Page 5 of The Absence of You
Opening a file in front of him, he looks down and then back up at me, studying my face as he thrums his fingers on the table. I swallow audibly, waiting for him to say something.
“So… Dahlia. I can see from your file that Heathley Academy is a little different from your previous educational experience.” I bite back a scoff. Talk about an understatement.
“Yes, sir. But I’m keen to learn, and I’m looking forward to the challenge.” I cringe as the words leave my mouth, but I do mean to make the best of the opportunity.
“Your previous grades are excellent, I can see that. I can also see from our records that your parents are previous Heathley students, so I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“I’m sorry that’s incorrect. Only my dad was a student here, not my mum.” I knew from the little Dee had told me growing up about my dad that he was a Heathley Academy graduate. But my mum wasn’t from a privileged background. She’d lost both her parents young, and we’d always found it hard to make ends meet even before her struggles with alcohol. “She wouldn’t have been able to afford the fees.” He frowns and glances back down at my file.
“I believe she was here on an academic scholarship. Her fees would have been paid for.” I don’t understand. When I was younger, Dee had tried on many occasions to talk my mum into letting me attend the academy, but she’d always ended the conversation straight away. Why would Mum have kept it from me that she was a student here herself?
Mr. Canning would have no reason to make it up, and it wasn’t like I could ask either of my parents. I have no contact with my dad, and I’m not allowed to get in touch with my mum for the first six weeks of her rehab programme. I make a mental note to ask Dee about it when I get home. Mr. Canning clears his throat, snapping me out of my train of thought.
“I hope I’m not overstepping, but your grandmother mentioned that your mother has been having a difficult time, and I can only assume that life hasn’t been easy for either of you. Please know my door is always open if you need someone to talk to. My daughter Meghan is in your year, and she and her friends will do their best to make you feel welcome. I hope you enjoy your time here, Dahlia. I know it’s very different to what you’re used to, but as I said, please come and see me anytime, if you need anything at all.”
I head out of Mr Canning’s office and realise my first lesson is nearly over, so instead of going to find the classroom, I decide to wander around and find my locker and get a bit of a feel for the place while the halls are empty.
The inside of the building is just as grandiose as the outside. It’s three floors high, but what hadn’t been obvious from the front, is that it’s built in a U shape around a picturesque courtyard. It looks empty so I find a door which leads outside and sit down on one of the wooden benches, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on my face. Mr. Canning seemed like a decent guy, but I’m still reeling from the revelation that my mum studied here, that she’d walked these halls. Maybe she’d even sat on this bench. There is so much I need to ask her. I’m not loving that she’s lied to me, or at least omitted that she came here, and that she denied me a better education when Dee offered it more than once. The peace is shattered when a bell rings out. I can’t miss another lesson, so I grab my bag and head back indoors.
The halls are filled with students. They’re coming from both directions, barging past me as I walk down the corridor, looking for classroom twenty-two. Shit, I must have missed it. I seem to have gone past the same room twice now. I curse myself for not accepting the guide I was offered. The throng of other students make it impossible for me to work out where I’m supposed to be, as the doors keep swinging open and closed.
When I eventually find my classroom, because of course it’s the last one in the row, the halls are empty again, and I know I am going to be walking in late. I push the door open, finding the class already seated in silence. This is not a great start. The teacher is standing at the front and looks up with a glare.
“Don’t just stand there,” she snaps at me. “Come in. Class, our new student has finally graced us with her presence. So that we don’t have any further interruptions, please introduce yourself quickly and find a seat.” I turn to the class, realising the only empty seat is unfortunately in the front row. Shit, I hate this sort of thing, much preferring to stay out of the spotlight. The teachers in my old sixth form didn’t give a toss if a new student started, that’s if they even noticed. Without looking up, I mumble,
“I, er, my name is Dahlia. I’ve just moved here from Liverpool.” I’m not sure what else she expects me to say, and my eyes fix on the empty seat, so I cut my losses and throw my bag down before sliding into the chair. The teacher goes back to the lesson, and I pray the other staff don’t insist on me introducing myself.
Thankfully the rest of the lesson flies by. I’ve read the required text before, so it’s more like revision for me. I’d been worrying about being behind with the work, but I flick through the rest of the term’s syllabus, and I don’t find anything I won’t be able to cope with. I even answer a couple of questions during the lesson, and the teacher nods in approval at my contributions.
There’s a ten-minute break before the next class, so I head to the nearest washroom to freshen up. I’m in the cubicle when I overhear a couple of girls chatting.
“Did you see the new girl? My dad pulled me this morning, told me to make her feel welcome. Well, he’s fucking deluded if he thinks I’ll be hanging around with her. What the actual fuck did she have on her feet?”
“I know, what a tramp! And her hair! Ew, is that even a colour? Has she never heard of a hairdresser? My eyes are personally offended.” The two girls burst out laughing. “Why’s your dad so bothered about her? He doesn’t normally make you roll out the welcoming committee for new students.”
“She’s poor or some shit.” The noise from the hand dryer drowns the rest of what they’re saying. So much for Mr. Canning’s promise of his daughter Meghan looking out for me.
I wait a few minutes until I’m sure they’ve left before I come out and wash my hands. I study my reflection in the mirror behind the row of sinks. My hair is the same colour it’s been my whole life, light brown with a few natural highlights from the sun. I’d never really cared about my appearance, and even if I’d wanted to change my hair colour, it wasn’t like I had the spare cash to pay for the upkeep. I didn’t make enough in my part-time job to pay for anything but the bills. The girls from my old school would dye each other’s hair to make it more affordable, but I’d never done the whole sleepover and makeover thing.
I’m not ashamed of who I am. Their insults sting, but I’ve heard worse. Seems it doesn’t matter where you go to school, bitchy girls are all the same. Never mind that most of them are grown adults, so they should know better.
The toilet door swings open and a stream of girls walk in, so I dry my hands quickly and leave. Maybe one of the reasons my mum didn’t want me to come here was because she had firsthand experience of not fitting in.
Chapter Five
DAHLIA
AGE 15
“Me too. See you at Christmas. Love you.” I hung up the phone and let out a long breath. The disappointment in Dee’s voice was obvious when I told her I wouldn’t be coming to stay next week for the half term holiday. I had basically lied to her and told her I had an important school project due in a few weeks. I do have a project due, that much was true, but I could just as easily do the work at her house. The real reason I wasn’t visiting was because I’d begun working in a local café, and I was worried the owner wouldn’t keep me on if I said I needed to take holidays so soon. The pay was terrible and I was only allowed to clear tables and wash dishes, but we needed the extra money so I was willing to take whatever I could get.
Mum phoned in sick at the nursing home again this week, and I knew it would go down as unpaid leave, as she’d used up all her sick allowance. She was missing too many shifts, and her benefits weren’t enough to pay the bills.
Dee accepted my excuse, not questioning for a second that I might not be telling the truth, and I felt sick about it. She saw the best in everyone. Grayson would know instantly I was lying, it was impossible for me to keep anything from him, so instead of telling him directly, I asked Dee to let him know. We didn’t talk on the phone during the school term anyway, so he wouldn’t think it was strange I’d asked Dee to pass the message on. In the holidays we saw so much of each other we had no need to call, and although we swapped numbers once we both got a mobile phone, I rarely used mine. It was an ancient handset of my mum’s, and it was so slow it couldn’t run any apps so I only kept it charged for emergency calls. For the first time I was actually glad I only had that old thing, as he wouldn’t think it was unusual to not hear from me.
I was disappointed I wouldn’t see them both next week, but in a few months, Mum would be better, and we could put this whole thing behind us.
DAHLIA - PRESENT
