by Sarah Picson
‘What about the barmaid at the pub?’ she demanded, unable to bring herself to say Scarlette’s name aloud, it felt dirty in her mouth.
‘Who?’
‘You know who!’ she cried, clenching her fists in frustration. ‘She was working the night of our engagement party. You were with her on Friday afternoon, weren’t you?’
‘Enough of these stupid questions!’ He slammed the can of beer down on the kitchen unit so hard that it made her jump. Feeling the force of Dominic’s intractable gaze on her, her whole body stiffened. ‘I will not be interrogated in my own home. I miss one appointment and you’re getting at me, making these crazy accusations. You’re overreacting about the whole thing.’
Reaching into his pocket, Dominic pulled out a packet of cigarettes. With a click of his silver lighter, he lit one. The air in the kitchen grew heavy around Ellie and her breathing became shallow as the thick, acrid fumes of the cigarette smoke threatening to suffocate her.
Dominic rarely smoked in the cottage, he knew she couldn’t stand it, but he stood before her now, his eyes flashing as he took a long drag on his cigarette.
‘I’m going to the pub.’
He strode into the hallway and Ellie heard the jangle of his keys as he grabbed them from the hook, followed by the slam of the front door. She sank back against the wall, her body quivering from a confrontation in which she had failed to get any of the answers she craved.
~
Something jolted Ellie awake. She cracked open an eye. The bedroom was in darkness, but she could make out Dominic’s outline moving around. Her alarm clock flashed five o’clock and she assumed he must have come home from the pub and fallen asleep downstairs on the sofa, as he often did. The bed sagged under Dominic’s weight as he dropped down beside her with a soft grunt. Ellie curled herself up tightly into a ball with her back to him and it wasn’t until she heard his rhythmic snoring that she slipped out of bed.
As Ellie took a quick shower and had her breakfast, she couldn’t help but wonder if Dominic had seen her at the pub last night, that’s if he’d gone to the pub at all. She pushed her half-eaten bowl of cereal aside, her appetite abandoning her. Tears stung her eyes but she brushed them aside and marched out of the cottage.
Ellie was the first to arrive at work at Thistleby High School. It was a large secondary school, accommodating not only children from Thistleby but also those from smaller villages nestled on its outskirts. The school had an excellent reputation, Ted Stockton had high expectations of his staff and academically the pupils were thriving. The school also enjoyed an active music and drama society, as well success in district borough sports.
It felt good to be back in the school’s familiar corridors again, even when Ted kicked off the day with his annual welcome meeting. Jenny caught her eye across the hall and made a face as Ted droned on for longer than usual, but Ellie settled back in her chair, feeling more relaxed than she had done in days.
After the meeting, she began preparing her classroom for the arrival of her students the next day. Gliding between the rows of empty desks that sat in tidy pairs facing the front of the classroom, Ellie found herself looking forward to the hustle and bustle of talkative children.
A sharp knock made her glance round to find Ted in the doorway of her classroom, wearing his usual black suit and grey tie with facial expression to match. Ellie wondered if he ever smiled.
‘Miss Saunders, you weren’t in the staff room at lunchtime.’
‘No, I thought I’d get my head down. I ate in here,’ she said, pointing to the remains of her lunch on the desk.
He nodded.
‘Did you get my email about the meeting tomorrow morning? Not too early for you, I trust?’
‘I’ll be ready.’
‘Good, good,’ he said, and disappeared back into the corridor almost as quickly as he’d arrived.
As Ellie sat down at her desk and reached for her uneaten pear, there was another knock on the door. She looked up to see Jenny grinning at her from ear to ear.
‘Has your career mentoring meeting with Ted finished?’ she sang. ‘I don’t want to interrupt!’
‘Shush!’ Ellie said, beckoning her in. ‘He wasn’t talking to me about that at all.’
‘If you say so,’ Jenny said, giggling as she perched herself on the edge of Ellie’s desk. ‘How did it go last night? Did you have it out with Dominic?’
The dull weight that had been wrapped around her chest all day suddenly tightened.
‘Yes, but….’
‘But what?’
‘I’m not sure what happened, Jen. I asked him why he missed the meeting with the priest and whether he was seeing the woman from the pub, but he didn’t admit to a thing. In fact, he blamed me for not letting him know I was staying with you for the weekend.’
‘What?’
‘I know,’ Ellie said, a coil of anger in her chest catapulting her out of her chair. ‘And then he stormed off to the pub!’ She paced over to the window. ‘I don’t know what to think. What did I see on Friday anyway? I feel like I’m going crazy.’
‘You saw enough,’ Jenny said, joining her at the window. ‘Put Dominic on the spot again. Demand to know what’s going on.’
‘If it were only that easy,’ Ellie muttered.
Gripping the windowsill, she leaned her head forward so that it touched the cool glass.
‘Look, I’ve got to go and pick Bea up now, but call me if you need me,’ Jenny said, giving Ellie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
‘Thanks.’
Ellie remained standing at the window, gazing blindly down at the courtyard below as Jenny walked away, her heels puncturing the silence of the empty corridor.
Chapter 10
It had been a struggle to put a smile on Abi’s face that morning. She barely said a word at breakfast as she nibbled at the edges of her toast. Even Moira’s exasperated ramblings about how she’d survived the drive to Thistleby, despite getting caught behind a tractor on the country roads for almost six miles, did nothing to soften Abi’s taut features.
Robert stood by the front door calling her name over and over again before she finally traipsed out to the car in her new uniform, tugging at her tie and complaining about how itchy the cardigan was.
It was a ten-minute drive to Thistleby High School from their new house and as a large, imposing building came into view, Robert sensed his daughter stiffen. She shrank down in her seat and studied the school with wide eyes. It stood three floors high and stretched out wide in front of them, row upon row of windows twinkling at them in the sunshine and in the centre were creamy stone steps which swept up to a huge door with a sign above it indicating the reception. Driving through the tall, iron gates into the car park, far-reaching playing fields spread out before them on either side.
They had a short wait at reception before a tall, angular man greeted them.
‘Ted Stockton,’ he announced. ‘Headteacher at Thistleby High School.’
Robert took the man’s hand.
‘Robert Finch. This is my daughter, Abi.’
Ted shot Abi an appraising glance.
‘Good morning, Miss Finch, I hope you’ve come to Thistleby High School with the right attitude. We expect great things from our pupils.’
‘She has the right attitude,’ Robert said, frowning at the man’s pompous tone.
Ted nodded curtly.
‘Well, it’s nice to meet you both. If you’ll follow me.’
He marched off down a long corridor. Robert glanced at Abi and jerked his head in the direction Ted had gone. With a roll of her eyes, she followed.
They had to walk fast to keep up with Ted along a maze of bright corridors. They passed door after identical door, each leading into an empty classroom and as they climbed a wide staircase, Robert glanced out of a window and saw a slow trickle of chattering students making their way into a courtyard below.
‘I can wholeheartedly recommend Abi’s maths teacher for extra tuition. It’s something she’s und
ertaken with students before and she’s always had successful results,’ Ted called back, always a step ahead of them.
Robert’s ears pricked up at this information.
‘Good.’
Ted came to an abrupt halt outside a door and tapped on it with his knuckles.
‘Come in.’
They filed into the classroom and Robert saw a woman at the far end. He could only see her back as she reached up to write something in the top corner of a white board. He put his hand on Abi’s shoulder and was relieved that she didn’t shrug it off.
‘Good morning,’ Ted said, his voice filling the room. ‘This is Mr Finch and his daughter, Abi, who is starting Thistleby High today. As we discussed, they’ve come to see you about extra maths tuition.’
‘Oh yes,’ the woman said, in a clear, well-spoken voice.
Her light hair was tied in a bun at the nape of her neck and Robert noticed that she had to stand on tiptoes to reach the top of the board. She dropped back down onto her heels and turned around with a smile. As she faced them, the smile froze on her face.
Robert clenched his jaw. Of all the people he had expected to meet this morning, he hadn’t been prepared for the rude, drunk woman from the bar on Friday night. His temples began to pound in rhythm with the loud tick of the plastic clock on the wall.
The woman had her mouth partially open but seemed unable to say anything, her face had drained of colour.
‘Miss Saunders, are you well?’ Ted asked, cutting through the silence.
She put a hand on the back of her chair and nodded.
Robert felt Abi wriggle beneath his fingers as they clamped down harder on her shoulder. His instinct told him to turn her around and leave.
‘Are there any other maths teachers who offer tuition?’ he asked Ted.
Ted tilted his head as if he hadn’t heard properly, a baffled look taking hold of his rigid features.
‘Well, yes, but Miss Saunders is Abi’s maths teacher,’ he declared, puffing his chest out. ‘It would make sense for Abi to have tuition with her.’
Robert fixed the woman with another hard stare, she looked tiny behind her chair. Her wide, horrified eyes, sparkling with embarrassment, only just kept him from marching out of the door.
‘Mr Finch?’ Ted said.
‘Yes?’
‘Lessons will be starting soon. Do you wish to pursue tuition with Miss Saunders? If not, it will be necessary to approach another member of our maths department another day.’
‘Yes, yes, fine,’ Robert said. ‘I’ll see what she’s got to say.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ Ted said, sidestepping out of the door. ‘Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.’
Ignoring Abi’s bewildered glare, Robert fought back the urge to follow him.
Miss Saunders hovered about at the far end of the room, turning this way and that, before finally motioning to two chairs that she’d placed in front of her desk.
‘Please sit down,’ she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
Robert took in her slender figure in her short-sleeved dotty blouse and formal black trousers, as they approached the chairs. She looked incredibly different from Friday night. This morning, her pale blue eyes were alert and clear but Robert could tell she was nervous, her eyes refusing to settle on him for long. Instead, she focused on Abi, as she perched on the edge of her chair and cleared her throat.
‘Hi Abi. I’m Miss Saunders. So, you feel you would benefit from some extra maths tuition, do you?’
Robert jumped straight in.
‘She would benefit, that’s why we’re here. She’s capable, but lacks confidence. It was beaten out of her by the useless maths teacher at her old school.’
There was something satisfying about the apprehension that jumped into her eyes as he fired the words at her. He could sense Abi slumping down in the chair beside him.
‘I see,’ Miss Saunders said, her hands clasped in her lap. ‘Well, Abi, maybe we should see how you get on for the first few weeks of term and I can assess your needs. If you would benefit from extra sessions, then we could set them up for once a fortnight during the lunch hour to go over previous lessons and make sure you understand everything.’
‘With you?’ Robert asked.
‘It doesn’t have to be me,’ she said, raising her chin. ‘I can approach my other colleagues in the department if you’d prefer, but as Mr Stockton explained, I will be Abi’s maths teacher this year, so it would probably be the best option.’
He couldn’t fault this logic and made a low grunting noise of acceptance.
‘But one lunchtime every few weeks isn’t what I had in mind,’ Robert said. ‘It’s not enough.’
He caught Abi frowning at him from the corner of his eye and Miss Saunders sat up a little straighter.
‘I’m afraid I have other lunch time responsibilities so I can’t commit to more than that. But I understand it’s important to ensure each pupil is reaching their full potential —’
‘I want her to have at least an hour of extra tuition each week,’ Robert said.
Miss Saunders wrinkled her nose up and took a deep breath.
‘I’m very sorry, Mr Finch, but I can’t commit to an hour every week during lunchtime.’
‘How much does the school charge for the tuition? I’ll increase the rate. I want her to have an hour each week.’
She gaped at him. He could tell he was flustering her and took some enjoyment from it as he remembered the way she’d spoken to him on Friday night, but then he felt an uncomfortable sensation needling him up and down his spine as he watched her trying to compose herself against his brusque words.
‘The school doesn’t charge for extra lunchtime sessions, Mr Finch.’
‘They don’t? Well then let’s set something up outside of school and we can negotiate rates.’
Another stab of doubt made Robert wonder if she was the best person to tutor Abi, given her drunken behaviour in the bar. Assessing the situation quickly, he was pretty sure the headteacher wouldn’t have recommended her unless she was good and the school’s exam results spoke for themselves. He would give her a trial period of a month, he decided.
‘I guess we could come to an arrangement,’ Miss Saunders said, the tips of her ears turning pink.
Robert stood up and Miss Saunders shrank back in her chair as he loomed over her desk.
‘I’ll email you regarding the details. Come on, Abi.’
Robert strode to the door, pausing when he heard Miss Saunders’ voice again.
‘What’s your favourite subject, Abi?’
‘Art, I guess.’
Robert crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently.
‘We’ve got a wonderful art department here,’ Miss Saunders said. ‘Tell me, have you ever done clay sculptures before?’ Abi shook her head. ‘Well, that’s the first topic you’ll be doing this term. Clay sculptures of mythical creatures. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?’
Abi nodded. Robert glanced at his watch. He didn’t want to be late for work, but something about the way Miss Saunders had Abi’s attention made him hesitate.
‘Who is your form tutor, Abi?’
Abi stared down at a piece of paper she was gripping in her hand.
‘Mrs Moore.’
‘Ah, Mrs Moore. A little tip, don’t get caught chatting when you shouldn’t be. She holds the current record for most detentions given out in a term.’
Robert saw the corners of his daughter’s mouth creep up.
‘Don’t worry, though. I can tell you’re going to fit right in. Your form room is at the other end of this corridor. Just go back the way you came, until you reach the staircase and then keep walking. You’ve got me for maths this afternoon, so I’ll see you then.’
‘Thank you,’ Abi said.
As Abi walked towards him, Robert caught Ellie’s eye and their gaze locked for a moment before she broke away and turned to her laptop.
The sound o
f chattering students began to fill the corridors as they left the classroom. What sounded like an army of footsteps struck the hard floors and echoed around the building. When they reached the top of the staircase, Robert offered to walk Abi to her form room but she pulled a face which was enough to tell him he wasn’t welcome. She looked back at him only once and pointed for him to go; a little colour had returned to her cheeks, for which he was thankful. Then he approached the daunting task of getting down the stairs, pushing against the tide of students of all shapes and sizes as they bustled their way upstairs to their classrooms.
~
Driving to work, Robert realised that his initial anger and shock at finding out the woman from the bar was Abi’s maths teacher, had dissipated a little. Her demeanour had been beyond reproach. The irate, drunk woman he’d met a few days ago couldn’t have been more different to the professional teacher he’d met this morning and what mattered was that she gave Abi the confidence she needed in her maths work. Despite himself, a lightness spread through him as he swung into the car park at the back of the office.
His new company was situated at the top of Thistleby High Street, a stone’s throw from the bustling shops and cafés. It was already promising to be a hot September day, the sky a shimmering blue canvas, as Robert shrugged off his suit jacket and walked into the building. He gave the receptionist a smile and took the stairs two at a time.
Appleby Chartered Architects was situated on the first floor of a three-storey building. It was a spacious, open-plan office with generous-sized desks and tall windows on all sides. There was a kitchen that was always stocked with tea and biscuits and an expensive coffee machine and Carl’s office was down a narrow corridor at the other end of the floor.
Robert had enjoyed his first day at work. He’d already been given two projects to work on: a large, private home that wanted a major extension and a small block of luxury flats being built on the edge of town. He’d already suspected that Carl wasn’t a tough boss and, in many ways, he was relaxed and amenable, but sitting with him in his office yesterday and listening to him on the phone to clients, Robert could tell he had good business sense, which was why his practice was flourishing.
