The Salad Dressing and Other Disasters

Expelled

Dad was hacking away at a block of cheddar. 

The cheese was bigger than his head. 

We watched him as he finally got a good hunk of it off. 

He cut little bits off then popped them on some crackers, scooping up some chutney with a knife. Frankly, the tension involved in all of this was unbearable. 

He wielded this knife at me: 

'Sit down Claire'. 

I'd just come in from school. All I wanted was to go to my bedroom, flip off the lights, flop on my bed and shut the door and wait for Deirdre Herself (one eyed cat) to come and lie on my back. 

But at his commanding voice, I dropped my bag with a thud. It had two brick heavy text books in it - Biology and Physics. Well, I thought, I wouldn't be needing those again. 

He took a difficult bite, the chutney coming out of the sides of his mouth like toothpaste from a two ends of a tube. I took in mum's nervous glances and Joe's huffing and puffing and Martin trying and failing to get our attention as we all waited for Dad to finish chewing. Joe was clearly itching to start his video game marathon that usually lasted until 4am. We could hear the dining room clock ticking like a time bomb. It was unbearable, really, the wait for him to say, to finally say what I'd been waiting for him to say since Wednesday when the report card had come into his gmail inbox:

'I have one word for you Clare.' he said, wiping the crumbs from his mouth, 'report card.'

'That's two words' I mumbled. But alas it was like I hadn't spoken at all. 

'They sent it through' he gulped down a bit of cracker, 'via recorded delivery'.

'Oh'. My voice came through very small indeed. 

'Having already' he paused for deliberate effect, thankfully wiping his mouth a bit with a red napkin 'sent it through by email'.

This was unexpected and terrible news.

'But then, you'll have superior knowledge of this fact, having opened my gmail yourself the moment it pinged through, and then, promptly deleted it...'

Mum pushed a plate toward me with a frangipan and six grapes. She mimed cutting off a bit of cheese and putting it on a cracker, then gave me her Princess Diana look with the eyes. She was always giving me food and the Diana look when Dad was doing his extreme parenting. Mum rarely did any extreme parenting herself, preferring to take me shopping for sparkly nail polish. I watched the plate roll around in a circular motion before coming to a decisive stop. I poked suspiciously at the frangipan with a little antique fork that belonged to my grandmother. 

 Mum's frangipanis were always dry because she got them in the reduced isle in the supermarket. Martin jumped up on my lap while I did this. He sensitive cat who could sense I was in trouble. He was always defending me, Martin whilst Deirdre Herself slunk away as if she was jealous but trying not to show it.

'You'd have found it in the deleted messages, father' I said pointedly, 'had you not been such a luddite'. 

'Luddite or technophile, Claire, I'm not so past it that I cannot use a telephone. And, in light of this, I have just been speaking with school about you report card. Not good news I'm afraid.' 

Joe, whose addiction to video games meant he struggled to get through a meal, was making some kind of fort, with a frangipani roof out of the cheese and cutlery. He was envisaging what he was going to do on Minecraft as soon as he'd been set free. Something on it- a teaspoon- fell with a clatter.

'Why does Joe have to be here for this?' I said.

'Because this is a family decision. What is about to happen next will affect all of us.'

This was even worse news. Gosh what was coming? I thought distractedly that maybe I was going to be sent to live with Aunt Mildred, Teacher and Tyrant.

'Am I going to have to go and live with Mildred?' 

Mum shook her head. 

'Not Mildred' Dad said, giving the voice of authority to mum's gestures as usual. 

'However we must come to the point now Clare.' 

Dad drew himself up to his full height at the head of the table. Even from a seating position he looked imposing. 'You won't be returning to Gallus Grove after the summer. You've been expelled with immediate effect. They didn't want to tell you to your face. They told us instead. But the good news is you're going to have a fresh start. We're sending you to boarding school. And we're putting your room on Airbnb to pay for the fees.'

Expelled! Here was a frightening word. It was a word I only knew from nineteenth century novels where an unwashed boy might end up working in a coal mine or a glue factory. 

Mum hadn't touched her frangipani. Joe's eyes were begging to leave the table.

'We are both disappointed', she tried, but the words fell like spaghetti thrown against the wall. 

'No one' 

announced dad in one further theatrical speech before he descended into his current state of silence 

'has ever been expelled from Gallus Grove in 50 years of our family attending there. Everyone loved Gallus Grove. I loved Gallus Grove. Your brother loves Gallus Grove. Your great grandfather loved Gallus Grove so much he went there twice. 

I woke up the next morning under my My Little Pony duvet cover over my head. To tell the truth I was relieved I didn't have to go. Under some strange privacy thing, I had to phone the school office to say I was ill, so that I could be marked ill, so that the school could keep themselves legal or something. 

Dad went off to work in a huff. 

Mum came in with food: bacon actually and eggs. So far being expelled was alright.