by Katy Lilley
‘No, don’t do that,’ Pam said and crossed her eyes. ‘I’m just getting used to you.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ another voice said.
Maisie spun around to see Liz hovering in the doorway. ‘I know it’s almost time for the bell, but I want to apologise for Faye.’ She sighed. ‘And for me. Can we have a meeting later?’
Maisie thought of the day ahead. ‘It’ll have to be lunchtime or after school. I’m up to my ears all day.’ And no way was she going to give anyone room to say she wasn’t doing her job properly.
‘Excuse me, I’ll go and supervise herding the hoards in.’ Pam slipped around them both. ‘I’ll take them all into the hall with Ken and we’ll do some school bonding. I think you to need to sort it out now.’
The words ‘do not let it fester’ hung in the air.
Maisie bit her lip and made her mind up. ‘She’s right, I suppose. Come to the office. At least there we can shove the do not disturb sign on. If we’re quick, we won’t get knocked over by eager pupils.’
Liz almost laughed. ‘Do we have them on a chilly Monday morning when they’d rather be anywhere but here?’
‘You have a point.’ They made it to the office as the bell rang. ‘Phew, just in time. Do you want coffee?’ Maisie had brought a cafetière in, but rarely used it, preferring to make her just about drinkable instant or rely on someone else’s skills. Was she the only person who once they got over the first few weeks of pregnancy enjoyed strong and stronger coffee, even if it was decaff?
‘I’ll make it,’ Liz said, and Maisie chuckled.
‘I’m on tea today.’ She didn’t want to admit it had to be decaffeinated. ‘I’ve got to reduce my coffee intake, but I can inhale yours.’ If nothing else, it would give Liz something to do with her hands and Maisie time to think over what might be needed to be said.
Chapter Twelve
‘So,’ Maisie said as they both settled down in the semi-comfortable chairs, which she’d set to one side of the room. ‘What do you want to say?’
Liz turned her cup round and round and worried her lip. ‘This is not easy, and family or not, I’m not going to apologise for Faye,’ she said. ‘I am however, going to apologise for my attitude both recently and when you got the job. I can tell you honestly, I was damned disappointed. I’d done the flipping thing for a year, worked all the hours God sends, kowtowed and scrambled so we got a good inspection, and then wham. It felt like a kick in the teeth. Okay to do all the work, but not to get the job.’
Maisie understood just how awful that must have been. Okay for now, but actually not good enough. She couldn’t say, that on the day someone had been more qualified or had more experience, because she didn’t know the ins and outs, and why she got it not Liz, did she?
‘I bet it was,’ Maisie said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you. However, do not let on to anyone I’m not now,’ Liz said. ‘I’ll deny it. However, also not well known is the fact I was only acting deputy head, they never got around to giving me the actual job. Still haven’t. No contract for it, just the airy fairy, of course you are stuff. And while I’m in the confession box, it’s true that as I’m local a lot of the flack passed me by.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Also, I’m saying sorry for letting Faye get to you in the way she did. I should have told her to make an appointment with you or something, not surprise you with her like that. The trouble is once she makes her mind up about something, you’d need a JCB to stop her, and she was determined to call you out wherever you were. I thought if I brought her in with me, she’d be less likely to go off on one. I was mistaken. I’m guessing you’ve heard about the Dave debacle.’
‘I met Mr Messenger and Krystal yesterday.’ Maisie said diplomatically. ‘Krystal mentioned something about her dad in the dog house.’
‘And the rest. Faye caught him and his fancy bit out the other night, and from what I heard, threw wine over, in Faye’s words the trollopy, tarty, hussy of a marriage wrecker, and blacked Dave’s eye. Evidently he insisted it was a one off.’ Liz rolled her eyes. ‘As if. Faye knew of one other time that he managed to talk his way out of, and kicked him out for good last night when she discovered he’d not been at work at Sea Spray as he’d told her, but at work on the Hussy etcetera if you get my meaning.’
‘How on earth did she discover that?’ Maisie was fascinated. It made tonsil-tennis Stanley’s antics fade into insignificance. ‘Did she follow him? Use the find a friend app?’ She almost added, again.
Liz shook her head. ‘Nothing so complicated. First off, she’d caught him with his fancy woman in that wine bar up the hill and flung red wine over the woman. He swore it was a one off. Then it transpires, he’d had a phone call and said he’d got to nip into work. He’d been gone an hour or so, when work rang their house and asked for him, to remind him they were moving some chalets today, and to confirm they needed him in work at seven. Of course, Faye said he was at work, they assured her he wasn’t, and she then got worried he’d had an accident on his way there. The accident was his, for not erasing his call record on his phone. When he got home, Faye confronted him. He said he was there, they must just not have seen him and stomped off up the garden. Sadly for him, he left his phone in his jacket pocket and Faye did a bit of snooping. Several recent calls from an SB. So, she rang the number and got a sultry voice saying how was her huggly big bear, had he recovered from earlier. That she was still, and here I’m going to report verbatim, which is crude, a shagged out sexy bit. Added when were they going to do it again. Faye told me she retorted, ‘well as he’s about to lose his balls I have no idea’ and dropped the phone in the loo. Then she locked both doors, took the kitchen scissors to a goodly amount of his clothes, threw them outside, and in her words nuked his CD’s and chucked them on top. Made sure she had both sets of car keys in the house, rang her dad to hold onto Krystal and waited to see what happened next.’
‘What did?’ It was better than any soap opera. ‘I shouldn’t be fascinated but I am. Poor Faye. Not that it excuses her attitude to me, but what a sod he is.’
‘You said it. She rang me, she wanted to ask the vicar for advice and that’s when you saw us last night. That set her off again and she was all for calling the bishop there and then. I persuaded her she’d look stupid, but I’m not sure she believed me. She’s a bit single minded where Dave and the role of people in public office are concerned. That’s a bit convoluted, but you get the gist?’
Maisie nodded. ‘Yeah, sadly I do. Poor Faye, what a life.’
‘You’ve got more sympathy for her than I’d want to have in your shoes. She can be vindictive when things don’t go her way. She was adamant the vicar should be at home and available come what may. I almost asked if he was allowed to go to the loo, because that would make him unavailable, but our Faye isn’t renown for her sense of humour. That apart, I have no idea how she knew about the meeting up stuff.’
‘It’s no big deal.’ Maisie hoped she sounded confident. ‘We are in the same circle of friends.’
But how long for now?
Maisie brooded. She was conscious she didn’t give her class her undivided attention and it annoyed her. They deserved better. Pam, whose classroom faced the village green reported Faye had stomped across the playground and headed for the vicarage only to emerge a good hour later, get into her car and drive far too fast up the hill towards her house on the edge of Great Bristow, clipping the edge of the post box, and missing an errant cat by inches. It was an added bonus of having the noisiest classroom, to being able to be the nosiest teacher and the one with the most up to date gossip.
Bryony rang not long after Maisie got in from school, and asked if she’d heard about the Soole’s, and did she know if it was it true that he’d been kicked out of the house naked? ‘Aa...nd what about her trying to tear your hair out in school? Are you okay? Did you black her eye or twang her bra strap?’
Maisie snorted. ‘Bra straps at dawn or whenever to the tune of duelling banjos? Nah. I hadn�
��t heard or been part of any of those. She came to talk to me about my lifestyle, or my lifestyle as she saw it. God help me when the rest comes out, and no I haven’t told Cam yet. That was going to be last night, but he had to go before I got around to it. Next time I see him, I promise.’
‘Sooner the better.’
Maisie sighed. ‘I know. Anyhow as to the Sooles? I believe they have a few problems.’
How diplomatic I am.
It was Bryony’s turn to snort. ‘A few as in a million and one. He’s not known as Sleazy ‘Call me Dave’ Soole for nothing. Got to say your lifestyle what? High living with a supermarket takeaway? Yee ha, you jetsetter you. Come on, spit it out, all of it.’ Her tone told Maisie she would brook no prevarication. ‘Live dangerously before you really do have to go out on a limb.’
Well, it was Bryony, and they did tell each other most things.
‘It seems that the other night, there was a bit of a fracas in the bar of that posh bistro place the other side of Great Bristow. Evidently, it’s a bit of a, let’s give everyone their own wee nook or cranny, place. Which is why no doubt it was chosen for a tryst.’ She laughed. ‘Love that word, tryst. The pictures it conjures up. Anyway, where was I, you’ve made me lose my thread.’
‘Don’t blame me for your pornographic mind,’ Bryony said. ‘There was a tryst. I need more, go on, who why what next?’
‘What next—and this is second hand, and I only just found out from Liz, was that Faye stalked in, found Call Me Dave with another woman and poured red wine over her.’ That was—or would soon be—common knowledge. ‘And it seems Faye was also a bit upset to see Cam coming out of my house at times she thought unacceptable and had a go at me for it. Not then but later. I told her what I and Cam did in our own time was none of her business, and if she wasn’t happy with the way either of us conducted ourselves to talk to the appropriate authorities, and did she need any names or addresses. No idea if she’s had a go at Cam, although I hear she was there a good hour this afternoon, or if she’ll go higher.’ That grated. ‘Not a happy lady I fear.’
Bryony’s sigh reverberated down the phone line.
‘Understatement,’ Bryony said. ‘She never will be happy with that loser either. Always thinking the women were panting after him, and making the first move, and not the other way round. Best thing she could have done to kick him out. As long as she doesn’t let him come crawling back. She knows he’s a serial adulterer, but I reckon she was too scared to do something about it. This time it seems he’s been flaunting his floozy—got that from Dario via Mrs C—a bit too openly. Even Krystal asked her why her daddy was over the water, kissing and cuddling and eating chips on the pier with someone she didn’t know.’
‘Poor Krystal. Always the kids who suffer. The high life, eh? Chips on the pier. What a twerp.’
‘You said it. Krystal had gone with Rainbows to see the Mr Tickle show, and instead saw her dad having a bit of slap and tickle. She told her mum, her mum went ape shit, and Call Me Dave is now in that crappy chalet he tried to dump on Lottie before she told him where to get off and chose one for herself.’ Lottie had lived at Sea Spray for a while before she and Gibb had moved in together. ‘Gonna be interesting times ahead. Our Faye won’t take it all lying down.’
‘Well, she needn’t take it out on me,’ Maisie said with a snarl. ‘Or involve me. Lying down, standing up or sideways on. I wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole and surgical gloves. One go, and he’ll wish she’d never said a word. Silly woman.’
‘Yup. Anyroadup, how’s you and Cam?’
‘Why?’ Maisie asked in suspicion. ‘Who’s said what?
‘No one, Miss Worrywort. I just wanted to be sure this rubbish isn’t affecting you, or your way forward.’
Maisie wondered how best to answer.
‘That’s not, it won’t, but I have no idea how my news will.’
‘Seriously, Mais,’ Bryony said earnestly. ‘Your news apart, let it flow over your head and ignore it. It’s nowt to do with any of us, however much Faye tries to make it.’ She paused. ‘It isn’t, is it?’
‘Not at all,’ Maisie said, and crossed her fingers. ‘I can’t see why it should be.’
All lies of course. Maisie worried. How was it affecting Cam? Could it affect his calling? Typical, she was in the shower when he rang and left a brief, ‘hi tried to call you, hope you’re okay, will try later’. She wrapped her towel around her and put another one over her hair, turban fashion and rang back.
This time he didn’t pick up. Her message was equally as brief. ‘I’m okay, how are you? We need to talk’.
By the time Friday came around, Maisie had made her mind up. The short, snatched phone conversations weren’t any help whatsoever. Work had conspired to ensure they had no time to meet up during the week. Cam had said he intended to try and do some gardening on his day off, and hope no parishioners decided he really wouldn’t mind if they dropped by. ‘I’ll tell them I do,’ he’d said. ‘One day a week is mine. The other six I’m at their—and the Church’s - beck and call. From midnight Thursday to Midnight Friday, I’m off the clock.’ He’d invited her for dinner, said he’d lock the door and metaphorically pull down the shutters if need be so they could talk.
Would he be so eager if he knew what she wanted to talk about?
Their intended meal together was going to be spag bol at the vicarage. Cam had said vey definitely that he was cooking, and he’d just got to grips with the stove, so he wanted to practice using it.
That sounded fine to Maisie, who would be happy with a cup of instant soup as long as she didn’t make it. Apart from her and Liz now coming to a tentative understanding, it hadn’t been the best of weeks, and she had a nasty feeling it wasn’t going to get better any time soon.
‘Doing anything good this weekend?’ Pam asked as she Liz and Maisie walked out of the school building towards the miniscule car park and pedestrian gate, Ken having rushed off to do his Friday supermarket dash. He did the shopping and his wife the cooking. The kids, he laughed, were responsible for loading and unloading the dishwasher and putting things away. ‘She does the washing, I do the ironing. I enjoy it. An hour of mindlessness.’
‘Want to make it two hours?’ Maisie had enquired. ‘I can give you mine, as well.’
‘Nope, one hour’s enough. And women’s stuff is so darned fiddly.’
‘Damn. Ah well, I’ll stick to non-iron as much as possible and suck up the rest.’
Pam had chuckled. ‘And me. That’s my Sunday night task. TV, G n T and ironing.’ She sighed. ‘Such an exciting life I lead.’
‘I’m emulating you, I think,’ Maisie told her now. ‘Though I’ll iron tomorrow and baby sit for my mate on Sunday so she can take her other half out for his birthday. That apart not a lot.’
Pam narrowed her eyes. ‘You, dear head, look shifty. What else is going on?’
Maisie grinned, though she inwardly cussed. ‘A lot of people say that. Shifty. It used to be because I’d eaten all the peppermint creams. Now it’s probably that my eyes are too close together. Or two wide apart or I squint. Nope, I need time to catch up on my sleep and my reading, to say nothing of beginning to think about who does what in the Christmas concert.’
Pam grimaced. ‘Urgh, horrible job.’
And that, Maisie thought, was an understatement.
Rather than head home, go indoors and find a million and one reasons why not to go to the vicarage there and then, she crossed the village green, picked up an ecstatic Barns from his kennel and run, and re-crossed the grass.
The green was beginning to look brown and well past its best. A big scuff mark meant no grass, just dirt, where an impromptu football game had been played and a few daisies wilting nearby looked as if they’d suffered the same treatment. It was a miracle they were still there at all. Surely it was time for autumn to swap to winter with an artic blast?
Mind you, she thought, the later the better. Maisie was enjoying no frost and no thermals.
/> Mop tugged on his lead, bounced back and forth and had to be restrained from rolling in that dirt. Maisie scowled at him as the played tug of war. ‘Behave or I’ll take you back.’
Someone was mowing a lawn—also far too late in a normal season—and by the noise it was with a sit on mower. A car drove up the lane with its bass reverberating, and Ronnie Herron drove past somewhat erratically on a moped. Why he could cope with a van but wobble all over the place on a 50cc motor was something no one had ever fathomed out.
Barns sat down abruptly and whined. Maisie stared at him in amazement. ‘What’s up? You can not be tired, and surely, you’re not upset by Ronnie’s put-put? You, who doesn’t even notice when a big red tractor rumbles past. I don’t believe it. Come on, let’s go and see if Cam’s in. He might even have a biscuit.’
If dogs could sigh, Barns sighed. He moved his head from one side to the other, almost as if he were surveying the area before he stood up and leaned on Maisie. She shook her head. ‘I’m not picking you up. Walk or stay, your choice.’
He walked slowly without moving more than an inch from her side. Maisie shortened the lead and headed up the vicarage path.
The sight that met her eyes made her mouth water.
Cam, shirtless in a disreputable pair of ragged denim cut offs, sweaty, skin glistening, was digging the garden over.
That’s it. I’ve changed my mind. It can stay warm all year round.
Every time he put his foot on the spade and dug in, his muscles bunched.
Oh, my… Maisie nigh on salivated.
Barns woofed. Cam glanced up and smiled. ‘Well, hello you two. Playing hooky?’
‘School finished half an hour ago.’
Did something in her tone make him aware something was up? His smile dimmed and his expression became wary. ‘To what do I owe this unexpected, but welcome visit? You’re not crying off, are you? I’ve sweated buckets to create the perfect spag bol, and I’ve a got rather nice Valpolicella ready to breath.’