The Cornish Village School – Breaking the Rules

by Kitty Wilson

  ‘Thank you, Hugo, oh and of course Angelina. It is with great pleasure that I introduce the first ever screening of Green-fingered and Gorgeous: The Cornish Edition!’ Rosy stood to one side, unable to resist a triumphant look straight to camera. Take that, Edward Grant!

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Rosy watched the screen, aware of how cute the children were looking and how cute Matt was looking, and accepting that she may look a little snarly, but only in one or two shots. The rest she was coming over quite well in, and she would only be in this segment; the rest of the time she had kept well away from Penmenna Hall in her ridiculous attempt to avoid Matt.

  The children were captivated, almost silent, with the exception of a little nudge or a giggle as they recognized themselves and their friends onscreen. She had never seen Chloe sit as still for so long before. This was bordering on a miracle. The parents at the back, largely mothers, all made loud aww-ing noises as they reached the bit where Matt was handing out the tools, and then got down in the dirt a second later to help the little ones use them. All eyes swivelled lovingly towards him, whereas Rosy, whose anxiety about telling him the truth of her past was beginning to bubble to the surface, felt neither loving or swoony, just a little bit sick.

  The rest of the screening passed by in a blur for Rosy. It wasn’t until it had finished and Marion stood up to lead a standing ovation for Matt, and then the children, that she fully came back to life. Maybe she should wait, maybe accosting him in a professional setting to bare personal woes wasn’t appropriate, green swishy dress or not.

  She stood up, having handed Scramble back to Matt, and thanked everyone in the hall for their continuing support and a job well done before the children were allowed to mingle with the adults, and attack the party food the PTA had put out at the back.

  Then she wandered back to Matt and tugged gently on his arm for attention. Regardless of her decision to blurt or not to blurt, she still needed to say thank you. Flawlessly he detached himself from the parents and turned to face her, creating a space for just the two of them.

  ‘That went so well, don’t you think, Rosy? I should imagine your Edward Grant fellow is going to have a hard job closing you down now. Well done.’

  ‘It did, and I just want to thank you once again for all you’ve done. You’ve been amazing. And also, although not here, there are a couple of things I should explain. I know I never rang when I said I would and I think I may have been a bit of an idiot.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ he replied, nodding far more vigorously than he needed to. ‘I think that may be true. Is this idiot thing an explanation for that night at Chase’s as well? Whatever the reason was, and… look, I know we’ve said this before but I think you and me…’ He paused as he moved closer and picked up her hand with one of his, then used the other to brush a lock of hair from her face to behind her ear. The room stopped for a minute and Rosy looked into his eyes, so close, so intimate, and felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. Was this relief? Was this embarrassment? Was this lo— No, no it wasn’t that! ‘Yes, we really do need to have that talk.’

  Boldly she continued staring into his eyes. Green and flecked with amber, she could see their smile. He was laughing at her, ever so quietly, but he was laughing and suddenly she didn’t really mind. He was welcome to; she had been a fool and they had missed out, all because of things that had happened years ago.

  ‘We do. We will.’

  ‘Not here though.’ He gestured with his hand around the room, most of it still chattering away but some of it silent, and watching the two of them. Marion and Lynne now had joined forces and were standing rather close, both grinning like lunatics. Oh God, she was embarrassed. And, oh shit, Hugo and the camera seemed to be heading towards Harmony. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. She signalled frantically at Lynne, hoping she could interpret her desperate ‘stop them’ semaphore.

  Matt arched an eyebrow as she launched into charades across the room but he seemed determined that this was one conversation they would finish. She was pretty much in agreement with such a sentiment.

  ‘No, not here, but tonight. I promise to turn up this time. I’ll come to you. We’ll talk.’

  ‘OK, and I’ll make it special.’

  ‘Umm… argh… hmmm…’ Rosy lost the power of speech at the thought of that. ‘Right now I need to head that off at the pass.’ She gestured to Harmony and Matt grinned; he had heard enough stories to know why that was necessary and understood the arm-waving now.

  ‘Oh, Rosy Winter, go! I’ll mingle and I’ll see you later. Meet me at mine this evening. I should be there anytime on from six-ish, no, make that seven. Oh and, Rosy, we’re going to get to the bottom of a few things tonight, and do you know what, I think it’s all going to be OK.’

  The stupid grin was still stuck to her face as she managed to insert herself in between the cameraman and Harmony as she started to answer Hugo’s question about the impact the project had had on her, the TV presenter’s face glazing over with perplexity as the teacher started to talk about moon cycles and planting.

  Suddenly the door of the hall slammed loudly. Being old and heavy it had a habit of doing that and Rosy spun around to see who had walked in. She wasn’t alone; several others turned in natural response to the noise.

  ‘Blimey, would ya look at the legs on that!’ James from Class Three could be heard to say very loudly and the room suddenly fell silent, with the exception of the odd titter from James’s friends, unable to cope with the wanton sexuality of the woman who stood in front of them. A woman with a dark, sleek Cleopatra bob, legs up to her ears, wearing a scrap of red silk and a very predatory smile. Rosy started to head over to welcome their late guest, but the newcomer didn’t seem to need to wait for a welcome, slinking across the hall towards Matt and delivering a very public, not-suitable-for-children, X-rated kiss on his lips.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Rosy arrived home after all the fuss in the hall had died down. Matt had sped out of there as fast as fast can be. In his defence he did not have the look on his face of a man racing home to satisfy raging desire. Rather that of a man who was so completely done with the bullshit that he may hurl himself off a cliff.

  Being up close to him again, and especially since the support offered by Chase and Katie, made her realize how desperately she wanted to give this man a chance, how he encapsulated all the qualities she deemed important and how, with his twinkly eyes and beautifully formed upper arms, it had been ages since she’d last had sex. Certainly the melty feeling that zoomed through her when the two of them were together was a very strong reminder of this fact. And she knew the way her body responded to him, the memory of their kiss, was making her puddle with lust.

  All this postponing until tomorrow had been cowardice and the arrival of that woman was a reminder that he was not the sort of man that would be available for long. The expression on the faces of most of the mothers had been enough of an indicator.

  Bizarrely, although she had felt a little pang of panic when the strange woman walked in and molested him in front of the entire school, she had also been full of a kind of zen calm. She really wasn’t used to zen calm. But she was pretty sure that’s what it was. It was as if someone had taken her brain and freed it of all its toing and froing and filled it up with unicorns and lilac and lullabies instead. Lullabies that said she was safe and secure with Matt. That it was fact that he had no interest in anyone but her and that he was going to understand why she had acted the way she had, and they were going to make babies and nest build…

  Woah! All this surety was fabulous but maybe she needed to hold fire on the babies thing. And whilst it was great that she was now new zen-calm Rosy, the one thing that was fairly definite was that she needed to stop messing him about, tell him the truth and get this great romance started properly.

  The clock binged in her hall. It was six now; she should go and see if he was ready yet, and if not, she could knock again later. There were going to be no more mi
xed messages from Rosy today, she was going to make it clear as could be.

  She knew that he knew that what he needed was not a shiny showbiz love but a down-to-earth country girl, a girl who liked to bake, a girl who knew when to step up and apologize. A girl who would shoulder the blame and not make excuses. A girl who happened to live next door.

  She put the cake tin down, twitched and twirled her green dress one more time and headed towards the door. She, Rosy Winter, was off to get her man!

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Bloody hell! He couldn’t believe his bad luck. He was not the type of man to be rude to anyone – he could see no merit in hurting a person’s feelings, as there would always be a way to get what you needed done without recourse to that – but he thought today he may have just hit his limit.

  Siobhan was currently sitting in his kitchen making ridiculous demands, driving him mad and embarrassing him to a point of no return whilst he escaped to the bathroom for some thinking time. His poxy sister, the author of this particular little play, no doubt still swilling champagne at Chase’s house, should be taking responsibility for this. He had no interest in scary scantily clad women in his home, unless they were Rosy, and this one very clearly wasn’t.

  It had been a funny kind of day. He had been unsure what to expect at the school. Rosy had been absent of late, failing to get in touch as she’d promised, and prior to that she had blown hot and cold and he hadn’t known what the hell was going on in her mind. Chase had been helpful in his encouragement and his words seemed to have a ring of truth today when Rosy had said she had been an idiot. He was relieved she had thought so and been bold enough to say it; it meant that the two of them had a chance at resolving all miscommunication between them, and both understood that a bit of straight-talking and a lot less supposing was the way forward.

  Today had definitely looked like it was going to end on a high; her scowling from previous weeks had been replaced with smiles and whispered asides. That high had lessened when he was launched upon by the scary, possibly drug-addled woman currently sitting in his kitchen with next to nothing on. He hadn’t dared make eye contact with Rosy as he had whisked Siobhan out of the school hall filled with children and TV cameras. He was going to kill Angelina! However, once he had got rid of her, and that was going to happen any minute now, he was going to make sure tonight went without so much as a ripple. He had big plans, and he needed to get rid of Siobhan so he could do clever things with candles, jam jars and a projector. He would show Rosy that he wasn’t interested in anyone else, that they had undeniable chemistry, enjoyed the same things and that it made sense to give it a go. He was going to make it so romantic, an honest gesture of intent. Something to make her see that he was serious. Somewhere that got her as far away from the doubts she had as possible. And bloody Siobhan.

  So, bloody Siobhan was the first thing he was going to have to sort out, way before organizing candles, making a romantic declaration, or even the gifting of the Valentine’s orchid could occur. He needed that woman back in London very soon, preferably in the next five minutes.

  He breathed in deep, unlocked the loo door and headed downstairs to be polite but firm. Very firm. Maybe not so polite.

  He approached the kitchen, her coat lifted from the banister in his hand. There – a physical sign of intent. And an aimed shot at the whole ‘but I don’t know where I put my things’ line that she was likely to use.

  ‘Right!’ He swung the door open and announced his arrival. ‘Now whilst I appreciate… oh, you are joking me! Please put your clothes back on.’

  ‘Yah, but don’t you like me like this?’ purred Siobhan, who, for whatever reason (OK, he knew the reason) was crawling around the kitchen floor on all fours in her underwear and a pair of uncomfortable-looking heels.

  ‘No, I’m sure lots of men find you very charming but I would prefer you got dressed.’

  She curled herself around his leg, and then looked up at him, batting him with what he supposed she thought was her paw. Then she meowed. Then she used her paw to try and pull down the zipper on his trousers.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ He gently pushed her off and then grabbed her hand to pull her up onto her feet. His intent was to get her standing and get the coat on her.

  ‘Ooh, baby. See, you knew it was a good idea.’ She came to her feet willingly and curled herself into him, shimmying as she did so, rubbing her breasts into his chest and her pelvic bone against his. All he could think about was that it would be just his luck if Rosy came to the window. He pushed her back slightly and then grabbed her hands and twirled her around as his mother had he and Angelina when they were younger.

  ‘Salsa, baby. I like your style, yah!’ She teetered on the heels a little. He steadied her and used the movement to get the coat over one arm and then up on the shoulders. There was no point draping it on her; she would shrug it off in a second and he would be no further forward.

  ‘No!’ she said in a child-like squawk. ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Me neither,’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘I don’t want the coat.’ She suddenly folded onto him, making her legs floppy and becoming heavy against his frame. Rather like a drunken aunt or uncle needing support late on Christmas afternoon. This was not helping.

  ‘If you slip this on for me I can show you how grateful I’ll be,’ he whispered into her ear, trying a different tack.

  ‘How grateful?’ She looked up to him, eyes lidded but locked on his.

  ‘Very grateful. I think you’ll like it.’

  ‘Yah, I’m sure I will.’ She slipped her remaining arm into the coat.

  He stood back as if admiring her but actually checking the whole Bambi legs thing was just artifice and that she could support her own weight.

  ‘Do you like it like this?’ She ran her hands down her coat, legs akimbo, and looked him straight in the eye. He stopped feeling sorry for her. She didn’t look vulnerable now, just rapacious. This was a good thing; it would make what he was about to do far easier.

  ‘Mhmm.’ He smiled at her, not able to actually say words. He felt pretty lousy doing this as he managed to lure her into the hallway but didn’t know how else to get her out the house. Prior to him nipping to the bathroom he had spent a whole hour trying to explain in every way possible that he was not interested and she needed to leave.

  She not only refused to listen but just got increasingly creepy about how she knew he was the one. How she had fallen in love with him in London when he had been so kind in the alleyway. It was all a bit of a mystery to him; he had no memory of being kind, just a rather one-sided conversation he couldn’t wait to escape from. He felt quite sorry for her. He wasn’t convinced her behaviour was driven by any kind of empowered female sexuality, more a kind of desperate sex-by-numbers-for-the-modern-male as seen through Siobhan’s eyes. If that male was a fourteen-year-old used to accessing images online.

  That may be a bit unfair – many men may find a largely naked woman in stockings and suspenders striking a dominatrix pose in their hallway a fantasy come true, but he was very definitely a bit more apple pie in his tastes. Although if it were Rosy… He suddenly pictured her in Siobhan’s gear, hair falling over one eye as she winked – OK, suddenly he could see the appeal. But not with Siobhan.

  Now for stage two of the plan. Although ‘plan’ could be a somewhat optimistic misnomer.

  ‘OK, let’s go.’ He smiled as winningly as he could muster. She didn’t appear fooled.

  ‘Yah, OK, but where are we going?’ She looked at him hard. As if she knew that this was not genuine. He was going to be lucky if he pulled this one off. Then he heard footsteps coming down the stairs next door. That meant Rosy was back from school. Shit. Breathe. That didn’t mean she was coming around here right now – he was sure he had said seven, that gave him just under an hour to get everything sorted. Oh, bloody hell, what if she knocked early? That would be the universe taking bad luck too far. Logic dictated that couldn’t happen. No
one was that unlucky. But it was a reminder that he needed Siobhan out and fast.

  He heard Rosy’s front door slam. Oh shit, shit, shit, shit! What was he going to do? He looked at his guest, hair mussed, eyes big and face flushed. That, without her attired in a full-on sex kit complete with mac on top and dress dangling from her finger, would be hard enough to explain, and he wouldn’t blame Rosy one bit for leaping to the wrong conclusion. Dear God, and he had assumed she was virtually married because of a few daft hearts. Um… um…

  He knocked the hall light off and pushed Siobhan up against the wall. Despite the dark he could see her eyes grow bigger and her smile widen.

  ‘Uh-huh, I knew you’d see sense.’ She lunged forward to kiss him and he whipped his head back. Maybe she was just going into the village to the corner shop. His movement only inflamed Siobhan further.

  ‘I see, yah, you like to be in control after all. Well, I’m all yours.’ She leant back against the wall, opening herself even more.

  Then he saw a shadow approaching through the glass in his door. Oh God! Siobhan was still talking. There was only one thing for it. He pressed himself up as tight as he could to her and covered her mouth somewhat aggressively with his hand. He prayed she didn’t bite.

  Rosy was knocking on the door; if he could just keep Siobhan quiet for a minute or two longer. He turned his head, just a fraction, not enough to relinquish control over his guest, just enough to make out the shape of Rosy against the glass.

  She knocked again, cupping her hands around her eyes and peering in. Scramble was barking loudly to notify Rosy, cupping her hands around her eyes and peering in, that Matt was at home and in all probability with Siobhan. He held his breath and prayed. He could feel his heart beating so fast that he felt it was going to explode out of his chest, squishing between him and Siobhan. She must be able to feel it too. It was crazy. Then he realized she was wriggling her arm free to try and feel something else instead. The last thing he needed was their squashed form to make sudden movements, alerting Rosy to the fact that it perhaps wasn’t a new hat stand in silhouette that she could see.