Hi all! Sorry for the delay in updating; things have been a bit hectic. Y'know: life! Hope this much needed conversation chapter makes up for it! Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

CHAPTER FIVE

It took a moment for Rachel to unfreeze. She saw Jonathan storm off to the car park; to leave, to calm down, she didn't know. She started towards the school, only pausing by her deputy.

"I-"

"I know," he said, his voice measured and his face blank, "just go after her."

She nodded gratefully, hurrying inside and looking down the corridors leading off from the main entrance, finding them empty. Belle must have been running.

"Miss!"

She turned around to find Bolton Smilie had re-entered the building. "Not now, Bolton, please-!"

The lad merely shook his head- he hadn't come to give her aggro. "You might wanna check the music room, Miss."

Shooting a small, appreciative smile his way, Rachel headed in that direction.

Belle, meanwhile, had tried to drown her screaming thoughts in her music, as she so often did, but as she played the familiar notes on the piano, she found herself repeating the same sections of music over again as she became more and more distracted. Her headteacher was her mother. Her headteacher was her mother. Her headteacher was her mother! The thought just went round and round in her head as her fingers darted across the keys, until eventually her mind had had enough. She hit the piano keys with both hands, creating a jarring, crashing cacophony of noise that she found strangely suiting.

"Hey."

Belle jumped, but didn't turn around. She'd been half expecting it. "Hey yourself." Her words came out harsh, and her voice was shaking from either anger or sadness- most likely both.

Rachel took a few tentative steps into the room, perching on the edge of one of the tables. Their position wasn't so different from that of their first conversation, and although they both privately acknowledged this, neither said anything. "I know this must be a lot to take it-"

Belle scoffed; shook her head; still didn't turn around to face Rachel. "It's the truth, then?"

Rachel could tell by the tension in her posture and word's that Belle was angry: a coiled spring waiting to jump. She cleared her throat and spoke softly. "Isabelle…"

The clatter of the piano stool made her jump as Belle stood up so fast she knocked it over. She shut the lid on the piano with a sharp bang and leaned against it, breathing heavily and still not trusting herself to look at the woman (her mother). "Is, it, true?" She ground out with a locked jaw.

"Yes," Rachel said simply- there was no use dodging it now, it would only hurt her daughter more, "it's true."

Belle finally turned round, and Rachel almost flinched at the fury being held in the girl's small body. IT was seething out of every inch: the clenched fists, the curled posture- like a lion about to attack, the clenched jaw, the narrowed eyes. Those hazel eyes so much like her own that were currently aimed, like torpedoes, at her. "How long have you known?" She said lowly.

Rachel swallowed. She'd been expecting several questions- why did you go, or why did you stay gone, or where have you been? She hadn't prepared for this most practical of questions. "A few weeks. Since I first talked to you properly."

Belle nodded. Not an unexpected answer. "Do any of the teachers know?"

Rachel's brows knotted together. She was unsure of this line of questioning, and the rage still emanating from the girl's eyes and body was not matched in her voice. "No, not yet."

Belle nodded again, jerkily. A deafening silence fell upon the room, the air between the mother and daughter thick with unsaid words and emotions- anger mixed with guilt mixed with anguish mixed with desperation.

Belle clenched and unclenched her fists a few times before letting out a breath and taking a few steps. At first Rachel thought she was moving towards her, but she didn't even spare her a glance as she headed for the door. Moving quickly, she caught the girl's arm and stopped her.

"Isabelle, please!"

That was it. Whether it was the words, or the tone of voice, or the fact that Rachel had made contact; that was it for Belle.

"NO!" She yelled, whirling round so fast Rachel had to take a step back. "No, you don't get to swan in here, all understanding and begging!" The anger that had been contained inside had exploded out, and Belle couldn't stop it. Everything was red, the room was red and her words were red and when she looked at the woman who'd given birth to her all she saw was a thick blanket of red. "You left me, not the other way around! So stop with your pleading looks, stop with your 'please's and STOP saying my NAME!" Belle was panting, her chest heaving with the ferocity of her words.

Rachel didn't know what to do, what to say. Belle was right: she had caused this. She had caused this and she didn't know how to stop causing it, how to take it all back and have her daughter by her side once more.

Belle wasn't finished. "You didn't want me, Rachel," she spat the name like it was a curse, like just saying it would burn her tongue, "you didn't want me then and you don't want me now."

Rachel just then realised why Belle had asked those two questions: she wanted to know if she'd had time to approach her, and she wanted to know if she'd been open enough to tell others. In her mind, Rachel's answers had meant that she knew who she was and still didn't want her, and it had meant that she was ashamed of her and didn't want others to know. She was wrong, the only person Rachel was ashamed of was herself. A tear escaped her eye. "That's not true, Belle."

"Ten years say differently!" Belle looked her up and down before meeting her eyes. "You're not my mum."

Belle ran from the room, wanting nothing more than to keep running, all the way to some distant place where none of her problems would stick around to bother her. She wanted to scream. To scream and to run… and maybe punch something on the way. But most of all, she wanted both of her parents to leave her the hell alone.

Rachel trudged back to her office, feeling somewhat numb. She hadn't meant for it to be like this. The accusations Isabelle had hurled at her had cut deep- but what hurt more was that they were, for the most part, true. She could hardly blame the girl for being angry- as much as she tried to deny it, she had abandoned her. Not intentionally, but when she found that Jonathan had taken her and left, she'd thought maybe that was for the best. Maybe Isabelle would be better off without her.

When she reached her office, she was unsurprised to find Eddie waiting for her. She closed the door gently behind her and turned to face him.

"I know I should have told you."

"Yeah, you should." Eddie's face was ever the unreadable mask to her.

She moved over to sit on the sofa, resting her head in her hands briefly before looking up at him. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

He sighed, and moved to sit on the adjacent sofa. "I know. It's not entirely your fault, I suppose," he caught her eye, "this is what you were trying to tell me earlier on, isn't it?"

She nodded and swiped at the tears on her face. "I just didn't know how to say it, and then we both got swept up in the drama, and…"

He reached over and tentatively bridged the gap between them, placing his hand comfortingly on her own. "I understand, Rach." He got a watery smile in return. "To be honest, you had every right to keep this to yourself, and you had no clue it would blow up at school like this."

"I forgot what a temper Jonathan had, honestly." Rachel shook her head.

"Yeah well, at least we know where Belle gets it from now." Eddie's attempt to lighten the mood fell mostly flat, other than a slight upwards twitch of Rachel's lips, which he counted as a minor victory. "Look, the only reason I think you should have told me is so that you weren't dealing with it alone."

This was enough to make the tears pooling in Rachel's eyes spill, as she squeezed her eyes shut and lifted the fingers not currently in contact with his to her mouth, pressing down to stop the sobs she could feel coming. Without thinking, she turned her other hand over and grasped his tightly, intertwining their fingers and allowing herself this small comfort. Why it was a comfort to hold hands with the deputy she was so often at loggerheads with was beyond her at that moment, but she didn't much care.

Eddie, for his part, allowed her to have her small breakdown without interruption, giving her space to compose herself; but he gripped her hand just as tightly, letting her know that he was there when she was finished.

After a minute or two, she heaved a breath and ran a hand over her face, wiping the tears away. "She hates me, Eddie."

He scoffed lightly. "No, she doesn't."

"Yes, she does. You should have seen the- the rage she had. I've never seen anything like it. She hates me-" Eddie opened his mouth to protest again, but she cut him off "-and she's right to."

"Rachel…"

"No, Eddie. She's right- Jonathan was right- I abandoned her. My own daughter. What kind of person does that make me?"

"A normal one. You're only human, Rach, you make mistakes just like the rest of us. And whether you've done it consciously or not, I reckon you've spent your entire career making up for your mistake. Never giving up on a child, trying to make a difference in their lives? You don't think your passion and your drive now stems from your choices back then?"

"You don't even know what happened back then, Eddie, how could you possibly-"

"So tell me."

She looked into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity, and compassion. So she did. She told him the whole story. How she'd started a relationship with Jonathan Munroe in university and how barely two months in, she'd found out she was pregnant. She'd been on the pill, but had caught a sick bug and hadn't considered how that would affect the medication, and thus: Isabelle Jean Munroe was born. They'd raised her together but not really together until she was five. They'd been happy, found a norm. She'd taken a longer course so she could stay with her daughter, graduated several years after her peers. She hadn't minded...much. She'd then needed to take the teaching course on top of her degree, and had received an offer from UCL and had taken it, but Jonathan hadn't wanted to move away from his job at his high-powered law firm, so he'd offered to stay with Isabelle for the two years it took Rachel to qualify.

Rachel told Eddie how she'd left her daughter. How she'd tried to keep in touch, call at least once a week, but how Jon had slowly pulled away, always citing a busy schedule or a need to get Isabelle fed or bathed or put to bed. How when she returned to the house she'd left them in, it was empty. How he'd blocked her number. How she'd just accepted it. Not called a lawyer or the police or even his family to track them down. She'd just left it. Left her.

Eddie listened patiently, squeezing her hand every now and then in support. And when she finished, he moved to sit directly next to her, on the same sofa. "Rachel, you were young. You were overwhelmed. God knows I didn't make the best decisions in my twenties! All you can do for her now is make it up to her."

Rachel shook her head, staring at her lap. "She doesn't want me. She told me! She looked me in the eyes, and she told me I wasn't her mother!"

"But you are!" He tugged on her hand, making her look up at him. "You are her mother, and you always will be. Belle will come around eventually, she just… she needs time to wrap her head around it, I think."

She gave a slow nod, wiping the last of the tears from her face. He had a way of calming her down. She didn't know how he did it, but he had a habit of reminding her of the rational when she became worked up. She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Eddie. And I really am sorry for keeping you out of the loop."

"You don't need to thank me and you don't need to apologise. I think you do need a drink, though. I'm buying."

She was tempted to turn him down and retreat to the sanctuary of her home, but after the events of the day, she conceded that maybe she shouldn't be on her own.

"If you insist."