‘Oh, dear. Will that be a very sore trial?’
‘It will indeed.’
‘Hmm.’ Miss Ashe tapped a toe against the rug in front of her desk. ‘Get rid of her, my dear.’
‘Easier said than done. My husband is very attached to his mother.’
The headmistress inhaled deeply. ‘Listen to me. There comes a time for all these things to be put into perspective. You are his wife, Mrs Saunders. Your wellbeing should be of paramount importance to him. From little things you’ve said over the years, I gather that the senior Mrs Saunders is a bad influence on your daughter. Explain this to . . . what’s his name?’
‘Geoff.’
‘Explain it to him. Surely he will see reason?’
‘No. No, he won’t.’
‘Too late for him, is it? Oh dear, when I think of my own poor mother . . .’ her voice tailed away to a whisper.
‘Pardon?’
‘She used to say to me, “Leave me, Celia. Leave me before it’s too late, before you turn into a Cinderella”, the number of times she said that. She was a truly unselfish woman. Always matchmaking, always looking for a man for me to marry. She didn’t want me fastened to her, you see. That’s a proper mother.’
‘But you stayed.’
‘Because I never met the right man. And because I loved her. I still miss her dreadfully.’
‘Are you lonely, Miss Ashe?’
The older woman stared unseeing through the window, her eyes misting with unshed tears. ‘Mrs Saunders, we are all lonely in the final analysis. We come into the world alone and we leave it in the same condition. I am no lonelier than you are, my dear.’
Kate looked at the sad spinster she had known for over five years. A funny old thing, everyone thought. Not quite the full shilling because she’d never married. Who could know about life without being married? She was strange to look at, yes. She still wore her hair shoulder-length like a young girl, still moved as if she were in her twenties or thirties. But Miss Ashe was the full shilling, Kate knew that now. ‘In the final analysis, we are all alone.’ Kate would remember this woman’s words for the rest of her life.
‘Back to business,’ snapped Miss Ashe, as if deliberately pulling herself together. ‘You will take responsibility for playtime rotas, dinner registers, teachers’ signing in and out book, the nurses’ visits and any dinner time supervision that might be required. Timetables and schemes of work will be organized by both of us in conjunction with each separate member of staff. You’ll get some ribbing because of your position and your youth. Get that staffroom sorted out. Now that the . . . the liaison between . . . well . . .’ She coughed. ‘The barrier to progress has been removed, Mrs Saunders. I know that you are simply dying to help upstairs with the less able, and there is now nothing to stop you offering such assistance. Persevere. Against all adversity.’
‘I shall.’
‘I know that. Why do you think I persuaded the board not to advertise? I knew I wanted you right from the start, since poor Mr Partridge became ill. So, onward ever onward, eh?’
‘That’s right, Miss Ashe.’
‘And don’t be a stranger. Any problems – familial or educational – just come to me. And I’d love you to visit me some evening or weekend. We can do a lot of planning once we get into a pair of comfortable chairs with a sherry in our hands.’
Kate grinned broadly. ‘Sounds just my cup of tea.’
‘You prefer tea?’
‘Not really.’
‘Good. A sherry or a fine port blurs the edges of a grim day, Mrs Saunders. Goodbye now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Maureen was waiting by her car in the street. ‘Hello, boss.’
‘Don’t start.’
‘Can I open the door for you, boss?’
‘I’ll batter you in a minute.’
‘Isn’t life going to be hard now? You’ll be closeted with old Spaniel face every other day, staying behind for meetings and looking into her soulful doggy eyes.’
‘She’s OK.’
‘And can we still be friends? I mean, how are you going to tell me off if I don’t do a good job? You’ll laugh.’
‘I won’t. And anyway, you do a good job. Get in the car and drive.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
As Maureen climbed into the car, Kate noticed a young man hovering by the side door of the school. There was something familiar about him, she had seen him at parents’ evenings, hadn’t she? He looked so sad and lost, while his clothes appeared to have been thrown on in haphazard fashion – coat unbuttoned, tie hanging loose from a creased collar, shoes scuffed and unpolished. He was an attractive man with gentle blue eyes and soft light brown hair. She took a step towards him as his name suddenly dropped into her mind. ‘Mr Collins?’
He stared at her as if from a great distance. ‘Pardon?’
‘You’re Mr Collins, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, I am. Are you Rosie’s new teacher?’
‘That’s right. I took over from Mr Partridge yesterday. Did you want to see me? Is there a problem?’
He shuffled about for a moment or two, eyes downcast, head shaking slowly from side to side. ‘She’s . . . in hospital.’
Kate waited for a while, but no more was forthcoming. ‘Is it anything serious?’ she asked.
He cleared his throat. ‘It’s . . . er . . . something to do with her blood.’
‘I see.’ She waited again. ‘Are you her father?’
He drew a grubby hand across his eyes. ‘Our parents are dead. I’m her brother. She’ll . . . she’ll be back at school, Mrs . . . er . . .’
‘Saunders. Kate Saunders.’
‘Right. Yes.’ Sad eyes were slowly raised until they met Kate’s questioning gaze. ‘Look after her.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Don’t tell any of the other teachers. I want her life to be as normal as possible. She . . . isn’t going to make it. She’ll get better for a while, but she’s got . . . it’s leukaemia, I think. Be kind to her. Just be kind to my little Rosie.’
Her breath was caught in her dry throat. ‘I will. I most certainly will. And I won’t tell anyone. Wait! Please? Is there anything I can . . . ?’
But he was already walking away, leaving Kate staring at his sloping back. He stumbled along like an old man, though he was obviously only in his twenties.
Kate climbed into the car.
‘What did he want?’ asked Maureen.
‘Not much. Just asking about Rosie’s progress.’
‘Hmmph. He looked a mess. He’s a teacher, you know. Usually very smart and up to the minute.’
‘Let’s go home.’
In spite of Kate’s disquiet about Rosie, they drove in comfortable silence down to Bolton and through its heart. This friendship had become valuable to both women over the years. Each now knew the other’s hopes and fears; there were few secrets between them. One of the few was Rosie . . . ‘How’s it going in there?’ asked Maureen as they stopped outside Kate’s house.
Kate shrugged. ‘The only bit of French I remember is “plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose”. It’s true. Things change while remaining the same.’ Except for Rosie Collins. Things could only get worse for that poor kiddy.
‘You’re the one that’s changing, love. Silly old Geoffrey can’t see what he’s got. I was saying to Phil only the other night that neither man is grateful for a wife who works in a good profession. He’s no different to yours, I’m taken for granted too. He’s glad we can afford to renovate the bathroom, but doesn’t notice that it’s my money we’re using. Not all of it. I keep some to one side. What do you do with yours?’
‘I save most.’
‘Oh, what for? Holidays?’
‘I really don’t know what for, Maureen. Against a day that will be more than rainy, I suppose.’
‘What? You’ll leave him?’
‘I don’t know the answer to that, either. Perhaps I intend to invest in myself some day – do something other than teac
hing. At first, I wanted my own school, but, as I say, things change all the time. Not in there, though. Everything’s still the same in there. He can’t see it, won’t see it. Now she often takes Mel back to her house for weekends. When I complain to Geoff, he just says she’s lonely. The child is becoming an old woman herself.’
‘Then do something about it!’
‘Oh, Maureen, even you don’t truly understand. I can’t alter the situation. I’ve tried. If I say anything, it’s because I’m unstable. You see, when I talk about things, about Dora’s interference and Geoff’s indifference, I get upset. When I get upset, he makes another appointment with the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist is also a man, so he shares Geoff’s viewpoint. I’m doing too much, don’t need to work full-time, should invest my meagre store of energy into making a home. If I did finish working, Dora would still be here almost every day. I’ve told the psycho all this, he knows I work just to get away from home. But he says I’m running and that I’ll have to stop some time. If I gave up teaching, then I’d probably run in a different way, a more dramatic way. At school, I see some sanity and order. I can even have a say in its creation now. Here . . .’ She waved a hand towards the house, ‘I have to be a good girl, say nothing and do little. As long as I look the part and hold my corner in a bridge game, then all’s well. You and Phil are the only pair of friends discovered by me. Everyone else is positively geriatric.’
‘Oh Lord! I can see big trouble ahead for you, Kate. Why don’t you get it over and done with? Why don’t you cite one of his floozies?’
Kate shrugged slightly. ‘In the first place, I don’t know who they are. Even the letters have no addresses on them. Secondly, I can’t seem to care enough. Also, I’m not ready yet. Perhaps the doctor is right, perhaps I can only do one thing at a time. Then there’s Mel. What would I do about her? The child doesn’t know me – if I took her away, she’d scream blue bloody murder. But if I were to leave her with Geoff and Dora while she’s so young, then what would become of her? There are too many things to consider, Mo. One day, though. One day . . .’
Geoff’s face seemed to cloud over that evening when she told him the news about her job. Dora, who had stayed again for supper, mumbled something about a little brother or sister for Melanie, and Kate foolishly latched on to this. ‘I’m not here simply to breed, Dora. There are other important things in life, you know.’
‘But Melanie’s a big girl now.’ Dora drew in her third chin. ‘It’s a very big gap you’re leaving.’
Kate nodded her head towards her husband. ‘Geoff had no brothers or sisters.’
‘His father died!’
‘When Geoff was ten. Mel’s nowhere near that age. I really think you should mind your own business, Dora. When it comes to producing children, our life is no concern of yours.’
‘Kate!’ barked Geoff. ‘Enough of that, now.’
She turned on him, her temper snapping in spite of the rein she was trying so hard to apply. ‘I am sick to death of your mother’s interference. Every time I come home, she’s here. Every time the school day ends, I’ve got her to put up with!’
‘I bring Melanie home from school,’ wailed Dora. ‘Do you want me to leave her here alone?’
‘I want you to leave me alone,’ screamed Kate.
Dora burst into tears. ‘Thank goodness the child is in bed,’ she sobbed.
Geoff rushed to his mother’s side. ‘This is no time for one of your tantrums, Kate.’ He hugged Dora closely.
‘They’re not tantrums! I am stating the plain and simple fact that I don’t like your mother being here all the time. Do you know of any other marriage like this one? Do any of your friends’ wives have to tolerate another woman in the house all the time? And she’s turning our daughter into a grabbing, scheming little bitch. What’s the matter, Dora? Are you having a tantrum? I’m not allowed to cry like that, so just enjoy the luxury of indulging yourself. As for you, Geoff, you are not a man. You never were and you never will be. She made sure of that!’ Kate pointed an accusing finger at the weeping woman, then flounced out of the room, slamming the door in her wake.
In the bedroom, her own tears came, quickly soaking into the pillow she used to smother her sobs. She had a new job, a good job and no-one in the house was even slightly impressed or interested. As a person, she didn’t count here. But why had she suddenly opened up tonight? After being so good for so long? Was it because of her conversation with Maureen, or was it because of her unnoticed and uncared about promotion? And why was Mr Collins’ face in her mind all the time? Poor Rosie! Dear God, poor Rosie!
It was yet another lesson for Kate. From this day on, she showed little emotion at home, was even less of a wife and mother than she had been previously. An armed truce existed between herself and Dora, who continued to haunt the house as if it were her own. There was little in life for Kate. Her only solace was school, where she was slowly breaking down the barriers between uppers and lowers, where schemes of work for poor achievers were now sent upstairs to a sensible if not quite enthusiastic reception.
It was in the middle of this very dead period that she met Mike Wray again. She was in the Central Art Gallery with a party of six from the scholarship class when he turned up similarly surrounded, though by older children.
As soon as he saw her, his handsome face lit up. ‘Kate,’ he yelled across a dozen heads.
She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. He hadn’t changed, not much anyway. Wavy blond hair was pushed back carelessly from a fair-skinned strong face, while his bearing was still youthful in spite of the dark grey suit he wore. ‘Mike! How are you?’
‘Buried in work.’ He negotiated his way round the children and came to join her. ‘Still painting?’
‘No. Married with one child.’
‘Ditto. Did you marry that Geoff chap?’
‘Yes.’
‘I married a nurse. Susan, she’s called.’ He collared a passing youth of about fourteen. ‘Marshall! No trouble in here or it’s double detention. Right?’
‘Right, sir.’
‘Sir.’ She giggled quietly. ‘And I’m deputy-head now.’
‘Honestly? Well done.’
‘Only because nobody else wanted it. The school’s a mausoleum, looks like a derelict workhouse from the outside, and inside’s not much better.’
‘Which school is that?’
‘Daubhill.’
‘Really? I’m at Thornleigh, as you can see from these dreadful uniformed urchins. Got a degree in art, finally. Stayed on and went to Manchester University. So I’m second in command of the art department. Mind, there are only two of us, so second in command is bottom rank.’
They watched their charges for a few minutes, each suddenly shy and unsure of what to say to the other.
‘Roses round the door, eh?’ he finally whispered from a corner of his mouth.
‘And painting on summer evenings.’
‘Are you . . . are you happy?’
‘No.’ Her voice was low.
‘Neither am I.’ He raised his tone. ‘Marshall! Do not touch anything. For goodness sake, boy, go down into the aquarium where you can do no damage.’ He turned and looked at her again. ‘I shall serve time for Marshall. One day, I’ll be put inside for what I’m going to do to that silly lad. You’ve turned out pretty, just as I always knew you would. Why aren’t you happy?’
‘I don’t know. Too many reasons.’
‘Meet me by the duck pond on Saturday? Please?’
‘What if someone sees us? That’s silly, Mike. We’re both married. Meeting will only bring trouble for us.’
‘Sue doesn’t give a damn where I go or what I do. She’s too busy midwifing to care about me. What’s wrong with two old friends meeting? Is there a babysitting problem?’
‘No. My daughter goes to Geoff’s mother most weekends. The problem is with me, Mike, I don’t know what I want from life. Please don’t complicate matters any further. And if Geoff found out, he would go m
ad. It’s all right for him to play away from home, but . . .’
‘Does he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why worry?’
‘Because I have my own standards. I’m a married woman. Perhaps I won’t always be married . . . Look. These kids are getting out of hand. I’m going, fine art is obviously not their forte.’ She dragged herself away with reluctance, but he pursued her.
‘Saturday. Two o’clock,’ he whispered.
When Saturday came, she went to the duck pond, just as she had always known that she would. It was drizzling and they huddled together beneath Mike’s large black umbrella. ‘Why didn’t we wait for one another?’ he moaned softly. ‘Why did you have to marry that bloody man?’
‘I loved him. It seemed right at the time. Only it’s turned out to be a stinking rotten bore. I am not right for marriage, Mike.’
‘All because of Josianne Hedouin.’
‘Who? Ah, yes. The French girl in the daring red dress. I wonder what became of her?’
‘My parents sent her packing after a fortnight – she was always trying to get into my bed. And there were boys hanging round the house at all hours of the day and night. She’s probably running a thriving business in the Quartier Latin.’
‘Did she take your virginity?’
‘Don’t be silly. I lost that in the Air Force.’
‘I see. I lost mine to Geoff. The ducks are still here, I notice. Remember how I used to try to paint them? So many different colours in their feathers.’
They gazed together at a past that was gone and, beyond that, at a future they had denied themselves. Each could feel the other’s misery soaking deeper than the wetting fine rain. ‘What do we do?’ he asked at last. ‘Can we see one another?’
‘I think,’ she said carefully, ‘that I would like to have a lover. Someone who thinks I’m special, someone all to myself. But a married lover isn’t the answer. We could not communicate when we needed or wanted to, could not meet whenever or wherever we pleased. Apart from which, it would be totally dishonest. I scream at him for knocking about with other women and I enjoy the virtuous stand I am able to take. The guilt would weigh me down.’
Nest of Sorrows Page 11
