by Mandy Baggot
‘You went there with Simon?’ Ray inquired.
‘No,’ Emily replied. ‘I went there with my mother. It was years ago. One of her friends dropped out of what was meant to be a gastronomy experience, so I stepped in. She didn’t climb the Eiffel Tower – she nibbled at tarte flambé and guzzled vin rouge. I didn’t have long enough to see everything I really wanted to see.’
‘What would you have liked to see?’
Emily stopped walking and leaned on the bridge’s wall, overlooking the dark, fast-flowing Thames. ‘All of it,’ she answered. ‘The Arc De Triomphe. The Louvre. The Sacré Coeur. Notre Dame.’ She sighed. ‘That was so sad. To see it destroyed by the fire.’
‘I saw Notre Dame,’ Ray said, standing next to her. ‘I went there. I actually wrote a song outside, sitting on the floor, surrounded by pigeons.’
‘Really?’ Emily said, turning to look at him.
‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘Within a few minutes someone took me for a busker and gave me five Euro.’ He smiled at her. ‘True story. And rather ironic given I spent a long time busking in London. And it always took until lunchtime for more than the odd 50p to arrive.’
‘Was Notre Dame amazing?’ Emily asked him, nestling a little into his side.
He nodded. ‘Yeah, it really was. I mean, London has more than its fair share of spectacular buildings, but there was something about Notre Dame from the second I walked in. I don’t know. It was like… spiritual or something. Nothing like where I’m from. I guess you can take the boy out of New North Road but…’
Emily took a breath of the snowy air and relished the flakes hitting her cheeks, some touching her lips. ‘Did you go to Paris with Ida?’
She looked away from the river, facing Ray fully. He hadn’t answered immediately and she wondered if she should have brought Ida up. He might have said he was cool with her talking about Simon, but maybe he didn’t want to talk about the woman who had ensured his face was all over the newspapers.
‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘Ida took part in an exhibition. It was a big thing for her. She’d never exhibited outside of the UK before.’
‘Wow, that sounds amazing. So, she’s an artist?’
‘Yeah,’ he answered.
‘She must be really good to be showing her work somewhere like Paris.’
Ray nodded. ‘She’s very talented. She just…’ He stopped talking then. ‘I don’t know. She seems to have some sort of self-destruct mode she switches into even when things are going well for her.’
This was as much as she had been able to get from him about his ex-girlfriend. Emily swallowed. ‘Are things not going so well for her now?’
‘I don’t know,’ Ray said shaking his head. ‘And I don’t want to know.’ He took a harried breath. ‘I can’t know.’
She turned back to the river. She shouldn’t have pushed. It was still none of her business. They were on a second date, taking things slowly and she was being way too nosy.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ray apologised. ‘I’m sorry if that came out harsh.’ He took another breath. ‘Ida, she is… that is… it’s… complicated… and that’s why I haven’t been able to say too much in answer to her stories in the press.’ He let go of a heavy sigh. ‘It wasn’t an easy relationship in the end.’
Emily observed his expression. It was almost like he was somewhere else. The snow was falling into his dark hair and she found herself wanting to reach up and touch it, run her fingers through it, coax out the flakes, then trail a hand to the line of his jaw…
‘I don’t know, maybe one day, I’ll be able to use my experience to write a kick-ass number one song and get it all out of my system.’ He smiled, seemingly back in the moment again.
‘Ah yes,’ Emily answered. ‘I need to be careful, don’t I? Writers always use their experiences for novels or songs or poems.’
‘Only the really, really good stuff,’ Ray told her. ‘Or the really, really bad stuff.’
‘Then I should keep on going with my mediocre and I’ll be fine,’ she said with a smile.
‘What?’ Ray asked, pulling his hand from his pocket and touching her arm. ‘Emily, there’s nothing about you that’s mediocre. That wasn’t what I meant at all.’
She felt suddenly much warmer, her cheeks igniting, and she was unable to look him in the eye.
‘If you want me to be honest, I think you’ve spent a lifetime feeling like you’re underachieving because of how your parents treat you. They look down on anyone who isn’t like them. And you’re not like them. And, believe me, that’s a good thing.’ His voice softened, slowed, deepened. ‘Emily, you’re the most wonderful, the most kind, most giving, genuine, honest person I’ve ever met.’
She gave an awkward half-laugh. She didn’t know how to respond. She had never been comfortable taking compliments. And then Ray’s finger was under her chin again, cajoling her face upwards, forcing her to draw her gaze away from the top buttons of her coat and focus entirely on him.
‘You’re beautiful, Emily,’ he continued, his voice a little rough now, his finger delicately brushing the slight bump on her chin she didn’t like too much. ‘Outside and in. I don’t know how meeting a hedgehog and spending a night in a shed led me to finding you, but my God, I can’t imagine any place I’d rather be right now.’
He palmed her cheek then, his breathing intensifying, his unique eyes holding hers captive like time was standing still.
‘Emily, whatever this is between us. Whatever happens next. I want you to know that this time with you… well…’ The briefest of pauses seemed to hang in the air for an age until he carried on. ‘I don’t remember a time when I was happier.’ He drew in a long, latent breath. ‘I really mean that.’
‘Oh, Ray, I feel all that too,’ she said as tears began to fall from her eyes. She could sense his total sincerity in his touch as well as in his words.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘No tears.’ His lips met her cheeks, one by one, gently pressing the saltwater off her skin. She closed her eyes, relishing the feather-light feel of his mouth as he gently brushed her fringe with his forefingers, looking at her as if taking her in anew. Emily knew what she wanted from this moment, without any doubt. She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his, connecting their lips and drawing their bodies together. All the emotions she’d felt on the roof terrace came rushing back like the most tumultuous of snowstorms, but it was a storm she was welcoming and one she was completely and utterly in charge of. Ray deepened their connection, backing her up to the bridge’s wall, one arm around her body, protective. He tasted of cheese and snowflakes and masculinity and it was divine. It was the most heavenly of kisses and Emily began to wish she could stop the world, make this evening stretch as long as possible, delay tomorrow coming around.
Ray finally edged back, breaking their lips, but keeping his eyes locked on hers. And Emily carried on looking too. He’d said she was kind and giving and honest. He’d said she was beautiful. She was also not going to be fearful of this connection she was enjoying so very much. None of the circumstances were perhaps perfect, but life wasn’t perfect. And she knew that more than most.
‘God,’ he breathed. ‘You really are amazing, Emily Parker.’
‘I know,’ she answered as more soft snowflakes fluttered through her vision. ‘But you should also know that you’re pretty special too, Ray Stone.’
He wrapped his arms around her then, so warm and solid and utterly sexy and she held on tight and watched the glowing lights of a riverboat pass on the water beneath them.
Fifty-One
Stretton Park Primary School
‘Listen, Jonah, I’ve got to go. There was a delay on the Tube and I only have ten minutes before the whistle goes and I really need a coffee before I get into it with Rashid’s parents this morning.’ Emily adjusted the phone she had clamped to her ear. She was out of breath from powering from the Tube station in one of the pairs of vintage boots she hadn’t worn before. Big mistake. They were chewing up her heels like a dog
gnawing at rawhide.
‘Wait! You can’t leave it there,’ Jonah told her. ‘So you kissed on London Bridge and it was all snowy and romantic and then…’
‘Well, then someone came and asked for Ray’s autograph and a selfie and I wondered how long they had actually been there and whether they’d been watching us, you know, kissing.’
‘Oh, Emily,’ Jonah said with a slight laugh. ‘Welcome to the celebrity life. No more buying discounted tins in the supermarket. Your basket is going to be heavily scrutinised from now on and probably posted on Instagram.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Just warning you.’
‘Right, I’m going now.’ She began walking down the path leading to the school building, gingerly stepping as she saw the weekend flurry of light snowfall had crisped up after the minus temperatures of the previous night.
‘Wait, hang on, we haven’t got to the bit when you and Ray got back to the flat.’
‘Jonah, I have to go,’ Emily reminded.
‘Emily! Did you…’
‘For Christ’s sake, Emily!’ It was Allan’s voice now. ‘Did you do it?! We want to know if you did it!’
‘Jonah! Am I on speakerphone? Please tell me you’re not in the hotel or Allan’s office or anywhere public!’
‘She did it!’ Allan exclaimed hysterically. ‘They did it!’
‘We did not,’ Emily replied quickly. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but Ray is a perfect gentleman. We got in and we worked on the songs for the school show and then we went to bed… alone… in separate rooms.’
‘Oh no!’ Allan exclaimed. ‘How utterly boring!’
‘Well, I think it’s very sensible and grown up,’ Jonah replied to Allan not Emily.
‘Like I said,’ Allan replied. ‘Boring!’
‘Listen, you two can talk all you want about how boring we are between yourselves. I’ve got a meeting to get to.’
‘Hang on! Emily, wait! The reason I phoned was because we’re getting tickets for the Christmas show at the Albert Hall, you know, like we always do. And we wanted to know if we should get three or, you know… four?’
Emily stopped walking and thought for a moment. Ray didn’t really like Christmas, but the night of songs at one of London’s most iconic venues always gave her goose bumps and never failed to get her in the festive spirit. ‘Get four,’ she answered. If Ray didn’t want to come along then maybe she could ask Dennis… or her mother… or Dennis’s mother…
‘Maybe you will have done it by then!’ Allan shouted.
‘I really am going now,’ Emily replied.
She ended the call and hurried towards the school building.
*
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea or coffee, Mr and Mrs Dar?’
Susan Clark had asked this question three times since the Dars had arrived in her office. She had also talked about the snowfall – more was expected, apparently – The X Factor, and the hearty shepherd’s pie she was making for dinner that night. Emily could see that, like her, the Dars wanted to get this meeting over with. The point needed to be got to.
‘We are sure,’ Ahmer Dar responded for him and apparently his wife. ‘We aren’t quite sure what this meeting is about. I mean, I thought, that is, we both thought that we had sorted out this issue with the alcohol from the shop. I went to see the owner, I explained that Rashid had been coerced by this older girl from the senior school and—’
‘Well,’ Emily interrupted, ‘I’m afraid it goes a little bit deeper than that. Which is why we’ve asked you to come in today.’ Emily looked to Susan, waiting for her to continue. But the Head simply sat there, eyes on the open folder on her desk. Emily, sat next to Mr and Mrs Dar, suddenly felt the weight of both their gazes. This wasn’t the plan. In her talk with Susan, before the Dars arrived, the headteacher had insisted she would be taking the lead. What was she supposed to do now? Susan finally raised her head and made big, almost pleading eyes at Emily.
‘Right, well, if one of you could tell us what’s going on that would be helpful,’ Ahmer said.
Emily sat a little forward on her chair. ‘Rashid was actually taking the alcohol, sweets and other items from the shop to repay Rhiannon for work she had done for him.’
‘What?’ Ahmer gasped.
‘What do you mean work?’ Mrs Dar asked.
Emily looked to Susan. Was the Head really going to leave all this to her? Then again, perhaps this was a test. To see how she would cope taking meetings such as this if she was made deputy.
‘Rhiannon was helping Rashid with the GCSE work you’ve been giving to him. It’s my understanding that he isn’t coping with this advanced work and that he didn’t want to disappoint you. Therefore, he was getting someone else, someone in Year Eleven, to do the work for him.’
Ahmer tutted loudly and dropped his head, shaking it as if in complete despondency. There was no movement from Mrs Dar… or Susan who had simply adopted an expression she probably thought showed compassion. It actually looked like she had indigestion.
‘Taking this all into account, and also the fact that I have had to call Rashid up a couple of times for his behaviour towards one of his peers recently, well, to be honest, I’m very worried about him,’ Emily told the family. ‘I think he’s under a lot of pressure for a ten-year-old and I think it’s having a profound effect on every part of his life.’
‘Ahmer,’ Mrs Dar said to her husband. ‘Do you think this is true?’
‘It can’t be true,’ Ahmer answered her. ‘He’s a bright boy. I would know if the work wasn’t his. And what is all this about other behaviour now? Why has nothing been said about this before?’
‘Well,’ Emily started, ‘I decided it was something I would try and deal with personally, but, if it had accelerated, of course I would have brought it to your attention then.’
‘I told you you were pushing him too hard,’ Mrs Dar mumbled.
‘You want him to become a doctor!’ Ahmer exclaimed.
Susan picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. OK, this was definitely a test. It was time for Emily to move things forward.
‘OK,’ she interjected with authority. ‘This is the time where we talk about making positive steps, not get into blame, or back track on how things might have been done differently.’ She spoke calmly but with utter authority. ‘What’s happened has happened. We all need to work together now to move ahead.’ Wow, that sounded exactly like a Deputy Head. Perhaps she would get the promotion before Christmas…
‘And what exactly are you proposing?’ Ahmer asked. He had turned a little in his seat, was looking directly at Emily. For a second, she could only focus on the fact she hoped her children were going to get his ad for Dar’s Delhi Delights word perfect in the show. She swallowed. She could do this.
‘Mr Dar, Rashid is a bright boy. But he isn’t bright enough to be doing GCSE level work right now. He’s only ten. And, it’s my professional opinion that the last year of primary school is difficult enough as it is, without having additional things to worry about. It’s a time of complete change for them. The children are growing up, they’re becoming independent and trying to push goalposts. Moving up to senior school is daunting. It’s going to take them some time to get used to new routines, make new friendships. I think in these last couple of terms at Stretton Park you should encourage Rashid in learning other valuable life lessons, not academic ones.’
‘What kind of other life lessons, Miss Parker?’ Mrs Dar wanted to know.
‘Kindess,’ Emily stated. ‘Tolerance. Difference. I have thirty-three children in my class, and they are of all different faiths and backgrounds. Some have everything, others have absolutely nothing, but what they all have in common is opportunity.’ She took a breath. ‘I always try to teach every child that they can be anything they want to be. And it doesn’t matter, at ten years old, whether that dream is to be a doctor or a… dustbin collector. At this age they should be free to explore whatever their
heart desires and learn to be accepting of the dreams of others. I know, without any doubt at all, that you love Rashid very much and I know that you want Rashid to be happy.’
‘Of course we do,’ Mrs Dar stated. ‘Don’t we, Ahmer?’
‘Of course,’ Mr Dar answered softly.
‘Then I’d like to discuss a plan I have,’ Emily said. ‘Because, Mr and Mrs Dar, I’d really like Rashid to be one of the stars of our Christmas show.’
*
As soon as the Dars had left the office, Emily took a deep breath. Her palms were sweaty. Susan always had the heating on too high and with four people in the snug office it had turned into a mini-sauna, plus it had been stressful. You never wanted to be telling parents uncomfortable things they would rather not hear, but now everything was out in the open they could move on, exactly like she’d told the family.
‘Right,’ Emily said, stepping towards the door. ‘I’d better get back to my class, we have a lot of work still to do for the show.’
‘One minute, Emily,’ Susan said, standing up and coming around her desk. ‘I’d like to have a word.’
Was this it? Was this the moment Emily was going to be given her promotion? She wasn’t sure she was ready. It was quite possible she could cry.
‘I’ve read the script for the show you gave me,’ Susan said, leaning her bulk against her desk.
‘Yes?’ Emily said. ‘What did you think?’
‘It’s rather short.’
‘Oh,’ Emily said. ‘Well, that’s because we haven’t put in all the songs yet. We’re still working on them, but they’re almost there, we just need one more for the final nativity tableau and then I thought, after that breath-stealing scene we could have a different act showing all the ways Stretton Park families will be celebrating the holidays.’
‘No,’ Susan said abruptly. ‘That won’t work. I told you what the diocese wants and they are paying for most of it. There needs to be much more God.’
‘To be honest, Mrs Clark, there is stable-to-stable God at the moment. There’s a song about the Three Kings, except we made it the Three Queens because none of the boys wanted to be the Kings. There’s “O, Holy Night”, and the bishop loved that one when he heard it and…’
