I’ve been able to do that for ages! I could do that in creche!’
I study my daughter’s defeated face in the mirror. She’s quick for her age, always trying to do things she’s a little too young for. I recognise that – it’s exactly what I used to be like.
‘Shall I teach you to write a few letters?’
‘You can’t do that,’ Valerie giggles. ‘You’re not a teacher!’
‘Yes, I am. For big children.’
‘Oh yeah,’ she says. ‘Well, all right then. When we get home?’
‘When we get home,’ I promise as I turn on the radio. Valerie joins in with Robbie Williams’ latest hit. ‘Sing, Mummy! Sing!’
We sing until we turn into Juliana van Stolberg Avenue in Hillegersberg and park in front of the house. And then I realise that I’d managed to forget about Bilal for the past fifteen minutes.
‘I’ve told you enough times that you should leave that place! This cannot happen again!’ Raoul says.
I didn’t make chips, but a curry dish as a treat. Raoul got home at half past five and it was really hard not to assail him immediately. I waited until we had finished dinner. Afterwards we stayed at the table chatting as usual, while Valerie watched TV, leaving us to talk in peace.
‘How many times have I told you to look for a better school? That bunch aren’t worth wasting your time on. I hope you’ve finally realised that. You’ve got a child of your own here who needs you, you know.’ Raoul leans back a little, one hand on the table, one on the arm of his chair and looks at me with a mixture of compassion and exasperation.
‘Excuse me, are you trying to say that it’s my fault? That I asked for this?’
‘No, of course not.’ Raoul leans over the table towards me and places his hand on top of mine. He asks if I can deny that I work in the kind of environment where this kind of thing happens. He’s always been worried about something like this, he says, and he hopes I’ll finally see sense.
‘See sense?’ I repeat.
‘You can start at Software International right away if you like.’
I sigh and study the congealed curry on my plate, the grains of rice on the white tablecloth, and the yellow stains around Valerie’s place. I’ve never managed to convey the satisfaction I get from teaching to Raoul. He only seems to see the problems. He calls my work ‘farting into the wind’. If I were to transfer to Saint Laurens College, a private school in Hillegersberg, he might be able to understand it, but a poor, state school.
‘It’s not all trouble at school,’ I say. ‘I have a great time with most of the students. I feel like I can affect their lives in a positive way, and I don’t just mean in terms of their education. You know that.’
Raoul doesn’t look like he does know. He remains silent.
‘So you’re just going to carry on,’ he says eventually. ‘Despite the students you’re working your ass off for coming at you with knives. Are you surprised that I find your logic hard to follow?’
‘I do understand your point, but every profession has its risks,’ I say. ‘If you were a policeman, I wouldn’t keep banging on at you to find safer work, would I?’
‘I sell software,’ Raoul reminds me.
‘But you wanted to be a pilot and you would have been if your eyesight had been good enough,’ I say. ‘That’s not a job without risks.’
Raoul raises his hands in the air and lets them drop. ‘Fine! Go and teach those half-wits tomorrow. Pretend that nothing has happened. But tell me how I’m going to explain it to Valerie when her mother gets seriously injured one day.’
‘Don’t exaggerate, Raoul. You’re acting like this happens on a daily basis.’
‘Once is enough as far as I’m concerned.’
I’m bewildered. I’d have been better off saying nothing. Instead of being worried and supportive, he’s twisted it into proof that I shouldn’t teach. Don’t get me wrong, I love Raoul dearly, but sometimes he’s got the sensitivity of a grizzly bear. A memory flashes through my mind: Valerie wanting to cycle without training wheels and being too impatient to wait for Raoul after he’d unscrewed them. She rode off and of course she crashed. There she was on the ground with a bloody nose and grazed knees. The first thing Raoul did was to ask her why she hadn’t listened to him. He picked her up and consoled her afterwards, but I would have done it the other way round.
I stack up the plates and dishes and take them to the kitchen where I rinse the scraps of food off the plates. I finish clearing the table with agitated movements and shake out the tablecloth outside. Raoul doesn’t get up or come over to me until I’ve put the vase of peonies back on the table and pushed the chairs in. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me towards him. I let him kiss my neck, but don’t react to his tenderness.
‘I’m upset by it, don’t you understand that?’ Raoul says softly.
I lean back against him and feel his body warmth through my clothes.
‘I’m upset too,’ I say. ‘A bit of understanding and support would be nice.’
‘Sorry,’ Raoul says, his cheek against mine. ‘Have the police already done anything?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I didn’t report it.’
‘Oh?’
I hear the amazement in his voice and brace myself, but his reaction takes me by surprise.
‘Oh well, I don’t suppose there’s much they could do.’
Raoul pulls me even more tightly towards him, ‘If he’d really stabbed you, he’d have gone to prison, but I think they’d only caution him and let him go for this.’
I study the bright peonies on the table. ‘Yes,’ I say finally, after my day of turmoil, reflection and changes of mind. ‘That’s what I think as well.’
We go to bed late. I have a hot, soothing shower and as I dry myself and apply night cream, I hear Raoul checking the locks more attentively than usual and I’m glad that he’s here to make me feel safe. I snuggle against him in bed and close my eyes with a deep sense of security.
‘Sleep well.’ Raoul kisses me on the forehead.
‘Sleep well,’ I murmur.
I’m exhausted, but after an hour I’m still curled up against Raoul, waiting to fall asleep. I roll onto my other side. Raoul is snoring lightly and I tap him before it gets any louder. I know what’s coming next.
‘What is it?’ Raoul mumbles, drunk with sleep.
‘You’re
