by Judy Astley
‘Definitely,’ he said. ‘But it was useful to go and look, wasn’t it? But oh dear’ – he laughed – ‘it looks like we’ll just have to make do with the lifestyle we’ve already got. I didn’t know you could “buy” them but I think I’d prefer not to.’
‘I’ve been thinking …’ Anna told him as she sipped her spritzer. ‘Maybe we should look a bit further away. Get something small so we can do the travelling thing but have it to come back to. Something that would be easy to rent out if we want to stay away for a longish while, perhaps.’
‘How far away? Please tell me not somewhere cold like Scotland.’
‘No, not Scotland, though the scenery is worth some visits. I was thinking somewhere arty and by the sea and where there are lots of people like us. A place that isn’t full of “young professionals” pounding for hours in gyms in the few hours they’re not squashed on to commuter trains. Somewhere with great light and—’
‘I hope “people like us” isn’t a euphemism for “old” and that you’re not meaning Worthing? We went there once, remember, and it was closed. On the plus side, though, I do remember seeing about fifty bikers, none of them younger than me.’ He looked quite cheered by the thought.
‘No, I’m coming round to thinking perhaps Cornwall. I’m thinking St Ives.’
‘Ha! Cornwall? The cursed county Emily swears she’ll never visit?’
‘Ah, but having us there could be one way to change her mind, don’t you think? I know it wouldn’t be in time for Christmas and the wedding but if we plant the seed that we’ll have a lovely base down there that they can all use for holidays whenever they like, then maybe she’ll have a bit of a think about it. Surely the idea of a place by the sea where the children could run free on the beach any time of the year would tempt even Emily over the Tamar? It’s just an idea, but it’s a good one, I think. I’ve always loved Cornwall. I hate it that she and Thea aren’t even speaking. I know they’re both miserable about it and I want us to be all together when Thea and Sean get married. Thea’s offered to put it off till summer but that’s Cove Manor’s peak renting season with lots of repeat visitors already booked in, and Sean’s already turned down bookings for Christmas so they can accommodate us all. It isn’t kind of Emily to be so anti. After all, she surely didn’t hate it that much last year. I thought it was only the snow that scared her, and that was a real once-in-a-century event. So what do you think?’
Mike considered for a moment. ‘It’s pretty devious thinking but I like it,’ he said. ‘And at the moment, we only have to let her know we’re seriously considering it; we don’t actually have to go and live there.’ He sipped his beer and looked thoughtful for a few moments. ‘But, you know, I’ve always liked St Ives …’
TEN
‘Melanie is on everyone’s case about Christmas and wants ideas for some version or other of a nativity play,’ Jenny told Thea in the staffroom. It was two days before half-term and there had been mutterings all week about various class Christmas shows. ‘She’s called a meeting for lunchtime and said “no excuses”, so I guess we’re under orders.’
‘A nativity play? Again?’ Thea said. ‘Oh, groan. Starring parts for four children, to include the innkeeper and the Angel Gabriel, plus three support-role kings and a couple of shepherds and just about everyone else has to be an ox or a donkey with very little for them to do on the stage except fidget.’
‘Don’t forget the supporting cast of many angels.’
‘Ah yes, many, many angels and all the parents coming into class to complain that their little star has been sidelined. It’s a difficult one, isn’t it? I mean, who doesn’t love a proper nativity play? You can’t beat the baby Jesus being dropped on the floor and one of the shepherds forgetting he should have had a wee before the show rather than during. But when it’s every single year you get to the point where you need something a bit more inclusive. I’ve been thinking about something with more scope for them all to join in.’
‘Excellent. You tell Melanie. Go ahead,’ Jenny said with a giggle. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
‘She’s off me at the moment so I don’t hold out much hope.’
‘She’s off everyone, so you mustn’t take it personally.’
After the lunchtime bell, Melanie was to be found sitting at the end of the staffroom table, tapping a pen on her notepad. The rest of the staff took their seats and waited for her to begin.
‘Christmas,’ she said. ‘I think in these difficult political times we need to get back to basics. Do we have any ideas for a seasonal play?’
‘Yes, I have,’ Thea said, clicking on her iPad.
‘If it involves anything from Disney, I don’t want to hear about it,’ Melanie said.
‘Disney? No, it definitely doesn’t. I was thinking it would be fun for the children to put together a drama enacting the story of Yule, of how the year is turning from darkness to light. The great earth mother giving birth to the new sun king.’
‘I don’t think so, Thea. That sounds way too pagan. There would be complaints. Anyone else?’
‘Oh, I rather like Thea’s idea, actually,’ Jenny said. Thea smiled at her.
‘Thanks, Jenny.’ Thea seized the moment and continued: ‘And I’d make sure it’s not so much pagan as about nature. We can tie it in with a study of the earth turning and the movement of the planets and talk about the tradition of bringing in evergreens. They can sing carols like “The Holly and the Ivy”. We can talk about the magical powers of mistletoe and …’ Thea stopped, realizing she was gabbling into a disapproving silence. Melanie was glaring.
‘Sometimes, Thea, I wonder if you’re teaching in the right sort of school.’
‘Sometimes, I wonder the same,’ Thea murmured but not quite far enough under her breath. There was a collective gasp. She pressed on, feeling she might as well at this point. ‘But you asked us for ideas, Melanie. Wouldn’t you even consider this? It could include so much about the natural world and the seasonal cycle and wouldn’t upset any of the more religious parents at all. It would be completely inclusive.’
‘No. Thanks for your input but it’s out of the question. I think we need a proper nativity play,’ Melanie declared. ‘One that will firmly ground the pupils in the story of what Christmas is really about.’
‘Apart from what Christmas is about to the many pupils here who aren’t Christian, that is,’ the deputy head put in a rebellious bid and smiled at Thea across the table. She smiled back at him, grateful for the support.
There was a general muttering and shuffling and after only a very brief discussion Melanie declared that there would be a traditional nativity play with those who weren’t in the main roles being cast as various plants, animals and angels. She then moved on to asking who had got the manger that they’d used the previous year and would they please return it immediately.
‘Why did she bother asking for ideas if she’d already made up her mind?’ Thea asked Jenny as they went off to take the afternoon classes. ‘It was a complete waste of time. And we had a nativity play last year, and the year before, so they must have got the hang of the Bible version of Christmas by now. I thought something a bit different, maybe every other year, would be more dramatically challenging for the children. I’d got a whole set of lesson plans mapped out too. I was going to take them out to look at how the dead-looking trees and shrubs were already forming spring buds and tell them the story of how mistletoe came to be associated with thunder and was thought to protect against fire and lightning.’
‘Boxes to tick, forms to fill in,’ Jenny told her, giving her a brief hug. ‘You’ve got great ideas but Melanie hasn’t really got the imagination to give you scope to use them. You can still do the nature thing though, can’t you? It’s a good project.’
‘I’ve started wondering what’s the point of carrying on here, to be honest. These children are being taught by numbers, pretty much. There are other ways.’
‘But if you hang on in, you’ll be head of a sc
hool in a couple of years and then you can run things your way.’
‘I could be head if I toe the line but I’m not sure I want to … I think you had a point about Forest Schools. There are so many ways for children to learn; they could be so much more proactive. They all start here burning with eagerness to learn and by eleven, too often the fire’s half out.’
‘As I said, box-ticking and Ofsted and SATs – they’ve all got so much to answer for.’
‘Well, thank goodness it’s half-term at the end of the week. I’m off to stay with Sean. I feel a bit sorry for him – I’ll probably spend the first four hours ranting at him about work.’
‘Oh, don’t do that. Just drag him off to bed. That’ll sort you out!’
‘Have you made it up with your sister yet?’ Charlotte let herself in through Emily and Sam’s back door and surprised Emily, who was cooking pasta for Milly and Alfie.
‘What do you mean “made it up”? It makes it sound like we’ve had a childish spat.’
Charlotte’s eyebrows went up. Emily noticed they looked a bit pink round the edges and guessed she’d had them threaded that afternoon.
‘And you haven’t?’ Charlotte went on. ‘What would you call it then?’
Emily drained the pasta and shrugged. ‘It’s nothing. Just … I don’t know, I can’t even remember. It was nothing.’
‘It was not nothing – it’s about her wedding, which is massively important and the longer you leave it, the more not nothing it’ll get. After all, shouldn’t she be able to count on you to help her find a dress and decide if she wants bridesmaids and whatever else weddings have?’
Emily sighed. ‘I did all that with her last time and then it all fell to bits. She probably wouldn’t want me around anyway.’
‘Last time?’
‘When she nearly married that one who left her. Rich. It was only a few weeks before the wedding. She’s better off without me interfering.’ Emily divided the pasta between two dishes. A couple of tubes of penne fell to the floor and she ignored them as she dolloped on some sauce (blobs on the worktop) and grated cheese over the top. Charlotte frowned and as soon as Emily put the plates on the table and went to call the children, she picked up a J-cloth and wiped down the granite surface and picked up the stray pasta.
‘Oh, come on now, it doesn’t sound like your input made the difference.’ She shoved the floored pasta in the bin.
Emily shrugged. ‘Well, if she did ask my opinion, she knows I’d be saying not Christmas and not Cornwall. I was so unhappy there last year. That snow, that trapped feeling …’ She shuddered.
‘But that’s not your decision though, is it, love? With weddings, we just have to go along with the bride and groom’s choice. Can’t you think about how much fun the day will be? How lovely to see your sister so happy?’
Emily shook her head slowly. ‘I just can’t,’ she said.
Charlotte looked at her closely. ‘You look terrible, Emily, if you don’t mind me saying. I mean, you’re all droopy and don’t-careish. It’s not like you. Just look at your hair.’
Emily glared at her and said, ‘I do mind you saying, actually.’ And then she burst into tears, thumping her body into a chair at the table between the two dishes of pasta and sobbing into her hands.
‘Oh shit. Sorry, all my fault. Hang on, I’ll get Sam,’ Charlotte said. ‘Give me a sec.’ She went out to the garden office, clattered open the door without knocking and surprised Sam in the middle of some sneaky computer Minecraft. ‘Get in here quick, Sam, and help me take care of the kids. Emily’s not happy and I can’t stay more than a few minutes. I’ve got a job audition.’
‘Oh, please tell me she’s not crying again,’ he said, slowly putting his feet down from where he’d been resting them on the desk. ‘She’s like a leaky tap.’
‘She’s depressed, you idiot. Any fool can see that.’
‘No she’s not,’ he said. ‘She’s always been a crier.’
‘Just come in and give her a hug or something. It’s not as if you were up to your eyes in work, is it?’
‘I’ve got a mega-deadline – can’t you look after her?’
‘Deadline? Yeah, right. I could see. And no, I can’t, not this time. I only called in for a wee. As I said, I’ve got somewhere to be.’
‘OK. You won’t say anything though, will you?’ he said, nodding back towards the now-closed computer as he locked the office behind him.
‘About you diddling about doing sod all? Not unless I have to,’ she told him. ‘Now come and give me some back-up. The poor woman needs a break and a hair-wash and blow-dry. It might sound frivolous but it’ll perk her up a bit. All the small things help.’
Sam trailed into the kitchen with Charlotte, and Emily looked up at him, her face blotchy and streaked with tears. She didn’t protest as Charlotte hauled her out of the chair and led her firmly into the sitting room, pushing her down on to the sofa. Baby Ned was sleeping in his Moses basket under the window.
‘When did you last get out of this house?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Dunno,’ Emily told her. ‘A while.’
‘Not even to the shops?’
‘Ocado delivers,’ Emily said, picking at a small hole in her sleeve. She didn’t like being questioned but understood that Charlotte was being kind. Kind upset her though. It made her want to cry. Actually, almost everything did: a handmade get-well card from Milly and Alfie (she hadn’t even claimed to be ill); a homeless cat on the internet; Christmas adverts with everyone looking so carefree and happy. Anything could set her off.
‘Look, honey, go and wash your face and I’ll drop you off in the car. You’re going to get your hair properly done.’
Emily laughed as she brushed away some more random tears. ‘My hair? Bloody hell, what’s the point?’
‘You’ll feel better, is the point. However awful you’re feeling, if you can make yourself feel a tiny bit better about the bits of you round the edges that are easily sorted then it won’t do any harm. Sam will look after the children.’
‘I’m taking Ned,’ she said. ‘I like him to be with me.’
Charlotte eyed her. ‘You won’t leave him even for an hour?’
Emily slid up the sofa, closer to the basket, as if Charlotte were about to take him away. ‘Not for a minute. It’s just in case, you know?’
‘Listen, I’ve got to go to a thing, a work thing, but I can drop you off on the High Road and you can go to that Blow and Go place in the precinct where you don’t need an appointment. Or nails. Would you prefer a manicure?’
‘Nails? Er … no. No point.’
‘OK, hair then. But I do insist.’
Emily smiled. ‘You’re very bossy.’
‘I am. And I’m also very right. You’ve dug yourself in here and you need to start tunnelling out again. Before you know it, it’ll be Christmas.’
‘Yes, that’s soon,’ Emily half whispered, ‘and I haven’t done anything.’
‘Of course you have. You’ve had a baby. Get the children to make a list for Santa and Sam can sort it out. There’s plenty of time. Now, let me have a quick wazz and we’ll go.’
There were too many people in the shopping mall and Emily felt nervous as she pushed the pram through the crowd. Where did they all come from, late afternoon on a weekday? She wished Charlotte had been able to come with her because since she’d got out of the car and clicked the Bugaboo’s seat into place on the wheels, she’d felt weirdly unsafe and vulnerable, all soft-edged, like an unshelled egg. The shop windows were Halloween-themed with orange and black everywhere and flashing scarlet devil masks and green fright wigs. Each sound, all the echoes of voices, the music blasting from shopfronts, was far too jaggedly loud and Emily pulled the hood of the pram up so that Ned wouldn’t be overwhelmed by clamour. The garish masks and oversize plastic spider webs and witch outfits looked extra cheap and pointless and she feared for his new little spirit being contaminated by tat.
Outside Blow and Go, she hesitated and
peeked inside. There was tuneless rap music playing, harsh and angry. The young hairdressers were wearing black tunics over spider-web leggings and most of them had green and white face paint and witch hats or horns. One girl had vampire teeth and a fake blood trickle painted from her mouth. Emily shuddered. Two large boys on skateboards raced past, almost colliding with the pram, and, in a panic, she reached into it and took Ned out, wrapped in his blue blanket, cuddling him close to her, stroking his soft, sleepy head. His fingers spread out like little starfish as he half-woke and then he drifted off again, tucked inside her coat.
‘It’s all right, baby. We’ll go home. It’ll be safe at home.’ She murmured to him, kissing his fuzzy little head. There were more skateboards and a shouted commotion and a woman behind yelled, ‘Hey, you!’ Emily pulled away, pressing against the salon with Ned safely between her and the glass till the jumble of noises subsided. When she looked back again, she had a confused moment of wondering what was missing that should be there and then she realized. The pram had vanished.
‘Oh God,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Oh God, that fucking interfering Charlotte.’
ELEVEN
‘For heaven’s sake, what kind of twat would steal a pram?’ Mike asked Sam. He and Anna called in to see Emily as soon as they heard about the theft. Emily was curled up in a corner of the sofa, saying very little, clutching Ned to her even though he was fast asleep. She’d put a cosy lavender throw and some cushions over her legs and gave the impression of having built herself a barricade.
The day was a dark, rainy one and Sam had lit the wood-burner. With the lamps glowing, the place looked cosy and pretty and yet also a little unloved. Last week’s papers were piled up near the front door, too late for that week’s recycling. Anna had seen a trail of children’s clothes up the stairs and a pile of clean clothes was balanced precariously on the banisters, ready to be put away. All was a long way from well.
