A Song in the Night (59 page)

The young woman smiled enthusiastically. “Sure, take a seat. You’re the new NTA, aren’t you? I’m Chrissie. Chrissie Havers.”

Rosie introduced herself and they quickly fell into conversation. When she chanced to glance up at the wall clock, Rosie was surprised to see how much of the dinner hour had already passed. Funny; there’d been no sign of Jonathon at all. She made casual mention of it to Chrissie.

“Oh
Jon –
” Chrissie replied breezily. “He does football club on Mondays. Poor guy, he’s out there come rain or shine. One of these days his team’s gonna go all the way. Or so he keeps telling us.” She broke into a chuckle and Rosie smiled too. But secretly, she couldn’t help feeling slightly threatened by the familiar tone in which Chrissie spoke about Jonathon. She found herself recalling her own cyber correspondence with him, and realised that in all the time they’d been e-mailing each other, she’d never yet felt at liberty to call him Jon. Moreover, as that realisation broke upon her mind, she found her thoughts going back to the day she’d first come into the staffroom at Paddock Hill. When she’d been standing by the kettle with Bev. When the door had burst open and Jonathon had come in laughing and joking. Of course. He’d been with Chrissie Havers then. It was the red hair Rosie remembered; perhaps the green eyes too. But it had all happened so quickly, it was hard to be sure. Now as she thought about it, Rosie felt strangely upset. She did her best to hide it as the conversation continued, trying hard to stay in tune with the theme of the thing, making sure her smiles and nods came in all the right places. But while her face endeavoured to engage with Chrissie, her mind was a whirl of half-formed notions. The more Chrissie spoke, the more Rosie noticed the flash of her green eyes and the singsong laughter in her voice. It wasn’t just that. This girl was nice too. The sort of person you couldn’t help warming to, even if you tried …

Rosie mentally kicked herself. What was the matter with her? So what if Chrissie and Jonathon
were
close? They were workmates, weren’t they? Weren’t workmates allowed to be close?

The bell went and Chrissie jumped to her feet. “Well, have to fly. Like to be in class before any of my little darlings get there. Been great getting to know you, Rosie. See you later.”

As Chrissie hurried out, Rosie went over to the sink to wash her cup. She was disturbed by the thoughts assailing her mind. But then, most things to do with Jonathon seemed to have a way of disturbing her these days. She was so preoccupied, she didn’t realise how hot the water was becoming until it scalded her fingers. It was at that moment that the door opened and Jonathon himself walked in. Still dressed in a navy tracksuit, his hair was damp with sweat and his cheeks flushed from being outside. Despite herself, Rosie felt her heart turn over as she looked at him.

“Good game?”

Jonathon grinned. “I think some of them have been overdoing it on the Easter eggs. It’ll take a couple of weeks to knock ’em back into shape, I reckon.” He flicked on the kettle and pulled a mug from the cupboard. “I’m gonna have to get a move on – I still need to get changed.”

Rosie hesitated. “D’you want me to make your drink and bring it down to your class on my way back?”

“
Would
you, Rosie?” Jonathon was grateful. “Year 6 kids are usually okay on their own for five minutes or so, but I don’t like to push it. I’ll just nip and get out of this gear. Tea, no sugar.”

He disappeared and Rosie quickly set about the task. Minutes later she found her way to his classroom. Jonathon seemed to be going through a register and didn’t notice her enter. He was half sitting on his own desk at the front, one foot placed firmly on the floor to balance him, the other swinging slightly in midair as he straddled the corner of the wooden table. Back in his office-type clothes, his combed, blond hair still a little damp around the edges, he suddenly had all the appearance of a real teacher. It was the first time Rosie had seen him
in situ
. She fleetingly remembered the scruffy gardener she’d originally met in the churchyard. For a moment she wondered if she really knew Jonathon at all.

He looked up as she approached him. “Oh thanks, Rosie. You’re a star.” As his eyes locked with hers, she felt a flush of self-consciousness. Mumbling a reply, she excused herself and quickly exited the room, hoping beyond hope that none of Jonathon’s astute Year 6 kids would notice the deepening crimson of her cheeks as their teacher thanked her for his cup of tea.

The rest of the afternoon went by surprisingly quickly. Helen began a new geography topic and the children were encouraged to share their experiences of foreign holidays with the rest of the class. It was an enlightening session, full of comic moments and childhood observations. Molly, however, remained resolutely taciturn throughout, her expression barely altering as the afternoon ticked by. She seemed in a world of her own, insulated from the cheerful company of her classmates by invisible walls of silence. By the end of the day Rosie felt she’d achieved little. On the way home Jonathon was sympathetic. “You’ll get through to her eventually, Rosie. Though I have to say she seems a poor little thing – you’re gonna need some patience by the look of it. Perhaps she’s one of those kids that struggle to come back to school after holidays. Feel a bit like that myself sometimes.” He laughed to himself then turned to her. “I’m absolutely sure you’re the right one for the job.” He smiled gently before fixing his attention back on the road, but in that moment she saw in his eyes a look she did not understand. More disturbingly, she struggled to understand the effect it had upon her. When they arrived at Oak Lodge, Jonathon pulled up outside but left the engine running. Rosie thanked him. “Am I still okay for a lift in the morning?”

“Course you are. I said so, didn’t I?”

It was the gentlest of rebukes, without the slightest hint of irritation or annoyance. But Rosie understood the meaning of it. Jonathon had given his word, and she should relax in that. He wasn’t about to let her down.

As she stepped out onto the path, Jonathon called after her. “Any more news of my Uncle Philip? You won’t forget to e-mail just because you’re gonna be seeing me every day, will you?”

Before she had time to answer, he pulled away.

That night in her room, Rosie opened the diary and flicked through it until she found her page. Keeping a thumb in her place, she leafed through the rest of the notebook. Still some pages to go, but not all that much left now. One thing was sure; Sam’s writing didn’t make it through to the back cover. She thought back over the last few months. Strange how this dilapidated old book had become part of her life. And strange how the only one to have really shared it with her had been Jonathon. Beth had died long before she’d reached the end. That seemed to Rosie a both sad and ironic thing as she recalled Beth’s uninhibited excitement at her unusual find. Funny. The diary had never managed to make Rosie excited. But, in some peculiar, deep down way, she knew it had become precious to her. Now as she looked at it, she wished it didn’t have to end. Somehow, scanning the remaining pages of pencilled scribble, she realised there were few conclusions to be drawn. The blank pages that followed on from them seemed pregnant with mournful inevitability, their yellowed emptiness shouting louder than all the vibrant paragraphs Sam had ever penned. She began to type.

Poperinghe July 14th 1917

The three of us visited Toc H yesterday. How good it was to go back, Emily. It doesn’t seem at all changed to me (perhaps a few more holes in its outer walls, but nothing too grave). Inside, the atmosphere was just as I remember; charged with cheerfulness and goodwill – a veritable haven for us weary Tommies!

We spent a little time in the library, then afterwards watched some fellows perform a comic play. We laughed till our sides hurt. In fact, Em, I can’t remember laughing like that in a long time. For a brief while, it didn’t seem to matter that the German army was just across the way. I think maybe our enemies need to laugh too.

Despite the fun we had, Em, I think perhaps the thing that struck me most about our visit this time was the service in the chapel. Even I’m surprised to find that I’ve begun to warm to such things. When we sang the hymns, I found myself wishing their words could be true. When the address was given, my heart began to be pierced by a slender hope. But the thing that affected me most was to see a group of men – among them our own pal, Jimmy – standing by the little font waiting to be baptised. I don’t know that anything has ever moved me like that. Boxer was as happy as any man I’ve ever seen, and I found myself remembering the day he told me he’d made up his mind to look out for Jimmy. No one would recognise the fellow now. To be honest, I could wish I were more like him myself. Boxer has done an impressive job.

After the baptisms we had communion, and I myself partook of it. I couldn’t help feeling that, for me, there was something missing. I’m not like Boxer and Jimmy; I know that in my heart. But suddenly, I find I would rather like to be. To have that same peace and confidence, no matter what happens. Is it because of what I know is coming? Am I simply wanting to believe because I’m fearful about the next big push? Would God view me as a coward for that? I’m sure I can’t be on my own in my anxieties. Who knows for how many of us these first communions will prove to have been our last rites?

____________

Rosie’s fingers lingered on the keyboard. Poor Sam. He seemed to have as many questions as she did.

Hi Jon …

She paused for a moment and looked at the shortened name. But it didn’t feel right. Sighing in exasperation, she tapped in the rest of the letters.

A bit of bedtime reading for you. It’s a wonder I’m not wearing jam jar specs with the size of this writing. One thing’s for certain. There can’t have been anything wrong with Sam’s eyesight.

See you tomorrow

Rosie

That night she struggled to get to sleep. Every time her mind began to sink into relaxation, a mosaic of images seemed to throw itself up on the screen of her semi-consciousness. At first they were mainly images of Molly. Molly clinging to her mother in the class doorway. Molly burying her head in her hands at the sight of Jonathon. Molly sitting mute through a whole class participation session as if in a complete world of her own. But as the night dragged on, other scenes came into play. Confused, interweaving scenes. Battlefields and football fields. Men in khaki singing hymns, Jonathon in khaki accompanying on piano; whilst all around, young boys kicked soccer balls and Helen Walker got annoyed.

What time she finally dropped off, Rosie had no idea. But somewhere on the journey between consciousness and sleep, as her emotional defences settled quietly for the night and her heart came out of its hiding place, a gentle realisation crystallised some place deep in her mind. In a twilight dream, she pictured Jonathon holding a girl with flame red hair and emerald eyes. A girl whose name was suddenly no longer Chrissie Havers, but Lauren. Rosie was too near sleep to give vent to the pain of it all. Yet tonight, there was one thing she knew before she drifted away. Jonathon might belong to someone else. But she was in love with him.

For the rest of that week, Rosie tried her best to focus her attention on Molly. As the days went by there were slight signs of progress. To anyone else they would have been barely noticeable. But Rosie was sure she sensed a thawing in the child’s reserve. By Thursday, she felt it was time to attempt the playground together. They walked around outside, observing the other children as they engaged in various games and activities. Molly stuck close to Rosie’s side, her hands thrust in her jacket pockets, her eyes peeking furtively through her untidy fringe. At one point, they came across a group of girls skipping with a long rope. They stopped to watch. A bustling, ruddy-faced dinner lady came over and smiled at Rosie.

“They go through a bout of this every year, y’know.” She pointed as two of the girls ran in and started jumping over the circling rope. “I remember when
we
used to do skipping. Surprised it’s not gone out of fashion. Kids today seem to ‘ave so much else to occupy them.”

Molly seemed entranced as she watched the girls. Glancing sideways at her, Rosie noticed the faintest sparkle in the child’s usually mournful eyes. In her enthusiasm, the cheery dinner lady blew it.

“Fancy a go, little love? I’m sure the big girls would give you a turn.” She made as if to take Molly’s hand, but Molly immediately backed up against Rosie, a look of horror on her face. The magic of the moment was gone. The dinner lady shrugged apologetically. Turning to Rosie, she lowered her voice. “Bit on the shy side, is she?”

Rosie managed to conceal her annoyance. Forcing a smile, she took Molly’s hand and said it was time they were getting back inside. For the remaining quarter of an hour of dinner they sat in the classroom and looked at a book. Helen came in just before the bell went.

“Are you okay, Rosie? You’ve hardly had a break all week. I’m sure one of the lunchtime supervisors would keep a close eye on her if you wanted to take twenty minutes out.”

Rosie winced.
Yeah, right. Like Mrs Tactful out there. Thanks but no thanks.
She shook her head. “Really, I’m fine. I feel I’m getting somewhere with her at last. Besides, this is the first time she’s been out there since before the holidays. I think we can build up her confidence if I stay with her.”

It was mostly true. What Rosie omitted to mention was the fact that she was finding it increasingly difficult these days to be around Jonathon. Stupidly, it hurt her to see him talking with Chrissie in the staffroom. Of course she knew now that Chrissie wasn’t the real threat. It had always been Lauren. In all the months she’d known Jonathon, Lauren had been there in the background. But Rosie had never
seen
Lauren. It was hard to imagine what kind of woman had managed to capture Jonathon’s heart. Yet watching the easy warmth with which he conversed with Chrissie, and listening to Chrissie’s bright, engaging laughter, it wasn’t hard to make the substitution.