School Run (24 page)

Evie turned on the engine. Last year she had missed sports day because of a meeting. And the year before. If she didn’t have a job now, she could at least be a decent step-mother and get there on time today. After that, well, she’d ring her father. He’d think of something. She’d always thought of herself as independent, but at times like this everyone needed someone.

24

NICK

‘One fifth of teenagers between sixteen and eighteen now have a sexually transmitted disease, according to a new report out today . . .’

‘Third gear, not fifth – I said
third
!’

‘You’re making me nervous, Dad, stop it.’

‘I can’t afford another gearbox, Julie. You’re ruining it.’

‘Well, if you let me practise more, it would be all right.’

She had been like this since she had got up this morning.

To be fair, he’d been tetchy too. They always were on anniversaries, birthdays and at Christmas. Nothing was the same without Juliana. Two years tomorrow. Was that possible? Sometimes it seemed like ten, at others, like last week.

Lately, Amber had suggested counselling for Julie – just as school had done – but she wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I’m not talking to a stranger, Dad. Anyway, I’ve got my friends.’

Nick only wished they didn’t include the spotty Jason, who refused to meet his eyes. He’d been there every day this week when he’d dropped off Julie, waiting to scoop her up. He made Nick’s skin crawl. How far had they gone? How far would Julie let him go? He had tried to discuss safe sex but every time he broached the subject she said, ‘Stop it, Dad. I know about that kind of thing.’

He only hoped she knew more about the pill and condoms than she did about the Highway Code. ‘No, move into the inside lane. That’s better. Now check your mirror. Good.’

If he’d hoped to restore the peace, he had failed. Julie’s beautiful face was scowling, her lip curled in precisely the same way that her mother’s had.

Silence. Unbearable silence. It was worse than the arguments.

‘What have you got on at school today?’ asked Nick, aware that it was a desperate question from a parent who needed to make a gesture of peace.

‘Nothing much.’ Julie’s eyes were fixed firmly ahead. ‘English and geography in the morning. Helping out with sports day in the afternoon.’

‘Sports day!’ Grateful for something he could relate to, Nick pressed on: ‘Don’t you do it yourself?’

Julie gave him a withering look. ‘Dad, I’m too old! I help the younger ones – it’s part of my Sports Leaders’ Certificate. I told you.’

Of course. Too old for sports day. Too old to tell him how she was really feeling, two years after her mother’s death. And too young for a serious boyfriend – at least, in his view. Nick’s heart lurched. He’d give anything to go back to the days when he and Juliana had gone together to Julie’s sports day. They’d hold hands at the side of the track. She’d lean her head on his shoulder and he’d kiss her neck. Once they almost missed Julie cross the finishing line. Julie, with her plaits and the smile that said nothing would ever go wrong in her life.

Nick rubbed his eyes. He had to go forward and blank out memories like that or he’d go mad.

‘They might need some more dads for the fathers’ race, if you’re up to it.’ Now her eyes twinkled mischievously.

Maybe I’m forgiven, thought Nick. ‘But if you’re too old to take part, then surely I’m too old to run,’ he said.

‘Nope. There aren’t enough dads around today, according to Mrs Hedges. They’ve all buggered off so we could do with a few more runners.’

Nick hated hearing her swear but decided to ignore it in case she gave him the cold treatment again.

‘What are you doing today, then, Dad?’

He groaned. ‘Editing the images from a catalogue shoot and taking them to the client.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘If you knew the client, you’d know that was enough,’ said Nick lightly. Why was she always so suspicious? Amber had said it was natural insecurity after a bereavement, but when he’d asked how to deal with it, she had merely said it would take time.

‘Cool car,’ said Julie, as they pulled up alongside a yellow Beetle. ‘I’d like one like that when I’ve passed my test.’

‘We’ll see.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘Aren’t you going to find a proper parking space instead of holding up the entire road?’

‘I’ll hop out here.’ Julie turned off the engine, oblivious to the hooting from the parallel car, which clearly didn’t relish the prospect of being sandwiched in. ‘I won’t be back until late tonight. I’m going out.’

‘I forgot.’ Nick’s stomach churned. ‘Who are you going with?’

‘Friends. Someone’s birthday party. Stop fussing, Dad. I’ll call you.’

So it was all right for her but not for him. The car they were blocking in hooted again. This was no place for an argument. Julie had timed it well.

‘See you, Dad,’ she said, and leaped out.

‘Hang on!’ Nick had leaned out of the window to yell after her, but Julie was already in a crowd of kids. And next to her, his arm slung casually around her shoulders, was Jason.

Just as he was about to move off, she turned round and mouthed something. He wound down the window. ‘What?’

‘Don’t forget sports day. You know. The fathers’ race.’

She laughed and Jason was laughing too. Bloody cheek.

‘You’re on,’ muttered Nick. Amber had said it was important to maintain communication with Julie at all cost. Besides, he hadn’t liked the way that boy had laughed. Fathers’ race? No sweat. He’d show him.

MARTINE

‘One fifth of teenagers between sixteen and eighteen now have a sexually transmitted disease . . .’

‘D-d-do you know what that is, Marty? S-s-sexually transmitted? Shall I look it up in the d-d-dictionary for you?’ Josh erupted into loud giggles, rolling around on the back seat with Alice.

Martine frowned into the rear-view mirror and noticed, as she did so, that the mother with the pram whom she’d seen earlier in the week was crossing the road. She strained to get a better view but the woman disappeared. ‘Stop immediately. I will inform your mother.’

‘Inform!’ Josh snorted with mirth. ‘I shall inf-f-form your mother. And I will inform her of your b-b-boyfriend.’

Martine almost stalled the car. ‘My boyfriend?’

‘Yes!’ Alice joined in. ‘We know who he is, Marty. We’ve looked at your phone.’

Martine’s hands shook on the steering wheel. ‘You had no right. You are bad children. You should respect my piratecy.’

‘D-don’t you mean p-privacy? Or shall we look that up in the d-d-dictionary too. Alice, get it out.’

‘No. It is you who will get out. Now.’

‘But we’re not there yet. And my head’s still itching.’

‘We are nearly there. I do not care about your head. I will not have you in the car a moment more. Take your bags. Now! I will return and tell your parents. They will not come to sports day to punish you.’

‘They’ve got to. They’re opening it.’

‘Go! Now!’

She got out and opened the doors. ‘And there are your bags.’

‘But we’ve got to cross the road on our own! Mum doesn’t like that.’

‘Nor would she like the way you talk to me. It does not display respect. I go now.’

Martine was still shaking when she got home. Boyfriend, they had said. What did they know? It was insurmountable. Sally and Simon deserved to be punished for bringing up such terrible
enfants
. She would start in Sally’s dressing room. This dress would pay for the time that Josh called her a b-b-bitch. And this suit, for the time that Alice had put pepper in her chocolate drink. The pair of matching shoes could go in too. And that would be just the beginning.

The alarm button on the inside of the kitchen door bleeped – someone needed to be let in on the other side of the electronic gates. She flicked on the screen that would show her who it was.

Barry’s handsome rugged face peered down from the cab of his lorry. ‘Garden Services here to deliver some more plants and do the pool.’

‘I am opening the gates immediately.’

‘That you, love? How are you doing?’

She smiled bravely. ‘Not very bad.’

Martine checked her reflection in the mirror and walked outside, feeling a delicious flutter of anticipation. Barry was parking the lorry carefully, sending up waves of gravel as he did so. Then he swung out his legs. If it were not for her special friend, thought Martine admiringly, she might be tempted.

‘Can you remind me where the pool is, love? My mate normally does it but I’ve got to sort it today.’

‘Over here.’ She tripped along, in front, glad she had worn the short pink skirt she had bought in Paris. She looked back over her shoulder, coquettishly. ‘You want me to bring you a drink?’

‘That would be great, if you haven’t got too much to do.’

She sighed. ‘Ah, I always have too much to do. I never stop. My employers, they expect a lot.’

‘Do they now?’ He frowned and tiny beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Martine liked a man who sweated. ‘Well, you ought to tell them where to get off.’

‘Get off?’

‘Tell them to stuff their job, if it’s too much. A nice girl like you could easily get something else.’

He squatted down by the pool, unravelling the tube that sent chemicals into the water to purify it. ‘I might go this week,’ confided Martine. ‘My friend might come and get me.’

‘Boyfriend?’ Barry looked disappointed.

‘A girlfriend,’ she lied.

His face relaxed. ‘Well, let me know before you do. Listen, love, I haven’t got the right chemicals here. I’m going to have to come back this afternoon. You going to be around to let me in?’

‘I am sorry, no. I have my class and then I am accompanying the rest of the family to sports day.’

‘Well, I can’t make it tomorrow. Tell you what, give me the security code to the gates and I’ll let myself in. OK?’

Martine hesitated. Simon and Sally had always told her not to give it to anyone. But Barry only needed to get to the pool, not the house. He was a nice man and, besides, Simon and Sally would want the pool to be clean for their party tomorrow night.

‘I write it down for you. Here. But you must promise not to give it to anyone else.’

Barry put it in his back pocket. ‘Course I won’t, love. Sports day, is it?’ His eyes travelled admiringly down her legs. ‘Going to run, are you?’

Martine gave him a challenging look from beneath her lashes.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Well, I hope you win, love. Good luck.’

She returned to the house, feeling better. Barry had helped her feel good about herself and – more important – her man would be home soon. And then, maybe, she could have another baby. It would not be the same but Martine knew she would be happy only when she felt another child moving inside her. Providing it wasn’t anything like Josh or Alice. But she’d make sure of that . . .

25

PIPPA

‘And now for our selection of golden oldies, specially chosen by Gordon from Guildford . . .’

Derek switched off the radio as they pulled into the car park. Pippa shivered. She had always hated hospitals. She blamed this on the sense of desolation she had experienced, and could still remember, when her aunt had explained her parents wouldn’t be coming home. She didn’t know if they had been taken to a hospital after the accident; in fact, she didn’t know many of the details as she had been too young to ask or be told. Now it seemed morbid to delve into the past. She hated the hospital smell too. She wrinkled her nose. It was a bit like a disinfected railway carriage whose windows hadn’t been opened for weeks.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Derek, when he came back with the car park ticket (how could hospitals charge when you
had
to go in?). If he said that once more, she would scream, she thought as they walked towards the main entrance. She glanced up at his face, and a picture shot into her head of Gus sucking her nipples. With a supreme effort she blanked it out.

She gave her name at Reception and was told to wait in a lobby just off the corridor. ‘Surely these people don’t all have lumps,’ whispered Derek. ‘There are too many.’

‘Mrs Goodall, Miss Peters, Mrs Hallet,’ trilled a nurse.

Pippa stood up unsteadily and gripped Derek’s arm. ‘This way, please.’

None of the others had anyone with them, observed Pippa, and she would have preferred to be alone, without Derek’s kind face to remind her of what she had done to him.

The nurse led them down one corridor, then another, until they found themselves in a small lobby with oatmeal-flecked easy chairs. The three women sat down and smiled nervously at each other.

‘Mrs Hallet?’ said another nurse, with a clipboard. ‘This way, please.’