Frank sat up with a start. Sarah could see a few dropped jaws. Though on occasions, she’d been known to exchange heated words with individuals behind closed doors, she’d never thrown down such a challenge in public. The air was electric. Everyone sat frozen until eventually George shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Frank was still staring across the table at her but the others had all dropped their gaze.
Before Frank could explode, which he looked all set to do, she snapped, ‘If that’s all, good morning, gentlemen.’ She pulled her papers together, stood up and moved over to her own desk. Moments later, they trooped out one by one while she scribbled nonsense on a sheet of paper in an attempt to look busy. Frank, the last to leave, turned back when he reached the door. Sarah could see him from the corner of her eye and before he could say anything, she pulled the phone towards her and punched a number.
‘Good morning. May I speak to Sir Richard please?’
Frank disappeared banging the door behind him, which was just as well. Thankfully she replaced the receiver. She had dialled her own number and had been speaking to her answerphone.
Chapter 21
Getting the wrong side of Frank worried Sarah not at all. He had been asking for his comeuppance for a long time. However, the confrontation had left her drained and more unsettled than she should have been. Try as she might, she could not concentrate on the work in front of her. Some half an hour later, she finally admitted defeat and decided to go and make herself a coffee.
In the corridor, she spotted Frank coming out of George’s office. He didn’t see her and turned and ambled off towards the lift.
It didn’t make her feel any easier. Inevitably she began to wonder what the two had been plotting. No point in getting paranoid. George had seemed to distance himself from his old buddy over the last year or so but perhaps she’d been wrong in making that assumption. It wasn’t the thought of the little intrigues they might be hatching that prompted her gloom. Her conviction that she’d made real progress healing the breach with George now looked hollow, and all his apparent willingness for them to work together was merely a sham.
Although Justin appeared to be none the worse for the unpleasant phone call and had said nothing, at least in Sarah’s presence, to his parents or grandparents about it at the weekend when she had taken him back to Norwich, Sarah was still apprehensive.
It was a relief that, whenever she phoned Jenny to enquire about Todd, if Justin was around, he would insist on talking to her. He certainly did not sound as if he had something on his mind, and surely he wouldn’t be so enthusiastic to talk to her if he harboured any fears about the time he’d spent in Swindon? Sarah did not like to ask outright if Justin had talked about it in case they suspected that the incident had been far more serious than she had made out.
Although she had decided to tell all the family straightaway that the reason she had changed her telephone number was because she’d been receiving nuisance calls, she had tried to make light of them. Her mother had asked a couple of times if she had had any more trouble, but Sarah was able to reassure her without any difficulty. As the days passed, the danger of adding to the family’s worries with her problems began to fade.
Housework had never been an activity that filled Sarah with relish. She had never got round to getting herself a cleaner. It was not because she was too mean to pay for one as Nathan had joked in their previous home together or, as Elizabeth suggested, that she couldn’t bear the thought of someone snooping round her house when she wasn’t there. Surely one person should not make sufficient mess to justify having someone else to clear up after them? Justin’s visit had relieved her of the half-hearted promise she had made to herself that she would give the flat a thorough going over during half term.
After the routine Saturday dusting, vacuuming and basics, she decided that it was time to get rid of a large spider’s web in the corner of the ceiling that she had noticed a good couple of weeks earlier.
One of the problems of the flat being converted from an older house with high ceilings was that a standard cobweb brush would not reach into the corners. Even dusting the curtain rails necessitated the palaver of bring up the steps from the below stairs cupboard.
Having gone to all that effort, she decided she might as well clean the windows. Once she had got going, she soldiered on and spent a long morning giving her living room its half-yearly spring clean. The woodwork was washed down and even the heaviest furniture, including an oak sideboard – her pride and joy – edged away from the wall to allow a thorough hoovering behind.
Pleased with her efforts, she sat curled in the deep embrace of her armchair savouring the decadence of slowly sipping the freshly-ground Colombian coffee that she had allowed herself as a well-earned treat.
For a few months at least, she decided as she glanced around admiring the results of her labours, she could forget about this room – apart from the windows, she realised with a twinge of annoyance. She had a couple of goes but she could still see swirling patterns caught in the sun’s rays. Over the years, she had tried every brand of window cleaner from fine sprays, thick liquids and specially impregnated cloths to old fashioned solutions like vinegar and newspaper but somehow she’d never seemed to master the art. She made a mental note to consult her mother, the oracle on all things domestic, on her next phone call.
The front door bell rang. She took her time slopping down the stairs in her down-at-heel slippers and the shocked look on her face as she opened the door must have been all too apparent to her visitor.
‘Hello, Sarah. Have I caught you at a bad moment? I tried ringing you first but all I got was number unobtainable.’ Geraldine leaned forward and gave Sarah a perfunctory peck on the cheek. She was inside before Sarah had the chance to invite her in. ‘I hope you’re not busy. I called on the off chance. I’ve brought round the photographs you said you’d like to see.’
Sarah stood speechless. What was the woman doing here? Had she come to taunt her?
‘I didn’t realise you had my address,’ Sarah said suspiciously.
‘I got it ages ago. After you sent me a Christmas card, I asked Nathan so I could send you one.’
‘Of course.’ She really was going gaga.
She did not want Geraldine of all people in her house though, in the circumstances, there was little she could do. Her mother-in-law had taken another couple of steps inside and stood looking at the stairs, waiting for an invitation. There was no way Sarah could ask her to leave.
‘I was just about to have a bath,’ Sarah said weakly still holding the door open in the vague hope that Geraldine would take the hint and leave.
‘In that case I promise I won’t stop long.’
‘Come on up,’ Sarah said with a sigh of resignation which, surely, Geraldine could not have missed? The woman had never been thick-skinned. If anything, she had always taken exception to any of Sarah’s remarks, however innocent, that could possibly be interpreted as a slight or criticism. This new Geraldine was something of an enigma and Sarah was not sure how to cope.
Sarah led her into the living room where her guest looked around and made the predictable complimentary noises.
‘It has so much character,’ she gushed. ‘And I love the minimalist look.’
It was true that the room was relatively sparsely furnished but only because Sarah was waiting to find exactly the right pieces. Even on a Principal’s salary, she could not afford antiques but spent many happy hours wandering around the local salerooms.
‘I’m glad you like it,’ Sarah muttered dutifully.
‘It’s so vast. Makes my little place seem very ordinary.’
Geraldine lived in an attractive, spacious bungalow on a select development on the east of the town overlooking a golf course. It was more than adequate for her needs although, Sarah acknowledged, she probably felt that it was a considerable come down from the near palatial six-bedroom Surrey house where she’d entertained her husband’s business associates to lavish dinner p
arties. She had left behind much of the impressive furniture, too large and out of keeping with a modern bungalow. Losing a husband had also involved loss of a whole way of life and considerable prestige. Sarah pulled herself up with a jolt. Feeling sorry for Geraldine was getting to be a habit!
‘Would you like tea or coffee?’ she asked in her best hostess voice. She was not going to make a friend of the woman however desperate she had become!
‘Oh tea, please,’ Geraldine replied as though the suggestion of coffee in the middle of the afternoon was in poor taste. ‘I don’t suppose you have China?’
‘Pekoe, Oolong, Souchong? Or there’s Jasmine if you prefer.’
For a moment, Geraldine looked nonplussed. ‘Oh, um Oolong would be nice.’
Sarah picked up the tray with her half-eaten cheese sandwich and disappeared towards the kitchen.
Her small sense of triumph quickly disappeared when she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. Trust Geraldine to catch her dressed in a faded sweatshirt and baggy jogging bottoms. She plonked the tray onto the kitchen table and dashed into the bedroom. Grabbing a more presentable pair of slacks and a clean blouse from the wardrobe, she went to the bathroom. After a quick wash, she put in her contact lenses and ran a comb through her hair. No amount of persuading would make it lie in the right direction. Nothing short of a wash and blow-dry would make it look presentable.
Back in the kitchen, she filled the kettle then rummaged in the back of the cupboard for the packet of mixed teas she’d bought from the specialist shop in the town centre in a fit of enthusiasm after a meal in a Chinese restaurant. Her interest had immediately waned so she’d never got round to using any of them. She dare not look at the sell by date.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I thought I’d tidy myself up a bit whilst the kettle was boiling,’ she lied.
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have bothered for me,’ Geraldine simpered.
For the next half hour, Sarah had to sit next to Geraldine on the settee whilst the older woman talked her through two whole volumes of photographs, which Sarah was expected to admire.
‘That chappie in the white shirt was our tour manager, Brian. He was an absolute gem. Nothing was too much trouble.’
Sarah suppressed a smile at the thought of the merry dance she must have led the poor man, and listened dutifully to the story of the evening trip to watch the cormorant fishers.
‘Of course it’s all a big con really. They only do it now to amuse the tourists but it was fun watching the birds bobbing and diving from the little boats all hung with lanterns.’
‘I can imagine.’ Sarah battled on turning the pages.
‘We weren’t allowed to take photographs in the pits when we went to see the Terracotta Warriors. These snaps I took in the factory where they made the replicas. Every one of the originals is different you know. I’d no idea how many there are. The pits are vast and they’ve only uncovered a tiny portion of them.’
Sarah stole a glance at the clock. They still had another whole album to go.
For all her cynicism, even Sarah could not help being impressed with the pictures of the Temple of Heaven in the Forbidden City. Even from Geraldine’s far from expert photography, the sumptuous decoration shone through.
‘Did I tell you about our little sail in the dragon boat on the lake at the Summer Palace? That’s the photo of it there.’
The moment they reached the last photograph, Sarah looked pointedly at her watch.
‘I don’t want to appear rude, Geraldine, but I really must get on.’
‘Oh yes, I expect you’re going out this evening. You young people lead such busy social lives.’
This little fish has no intention of biting on your line, Sarah said to herself. She gave a wan smile and stood up.
‘It’s the same with Nathan. I’m lucky if I get to see him for Sunday lunch these days.’
Sarah’s smile remained intact. She had no intention of asking what he got up to. His affairs were his own business. And if the name Veronica leapt to her thoughts, she wasn’t about to let on.
‘May I use your bathroom before I disappear?’
As Sarah waited, she imagined Geraldine checking up on her. ‘Don’t forget to count the toothbrushes while you’re in there,’ she whispered at the closed door.
When Geraldine eventually reappeared, Sarah, already on the top stair, started walking down giving her visitor no opportunity to prolong her stay.
‘I have so enjoyed our little chat. We must do it again sometime. Why don’t you come across to me? You must see my terracotta general, he’s so splendid and I know you would appreciate all the other little knick-knacks I brought back.’
‘Yes, indeed. I’ll give you a ring sometime,’ Sarah interrupted, before Geraldine had a chance to suggest a date and time. She gave her a wave, stepped back and quickly closed the door.
As it so happened, Sarah had nothing on that evening. Nonetheless, the next item on her agenda was a long, hot, recuperative soak in the bath with a good book. A little of Geraldine, even when she was not out to get the better of her ex-daughter-in-law, went a very long way.
Chapter 22
Only after she had locked the door and left the protection of the sheltered back of the house did Sarah realise that a fine drizzle was falling. It did not bother her over much. Sometimes, it could be quite refreshing especially on the long slog up the hill coming back. She wasn’t such a fitness fanatic that she went out when it was raining hard but this was more of a thick mist, at least for the moment. The sky looked ominously dark but the sun had only been up for ten minutes or so. Having gone to all the bother of kitting herself up, she decided to carry on.
Even at that hour in the morning, there was a fair amount of traffic as she turned from Manor Lane out onto the Ridge Top Road. As sometimes happened, the drivers already out and about seemed to think a lone jogger was fair game. They had no compunction speeding through the puddles beginning to accumulate in the gutters, and producing a shower of spray over the narrow pavement.
She passed a couple of people out with their dogs and, dancing round them, plus having to shy away from every car that sped past, she felt more tired than usual by the time she reached the bottom. Her normal route continued past the pub and the old village school, around by the path skirting the top fields of Wheeler’s Farm then on back up the hill. The rain became more persistent and she decided to cut short her morning’s exercise. She contemplated returning by way of the road but decided, although already drenched, there was no sense in subjecting herself again to the dirty spray of passing cars, so she took the path through the woodland. It could be a pleasant walk although, because of the constant hairpin bends down the escarpment, it made a poor jogging track.
She was huffing and puffing before she was even half way up and her pace slackened to a slow trot. Keeping her eyes on the ground, watching where to put her feet to avoid the rapidly developing muddy patches and slippery leaves, she sensed, rather than saw, someone watching her. She glanced back over her shoulder but the path appeared to be deserted. It was a far from pleasant sensation and she gave a spurt to get to the next bend. As she rounded the corner, she had a good excuse to look back more carefully. If she was being followed, he or she was staying well out of sight.
It was not the first time she had had this feeling. On the previous occasions, she’d told herself that she was being over-sensitive. Nathan’s comment about the need for her to take care in this lonely spot came to mind and she cursed him for putting the idea into her head. She sprinted along the next section but there was no way she could keep up her pace when the gradient became steeper and she soon developed a painful ache in her chest. The thought of someone coming up behind her would not go away so, rather than stopping altogether, she turned and walked slowly backwards up the slope scanning the route behind.
A movement in the bushes below caught her eye. It was too high above ground to be a fox or dog, and far too great a disturbance to be the odd bird. Wh
oever was following had abandoned the path altogether and was climbing up through the trees. Each time she came to a halt so did her pursuer, evidently listening as intensely as she was. She tried to convince herself that it was just the pattering of the rain and she was spooking herself over nothing. As she stood debating whether to go down and investigate, a sudden thunderclap made her jump. Any moment now, the steady drizzle would become a torrent. She turned and ran.
Her heart was thumping as she reached the top road and, although she felt safer in full view of the houses, she kept going and cut through the footpath onto the lane. She already had the key clutched in her hand as she rounded the corner.
Slamming the front door shut and, without waiting to slide across the bolts and put on the chain, she hurried up the stairs ignoring the wet footprints and puddles of water on her beautiful, polished wood.
She dashed to the living room window but, though she waited for some time, no one climbed out of the woodland. If there had been someone there, he either had run up behind her into cover or had gone down to the bottom road. A glance out at the back revealed nothing either. As far as she could tell, there was no one watching the house. The only consolation was knowing that if there had been a stalker in the woods, he would now be soaked to the skin.
She resolved to buy a personal alarm at lunchtime. It was something her students were advised to get if travelling out alone. Even after her unfortunate experience in the underpass, she had never imagined that she might need one herself.
First thing on a Monday morning wasn’t the best time for anything that took her out of college and, thinking of the pile of work mounting up on her desk, Sarah gave a deep sigh as she made her way back into the building shortly after lunch.
Had she known agreeing to act as chairman of the Education Business Partnership would involve her in radio interviews, she might well have had second thoughts. Expecting to talk about the joint projects between local businesses, schools and the college, she suddenly found herself forced onto the defensive. Critical debate might make for interesting listening but there was no need for the adversarial stance that her interviewer had taken. Whenever she tried to outline the benefits of their latest projects to students, staff and business personnel, he insisted such activities were peripheral to the core curriculum and demanded to know how they could be justified in the current climate of poor resources in education.
All in the Mind Page 14
