Page 109 of The Rest is History
‘What? Oh, yeah, she’s fine. Liddie, you’ll never guess what thefuckhas happened.’ She’s practically hyperventilating.
I sit up straight. ‘What?’
‘I just had a call from Woodland House.’ Her voice wavers. ‘Sorry, I’m really emotional. Lid, one Charles David Vaughan has paid Olive’s school fees forall of next year.Twenty-one fucking grand!’
I put my fist to my mouth, the tears coming in even before I’ve properly processed what my sister is saying.
Charlie’s paid Olive’s school fees? The whole shebang? Why the fuck would he do that? That’s not even a grand gesture—it’s madness.
‘Well, obviously we can’t accept it,’ I say, pulling myself back to reality.
‘No, obviously not,’ Grace says, her disappointment palpable down the phone line.
‘I mean, it’s crazy.’
‘Maybe he’s trying to make it up to you for hurting you?’
‘Money doesn’t make up for breaking someone’s heart,’ I tell her sternly.
‘No, of course not.’
‘But why would he do that? It’s not like Olive’s my kid.’
‘Did he know you were helping with the fees?’ she asks.
‘Yeah.’ The fog is clearing slowly, clarity dawning. ‘Yeah, he did. He knew that was why I took this job. And that was why he offered me the Anne Boleyn gig—he knew I needed money.’ At least, that was how he pitched it to me initially. I like to think he had other motives.
‘So maybe he doesn’t want you to worry. He knows you’re out of a job from next month, right?’
Right. Or maybe he’s just trying to buy his way out of his guilt. I sigh.
‘I’ll go talk to him.’
CHARLIE
She was wearing the dress this morning at assembly.
You know.Thedress. The one I unbuttoned that first time I uncovered her body properly in the stationery cupboard. It’s long and denim and fitted, with generous, slippery buttons that help a man out when he’s trying to undress the beautiful wearer.
I have no idea whether she was wearing it to fuck with me.
No matter.
It worked.
Seeing her so close, having her right next to me for the duration of the assembly,touchingme, was a diabolical head fuck of epic proportions. It made me realise I’ve overestimated my own strength. Not only will riding out the end of the school year in proximity with her be unbearable, but Phil’s suggestion that I take the deputy head role to open up my job for Elodie is swiftly becoming unthinkable.
Not because of the sacrifice I’d be making by giving up my beloved subject matter in favour of a managerial role. I’d do that in a heartbeat for El.
But because, right now, the only thing that’s keeping me going is the knowledge that we have a month left of term before she and I part ways. And while that will be a gut-wrenching split, it’s better than the alternative.
Years and years of seeing her.
Working with her.
Loving her from afar.
Having to bear witness to the thing I tell myself I want for Elodie. Her falling in love and building a family.
