The slamming of the front door echoed through the quiet house and jolted Caroline out of her stupor.
Since Kate had left with her things, the blonde had been sitting on the sofa, staring into middle distance and vaguely pretending to wade through her mountain of paperwork.
Having tried unsuccessfully to read the same sentence at least ten times, she put the school newsletter to better use and quickly draped it over her glass of scotch.
With the drink now hidden from view, Caroline just had time to run a hand through her tangled hair before her son's friend Angus was shoved through the doorway, closely followed by Lawrence himself, who lurched forward to grab the smaller boy in a headlock.
Laughing, they stumbled into the room, school bags hitting the floor as they grappled for dominance and staggered into the furniture.
Lawrence did not spot his mother until he practically collided with her; having spun straight into the sofa, he suddenly found himself face to face with a pair of furious blue eyes.
The boys froze mid-tussle, mouths hanging open almost comically. Caroline had to bite back a smile at their surprise, vaguely impressed that she could inspire such trepidation even without killer heels and a power suit.
She raised an unimpressed eyebrow and they sprung apart to face her with matching guilty expressions.
The headmistress immediately recognised from their shocked faces that she must look awful – completely shattered and still wearing the smudged remnants of yesterday's make-up around her puffy eyes.
Swiftly deciding that offence was her best defence, Caroline rose to her feet and folded her arms, "Oh, please don't stop on my account, boys. When I decorated in here, I deliberately included the expensive furniture so that teenagers could body slam each other into it."
Without waiting for a response she herded them towards the kitchen, pointedly ignoring their concerned glances. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Lawrence nervously biting his lip.
Then, almost immediately, all traces of worry evaporated from his face. His walk became a swagger as his teenage side took over, seeking to minimise any potential embarrassment that could be caused by his mum having some sort of monumental breakdown in front of his mates.
Caroline sighed. She knew that Lawrence had been struggling recently, but as she watched him actively bury his concern, she found his indifference surprisingly painful.
Although God knows how a 15 year old is supposed to comfort his emotionally repressed mother when her pregnant lesbian lover moves out…
The poor boy had enough to deal with just pretending to be a remotely normal student at a school where his mother also happened to be the Head Teacher. And that was before she had started sleeping with his languages professor.
Plus John's bloody affair didn't help.
They would probably already be paying Lawrence's therapy bills until he was twenty – even without her recently imploding love life to add to his long list of issues.
Reaching the kitchen, Caroline set about making them all drinks; mainly to keep up the pretence that she was vaguely holding it together.
"How was school?" she asked, sliding a glass of squash across the counter towards Angus.
"It was fine, thank you," he replied, politely ignoring the fact that his normally composed headmistress had clearly had a very bad day.
She gave him a tight smile before raising an eyebrow at Lawrence.
Her son shrugged, 'It was school,' he mumbled, downing his drink in one long swallow and jerking his head towards his friend, 'Come on, let's go play football.'
He left the room without looking back and Angus followed suit, glancing anxiously over his shoulder at her as he went.
Caroline turned away from them and rolled her eyes. Obviously she could add the last five minutes to the million other things she did that mortified her youngest child.
It's hard to believe that I actually found TWO different people who wanted to co-parent with me, she thought sulkily.
XXXXX
Caroline finished the washing up. Not that she needed to do it by hand when there was a dishwasher next to her, but it allowed her to zone out and avoid the ominous stack of paperwork in the next room.
She glanced up at the clock as she dried her hands – 4pm.
An almost acceptable time for wine...
Just as she had finished pouring herself a large glass of red, her mother entered the room with a face like thunder and a football tucked under her arm.
"Hello love, I've confiscated this from Lawrence," she announced, putting it down on the counter between them with a long suffering sigh, "Those boys are atrocious footballers - something was about to get broken. I expect your fancy school has more important things than P.E. on the curriculum?"
Caroline greeted her mother with a peck on the cheek, "Hello. Lawrence's football skills are fine," she responded, not bothering to acknowledge the jibe and choosing instead to take a large swig of wine.
Celia looked disapprovingly at the glass and pursed her lips, "It's a bit early for drinking isn't it? Lawrence said you were in a funny mood, but it's only 4 o'clock, love."
Caroline shrugged, "I'm 45, mother – I don't need a lecture every time I have a glass of wine in my own house."
The older woman frowned, "Well, excuse me for having an opinion. You're snippy. Has something happened at work?"
Caroline sunk down into a nearby armchair, "I didn't go in today."
She took another mouthful of wine and closed her eyes.
Celia looked at her in surprise, "Why not? Are you ill?"
The genuine concern warmed Caroline - just a tiny bit.
She tilted her head back and sighed, "No, Kate and I broke up."
Caroline's gut twisted painfully at the memory. It was amazing how those five simple words could hurt so much.
"Oh, I'm sorry love…" Celia walked over to her daughter and rested a hand on her shoulder, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Caroline sighed, "Not really. We just want different things. Lawrence already hates me and I don't think I can raise another baby at my age."
Celia tutted, "Lawrence doesn't hate you. He's a cocky little bugger but he's just at that age where he doesn't like anybody, other than bloody John. Although goodness knows why he's quite so fond of him."
The older woman sat down opposite Caroline and reached out to pat her hand, "I know you liked Kate, but maybe this is for the best. You can start to put all this business behind you now."
Caroline's eyes snapped open, "Put it behind me? You mean shrug it off and go back to dating ridiculous men like John?!"
The blonde watched her mother's eyes widen in shock and felt an irrational urge to punch the outraged expression off her smug face.
Instead, she stood up and threw her hands wide in exasperation, "Let's get one thing straight; I did not like Kate. I loved her. Fancied her. Had sex with her. It was never about 'liking' anybody, and it's about time you got that into your bigoted head!"
She knew that she was upset and probably overreacting, but Caroline found it unbelievable that even now – when her mother had seen how happy Kate made her, and how much she was hurting – that Celia could still not comprehend her daughter being in love with another woman.
Celia watched her, completely aghast, "Bigoted?! Who on Earth do you think you are? I couldn't give a monkey's what anyone else does, but when it comes to my daughter…"
Caroline gave an ironic shout of laughter and marched into the middle of the room, "Oh save me the middle England bullshit, please! I'm really not in the mood!"
Mercifully, at that moment Alan appeared in the doorway, "Everything alright in here? Only the whole house can hear you two at it."
Concern was etched across his kind face as he took in the furious expressions of both his wife and her daughter.
Caroline jabbed a finger angrily at her mother, "Ask her!" She snarled before storming from the room and pulling the door behind her with a satisfying slam.
XXXXX
After stomping up the stairs in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of her youngest son, Caroline marched into her bedroom and slammed that door shut as well, just for good measure.
As she stood facing the empty room, with the silence ringing in her ears, the headmistress was hit squarely by the irony of being a 45 year old woman storming off to her bedroom in the house that she owned.
She pushed herself away from the door frame and began to furiously pace up and down as anger seethed through her. She only stopped when she had calmed down enough to notice that her phone was buzzing in her pocket.
Pulling it free, she found a text from Gillian flashing across the screen.
So how did it go?
Caroline threw the phone onto bed in disgust and flopped down beside it. After a few seconds she snatched it up again and tapped out an irritable response.
Who said I even told her?!
She threw the phone back down onto the pillow, but it buzzed again almost immediately.
Oh please. In the whole time I've known u, u have never once kept ur gob shut about anything.
The headmistress snorted out a laugh and then squeezed her eyes shut as sudden tears pricked at the back of her lids. She sniffed angrily and continued typing.
Well, since you ask, it all went to shit…
And I'm about to murder my mother, so you might need to protect your father from becoming collateral damage.
She waited for Gillian's reply, watching impatiently as the bubbles to indicate typing appeared and disappeared several times. When the message finally arrived, if Caroline was expecting words of advice (or even eloquence) then she was sadly mistaken.
A one word response flashed before her.
Shit.
Caroline rolled her eyes, but as she stared at the single word filling the screen, she had to admit that it pretty much summed up the situation.
Do you know any other words?! What sort of advice is that for someone who just fucked everything up?
The phone buzzed in her hand.
Sorry...
My advice is go back in time & listen to me.
Helpful.
More bubbles appeared.
Well u r the only person who comes to me expecting actual advice.
I can see why.
U can always get pissed & pass out on my sofa again?
Tempting.
...I can give more great advice that u can ignore.
Caroline smiled weakly.
Thanks, but I think I'm just going to go with putting my mother in a home and turning her annex into a spa.
Okay. Make sure u include a sauna.
XXXXX
A knock on the bedroom door made Caroline jump. She looked up from her phone and sighed, "I'm not interested in talking to you, mother."
"No, mum, it's me."
Caroline's eyes widened in surprise, "William? Is something wrong?"
The door cracked open and her oldest son poked his head through the gap, "Lawrence said you were upset about something and that you fell out with gran?"
Caroline raised an eyebrow, "Lawrence shouldn't be prying."
Noticing his genuine concern, the blonde pulled herself upright on the bed, "I'm fine, William. I just need to be alone for a while."
William nodded wisely, "Okay, sure." He opened the door further and held out a mug, "I just thought you might like a cup of tea?"
In spite of her mood, the corners of Caroline's mouth twitch upwards into a small smile as as her eldest son walked towards her; her very own, slightly gangly, mop-haired guardian angel.
She wondered what she had ever done to deserve him.
"Thank you, William."
He put the mug down gently on the nightstand, "You're welcome."
Then he returned her smile with a reassuring one of his own, "And you can talk to me if you need to, you know?"
Reaching out, Caroline briefly squeezed his hand, 'I know.'
The blonde waited for her son to leave the room before she curled up in the foetal position. Her pillow smelled of Kate's shampoo, and Caroline breathed in the familiar scent with a pang of sadness as she closed her eyes and waited for the crappy day to finally end.