Too Good for this World Read Free

with
her mum as she had done as a teenager, as though becoming a widow
at twenty-eight had made her regress back to childhood. She threw
the newspaper into her bedroom and closed the door. She’d look at
it later. Or maybe she wouldn’t.

2012
    ‘We should go
for it,’ Jonny said, ‘we should do it now. There’s no reason to
wait any longer.’ He was talking about a book he’d just read. A
book about some guy who’d gone off to live in the woods, and was
apparently having a great time.
    ‘We’ve got
jobs,’ Imogen said. She was cooking spaghetti Bolognese in the
little kitchen in their flat, while Jonny was “helping”, slicing
vegetables distractedly while he talked with his eyes intense and
wild, his hands moving rapidly. ‘Everything I’ve read,’ he said,
‘it makes sense. People aren’t designed to live in the world the
way it is. We’re designed to survive- to cope with immediate
dangers and needs. You’re always saying you’re stressed out. It’s
because the world makes you like that- all these every day worries
dragging you down. We have to pare everything back… pare everything
back so that all that matters is staying alive and getting from one
day to the next, and our feelings can be raw and true and
immediate-’
    ‘Jonny, I
don’t know if I could live in the wild,’ Imogen said. She was
tired, and hungry, and she just wanted to eat. ‘I don’t know how to
live like that, not really. I know we’ve sort of tried it for short
periods, on holidays and things, but that’s not the same as doing
it all the time. And there isn’t really wilderness in England. Not
like you’re talking about. Do you mean for us to move to a
different country, away from all our family and friends?’ She
thought for a while and something else occurred to her. ‘What about
when we have children-’ she started.
    ‘It’ll be
better for children.’
    ‘But… what
about schools?’
    ‘You’re a
teacher,’ Jonny said, ‘you could teach them.’
    Imogen shook
her head. ‘I’m an English teacher,’ she said, ‘what if our children
wanted to go to university to do a different subject? I can’t teach
them to a level where they’d be accepted on their course,
especially not if they want to do maths or science or something.
And children need social skills as well. They can’t learn all that
from us, they need to learn it from being with other children and
being involved with the world.’
     
    Jonny sliced
celery with frenzied abandon. ‘On the news the other day they were
talking about what percentage of teenagers had thought about
committing suicide, and it was… it was… well, I can’t remember the
numbers. But it was too high, Imogen! It was far too high. Children
are under way too much pressure nowadays. The world isn’t right for
children. In fact… I’d rather… I’d rather not have them at all than
bring them into a fucked up world like this.’
    Imogen stopped
cooking and hugged him. ‘Jonny,’ she said, ‘don’t get upset. If we
decide to go and live somewhere else we don’t want it to be because
we’re running away. We want it to be because we believe we’ll be
happy.’

2015
    The day in the
café passed in a haze. When Imogen stumbled outside after her shift
was over she struggled to remember what had happened while she had
been there. She took out her phone, and to her surprise it was open
on the website of the school where the teaching job was being
advertised. She made her way over to a bench and sat staring at the
screen. It didn’t make any sense. She hadn’t looked up the school
on her phone, and why would anyone else have done? As quickly as
she asked that question she realised the answer. It must have been
her mum.
    Back at home
Imogen turned on her laptop. She thought she might have a closer
look at the school and the job, but before she could type in a
search the school’s website opened on the screen in front of her.
Her skin prickled. She looked around her,