by Kitty Wilson
She closed her eyes and prayed as Marion hit some very sharp bends and careered down one particularly heart-twistingly steep hill before she realized that the driving had suddenly levelled out and the singing – if you could call it that – had stopped. Opening her eyes, she saw heart-shaped lights sparkling down a very long driveway. This must be it!
Marion drove down very slowly as Rosy stared out of the window, slightly awed by the beauty of the approach, the artful nature of the lighting twisted through the trees illuminating the way. They reached a horseshoe driveway with some truly swish cars parked on it. Half of her wanted Marion to reverse back out and take her home; it was a little intimidating. Only half, though – the other half was itching to get inside and see what else there was. This house was truly modern, and designed to be hidden. And effectively so, seeing that she had never heard of or seen it before. It must be one of the area’s best kept secrets. Her interest was piqued. She could hear that nasal voice in her head: and who would live in a house like this? That was a question she was interested in answering.
She wandered through the front door and just stood in the foyer drinking it in. It was all very modern and open plan, with lots of clean lines and glass. The entrance hall was vast, and full of people milling around. Waitresses meandered through the crowd offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and there in the centre was a pink champagne fountain. Wow! She had never actually drunk from one of those before, only ever seen them on television. The whole space was artfully decorated with hearts and cherubs and seraphim but in an attractive way, not an in-your-face garish way. No wonder Marion had avoided cutting out millions of card hearts this year; she clearly had an extravaganza to organize. The woman must be mad doing this alongside the school disco. Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum. Speaking of which… Rosy scanned the room – where was Marion? They had exited the car together and wandered in through the entrance hall and then poof, like the Scarlet (sequinned) Pimpernel she was gone. Surely this was her perfect dream – shouldn’t she be somewhere in the crowd, making friends and scaring people?
‘Hello. Pleased to meet you.’ Rosy was taken by surprise as a young man, beautifully dressed, approached her and introduced himself. ‘I’m Chase. You look lost. How about I take your coat and give you a tour?’
‘Thanks, that would be really kind.’ Rosy smiled up at him and his American accent and slipped out of her coat, praying that he wouldn’t spot the Asda label inside. She doubted supermarket clothes had ever graced this house before. ‘I’m Rosy, I did come with Marion Marksharp but she’s disappeared. I was just scanning the room for her and can’t see her anywhere.’
‘Oh yes’ – Chase also had a quick glance about – ‘that’s odd, she’s normally at the centre of everything. Honestly, she’s a marvel, I’ve never met a woman who can organize like she can. If she had been born a couple of generations earlier you guys really would have won the war and been home by Christmas.’
Rosy choked on her drink and spat all down herself. Great.
‘I wasn’t being rude, I’ve known her for ages – she is an amazing woman. Amazing. I don’t know how she does it!’
Rosy managed to keep her eyebrows in place rather than letting them shoot up to her hairline and decided to go with a non-committal smile and nod. She was going to take a bit more convincing.
Chase held his arm out for her jacket, which she handed to him, carefully folded over, taking advantage of the moment to look him up and down.
He was handsome enough – actually, he was bordering on devastating. Could love be like buses, none for ages and then whoosh, they all come at once? Blond and tall and built, he looked like some Norse god. A smattering of hair on his chin contributed to the look and there was no escaping his eyes, a bright but deep cornflower blue that looked as if they could see right through you. He shone with confidence; there was no way this man didn’t get what he wanted, and you wanted to be the one who gave it to him.
Then a flash of Matt’s dark curls and scrunched eyes whizzed into her head. She shook it to try and get rid of the image quickly. Now was not the time to be daydreaming about him, not when she had a perfect specimen of manhood right here, bang in front of her, holding her jacket and smiling a welcome.
Alas, as she looked at him she could see that his eyes didn’t quite crinkle like Matt’s, and his hands were beautifully smooth, manicured perfectly, not covered in scratches and wrinkles and dripping with mud. So much for boundaries and The Rule. As much as she wished she were attracted to beautifully smelling, perfectly groomed Vikings in swish houses, it seemed the unconscious part of her was not prepared to make life that easy.
‘Right, let’s go and pop this away then and I’ll introduce you to everybody, Rosy.’
‘OK. Do you know everyone here?’ she asked as she followed him to a door leading off the main room. She hoped that was a cloakroom and she wasn’t just being swept off to a secluded room with a stranger! She figured she’d know when he opened the door, and she could always run for it.
‘Not everyone, I didn’t know you, but nearly, yes. It’s my house!’
Rosy watched as he turned the handle and combined watching with blushing, not out of attraction but embarrassment at her stupidity. He and the house were a perfect match – it was so obvious. And he wasn’t leading her somewhere to hit on her, he was being a great host and making her welcome. When would she learn? Perhaps if she just never uttered a word again, that could solve all problems. Although maybe not so good for her working life, but at least the children would learn how to sign.
She was so lost in embarrassment she had stopped paying attention to the cloakroom only to be alerted again by Chase suddenly blurting out in surprise, ‘Oh my God… right, OK…’ and slamming the door shut again with Rosy’s coat still in his hand.
‘Um, perhaps we should put this somewhere else.’ He turned towards Rosy, hunching his shoulders and beginning to walk away. Rosy, however, was stuck to the spot. Surely she hadn’t just glimpsed what she thought she had? But she had, and there was no unseeing it now. She would forever have the sight of Mrs Marksharp in flagrante with her husband in a cupboard. It would appear the way she drove had nothing on the speed with which she tracked down her husband!
Rosy followed Chase. He still had her coat after all, and there was no way she’d be opening that cupboard door and hanging it up herself. She felt a shudder at the thought of it.
Once they had placed some distance between the cloakroom and themselves, he turned and gave her a look and that was it, the two of them collapsed into contagious giggles.
‘It is Valentine’s,’ Chase snorted.
‘I know but still, I never thought that was a sight I’d see.’
‘Well, they have a strong relationship, that’s a good thing.’
‘You don’t have to look over the table at them during the next governors’ meeting. How will I keep a straight face?’
‘That I can’t answer. So you work at the school then?’
And from there the conversation flowed. Rosy found herself opening up to him about all sorts through the course of the evening. Her new role, and the school’s concerns. That then spilled into telling him about Matt, and what a fool she had been, partly because she wanted to make quite clear that she was being friends and not flirting and partly because she just couldn’t help herself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chase led Rosy outside to a huge tree hung with white lights and surrounded by a circular bench. Rosy could feel her heart flutter. She had always been a soft touch for trees this old, her romantic self swooning with the incalculable numbers of people who had shed emotions around its trunk. Thwarted lovers, grief-stricken parents and laughing children all could have leant against its steady girth and shared their worries, their heartbreak and their adventures. And then to have a bench around it, this was the sort of thing romantic dreams were made of. She could see picnicking lovers seated at its base, and secret trysts. She wished Matt was here. An
d then quickly checked herself.
‘This is beautiful.’
‘Thank you, I am really lucky to have found this place. My taste tends towards modern but I also appreciate a little history now and again and this tree would have sold me the house had I not already made up my mind.’
‘Oh my God, is that path leading to a private beach?’
‘It is.’
‘Wow, you have the perfect seduction palace here. How are you not overrun with playboy bunny types?’
‘Who says I’m not?’
‘Well, so far the closest I’ve come to seeing evidence is Mrs Marksharp fornicating in your coat cupboard! That would have been a threesome, at the very least, at Hugh Hefner’s house.’
‘Eugh! What are you suggesting?’
‘Um, nothing! And now I feel queasy again.’
‘You started it!’
‘I know, oh shush. Shhh! Here she comes now.’
‘Chase, darling! Mwah. Fabulous party.’
‘All thanks to you, as you know only too well, Marion.’
‘It’s your gorgeous house. I’ve been desperate to get in here for years, and now, such luck you’ve bought it.’
‘Ah, but you’ve done all the hard work, I only opened the door. And you know you are welcome any time.’
‘Thank you, such a sweetie.’
Oh God, Rosy was going to gag any minute. Watching Monster Marksharp on her full charm offensive was a bit much.
‘And you’ve met Rosy too. Such a darling girl. Such a huge asset to the school.’
I am here, Rosy wanted to shout but managed to smile weakly instead. Two glasses of pink champagne in and she was beginning to feel too whooshy to be difficult.
‘I’m sure she is.’ Chase’s social skills were clearly excellent. ‘Let me go and fetch you both a fresh drink, I shan’t be a minute.’
‘Perfect, thank you. I did want a quick word, Rosy, if that’s OK.’
‘Of course.’
‘I just want to explain.’
Rosy gulped. ‘Oh, you really don’t have to.’
‘I’d prefer it if I could.’
Rosy would really prefer it if she didn’t.
‘Look, Mrs Marksharp, you can trust me to be discreet and really what happens and where between you and your husband is no one else’s business. I have no interest in ever mentioning the coat cupboard again. I promise.’
Marion Marksharp, under the lights of the tree, went seven shades of red. Then she spluttered, and then went even redder, before sitting down upon the bench. Then she stood up again, mere seconds later, and fixed Rosy with her death glare. No shame then or mumbling apology heading Rosy’s way soon.
‘I had wanted to talk to you about the phone call we received yesterday, actually. I didn’t get a chance in the car – always best to concentrate on the road, I feel. Terribly exciting news though and yet you seem remarkably flat. Can I ask why, Rosy? This is such a perfect opportunity – we couldn’t have dreamt up a better way of promoting the school.’
‘Am I? I’m sorry if it came across like that, Marion’ – Rosy didn’t often lie but she wasn’t prepared to bond quite so honestly with Marion over her reluctance about entwining the school with Matt. Glimpsing the woman semi-naked did not mean she was going to bare herself in return – ‘but I think that’s a little unfair. You know I’m utterly committed to keeping Penmenna open.’
‘Yes.’ Marion paused. ‘Yes, you are, I know that. I was just surprised that you weren’t more enthusiastic about the Penmenna Hall project. This is a golden opportunity that has literally dropped into our laps by a hovering angel.’
Rosy wasn’t sure an angel had much to do with it but Marion was right; if she took out her reservations about Matt’s involvement, this was better than anything they could have dreamt up between them, and her own plan wasn’t working as quickly as she had hoped. Not every head she needed to talk to had returned her calls yet.
‘I’ll invite Matt into school this week and we’ll have an assembly and get the ball rolling as quickly as possible. The sooner our children are on screen and winning hearts, the sooner our battle is over. Now if you could make sure some of the more pathetic ones are wheeled out, that small girl in Class Two, for example, I could see if Andrea could borrow a wheelchair from work…’
‘I’m sure I’ve already said no to that, Marion, let’s stick to what is. We’ve a great school with great kids. But you’re right that the Penmenna Hall thing is an opportunity too big to miss. You organize the assembly and we’ll go from there.’
‘If you think so, plus now I’m friends with Angelina I’m sure we could get her on board. After Lynne mentioned her being in the village, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. I don’t know why you were so resistant – she’s terribly good fun.’
Marion paused to eye up their host, who was wandering across the lawn with drinks in his hand, accompanied by Mr Marksharp, presumably on the lookout for his wife.
‘I wonder… I wonder if we could use Chase… although he’s quite reclusive these days. There’ll be something he can do, I’ll just have to work it out.’
‘Should we ask him first?’
Marion laughed, one of those tinkly insincere laughs that really annoyed Rosy usually, but today scared her a little as well. She knew this woman could be politically ruthless but that giggle was bordering on the maniacal. She took it to mean the answer, for now, was a no.
‘Hello again, sorry I got waylaid.’ Chase passed her a drink.
‘Yes, I shall get a reputation for that sort of thing if I’m not careful!’ Mr Marksharp boomed as he leant to give his wife a kiss on the cheek. Not a sleazy kiss, or a possessive kiss or even an overtly sexual we’ve-just-been-caught-in-the-cupboard kiss, just a normal, hello-I-love-you kiss. It was sweet, quick and would have been unnoticeable had not Rosy been particularly focused on romance at the moment – or telling the difference between potential romance and control-based game playing. No one else paid it much credence, but for Rosy it was a window into Mrs Marksharp. She was beginning to realize that there was a lot more than playground terrorist and Machiavellian strategist to the woman in front of her.
‘We were just talking about local colour.’ Marion immediately extended the conversation to her husband and their host.
‘Not the sort you two provided earlier, I hope,’ joked Chase. Rosy froze. He was going to get eaten, spat out and stamped upon. She thought he was a friend of the family. Surely he knew this was a no-go? Did he have no self-preservation skills at all? She was tempted to shut her eyes. She did not want to watch this and, to top it all, her forehead now seemed to have formed a permanent stress crinkle.
‘Haha, you are such a toad! As if I’m not embarrassed enough!’ laughed Marion. Laughed? Had Rosy been transferred to an alternative reality? She scanned around. Everything seemed as normal. And that wasn’t one of her usual scary tinkles, that was a deep laugh, a laugh from the tummy. Was this Chase possessed with some kind of magical skills? Maybe they should use him after all. He could surround the school with a no-merge forcefield or something. Unicorns on the gates, that sort of thing.
‘I can’t take her anywhere, Chase. You know what she’s like. Any opportunity and she pounces,’ Mr Marksharp added. The laughter grew louder and Marion punched her husband on the arm. What on earth? Rosy decided not to get caught up in whatever this was. There was no way she was going to join in. This was like some kind of Game of Thrones trap – one giggle would accidentally escape her throat and she’d be surrounded by triumphant menacing sword-wielding types. She was going to just stare at the floor until the laughter stopped.
‘Oh God, sorry, Rosy. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,’ Chase said. ‘It’s just we’ve all known each other since uni, so… well, we know each other really well. Tell you what, let’s get you mad drunk until all your inhibitions melt away and you too can take the mickey out of Mother Superior, the Monster Marksharp!’
Oh my God, how di
d they know everyone called her that?
‘Rosy doesn’t want to get drunk! We’re not eighteen any more, she’s a professional woman trying to find a solution to a major problem, she wants her wits—’
‘No, it’s OK.’ Rosy heard her voice speaking but didn’t understand how or why. ‘I think I would really like that.’
‘In that case, Richard, you’d better go and get us a couple of bottles, we’re going to bed down and bond! Don’t look so scared, Rosy, it was your idea! Oh, but before you play fetch, help us! When you so rudely interrupted us’ – she sent her trademark dark glare at her husband and Chase, which seemed to bounce off without impact – ‘we were just talking about getting Angelina on board. I put stage one of the plan into action yesterday but Rosy just keeps looking at me blankly as if she was shaken at birth. I’ve already tracked her down, now I just need to brainwash her into complying.’
‘How unlike you, my love,’ Richard remarked. Marion stuck her tongue out at him. Chase smiled and then started hopping up and down, foot to foot, like one of Rosy’s pupils.
‘Angelina? Angelina from all those reality shows? She’s my dream date, my soon-to-be-wife. Well done, Marion! She’s amazing, so beautiful but so vulnerable, you know, she just needs an understanding man to support her, help her, instead of those douches she always goes out with. I’ve heard she was in the village, and you’ve spun her into your web already, good work! What’s she doing this evening? Let’s get her over!’ Chase looked as if he had won the lottery, his blond good looks shining with optimism.
