Watching You: A Novel

‘You know,’ said Freddie’s dad, later that evening, ‘I’m starting to really like your hair. Genuinely. It suits you. You’ll be fighting the girls off now, I reckon.’

Freddie threw his dad a withering look. ‘That is the single most hopelessly inept dad thing that you have ever said. And you have said a lot of hopelessly inept dad things.’

His dad laughed. ‘Just trying to be, you know …’

Freddie put his hand in front of his father’s face. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just no. You’re not cut out for this kind of repartee, so it’s best you don’t try.’

‘OK,’ said his dad. ‘OK. I’ll back off. But you do look very handsome.’

Freddie nodded the compliment away. This conversation was unnerving him. When he wasn’t with his dad, when he was thinking about his dad, or looking at the marks on his mum’s neck or talking about his dad with Jenna Tripp, the man loomed in his consciousness like an angry bear: dark and lethal, capable of anything. But here, in the soft evening light, the radio murmuring in the background, his dad sitting with him, cool and calm in a baby blue lambswool sweater, being the sweet to Freddie’s sour, the concept of his dad being a predator or a wife-beater – it all seemed mildly ridiculous.

‘There’s a girl that I like,’ he found himself saying. ‘Her name’s Romola.’

‘Oh!’ His dad glanced up from his laptop, his eyes wide. ‘I see. And who is this girl?’

‘She’s from St Mildred’s. She’s in year ten. She’s new.’

‘And?’ said his dad. ‘What’s the deal? Have you asked her out?’

‘No,’ Freddie said. ‘Not yet. I want to ask her to a dance.’

‘How very old-fashioned.’

‘No it’s not,’ said Freddie. ‘What’s old-fashioned about asking a girl to a dance? It’s timeless, isn’t it? What about you?’ he began, sensing a space in the conversation to dig a little. ‘How did you ask Mum out for your first date?’

‘Well, I would say there was never really a first-date scenario. We just got chatting on a bus. She recognised me from her school days.’

‘You mean she was at your school?’

He watched his father closely for signs of bristling. ‘At my school? You mean, where I taught?’

‘Yes.’

Freddie saw definite signs of bristling.

‘No. Well, not exactly. There may have been a brief overlap, between me starting and her leaving. But I didn’t know her then. And then we bumped into each other on the bus, and the rest is history.’

‘When she was nineteen?’

‘Yes. When she was nineteen.’

‘And you were thirty-five?’

‘Yes, or thereabouts.’

‘Did anyone mind?’

‘Mind?’

‘Yes. Like her family? Did they mind that she was dating her old teacher? Didn’t they think it was a bit weird?’

‘No,’ his dad said, too fast, too firm. ‘It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t your mum’s teacher. I never taught her. She just happened to be at the school where I worked. That’s all there was to it.’ He banged down the lid of his laptop and got to his feet.

‘Have you ever had an affair, Dad?’

‘What!’

‘I mean, have you ever been unfaithful to Mum?’

‘What on earth …? I mean, why on earth would you even ask a question like that?’

‘Because women seem to like you. And Mum is a bit annoying. And maybe sometimes you regret choosing her and wish you could be with someone else.’

His father shook his head slowly. ‘Freddie Fitzwilliam, you do say the strangest things.’

‘Why is that strange? I think it’s perfectly rational. Loads of men have affairs. Even really ugly men with crap jobs have affairs. And you’re … well, you’re not ugly and you don’t have a crap job.’

‘Gosh, thank you, Freddie. I’m flattered.’

‘It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment.’

‘No, Freddie. I know it wasn’t.’ His father paused and closed his laptop. He slid it into its padded case and looked at Freddie. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I have never been unfaithful to your mother. And neither have I ever wanted to be.’

‘Not even with Viva?’ he said, speculatively.

‘Viva?’

‘Yes. The girl from the school where you taught whose mum was hitting you in the Lake District. It would explain why she was so angry with you.’

He stared at his father unflinchingly. It was possibly the worst thing of all the bad things that he had ever said to his father. He saw a muscle twitch in the corner of his mouth. The soft shawl of geniality was slipping. There was the angry bear. Right there.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I have no idea who Viva is. Or was. But I have never had an affair with a student and I most certainly would never dream of such a thing.’