‘Oh my God,’ I breathed. Paula grasped my hand and we exchanged startled glances.
‘I never for one minute expected this,’ she said into my ear above the buzz of voices.
‘Neither did I.’
She squeezed my fingers. ‘This is all your doing,’ she said.
‘It’s everyone.’
I felt really emotional as I looked across the heads of everyone gathered. I noticed there were several photographers snapping away, as well as a couple of camera crews. I’d emailed Grant – a bright, breezy message – and asked him to work his magic again and he’d obviously come up trumps. I’d have to message him again and say thank you, I thought, grudgingly. Because for all his faults, he knew what he was doing when it came to publicity.
In the end, it was less of a march and more of a parade. There were the drummers at the front, lots of people with tambourines and other things to bash and crash, and the school’s tiny wind-band – led by Celeste – had been practising walking and playing at the same time so they put on a good show too. There were some children with pompoms doing jumps and cheers, lots of little ones on scooters, and a real party atmosphere. Even the police who were supervising the road closure that Nate had organised were joining in, dancing to the music and high-fiving the kids.
When we looped round the roundabout and made our way back to school, there were still marchers at the back just leaving the playground. It was an astonishing turnout and when I climbed on to the little rickety stage to make my speech, I felt really nervous.
I waited for the crowd to quiet and then I began by saying how amazed I was to see so many supporters and how overwhelmed we all were by the love everyone had for Elm Heath.
‘The founder of Elm Heath Primary was a woman called Esther Watkins, who you’ve all heard a lot about recently,’ I said. ‘She was so passionate about fighting for what she believed in that she even ended up in prison.’
I smiled at the children who’d wriggled their way to the front of the crowd.
‘Now, I’m not suggesting we all get locked up, but I do think we can learn from Esther’s story. We need to fight hard for what we believe. And what we believe is that Elm Heath needs this school. And more than that, it deserves this school.’
I looked out into the crowd and saw, with a shock, that Grant was there. He was standing slightly to the side of the mass of people and he was looking at me with pride. He’d never looked at me like that before.
Faltering, I took a second to compose myself and carried on.
‘When Esther was setting up this school, she wrote to the local education authority and told them why she thought Elm Heath was needed. She wrote that “preparing our children for the world they will one day be running is the most rewarding job there is” and I agree. Today, children, you have proved that you’re going to be running the world brilliantly one day. Far better than we grown-ups have managed. And I’m proud that I – and Elm Heath – have played a tiny part in this. I just hope we’re allowed to carry on.’
I felt tears welling up again and decided that was a good place to stop. I blew a kiss to the children and went to leave the stage. As I made my way down the steps at the side, I saw Danny. He was standing on the opposite side from Grant, but he was also slightly detached from the crowd and he was also watching me closely. I couldn’t read the expression on his face, though. My heart thumped loudly in my chest as I looked at him. I’d barely seen him since I tried to run him over. I’d blocked his number and avoided him in the playground, only catching a glimpse of him at a distance as he collected Cara from school or drove through the village.
I’d thought, foolishly as was obvious now, that I was getting over him. But from the way I had such a physical reaction to his presence, I’d clearly just squashed my feelings down and ignored them. I was still staring at him and he at me, and as our eyes met, he gave me a tiny smile. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up in response, and quickly looked away to where Grant stood, weaving my way through the crowd to him instead.
‘You were amazing,’ he said, giving me a hug. I stood stiffly, arms by my side, and let him embrace me without responding.
‘Thank you.’ I pulled away and gave him a genuine smile. ‘And thanks for getting all the press here. I really appreciate it.’
He shrugged. ‘They all had it in their diaries anyway,’ he said. ‘It’s a great story. When’s the final decision?’
‘Monday,’ I said, feeling nauseous at the thought. ‘In the evening. Full council meeting with reports from all sorts. I don’t fancy our chances.’
‘Never say die.’ He gave me another hug and this time I did respond. I was pleased he’d come.
‘Fancy a drink? I saw a beer stall over in the corner.’
‘That would be great.’
We wandered round the edge of the playground towards the awning where the pub landlord had put up his stall.
‘You never called me,’ Grant said casually, as we walked. I tried to pretend I’d not heard but he took my hand and stopped, tugging me so I turned to face him.
‘I want you back, Queenie. I made such a mistake letting you go.’
Back when our marriage had first gone wrong, I’d have done anything to hear him say those words. But now, I smiled at him, looking at his handsome face, and winning smile, and slowly shook my head. ‘It won’t work, Grant.’
‘But we had a good marriage.’
‘We did, and I loved you,’ I said. ‘But when things got tough we didn’t fight, did we? In the end, we didn’t fight hard enough to stay together.’
Grant looked surprised, like he’d never thought of that before. ‘I’ve always thought if something’s right, you don’t need to fight,’ he said.
‘Sometimes the fight is part of the fun.’
There was a second while we both looked at each other and then he smiled again. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,’ he said.
I squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry too.’
‘Shall we get that beer then?’
‘Lead the way.’
As we made our way over to the temporary pub, I looked round for Danny, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.
Chapter 47
Lizzie
I was strangely calm when Monday dawned. It reminded me of when I had an important exam at university, and I knew I’d done all I could do to prepare. Like being in the eye of a hurricane.
But as the day went on, my nerves resurfaced and I was twitchy and distracted at school, desperate to get it all over with so we could celebrate or drown our sorrows.
The meeting was at seven p.m. so by six p.m. I was in the town hall, pacing the corridor, waiting for the doors of the main hall to be opened. And by half past, I was surrounded by supporters – many wearing Save Elm Heath sashes from the rally. I found Paula in the group and gave her a grateful hug.
‘So nice of everyone to come.’
‘Wouldn’t have missed it.’
Up ahead there was a thud as someone inside the hall unlocked the large wooden doors. The crowd all shuffled back to let them be thrown open and fastened back, and then we all filed inside.
‘This is it,’ Paula said. ‘Good luck.’
I saw Denise at the front of the room in her Good Wife outfit and waved to her. She came over, smiling broadly.
‘Brilliant turnout,’ she said. ‘This is looking better than I could have hoped.’
‘How is this going to work?’ I knew really, because she’d gone through it already, but I wanted to hear her say it again.
‘We’re item three on the agenda,’ Denise said. ‘James, the committee chair, will share some opening remarks, just summing up where we’re at. Then the council will hear all the submissions.’
‘So that’s me and the developers?’
Denise frowned, glancing down at the sheet of paper she held in her hand.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But on the agenda there is another submission, too. From a company called Watkins & Co. H
eard of them?’
I shook my head. ‘Watkins? As in Esther?’ I said. ‘How strange. Could it be a rival developer?’
‘Perhaps. But that’s unusual at this stage. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.’
‘So once we’ve all done our bit, what happens?’
‘The councillors will discuss it. Beware, that can drag on. And then they’ll vote.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘That’s it.’
I felt sick and excited and full of dread all at once.
‘People tend to sit in groups,’ Denise was saying. I forced myself to pay attention. ‘If you encourage all your supporters to fill the left side of the hall, and up into the balcony if necessary, then I’ll tell the Texo people – and this Watkins & Co – to go to the right.’
‘Like a wedding,’ I said.
Denise looked dubious. ‘Not really. I just thought that way it’s going to be very clear that Elm Heath has loads of support locally, while the Texo plan has none.’
She leaned towards me and spoke in a whisper. ‘Just don’t tell anyone I told you. Because I’m supposed to be impartial.’
I grinned at her, fighting my nerves, and went to tell everyone where to sit.
Once the meeting got underway, I looked round. Denise had been spot-on when she told us to organise ourselves the way we had. The large, wooden-clad council chamber had a huge oval table at the far end, round which the councillors were seated. There was a desk to one side for the press, and while Denise said often there was no one there at all, today there were several reporters squeezed round the table.
The room was divided into two blocks of seating and the Elm Heath support filled every chair on their side. There were people standing in the aisle by the windows, and at the back, and more supporters sitting upstairs in the viewing gallery at the back. It was a wonderful sight, especially when you looked at the empty chairs on the other side of the room. There were a few journalists perched on that side, taking advantage of the space, and a couple of other people who I didn’t recognise.
At the front, on her own, was Vanessa from Texo. There was no sign of Danny and I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t there.
I was twitchy throughout the first two items on the agenda. Something about a supermarket car park, and something else about waste management. I passed the time looking over my notes again and again. I was basically making the same pitch I’d made in January, with the added budgets and some photos and a bit of film from the rally at the weekend. And I was going first this time, which I thought was good. Or was it bad? Was it better to be first and get your arguments in early, or last and stay in people’s minds while they debated? I had no idea.
I fidgeted in my chair, waiting for my chance to speak. Sitting next to me was Paula and beside her was her husband Chris who’d helped me with the budgets, and behind us were the other teachers from Elm Heath. It felt good to know that while I was the one who had to get up and speak, I wasn’t doing it alone.
‘Item three on your agenda, is the future of Elm Heath Primary School,’ the council leader was saying. ‘James is going to explain the vote.’
The man from the first meeting, whose name I couldn’t remember that time, stood up. I wrote James down on my notes, in case I needed to address him later. He briefly ran through the two viewpoints and then introduced me. With trembling legs I walked to the front of the room and began my presentation.
‘My name is Lizzie Armstrong,’ I said.
Again, everything went smoothly. I’d practised so often that I knew it all off by heart and even the financial bits that I’d been nervous about tripped off my tongue. The photos from the march looked wonderful and as I sat down I felt confident I’d done everything I could. The supporters all whooped, their cheers echoing round the old room and I beamed with relief and hope that it was all going to be okay.
Next, it was Vanessa’s turn. She stood up and straightened her skirt, then she plugged a memory stick into the laptop and clicked on her own presentation. But as she began to talk she was interrupted as the doors at the back opened with a clatter. Everyone turned to look, including me, and I was surprised to see Danny hurrying down the aisle like someone turning up to stop a wedding.
‘Sorry,’ he said in a stage whisper. ‘Sorry, was waiting for an email.’ He waved his phone at the disapproving councillors. ‘I have it all now. Sorry.’
I expected him to go right, to the empty seats but instead he hesitated in the middle of the aisle, looking at the Elm Heath contingent. Vanessa glared at him and Danny gave her the tiniest shake of his head.
‘Sorry,’ he said again.
Then in one quick, bewildering and almost rehearsed, move, Paula’s Chris got up from his seat and went to the side where other spectators were standing, Paula slid sideways into the seat her husband had vacated and Danny plonked himself down next to me, right in the middle of the Elm Heath supporters.
There was a pause as Vanessa waited for the hubbub to settle down and then she began her presentation.
As she started talking I gripped Danny’s arm. ‘What the actual FUCK are you doing here?’ I hissed.
He kept his eyes fixed on Vanessa. ‘Shhh,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to listen.’
Vanessa was showing the rapt councillors a graph of how much money her development would give them. I couldn’t decide whether to focus on her or on Danny.
Danny won.
‘What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be doing the Texo presentation?’ I muttered.
He still didn’t look at me.
‘I don’t work for Vanir any more,’ he said.
I had no words.
Up at the front, Vanessa was wrapping things up. I could see the councillors all scribbling furiously like Peter Jones in Dragons’ Den.
I turned to Danny again. ‘What’s going on? Where do you work?’
‘I’ve started my own company,’ he said, finally turning to me and giving me the benefit of his mega-watt smile. ‘It’s called Watkins & Co.’
Vanessa had sat down and the council leader was speaking again.
‘Finally, could we have the submission from Watkins & Co, please?’
Danny stood up, gripping his laptop, and I watched in amazement as he went to the front of the room.
‘I’m Danny Kinsella and I represent Watkins & Co,’ he said. ‘I think we can all agree that we’ve heard some convincing arguments here today. The money speaks for itself, doesn’t it? Texo are a great company and they know what they’re doing. They know how to make a profit and they do it well.’
I grimaced. What was he up to?
‘But where Texo’s plans for the Elm Heath site have failed is not taking into account the human side of the argument,’ Danny continued. He wasn’t looking at notes as he spoke. He was natural and warm, and everyone in the room was paying attention. Me included.
‘Because the human side of this argument is, I think, the most important part of today’s decision.’
He clicked to move the presentation on and Cara’s little face beamed out from the large screen.
‘This is my daughter, Cara,’ he said. ‘She goes to Elm Heath Primary and the staff …’ he nodded to us and we all sat up a bit straighter. ‘The staff are like a second family.’
He paused.
‘Cara lost her mum a few years back, and it’s not been easy for her. But I know at Elm Heath she’s in good hands.’
He looked down at the floor for a second, then seemed to gather himself. I had absolutely no doubt that he was speaking from his heart; he was so genuine and I could see everyone in the room was listening carefully as he spoke. But I still didn’t understand what he was doing.
‘My point is, every child at Elm Heath has their own individual story and their own needs. School – and Elm Heath Primary in particular – is an important part of all their lives. But more than that, it’s an important part of the village. Like our wonderful head teacher, Miss Armstrong
said …’
Was I imagining it, or did he emphasise the “Miss”? I met his gaze for a second and he looked back, eyes wide and innocent.
‘Miss Armstrong quoted our founder Esther Watkins when she said there was a need for this school in the village. Not just for the children but for everyone.’
There was a murmur of approval from my side of the room. I didn’t join in. I didn’t understand where Danny was going with this. I knew what he was saying was true, but what was the point of him saying it?
‘But I also understand that times are tough and we need to make everything – even a school with credentials like Elm Heath – pay. So I’ve come up with a plan.’
My jaw dropped as Danny outlined how his new company was planning to develop the waste ground at the back of the school, just as I’d tried to do.
He put up a slide showing the structure of the new business, with himself at the top and various consultants listed. Paula’s Chris was up there as part of the finance team, which explained why he’d been expecting Danny’s arrival. And Nate’s partner, Marc, was also one of the names. I looked round and caught Nate’s eye. He looked as startled as I did. Startled and very, very pleased.
‘I knew he was up to something,’ he whispered loudly. ‘I thought he was planning my birthday party.’
At the front of the room, Danny was outlining the plan that I’d tried to formulate but not managed. His company had secured investment to build a multi-use centre at the back of the school.
‘We’ll have to come up with a better name than that,’ he said ruefully as he put up the plans. ‘We can’t call it a MUC.’
The centre would have a large hall, which could be used for fitness classes, parties, shows and concerts. There would be soundproofed music rooms for lessons. A teaching kitchen. The Elm Heath library, which was currently housed in a tumbledown building at the edge of the village, would move into the centre too and there would be a café and space for book groups and other clubs to meet. And at the back it would have one all-weather tennis court and one astro-turfed football pitch.
‘The aim is to build something all the children will benefit from at school,’ Danny continued. ‘But also something that will be in use every evening, at weekends and during the school holidays – and bringing in a considerable income.’
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