The Cornish Village School--Summer Love

by Summer Love (retail) (epub)

  Thank goodness he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself, surrounded by all the pupils and parents. Their friendship had changed here tonight, had become deeper, more open, more honest. They smiled at each other, and he really hoped she felt the shift too, rather than thinking that either or both of them had overshared.

  ‘Well, you two look very comfortable. Could I have the takings please?’ Jenny, Marion’s number two and monster-in-training appeared, hovering over them, a smug, judgemental look all over her features. Marion had trained her well.

  ‘Here you go.’ Kam sat up and handed her the box they had used to collect the money they had taken.

  ‘Excellent. Marion is getting ready to wind things up and asked that everyone gather in the Hall. Thank you. Chop chop!’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Jenny was right; the fayre was drawing to a close with cakes and plants sold out early on and everyone packing up ready to come together for the raffle draw that took place in the school hall at the very end of the evening. With the space hoppers let down and the ponies securely tied up, Kam and Pippa walked to the hall to see how their mothers had got on.

  Kam stood by his remark about his mum and Jan having an awful lot in common. It would be nice if she had made a friend down here as it would make future visits much easier. He just worried a bit that they could team up and take their meddling to even higher levels.

  It had been great to see so many of the children wandering around the school with intricate henna tattoos on their arms; his sisters had obviously done a roaring trade and, as Pippa had pointed out, it was a whole brand-new thing for the Penmenna School Fayre. The parents would be over the moon to offer something to their offspring that didn’t involve scrubbing green or red face paint off for the next three days.

  Kam and Pippa made it through the packed school hall just in time to hear Marion tap the microphone as she stood on the small stage built out of wooden blocks kept specially for the purpose in the resources’ cupboard.

  ‘Hello, everybody, thank you once again for coming and making Penmenna’s May Fayre extra special. Every year we seem to pull it out of the bag and make it spectacular, and what can I say? Penmenna, you’ve done it again.’ She held her hands high and to the side and clapped them, waiting for the others to follow in obedient applause. Which obviously they all did.

  Pippa stood at the back of the hall, next to Kam, in some kind of mother sandwich. Both women stood either side of their offspring and had bonded far too well for Kam’s taste. He was having trouble enough reining in his crush on Pippa this evening, and now he was pressed up against her in this crowd. The last thing he needed was his mother deciding that she wanted to be friends with the Parkin family and making everything else even more complicated.

  She had pulled him away from the school Year Six camp when he was eleven because she didn’t think the facilities were clean enough; when she had discovered from Ben – three samosas and he was her number one source – that Kam was taking a girl to the cinema she had turned up and sat behind them the whole time, giving advice: ‘Kam, you need to offer her a drink. Kam, she has run out of popcorn. Kam, check she is alright. This is a very scary film. You should have chosen a nice romantic drama, Kam!’ He dreaded to think what she could do when she discovered Jan was equally desperate to get Pippa settled.

  Perhaps if he told her about Pippa’s relationship with James, whatever that was, it might put her off or stop her hatching plans. But still, for now, it was nice being surrounded by his family in the place he had decided to call home.

  He looked at Marion, up there in her element, but something seemed to be off. He wondered if he was just thinking that because Pippa had flagged that she may need their support. But as he examined her face he could see it was more drawn than usual. There was a darkness around her eyes and a greyish tinge to her face that no amount of Estée Lauder (thanks to Anuja’s YouTube addiction he knew all the tricks) was going to cover up. She was dressed in the electric blue leopard print again – it clearly having become a firm favourite – and had scarlet lips and nails with a flash of blue on her eyelid. He had to hand it to her: whatever was going on under the surface, she was doing a grand job up there. She was smiling down at the assembled cast of parents, staff and interested locals and bestowing her best and most regal facial expressions.

  ‘We haven’t been able to tot anything up yet, but it looks like we may have smashed last year’s target and raised well over three thousand pounds…’ – she paused again for applause and recognition of her genius – ‘…that we can split between the school here and the Healing Hearts Foundation as run by our very own celebrity, Alex Mackenzie. Talking of celebrities, I’d like to give a big thanks not just to Alex but to Matt Masters too for his stellar work on the plant stall – although I did say very clearly only tasteful plants. I shall be watching that extra carefully next year – and his generosity in agreeing to be a raffle prize.’ She tittered as Matt waved his hand in the air and smiled at everyone. ‘Although, of course, whoever wins him can’t keep him longer than a couple of hours or our very own headmistress will have something to say. A big thank you also to Sylvie Rowe, whose little darlings from the ballet school made me quite emotional with their exceptional beauty and grace. So talented at such a young age, all of you.’ She paused again whilst people clapped the ballet class made up of boys and girls dressed in green leotards and tights with ivy woven crowns, who had performed around the maypole erected in the field to celebrate the season.

  ‘Now before I go ahead and draw the raffle, an extra big thank you to all the parents without whom—’

  ‘You!’ A female voice, loud and accusatory in tone rang out. Marion paused and the whole room took a deep breath and turned to see who had interrupted Marion’s flow. Alison, Ashleigh’s mum, who had been running the Pimm’s stall wove her way to the front of the crowd, swaying and pointing at Marion, whilst repeating the word ‘you’ a few more times. Each time loudly and badly articulated. Alison lent in and grabbed the ivy crown from Ashleigh’s head and plopped it skewwhiff upon her own head before attempting to stand up a little straighter. She drew herself up with what she hoped was dignity, in that way very drunk people do when they’ve sank more than a battleship would need to keep afloat.

  ‘You, you are a… a beashtly beasterly woman. I have come here to tell you that never never again…’

  Marion was still rooted to the spot, stricken as the scene began to unfold. Kam looked around and started to gently push his way to the front, approaching Alison calmly with the intention of guiding her away before Jenny, Marion’s number two, could get to her; Jenny was approaching in a much more aggressive fashion than Kam, with a face that would have worked well in Stalin’s Russia. He also spotted Rosy discreetly moving forward to the front of the stage, but figured he should press on anyway. This wasn’t a too many cooks spoil the broth situation. Marion was still, uncharacteristically, frozen as Alison continued.

  ‘…only a few months, and you have pat… pat… patronised me, snapped at me, told me I was stu… stupid… you’ve been…’

  Just as Rosy and Kam reached Alison, another voice rang out across the hall.

  ‘I suggest, madam, that you take a seat. My wife works exceptionally hard for this school and it is not a place where we tolerate rudeness or unpleasantness in any form. If you have something to say then there will be an appropriate time to do so. Tonight is not that time.’ Mr Marksharp’s voice rang out from the big wooden hall door through which he had just entered.

  The whole hall remained silent, bar Rufus who shouted ‘Daddy, Daddy’ the minute he saw his father launching himself at Richard Marksharp’s leg and clinging to it, his father stopping to ruffle his hair and plonk a kiss on top of his head before continuing, ‘It looks like another splendid evening. You’ve clearly outdone yourself again, darling. Now, were you about to draw the raffle? I can see we have some outstanding prizes here on the table. Which lucky person…’ There was a momentary
pause as his eyes lit upon a stoat standing on its back legs. Kam, who had been watching Pippa beaming as Richard defended his wife, now saw her most mischievous grin flash across her face before hiding her smile. He never had got to the bottom of why she had donated a stuffed stoat in a tutu and holding a cane.

  Mr Marksharp pulled himself together ‘… um… wonderful prizes, exotic and quite unique some of them.’ He climbed upon the stage and in front of the whole hall wrapped his wife up in a great big cuddle, whilst Kam led Alison into the library where he settled her on a chair shaped like a dinosaur. Angling himself so he could still see the stage, he sat with Alison and waited as Alice bustled in with a cup of coffee.

  Meanwhile on the stage, Mrs Marksharp leaned into the hug, relief across her face and, for a flash, the whole hall saw a different side of Marion, a human side. The hall was no longer silent; murmurs were beginning break out and opinion seemed divided on whether Marion deserved such an outburst or not.

  Kam watched Rosy mount the stage as Marion still clung to her husband, electric blue leopard print leaning against a traditional charcoal pinstripe.

  ‘Your attention, everybody, let’s have a big round of applause for Marion, a fantastic evening and we appreciate everything you and all the parents do.’ Rosy led a loud ferocious clap in an attempt to gather support for the head of the PTA, and Kam watched as the school community curled around the woman and kept her warm.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Oh my goodness, that was some evening. Did you get home okay?

  Yeah, I walked back along the beach. Thought it was best to leave the car in Penmenna. I didn’t realise how strong those Pimm’s were!

  Let’s face it, you’re not the only one…

  Right. I’ve never seen anything like that. I hope that Ashleigh’s mum is okay, I can’t help but sympathise with her. I’ve not been at Penmenna long but Marion’s behaviour is pretty awful.

  I know. But in this instance so was Alison’s. I wouldn’t want to be her tomorrow morning.

  We had fun though, didn’t we?

  Oh my goodness, yes. Best. Fayre. Ever. I can’t wait for you to come to Feast Week now. That’s the next big thing.

  When’s that then?

  End of summer. Remember it’s in the second half terms plans. We all concentrate on Cornwall and its marine heritage. And then ta-da we celebrate it all once term ends and Penmenna has its feast week. Which is kinda like a regatta but with a bit more drink.

  And everyone celebrates the village’s history?

  I don’t know about that but everyone gets utterly, utterly sloshed. Roger tries to force his home brew on all of us and at least six people in the village will end up sleeping on the beach.

  So, Cornwall in the summer is just party after party?

  There’s a reason people love it. It might look all quaint cottages and overpriced restaurants but we have a proud heritage to follow.

  And that includes drinking until you pass out on the beach?!

  We’re fishermen, smugglers or miners, so um… yup, pretty much. But at least we’ve cut it down to once or twice a year instead of every payday.

  You forget I’ve been inside The Smuggler’s Curse.

  Okay, fair point. Some still do it every payday. But even better, you haven’t been to The Rats Arse yet.

  There is not a pub called that! I thought Smuggler’s Curse was bad.

  Haha that’s nothing, you know Davinia we met this evening?

  Oh, I don’t think I’m going to forget that in a hurry.

  Well, only a couple of years ago she rocked up to the Rats Arse fete. They’re having a fallow year this year so you won’t see it… I’m using the dots to drag out the brilliance of this story.

  What, like Glastonbury? Isn’t that a bit over the top for a village pub?

  Normally I’d say yes, but if you get Sarah’s job then you’ll see why. Anyway, Davinia rocked up one year astride her horse, long wig on and naked, bar some electrical tape in a cross over her nipples and some edible panties. She said she was the modern-day Lady Godiva. Fathers suddenly started enrolling their children in pony club quicker than anything.

  What was she protesting?

  Eh?

  Lady Godiva was making a protest. What was Davinia’s?

  From what I can gather, that she was usually expected to dress in clothes when she goes out. That was it. She had been talking about setting up a naturist commune at the stables. I think this was her first foray.

  Aha, hence the rising admissions.

  Yep, fathers far and wide were suddenly very happy to take Juliana, Persephone and Abigail riding on a Saturday morning.

  We don’t have a Persephone at Penmenna do we?

  No, but you can guarantee that Davinia will have. And I reckon Sylvie will have a couple soon as well. Look, I’m bored of this texting now. Do you mind if we stop?

  Kam looked at the phone in his hand as he lay in bed. He kind of did mind. He wasn’t sure how it had evolved but he liked his daily catch up with Pippa; it was intimate, a way of further sharing and without half the school watching and gossiping. But if she was bored, then there wasn’t much he could do. He started to type back ‘of course not, night night’ when his ringtone blared out.

  ‘Brilliant, hello! I thought my fingers were going to fall off if I carried on texting at that rate. So, where were we? Oh yeah, Davinia’s clothing. I think she’s accepted that the neighbourhood would really prefer her fully clothed, although she does apparently still wander about her house and garden with not much on. I’ve always wondered about the electrical tape. Do you reckon that would hurt like hell when she had to pull it off? I remember coming back from a festival once…’

  And as Pippa carried on talking ten to the dozen, Kam laid back in his bed and smiled. This was perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The Saturday morning dawn streamed bright through Kam’s window. Normally he would have a bit of a lie-in, maybe read whilst working his way through a pint of coffee, alternatively he would have risen half an hour ago and headed to the beach. Sitting on your board, watching the sun break over the dunes was one of his favourite ways to spend time. However, today none of these was an option. Today, he was giving his mum and his sisters a whistle-stop tour of the county. Ordinarily he would been groaning about this; he loved his mother and each of his siblings, would lay his life down for any of them without a second thought but collectively – oh my word. They were so loud!

  Today though he would not be dealing with them on his own. Last night, as he and Pippa had chatted into the wee hours, she had become ever so excited and offered herself up as tour guide. She had said she had to spend the Sunday with her family and deal with the James situation – although she still hadn’t been hundred percent clear what that was precisely – and on Monday she had a vintage clothes thing on in a local hotel, but would love, love, love to show him and his family around tomorrow. Relaxing and doing nothing didn’t appear to ever feature on her schedule.

  Kam stretched as he considered Pippa a little more. He was used to having crushes and occasionally they would be reciprocated, he would conquer his shyness and all would proceed well. But he was increasingly aware that the way he felt about Pippa was way past crush, hurtling beyond infatuation and nudging into obsession. He just could not stop thinking about her. She was constantly on his mind. The way her hair was just the right length to curve into her neck, the way she found joy in everything, the way it was impossible to predict whether she would turn up as prom queen, athlete or flapper. Then there was the way she always made time for others, and made them smile whilst she was at it, the way her curves curved into curves and into more curves.

  He heard himself sigh.

  He was also aware that whilst Rosy’s warning about relationships in the workplace had been gentle, it had still happened. The last thing he wanted to do was put Pippa in an awkward position and he definitely couldn’t afford to mess up his chances for a permanent job at Penme
nna. He had had a couple of offers of interviews in other schools, which were scheduled for after the half term break, but he loved working in Penmenna so much. If he just handled his crush in as professional a way as possible, kept the boundaries firm and made no attempt whatsoever to treat Pippa as anything other than a respected colleague then he should be fine. After all he was hardly going to grab her into an embrace and declare unquenchable love for her today. Especially not in front of his sisters. Today should be fine. He’d make sure it was.

  Now that he knew that she was also being pushed by her mother into finding someone and settling down, he was sure that the last thing she needed was for her life to be made messier by him throwing his feelings into the pot. Besides nothing had changed on a rational level: he still stood true to his belief that, at this point in his life, he needed to prioritise his career. He just needed to box his emotions and carry on with his life plan.