he found it increasingly difficult to keep the rein on his anger with Sarah. "I'm doing it with or without your blessing. I wanted to give you the courtesy—"
"No," said Bridget calmly bur firmly. "Scott, you could make a unilateral decision, but honestly, I don't think it helps with familial harmony." She turned. "And Sarah, you need to understand, so I want you to please listen to me. It is not just a matter of whining that 'the work's too hard' or 'I don't like the maths teacher'." Bridget took a deep breath. "Matt told me that the other children taunt and bully him. Used to be worse when he was smaller. Does what he can to protect Fred, who's getting it worse now than he ever did. That's all I could really get him to say."
Once again Sarah looked a bit gobsmacked. "They would have told me if things were that bad! And besides, boys picking on other boys—" Now she made a small dismissive sound, her confidence returning a little. "—isn't that sort of a normal school experience?"
"But why should it be?" Bridget said, her colour rising. "It's traumatising! My… my husband had nightmares into his fifties. That's not what I'd call normal." She took a breath, and when she continued, she had calmed again. "Sorry to lose my temper, there… but when I think about how upset Matt was… you're right, school is for learning, but how effective is it to attend lessons when you spend all of your mental energy worrying about when the bullies will strike next? I know you want your boys to be happy and safe." She paused, and when she spoke again Bridget's voice got even kinder, more compassionate. "This isn't anything to do with what I want, Sarah. I promise you—I have no desire to steal your boys, turn them against you, or anything of the sort."
Surely Sarah could see the plain concern that Bridget had for Matt and Fred, the pleading for understanding in her eyes, the sincere emotion in her tone. Scott found his voice at last, and spoke up. "They've been so happy over the break," he said. "I think they'll do well in my school… and it's not like the school's an educational slouch."
"Oh, yes," said Bridget. "You should have a tour."
"Mind you," said Scott, "I need to talk to Martin Miller. The headmaster. I didn't want to make a move until we had spoken, because I really would like you on board with this idea."
"What do the boys think?" she asked in a very neutral tone. "Is this something they want?"
"Haven't mentioned a word to them yet," Scott said. "But I overheard what Matt said. I could tell he was deeply troubled, and he said he wished he could stay here with us." He felt Bridget's hand cover his where it laid on the table.
Appealing to Sarah's maternal instincts, as unpractised as they might have been, had apparently worked. Before his eyes, her features softened, and he saw what he looked like fondness, maybe even respect, as she turned her gaze towards Bridget. "Okay," she said. "All right. I'm on board."
"You won't regret this, Sarah," said Scott.
"When we've got everything settled," said Bridget with a bright, genuine smile, "we'll do a dinner together, I think. You should be there to tell them."
"Do you really think this can happen before the term starts on Monday?" Sarah asked, clearly a bit sceptical.
"If Miller can give me a verbal assurance they can get in," Scott said, "I will take them back only to pack up their things on Sunday. So maybe keep your Saturday night free."
To his surprise, Sarah actually smiled. "I'll do that."
Once the discussion was out of the way, lunch proceeded smoothly, or as smoothly as it could with Sarah present; Scott was actually quite pleased to see Bridget and Sarah talking and getting along so well. It boded well for future harmony.
When the lunch concluded, Scott felt it only right that he pay for the lunch for which he had asked Sarah to meet him. She actually thanked him, which surprised Scott, even as she said she knew she'd been right, alluding cattily to the Sports Day suspicions of his attraction so long ago. They all said their goodbyes and then Sarah parted ways with them; during the walk to the car, Scott's mind was focused only on his contacting Miller.
Midway through the drive home, the silence was broken: "You're very quiet."
He glanced to Bridget, and as he focused on the road again, he explained what was on his mind.
"Oh, I meant during lunch," she said, a lilt of humour in her voice. "You barely said a thing to Sarah."
"I said what I wanted to say," he explained matter-of-factly. "In case you hadn't noticed, we don't have a great conversational rapport."
He heard her giggle. "How did that ever happen, anyway?"
"How did what happen?" he asked.
"Well, you and Sarah," she said. "You seem polar opposites, yet you were together long enough to marry and have two children."
He considered how to answer, how to best summarise their long and storied history, which she evidently misunderstood to mean displeasure. "Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have asked." With a light, mirthless laugh, she added, "After all, one could've said the same about Mark and me."
He reached over, placed a hand on her knee. "I don't mind you asking," he said. "I was just gauging how to begin."
With that, he just decided to begin at the beginning. The ride wasn't terribly long, necessitating a summary before they arrived back to the house, but the essentials were there. Knowing Sarah from their overlapping social circles since they were young, remaining friendly while he had his Commissioning Course and training at Sandhurst, then when he moved on to SAS; he spent a lot of time away from England, but they always found time to catch up, and she'd always been so happy to see him.
It was the turn of the century, the year 2000, that got him thinking about the future, the need to put down roots, maybe even start a family, and he had begun to view Sarah as more than just a friendly face when he returned from abroad. They struck up a physical relationship, and it had been very good at first (he told Bridget with some trepidation), but it was the accident that resulted in Matt that hurried along the wedding bells. "Mind you," he said, "she'd been hinting at wanting the ring well before the pregnancy, so in retrospect I'm not sure how much of an accident Matt actually was." After a pause, he added, "I'm certain, though, that Fred the very next year was a total surprise."
It was not long after the ceremony that her true colours had begun to show through. She hadn't had much in the way of liquid assets of her own, and once she had access to his money, she spent progressively more and more; he didn't mind the charitable donations, but the luxury purchases and the plastic surgery got to be a bit much.
"I knew the marriage was doomed," he said. "I decided to go along with her and prop up the façade of wanting to be a loving mother and wife, but even that couldn't save us. She beat me to the punch, though; she filed while I was in Afghanistan. I suppose she thought she'd gain the upper hand, claiming irreconcilable differences because I was abroad so often… all the while beginning an affair with her personal trainer. Divorce was final when Fred was two." He turned onto Chalk Farm.
"What about the fleecing?"
"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a chuckle.
Bridget blushed brightly. "Rebecca told me she—Sarah, I mean—tried to fleece you."
He smiled. "She made outrageous demands for a divorce settlement, especially considering she was the unfaithful one," he said. "Tried to get the house from me, too. Capthorpe."
"No," Bridget said in an awed whisper.
"Yes. Ridiculous, though the chutzpah is admirable, in its way. Fortunately my lawyer was smarter and better than her own."
Now parked before her house, he switched off the ignition. "Let me ring up Miller before I go inside," he said. "Tell the kids I'm… ordering pizza for dinner or something."
"You'd better follow through with that," she said with a smirk. "And don't forget, Rebecca and her brood are in there, too." She leaned across the seat, pecked him on the lips. "Oh, let's establish a code now. For the headmaster's answer."
"Okay," he said. "What did you have in mind?"
"Margherita for yes. Anchovy for no."
He laughed. "And what about, er, 'I'll get back to you on that'?"
"Meat-lover's," she said. "Will lessen the pain of the anxiety of waiting."
He leaned and kissed her again. "Go on in. Hope to be in soon myself."
He waited until she was out of sight, in the house, before pulling out the mobile and punching Miller's contact. It rang three times before he picked up.
"Scott. To what do I owe the honour?" he said, obviously in a good mood. "Having a nice break? Ready to come back to reality for Monday?"
He supposed it was an oblique reference to the rumour mill, which surely was abuzz with the story of his getting together with Bridget. "Quite nice," he said neutrally. "Listen. There's something I'd like to ask."
When the conversation was over, he placed the order for the pizza before going inside. He was greeted by a gaggle of excited children, all of whom were clearly wound up at the prospect of a pizza dinner.
"What took so long?" Matt asked.
"They were busy, and it took some time to decide on the toppings," he said. He looked up to meet Bridget's eye. "A couple of pepperoni pies, and for the adults… Margheritas."
Bridget brought her hands up to her mouth, tears suddenly flooding her eyes. "Really?" she asked.
"Mummeee!" said Mabel, hugging around her legs. "You don't have to cry over peet-tha!"
"Really," he said with a smile, then slipped his hand around her waist for a hug. Rebecca, hair festooned with plastic snowflakes, looked to them in such a way that told him she knew there was more to the conversation than met the eye, but knew better than to ask.
Sat, 4 January, 2014
Matt and Fred knew something strange was up. Not only had their father not been hounding them to get their things together for the trip back to school on Sunday, but he told them they were going over to Bridget's for the evening the night before said supposed trip. "We're having dinner there," he said. "Your mother's coming too."
Matt and Fred shared a look. "What's going on?" asked Matt.
"We have something we want to tell you."
Matt's eyes went wide. "Are you getting married?"
Scott chuckled. "Matt, she's only been my girlfriend for a little over three weeks. No."
"Is she moving in with you?"
"No," he said. "Where would she put all of that stuff, and Billy and Mabel to boot?"
Matt looked thoughtful. "She's not gonna have a baby, is she?"
"Matt," he said, laughing. "There are no babies in the future. I'm far too old to start over with babies, and I'm pretty sure Mabel is the end of it for Bridget, too." He paused, patting his sons on their shoulders. "You will find out soon enough."
They were steeped in curiosity for the whole of the afternoon, which probably accounted for why they were so quiet; when they got to Bridget's, they didn't even beg to play Xbox. Sarah had yet to arrive, so the boys sat on the sofa with nervous energy emanating from them as Mabel placed Hellvanians next to their laps and on them as if they were a landscape. Billy looked sulky—obviously, he had hoped to play with Matt and Fred—and a bit on edge, too, so Scott asked him blandly, to make conversation, if he'd gotten his homework for the break completed.
"Oh f—" Bridget's hand went to her mouth. "The homework!"
Scott laughed. "There's always tomorrow."
When Sarah arrived, both Matt and Fred erupted up off of the sofa, inadvertently ruining Mabel's diorama, making her wail. "Sorry, sorry," said Fred, trying to placate her, as Matt ran up to ask their mother what was going on.
"Daddy won't tell us," Matt said.
Again, Sarah looked a little less plastic (and more sober) than usual, and smiled warmly. "He won't?" she asked, glancing up to him. "Well, Scott, whenever you're ready. I'm not sure they'll last through dinner in this state."
As Scott told them the news, he was sure they had guessed a million things in their mind, but given their reactions, none of those things were the reality that they would be leaving boarding school and going to the senior branch of the same school that Billy and Mabel attended.
"We… we're not going back to the school tomorrow?" Matt asked. He looked a bit stunned.
"Well, you are, but just to get your things," he said.
To Scott's surprise, both of his sons looked to Bridget as smiles overtook their faces. "Thank you, Bridget!"
"Hey, hey, hey," said Scott. "It was our decision to make, your mother's and mine."
"But you got the idea from Bridget, though, didn't you?"
"No," said Bridget. "Not directly, anyway. Now go on; thank your mum and dad properly, will you?"
The boys went to their parents, one to each, for long and extended hugs before the boys traded off. "Thank you so much, Dad," Matt said to Scott; it sounded to Scott like Matt was holding back tears. "I love you."
"I love you too, Matt," Scott replied, tightening his hug for a moment before releasing him.
Scott looked away to see Billy and Mabel watching them with interest. "Does this mean they're gonna live here all the time?" asked Billy.
"Yes."
Billy's face got progressively brighter. "And they're going to my school?"
"My thchool too," said Mabel defensively.
"The senior branch," said Scott to Billy. "Yes."
Breaking the silence, Bridget said, "After all of that, I bet you guys are hungry."
"Yes!" said the boys in unison, grinning madly; in that moment they looked more than ever like younger versions of their father.
Dinner was spaghetti Bolognese, which the boys devoured in heaps; Scott too was plenty hungry after the tension of the last few days, getting the details settled, and ate so much he was almost uncomfortably full. "Have to say," said Scott, "that this was very good. Thank you."
Bridget smiled. "You're very welcome."
"Boys," said Sarah unexpectedly, glancing to Scott. "What do you say to a sleepover with me tonight? One last hurrah before school starts."
"Oh, I wanna go on a thleepover!" said Mabel.
Sarah looked now to Bridget. "I can have them all over, if… well. You probably could use a night alone."
It was an olive branch Scott would have never expected from her, and he couldn't say he was eager to accept, but with Matt and Fred there to help watch over them, he didn't object if Bridget didn't. Scott looked to Bridget, who looked frankly stunned.
"Um, well, yes, that'd be lovely," said Bridget. "Thank you."
With that, Mabel let out a shout of cheer, and much fuss for packing her and Billy's knapsacks began.
With Matt and Fred occupied with helping Billy and Mabel prepare with Bridget, Sarah said quietly, "I promise I'll behave."
"I trust you," he said. "Just don't let them stay up too late. Big day tomorrow."
She nodded. "I'll get them back before eleven." After a moment, she chuckled. "Here, or your flat?"
It put a spin on the whole 'your place or mine?' cliché, and he smiled, too. "Let's make it easier on logistics, and go with here," he said. "Then we can caravan to the school."
"Me too?" asked Sarah.
"If you can," said Scott.
"Oh, yes, you have to come too," said Matt; the boys returned to the room ahead of Bridget and her children. "Please?"
"Yes, please?"
He had never seen Sarah look quite so emotionally affected. "Well, if you insist," she said. "We can make an afternoon of it."
Once the house was emptied out of all except himself and Bridget, it seemed almost too quiet. He took her into his arms, and for a long while they just stood holding one another in the silence. He pulled back, met her gaze with his, and smiled before kissing her full on the mouth.
When she drew back, she spoke, but not quite what he expected.
"They'll be okay, won't they?"
He chuckled. "They'll be fine," he said, then kissed her again; they didn't speak again for a long, long while, and when they did it was on a subject he didn't expect.
"You know," she said quietly, almost tentatively, afterwards in the dimly lit bedroom, "Matt told me that he was convinced the big news was going to be I was coming to live with you." She paused. "Isn't that sweet?"
"Mm, yes, I thought so."
"He asked you?"
"And I denied it, yes."
"Oh," she said. This elicited surprise in him, because she sounded almost… disappointed. Then she asked, "You think it's too soon?"
"I did say that," he replied.
"Well…" she trailed off. "It took you forever to recognise that you loved me, so maybe you're wrong there, too." She pushed herself up in order to meet his eye. "We love each other, we love the kids, we make a pretty damned good family," she said. She swallowed hard, looking very nervous. "We should just do it."
He considered her words, thought about their time together; he realised that even though it was thus far a short courtship it had gone beyond late-night secret shags after the children were asleep, and had already bloomed into a full partnership. All of the board games, cooked meals, shopping trips… it was more of a partnership than he'd ever had with Sarah.
"You're wrong," he murmured at last, then at her horrified look, he laughed. "I mean it was you who took forever to recognise you loved me."
"You bastard," she whispered, then reached across to smack his arm. "Don't scare me like that." She still looked serious, and very concerned. "But what do you think? Don't leave me out on a limb, here."
His mind flashed back to that day in the snow, almost exactly a year ago, to the precariously balanced Billy and Mabel and that tantalising glimpse of thong, and he smiled. "I haven't before," he said, pulling her back down to him, "and I won't start now."
His last thought before drifting off to sleep was that Leigh had helped him find a place to live once. She could help him again. Rather, she could help them.
Mon, 6 January 2014
"Mr Wallaker!"
He turned to see the grinning face of Alan Pitlochry-Howard, and winced a little inside. He had not managed to see the man the whole of the first day of classes so far, and knew, like with so many of the other teachers—and even mothers!—that he'd seen so far that he was in for a round of teasing.
"Hello, Mr Pitlochry-Howard," said Scott smoothly. "How are things going for you?"
"Just fine, just fine indeed," he said. Scott had just about decided he'd overreacted when Alan struck: "You must have had an, er, exhausting break, Scott…" At his icy glare, Alan added, "Heh, I meant all of those children, right?"
"Very funny," he said.
Alan reached out, put his hand on Scott's upper arm and spoke quietly. "In all seriousness, I've never seen her happier," said Alan. "Or you, for that matter. Well done."
Scott allowed a grin. "Thank you."
"How are your boys making out so far in the Senior Branch?"
Word of that had clearly gotten around about them, too. "They can hardly believe it," he said; he'd seen them briefly at lunch, but he also heard what the other boys were saying when he'd gone to Senior Branch to sign the paperwork. "They're almost like instant celebrities, albeit minor. The other boys heard their last name and realised that their father is the—" He snorted a small, self-deprecating laugh. "—superhero of East Finchley." His grin faded a bit as he spoke again; how much sooner he should have taken them from boarding school. "They're doing great, though. Really great. They love it here."
"I'm very glad to hear it," Alan said. "Very glad indeed." He chuckled a little, and at Scott's querulous look, he explained: "Billy missed his homework."
"Oh, fuck," he muttered, instantly grateful that no one else was around.
"That's exactly what I understood Mrs Darcy to have said," said Alan, a twinkle in his eye. "But, I figured the upheaval in his life over the break was a pretty good excuse, so he's got 'til Friday to make it up. See if you can't remind him to do it?"
Scott nodded. "Best be off to see the school pickups."
"Right." As they parted, Alan added, "Oh, and Scott…"
Scott turned back around.
"Congratulations again."
He smiled, nodded again, and then proceeded on his way.
"Well, hello, Mr Wallaker."
Looking as smug as he'd ever seen her was school secretary Valerie, standing there near the school gates, her arms crossed and bearing a big smile.
"Hello, Valerie," he said.
"I take it we have had a very happy ending?"
"It's by no means an ending," he said with a hint of a grin.
Her smile broadened. "I am so happy for you both. I've been rooting for you for months."
Months? I guess I was transparent, he thought, but only said, "Thank you."
From most of the other mothers he got knowing smiles and nods, to which he nodded in return. Nicolette Martinez, however, seemed a bit gruff in picking her boys up from the school. "Atticus! Eros!" she barked, then looked to Scott with a stiff smile. "Mr Wallaker."
"Hello, Mrs Martinez," he said. Remembering something Bridget had told him about a trip to the Maldives, he added, "Hope you had a pleasant break."
She raised a brow. "It was… profitable," she said with a smirk. She spotted her sons coming towards them, accompanied by Billy. "Ah," she said. "Of course Mrs Darcy's late." He was about to respond, feeling the betrayal and shock given the détente he'd thought she and Bridget had found, when she added, "I don't suppose Bridget's in any hurry, knowing you stay to the end anyway." She turned to wink to him and at that, he chuckled, realising she'd been having a joke at his expense. "Don't suppose I need to ask how your break was, Mr Wallaker," she said with a grin.
"Hi, Mr Wallaker."
He looked down to see Billy, Atticus, and Eros. Scott had noticed earlier that the latter two had looked very happy, even relaxed, on their first day back. "Hey, Billy," he said. "Hi, boys."
"I did really good on the spelling test today," Billy said proudly.
"Great job," said Scott. "And you?" he asked Atticus.
"I didn't do so good," Atticus said glumly.
Scott watched Mrs Martinez, saw her struggling with how to respond; after all, she had spent so long trying to form her boys into perfect little packaged products that she was just learning how to treat them like boys. At last, she smiled, crouched down and patted his shoulder. "You tried your best, didn't you?" she asked.
Atticus nodded, though he looked a bit skittish.
"We'll just have to practise more, that's all," she said, which garnered a bright smile from Atticus.
"Okay, Mummy."
She stood up again, looked to Scott as if for approval; very subtly, he nodded. He actually was proud of the progress she had made in so short a time.
"Come on, boys," said Mrs Martinez. "Time to go home. Daddy's promised a surprise for us!" She said goodbye to him and to Billy, and then was on her way.
"Well, Billster," said Scott, "Matt and Fred should be along to meet us here at any time… as should your mum and Mabel."
"Eventually," Billy said, then giggled. "She's late a lot."
"Hey, Dad," called Matt's voice, right on time; he and Fred were heading their way.
"Yeah, she is," confided Scott, "but we love her anyway, don't we?"
Billy nodded.
Bridget, with Mabel in tow, were not too far behind them, the last of the parents to turn up. Bridget looked exceedingly excited, more so than just having picked Mabel up. "Oh my God," she said. "You'll never guess what I saw."
He brought his brows together. "What? A clock?"
She pulled a face, stuck out her tongue, which sent the children into fits of giggles. "For that, you'll have to come see for yourself," she said mysteriously. "It's near where I parked, 'round the corner."
His interest was piqued. "All right. I guess we can detour to your car before we go to mine."
The six of them walked towards her car; he looked around and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "I'll bite," he said. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"
She pointed, and that was when he saw it: the lovely brick house, one which he had admired once or twice before, with a brand new sign driven into the soil of the front garden. FOR SALE. SIX BR. 2B. Below that was printed the number of the estate agent, which he recognised.
Bridget said, "It's a sign."
"So it is," he replied drolly.
"Shut up," she teased, tapping him with a playful punch. "That was not there before the Christmas break."
She was right; the house had formerly looked quite occupied, even well-lived in, but now it had that vacant look, all the curtains closed. Quite the front garden by London standards, and big, broad trees all around for getting one's thongs stuck in. "Hm." He turned to the children. "Well, I'm not promising anything, kids, but what do you think of that house?"
There were many murmurs of assent, but Mabel made her opinion definitely known: "I love it! There's thwings in the back—I can thee them!"
"Eagle eye, that child," Scott said.
"Nothing gets by her," Bridget replied. "Just like my mum that way."
Without hesitation, Scott pulled his mobile phone out and dialled the number. When answered, Scott said, "Leigh, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm in the market for a bigger place, and I think I might have just found it."
Leigh sounded hesitant but friendly, like she recognised the voice but couldn't quite place it. "Who's calling?"
"It's Wallaker," he said, looking to Bridget and watching the smile blossom on her face. "Scott Wallaker."
