37.
Jess
Norman came home. Mr Adamson gave them a discount because, he said, the case had been ‘fascinating’. Jess had thought he was referring to Norman’s injuries, but it turned out one of the veterinary nurses had read Nicky’s blog after Tanzie had mentioned it, and the vet had meant he was fascinated that Norman had, against all expectations and his normal characteristics, roused himself to try to protect Tanzie.
‘And we have to help a hero, don’t we, old chap?’ he said, patting Norman’s side. The way the vet spoke to him, and the way that Norman immediately flopped to the ground for a tummy scratch, made Jess think this was not the first time he’d done it. As the vet dropped right down onto the floor she caught a glimpse of the man beyond the careful professional manner. His broad smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he looked at the dog. And she heard Nicky’s phrase running through her head, as it had done for days: the kindness of strangers.
‘I’m glad you made the decision you did, Mrs Thomas,’ he said, pushing himself back onto his feet while they diplomatically ignored the pistol crack of his knees. Norman stayed on his back, his tongue lolling, ever hopeful. Or perhaps just too fat to get up. ‘He deserved his chance. If I’d known how his injuries had come about I would have been a bit less reticent about proceeding.’
Jess paid with her pre-loaded credit card. She put twenty pounds in the animal charity box. Yes, it could probably have been usefully spent elsewhere, but it felt like the right thing to do.
Tanzie stayed pressed close to Norman’s enormous black body as they lumbered home, clutching his lead like a lifeline. The walk from the vet’s was the first time she had been outside in three weeks and hadn’t insisted on holding Jess’s hand.
Jess had hoped that having him back would lift her daughter’s spirits. But Tanzie was still a little shadow, tailing her silently around the house, peering around corners, waiting anxiously beside her form teacher at the end of the day for Jess’s arrival at the school gates. At home she read in her room, or lay silently on the sofa watching cartoons, one hand resting on the dog beside her. Mr Tsvangarai had been off since term restarted – some family emergency – and Jess felt a reflexive sadness when she pictured him discovering Tanzie’s determination to push mathematics from her life, the disappearance of the singular, quirky little girl she’d been. Sometimes she felt as if she had simply traded one unhappy, silent child for another.
St Anne’s rang to discuss Tanzie’s orientation day at the school, and Jess had to tell them that she wasn’t coming. The words were a squat dry frog in her throat.
‘Well, we do recommend it, Mrs Thomas. We find the children settle a lot better if they’ve familiarized themselves a little. It’s good for her to meet a few fellow pupils as well. Is it a problem with getting time off from her current school?’
‘No. I mean she – she’s not coming.’
‘At all?’
‘No.’
A short silence.
‘Oh,’ said the registrar. Jess heard her flicking through papers. ‘But this is the little girl with the ninety per cent scholarship, yes? Costanza?’
She felt herself colour. ‘Yes.’
‘Is she going to Petersfield Academy instead? Did they offer her a scholarship too?’
‘No. That’s not it,’ Jess replied. She closed her eyes as she spoke. ‘Look, I don’t suppose … Is there any way you could … increase the scholarship any further?’
‘Further?’ She sounded taken aback. ‘Mrs Thomas, it was already the most generous scholarship we’ve ever offered. I’m sorry, but there’s no question.’
Jess pressed on, glad that nobody could see her shame. ‘If I could get the money together by next year would you consider deferring her place?’
‘I’m not sure whether that would be possible. Or even if it would be fair to the other candidates.’ She hesitated, perhaps suddenly conscious of Jess’s silence. ‘But of course we’d certainly look at her favourably if ever she did want to reapply.’
Jess stared at the spot on the carpet where Marty had brought a motorbike into the front room and it had leaked oil. A huge lump had risen into her throat. ‘Well, thank you for letting me know.’
‘Look, Mrs Thomas,’ the woman said, her voice suddenly conciliatory, ‘there’s still another week to go before we have to close the place. We’ll hold it for you until the last possible minute.’
‘Thank you. That’s very kind of you. But, really, there’s no point.’
Jess knew it and the woman knew it. It wasn’t going to happen for them. Some leaps were just too big to make.
She asked Jess to pass on her best wishes to Tanzie for her new school. As she put the phone down Jess could hear her already scanning her lists for the next suitable candidate.
She didn’t tell Tanzie. She suspected she already knew. Two nights previously she discovered Tanzie had removed all her maths books from her cupboard and stacked them with Jess’s remaining books on the upstairs landing, inserting them carefully between thrillers and a historical romance so that she wouldn’t notice. Jess removed them carefully and put them in a neat pile in her wardrobe, where they couldn’t be seen. She wasn’t sure if this was saving Tanzie’s feelings or her own.
Marty received the solicitor’s letter and rang, protesting and blustering about why he couldn’t pay. She told him it was out of her hands. She said she hoped they could be civil about it. She told him his children needed shoes. He didn’t mention coming down at half-term.