School Run (27 page)

‘Excuse me. Bruce’s mum, isn’t it?’

Harriet turned to see a pretty auburn-haired girl with a serious but kind face. ‘I’m Kitty Hayling. I take Bruce for English.’

‘He’s mentioned you. You’re fairly new, aren’t you?’

The girl nodded. ‘I hope you don’t mind me mentioning this but I’m a bit worried about Bruce.’

Harriet sighed. Every single one of Bruce’s teachers had told her they were ‘a bit worried’. ‘He’s not playing up again, is he? I know he can be lively but I really don’t know what to do about it. I’ve taken him to the doctor and the health visitor but they say he’s not hyperactive, just challenging.’

‘One of my brothers was the same. Boys can keep you on their toes, can’t they?’

Harriet was mollified that she seemed to understand.

‘Bruce is actually very talented,’ continued Kitty. ‘I’ve been impressed by some of his essays and stories, which have shown real creative flair.’

‘Really?’ Harriet wondered briefly if they were discussing the same child.

‘Yes, but you must have noticed his spelling is a little odd.’

Harriet groaned. ‘His sister’s is the same. It drives me mad.’

‘Have you considered dyslexia?’

‘But they don’t get the letters the wrong way round. They just find it hard to spell.’

‘That can still be a form of dyslexia. If you don’t mind, I’d like Bruce to be seen by our special-needs co-ordinator. Maybe his sister could be seen as well if she has spelling problems, and it would make Bruce feel better too.’

‘I can see you understand a thing or two about sibling rivalry.’

Kitty smiled. ‘Like I said, I have brothers. Actually, there’s one other thing.’ She hesitated. ‘In Bruce’s last essay, he said he was really looking forward to his dad coming home.’

A chill passed through Harriet. ‘That’s right. My husband has been in Dubai for a couple of months.’

‘Look, I know it’s none of my business but he seemed a bit worried about your husband coming back as well as pleased. If there are any big changes at home, it’s always helpful to know about them.’

How dare this girl interfere? Harriet thought. ‘There are no big changes,’ she said coolly. ‘My husband has been working away, that’s all.’

‘Of course. Well, I hope you didn’t mind me mentioning it. We just need to know if anything’s upsetting the children, that’s all. It helps us do our jobs better.’

Harriet didn’t trust herself to say anything. If she opened her mouth, she would either tell this young teacher where to go or throw herself on her shoulder for comfort.

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Kitty. ‘Enjoy the afternoon.’

Harriet watched her walk off. She was prickling with discomfort. Then, across the track, she spotted Pippa. She ran – faster than she would have done in any mothers’ race. ‘Pippa! How did it go?’

Her friend reached for her hand. ‘Let’s go and get a cup of tea shall we? I’ll tell you on the way.’

MARTINE

‘Now for the past tense. Conjugate the verb “to be”. We’ll do it together. I was, you were, he was . . .’

Martine shifted uncomfortably on the hard park bench and switched off her iPod. She was fed up with learning English. It was a stupid language, full of mistakes, just like the English themselves.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her diary. ‘It is not fair,’ she wrote. ‘I am looking forward to sports day, which is a big English tradition. And now I cannot arrive. Sally say it is for parents, not au pairs unless the parents cannot attend. She say I stay at home and prepare tea.’

Slowly, she tucked her diary into her bag and walked across the road past the shops towards ‘home’. ‘Home.’ She ran the word round her mouth. It still felt wrong, as though the sound should mean something else. The Pargeters’ house was too big and colourless to be a real home, with its wooden floors and glass tables. Martine liked colours, the kind of colours she was looking at now in the shop window. That baby’s bright pink cardigan was so adorable with its balloon embroidery. Last week there had been a perfect white dress with smocking that would have been just the right size now for her baby.

‘Can I help you?’ asked the woman behind the till; she was folding tissue paper.

Martine hadn’t realised she had gone in. ‘
Oui
.
Non
. I am looking for my niece but I will return.’

Shaking, she left the shop and walked fast towards the Pargeters’ house. The further she got away from her daughter (she was sure it would have been a girl), both in distance and time, the harder it felt. Sometimes Martine wondered if her mother – who was usually so right about everything – had been correct about the termination. Would a baby really have destroyed her life as Maman had insisted?

She walked even faster. Strange! The gates to the house were already open. Perhaps Barry was about to drive out. Briskly, Martine strode up the drive to the square outside the kitchen. As she did so, she could hear the alarm ringing.

‘
Merde
, the kitchen door, she is open!’

As she stood there, a police car tore up behind her and screeched to a halt on the gravel. A man and a woman in uniform stepped out.

‘Anyone hurt?’ said the woman.

‘I do not think so,’ said Martine, shaking. ‘But the kitchen door, she is open.’

‘I’ll check it out,’ said the man.

Martine got out her phone. ‘I must call my employers. No, the signal is off. They are still at sports day.’

The policeman came back, a grim expression on his face. ‘Break-in, all right. Better call for back-up in case anyone’s still there. You get into our car, Miss, if you don’t mind. We’ll need a statement from you down at the station.’

‘Statement?’ Martine tried to stop her knees jerking but they appeared to have a mind of their own. She sank on to the gravel, which dug into her bare legs. ‘But I am not doing anything wrong. Besides, I need to wait. I have a friend who may be calling.’

‘Sorry, but it’s the law. French, are you? Speak enough English to understand? Did you see anyone suspicious this morning? No? Well, let’s get down to the station and see if you can remember anything.’

THURSDAY EVENING

‘You were fantastic, Beth. Your team did really well, didn’t it, Derek?’

‘We’d have come first if it hadn’t been for that slow-coach Janet.’

‘Never mind. I couldn’t run at her age either. Now, listen, girls, I’ve got to go into hospital tomorrow for a small operation but I’ll be out the next day. Nothing to worry about. Dad will be here to look after you.’

‘Why have you got to be away for the night?’

‘That’s what the hospital says.’

‘But we want you here.’

‘I know. But you’ve got to be big girls. Daddy will get you a DVD if you like and you can have fish and chips for supper.’

‘Just one night?’

‘That’s right. I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘D-D-Dad, how do the gears work?’

‘Like this. See? First, then second, then third.’

‘Is it easy to drive?’

‘It is when you know how to.’

‘Then w-w-why does Martine k-k-keep trying to drive on the right?’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘You ought to ask her, Dad. She’s got a b-boyfriend too.

And she keeps talking to him on the phone when she’s meant to be driving us.’

‘Really? I’ll have to talk to Mummy about that.’

‘Why didn’t Mum come back with us?’

‘She had to go on to the studio.’

‘Is it nice being famous, Dad?’

‘Sometimes. Sometimes not.’

‘I want to be f-f-famous too. But when I have k-k-kids I’m not having an au pair. Not like F-F-Farty Marty.’

‘Farty Marty gave us nits, Dad. And we’ve given them to Hugo.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Y-y-yes. She has this special sh-sh-shampoo. I’ve s-s-seen it.’

‘That’s why our heads have been itching, Dad.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Yes, you did, we told you. And she smelt of sherry when she picked us up this week.’

‘Sherry? Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘Right. We’ll soon see about that.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘Was it nice having me there for sports day?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You don’t seem very sure.’

‘Of course he’s sure, Charlie. He’s tired, that’s all.’

‘I liked it, Dad. Did you see my race too?’

‘I saw all of them, Kate. Clever girl. But I don’t know why you have to run in teams.’

‘It’s so no one feels left out.’

‘But that’s life, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. I suppose you’re right.’

‘Cor, Dad, I was really impressed. First in the fathers’ race. I’ve never known you do that before.’

‘Thanks. I was quite pleased myself. Maybe I’ll take up jogging again.’

‘Did the client like the pictures?’

‘Amazingly, yes. It’s incredible what you can do with tarty lingerie if you’ve got the right models.’

‘Pretty, were they?’

‘They looked good in the shots.’

‘You haven’t forgotten I’m going out tonight, have you?’

‘Just don’t be late.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘I need to nip back to the studio to check on some shots. Then I’ll head home. Who did you say you were going out with again?’

‘Just some friends, Dad. Stop fussing. Take a chill pill.’

‘
What
kind of pill?’

‘A chill pill, Dad. Stop looking like that. They’re not drugs or proper pills. It’s a state of mind. Got it?’

‘I thought you’d be running, Nattie.’

‘
Natalie
, Evie. My name’s Natalie. We didn’t have to run this year, if we didn’t want to. It’s a new rule. We ran last year if you remember, but you missed it.’

‘I was working, but I got here today on time.’

‘Yeah, a year too late. And isn’t Dad back yet? He knew it was sports day. I told him.’

‘I’m not sure where he is, to be honest. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s not like you to be sorry.’

‘No, you’re right, Natalie. It’s not. I’m not really feeling like me at the moment.’

‘What does that mean when it’s at home?’

‘Nothing. Do you want a takeaway tonight? For a treat?’

‘What’s there to have a treat about?’

‘Nothing, really, but sometimes it’s nice to have a treat even when there’s no reason.’

‘You’re weird, Evie, you really are. When’s Dad coming home?’

‘And Mum?’

‘Mum, Dad.’

‘Good boy, Jack. Good boy. Don’t do that to the car, Natalie. It’s got to go back to the office on Friday and they won’t like it if you’ve marked the seat.’

‘Why has it got to go back?’

‘I’ll tell you later. Strap in now, everyone.’

‘Hi, this is Mark. Look, I’m really sorry about cancelling on Monday but I wondered if you were free for dinner on Friday night. Eight o’clock? I could pick you up at your place . . .’

Delete.

‘Hello? Kitty? This is Duncan. I rang the other evening but maybe you didn’t get the message. My answerphone is always going wrong. Actually, it isn’t. I just said that because I’m feeling embarrassed. I don’t normally leave messages on strange girls’ phones but I’d really like to meet you. How about Friday?’

Save.

‘Betty of Balham has just rung in to warn drivers of congestion around Acacia Road. Apparently it’s due to a local school sports day so drive carefully, everyone.’

28

THURSDAY NIGHT

NICK

‘Lines are still open for tonight’s phone-in on missing persons. If you’ve got a question or need some help, we’d like to hear from you . . .’

Nick switched off the radio, which he always left on in the hall when he was out, partly to deter burglars and partly to keep Mutley company. He felt stiff as he walked – more fool him to have run in the fathers’ race at his age. Also – if he was truthful – he had to admit that he’d tried particularly hard when he had realised Harriet was watching. How crazy was that?

‘Hi,’ he called. ‘I’m back.’

He slung his work-bag on to the glass table by the door and wandered into the large, airy kitchen-cum-sitting-room that Juliana had designed before she was ill.

‘Julie?’ Juliana’s beautiful face looked down at him from the wall.

At times he felt like taking it down. That and all the other black and white photographs that hung around the house. But something always stopped him.