by Kitty Wilson
Chapter Twenty-three
Well, so much for that plan. Richard had thought Marion would be leading the PTA meeting to which he had invited himself. Now what?
Being back in Penmenna permanently meant he could get far more involved in his family’s life and he figured helping out in school was a good first step. It would send a message to the boys that this wasn’t a fleeting visit and, he hoped, would enable him to spend a little more time with Marion outside of the house, which was now an area of uncomfortable pauses, constant fear of stepping over the line and feeling distinctly not welcome. All of which had to be balanced by pretending to the boys that this separation wasn’t something to worry about.
Yesterday had gone well; he knew she loved that lasagne but he wasn’t a fool – he didn’t think the odd supper cooked was going to win his wife back. He was worried that it may actually be a task beyond his solitary skills. He needed to assemble a crack team, and her friends at the school were a jolly good start. The dinner party Chase had planned for this evening would be a good second. Richard had never thought of himself as particularly Machiavellian, that was his wife’s forte, but he was realizing that after almost two decades of marriage he had learnt a trick or two.
‘Hello, I thought I heard your voice, how are you?’ Rosy popped her head around the door just as he was walking back into the school after Marion had scarpered.
‘Oh hi, Rosy. All good, thank you. Happy to be back in Penmenna full time.’
‘Fabulous, that’s great for us. How come you’re back?’
Richard explained as briefly as he could how his firm had offered him consultancy work that he could do from home, which enabled him to spend more time at the school. Rosy listened politely, made no mention of the fact that he had been thrown out by his wife, and invited him to take a wander around the school whilst he was waiting for the meeting at breaktime.
‘Oh no, that doesn’t seem fair, I don’t want to interrupt anyone’s teaching.’
‘I’m sure no one would mind; it will give you a far more accurate picture of school life rather than just relying upon the timetabled observations.’
‘Won’t everyone hate me popping in? I don’t think I’d be keen if I was a teacher with anybody just wandering in and out.’ Rosy laughed at this and as soon as he said it he realized that he knew Marion had spent the last few years doing exactly that. Rosy still didn’t mention her though.
‘I think everyone is very comfortable with you. I’ve experienced some scary chairs in my time, and you are not that. You are reasonable, understand it can’t be awe and wonder every minute of every day and genuinely want the best for the school. I don’t think anyone will mind, and quite frankly it’s tough if they do. It does Harmony no injury at all to be surprised occasionally, curbs her worst excesses as it were. I do it at least once a day or she’d have the children painting protest placards every day and never get around to anything maths or science-based. She’s great at all the humanities, citizenship and so on, but does need a firm hand. Today, you can be me for a bit.’
‘I might not be a very good Miss Winter; not sure I’m going to fool anyone. Talking of which, congratulations are in order. I heard that you and Matt are getting married – that’s lovely. I’m sure the two of you will be very happy. You must be busy with all the planning.’
Rosy placed a hand on his arm which was full of unspoken messages; he just couldn’t work out exactly what.
‘Actually, Marion is taking over the body of the work; she’s already saving me loads of time. I tell her what I want, she researches all the options and then sends me the details. I couldn’t see the wood for the trees before and she’s bringing a clarity and ease that makes everything a lot less stressful. Or at least she is this week; she was pushing for a joint wedding with Matt’s sister but she’s quietened down about that now. We haven’t run into any major problems yet but knowing Marion will intercede if anything goes horribly wrong is such a relief. I’m genuinely looking forward to it.’
‘I’m so glad to hear that; she is definitely someone you want fighting your battles for you. I’ve never met anyone that Marion couldn’t subdue or a problem she couldn’t solve,’ Richard said, very aware that right now he was both the person she had subdued and the problem she had solved.
‘Quite; she has Harmony in a perpetual state of anxiety.’ Richard knew he looked alarmed when Rosy giggled. ‘I’m only joking, well I’m not but I protect Harmony and she does bring a lot of it upon herself. Marion is much easier on the other teachers.’
The phone rang; Sheila answered it and then asked Rosy if she were free to take it. Rosy ducked back into her study for the call to be put through and Richard decided he had better do as he was told – years of training – and headed into the main part of the school.
It was unfortunate that as he walked through into the school hall, admiring the colourful displays up on the walls, the first person he saw, sitting on one of the wooden PE benches at the side of the room with his teacher next to him, was Rufus. Rufus looking shamefaced and Richard wasn’t quite sure what to do. He didn’t want to embarrass anyone, either his son or Kam Choudhury, but with the hall door slamming behind him loudly, there was no way he could quietly back out of the room now.
At that moment Kam looked up and made eye contact. Shit, he’d have to go over now. He knew if Marion was here she’d start a great long spiel about what a good boy Rufus was and how there had obviously been a mix-up. Richard had never been convinced this was the best policy.
He knew, as Marion did, exactly how mischievous his boys were but unlike her, didn’t hide behind the my-boys-can-do-no-wrong style of parenting so beloved by the Krays’ mother. He understood why Marion was the way she was but he couldn’t help but feel a slightly more honest answer was usually more helpful.
He approached the two, and as soon as Rufus saw him he could see the boy beginning to well up. Rufus quickly looked down at the floor and tried to hide his emotion by surreptitiously wiping his hand on his sleeve.
‘Mr Choudhury, good to see you.’ Richard stretched his hand out to shake Kam’s. ‘Everything alright?’
‘Hello, Mr Marksharp.’ Kam was the newest member of staff and as such didn’t know Richard very well yet. And vice versa. But Richard knew he wouldn’t have been hired if Rosy didn’t have complete faith in him and Marion had very good things to say as well. ‘Everything’s fine, Rufus and I were having a little chat. There was a bit of a misunderstanding this morning but I think we’re just about to clear it up, aren’t we, Rufus?’
Rufus nodded slowly, his blonde curls tumbling down his forehead giving him massive cute appeal. Then he rolled up the bottom of his sweater and started sheepishly unhooking a row of sewing needles he had woven onto the inside of his school jumper.
‘We’ve been doing some sewing, as part of the DT curriculum, making bags for special treasures. Everyone has been working really hard, haven’t they?’
Rufus nodded, eyes still down on the floor.
‘And Rufus was in charge of counting the needles back in, weren’t you? But he decided he had further use for them and very cleverly stashed them inside his jumper. Unfortunately for him, he was clever but not tidy and I could see little glimmers of silver giving the game away so we’ve just come out here to talk about it.’
All primary school teachers spoke like this, but it still always took Richard back to hear a fully-grown adult talk as if they lived in a land of unicorns and sparkles. Mind you, he supposed it was better than whipping out the cane or slipper at every possible opportunity. His school had been very regimented and he wouldn’t wish that on any of his sons, ever. In his day, it seemed that there was a belief that the crueller people were to you, the better prepared you were for adult life.
Richard crouched down on the floor and reached for his youngest son’s hand. ‘If you take something without asking, even if you plan to give it back later, then that’s stealing. And you’re a clever boy, you know that stealing
is wrong, really wrong. If you were a grown-up you would have the police come and arrest you if you stole something. You’re very lucky Mr Choudhury is being so understanding; not everyone would be. Why did you take the needles?’
Rufus sniffled.
‘Do you have an answer? Why did you take them?’
‘I think I’ll leave you with this for a second.’ Kam stood up, giving the two of them their space as he went back into the classroom. Richard sat on the bench where Mr Choudhury had been and Rufus climbed up on his lap and started playing with his dad’s glasses.
‘Rufus, don’t try to distract me. Why on earth did you want to steal the needles? And what’s more, how are you going to make it right?’
‘I wasn’t stealing, I was borrowing. It’s Rafe and Rupert, they’re horrible, like really mean. Rafe is always horrible and Rupert told tales on me!’ His voice was less sorry, more petulant now and Richard couldn’t help but smile. He had never liked his older brother much either.
‘Okay, so that’s your motive, and big brothers can be ghastly sometimes, but you know what, they share your blood, and all your childhood memories. We have to treasure them.’ Rufus snorted and Richard fought to hide his smile. ‘What were you going to do?’
‘I was going to stick them out of their beds, I thought if I just put them in like this then they’d never know they were there and… owwww!’ Rufus giggled, his face lighting up as he used his hands to demonstrate intended angle and result.
‘Hmmm. That’s not okay, Rufus, really not okay. So how are you going to make it right?’ Rufus’s face fell; he had obviously hoped his dad would approve of his plan.
‘Um… I won’t put needles in their bed?’ he asked hopefully.
‘And?’
‘And I’ll say sorry to Mr Choudhury for fibbing and taking the needles when I was meant to be looking after them?’ He queried his answer, a tone that suggested he would really rather not.
‘Yep, exactly that. I’m going to have to tell Mummy though and you need to get back in that class now and apologize. Okay?’
‘Do you have to tell her? She’s still cross at me. She’s going to take my fingerprints away and she didn’t smile when I…’
Richard was keen to know why his son was in the doghouse with his mother but also knew Rufus was deliberately trying to eke out the time before he was sent back to class. Plus, he and Marion had always agreed on a united front with the boys.
‘Well, she wouldn’t be cross without reason, I’m sure she’ll tell me about it when I talk to her about this. Now scoot, go and get the right thing done, young man!’
He tipped his son from his knee, ruffled his hair and went to hold the classroom door open so Rufus was not under any misapprehension about what he would be doing next.
‘Love you, Dad,’ he said in a whisper as he headed back in.
‘Love you, son,’ Richard answered, also in a whisper before closing the door and watching him head towards Mr Choudhury.
He turned to Rupert’s classroom next. His teacher, Mrs Adams, was frightening, younger than Mrs Trunchbull but otherwise employing very similar methods and sporting an identical bun. He supposed that should be his next stop, although after this little escapade was half dreading what he would find.
He reached the door and leant his head against the glass to take a peek before he knocked. And breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that, he had one child at least who wasn’t causing havoc. For there was Rupert up at the smartboard – long gone the days of scratchy chalk and a blackboard in schools – demonstrating to his classmates how to solve a maths problem whilst Mrs Adams watched and nodded.
No need to disturb that; he didn’t want to put Rupert on the spot more than necessary and Mrs Adams was terrifying. He didn’t want to test how she’d react to an unannounced visit.
He slid past towards Harmony’s door. None of his children in here and only ten minutes until breaktime. He reckoned he could easily manage this, do as Rosy asked and then he’d be ready to win over the PTA.
As he opened the door he heard Harmony Rivers, the teacher charged with enriching the hearts and minds of Class Two, saying, ‘And we all know what Zeus was famous for don’t we?’ in a rather arch tone.
Oh dear me; when he’d studied the Classics at his overpriced prep school – the second battle he had won with his mother was keeping his boys at home and educated in the village (the first had been marrying Marion) – they had a teacher who bordered on the perverse, who was very keen on what Zeus was good at, and it all seemed to centre on descending from the mountain in a disguise and into a young shepherdess or nymph, permission unnecessary.
He knew Harmony had her faults; he had witnessed the nativity the year she had been in charge as it descended into frenzied chaos as the universe literally gave birth on the floor to mark celebrating the winter solstice, no stable, star of light or virgins to be seen. Despite these facts, surely she wasn’t going to teach a class of eight-and-nine-year-olds about rape and incest within the Olympian family. Was she?
He winced as he edged into the room, relaxing only as he heard the children shout out answers that were both correct and perfectly appropriate for a primary school classroom.
‘He was like the king of the Greek gods, Miss.’
‘He could throw lightning bolts and control the weather. Ka boom!’
‘He had a winged horse called Pegasus.’
‘Excellent, class.’ Harmony praised the children and Richard felt his pulse slow back down; so far, so good. The teacher then noticed him in the doorway and waved him into the class. ‘Hello, Mr Marksharp, do come in. How can I help you?’
‘Hello, Ms Rivers, class,’ Richard responded. ‘I was in school, and Miss Winter said you were doing great things in here and I should nip in and see what you’re up to.’
‘Oh, thank you. They are a clever lot.’ Harmony wrinkled her nose at him in return for the compliment; Richard felt a pang for not being strictly truthful but it had to be better than saying that Rosy wanted her kept on her toes.
‘Is your… um… Marion with you?’ She arched her body a little bit, to see around him into the hall to check. Richard managed to keep a smile off his face.
‘No, you’re quite safe,’ Richard stage whispered and a titter arose from the children, making him feel lousy. He wasn’t intentionally poking fun at Marion.
‘Pull up a chair; we’re learning all about ancient Greece.’
Richard nodded in agreement, easy now he realized he had overreacted when he had first come in. Of course she would be appropriate; teaching and content had moved on an awful lot since the eighties. That winter solstice celebration had merely been a one-off.
‘It’s a shame you couldn’t have popped in this afternoon; we’ll be making some Grecian red and black figure pots.’ And with a smile she clicked on the smartboard to bring up some illustrations of typical examples, largely depicting domestic tasks in ancient Greece.
Richard nearly fell off his tiny child-sized chair as he examined the bottom left one intently. The one with men equipped with unfeasibly large phalli undertaking athletic events.
‘So, class, who can tell me what they notice about these pots?’ Harmony asked, whilst Richard shut his eyes, prayed for a quick escape and a normal heart rate.
Chapter Twenty-four
Richard was pleased at how well the PTA meeting had gone. Everyone was very welcoming, Jenny had insisted on keeping him full of coffee and biscuits and Serena seemed to take charge of the meeting, although she checked back with Jenny on every decision made. There was the odd moment of unease, when Jenny had offered her condolences on him and Marion, reinforcing the fact that their marital break-up was common knowledge. No hiding in front of these people and pretending everything was alright.
Even as things were at the moment, Richard was still clinging to the belief that this was a temporary blip. That Marion couldn’t possibly break up their family because of a misunderstanding. But she was still spitt
ing venom about how he hadn’t been able to keep it in his pants at every opportunity they got without the boys present – and she was very definitely keeping those to a minimum, never letting them last more than three and a half minutes.
Richard knew he needed to find a way of getting her to listen to him, to convince her that her beliefs were not true, that he had been ever faithful both in thought and deed. He had considered roping in Claudia and getting her to call Marion and swear that nothing had happened. But even he knew that was a plan with a million flaws and he needed to find a better way. If he couldn’t convince his wife of his integrity himself then perhaps he didn’t deserve her.
He was hoping that his involvement in the school would not only help him have a better window into his sons’ lives, but also throw the two of them together whilst the boys were safely confined to the classrooms.
With little faith in his own abilities at getting her to listen, he thought spending time doing the things Marion did, like the PTA meeting, would give him inspiration. All he had actually learnt was that Serena wanted to ring in the changes by making the parents’ quiz night they were planning voluntary fancy dress – Marion would never have stood for that – and ‘soap characters’, past and present, was set as a theme. Jenny reminded everyone that it was wise to water down the alcohol; apparently Marion had been doing this for years, to boost profits and decrease drunken, disorderly behaviour by the parents, who, excited to be out without their children, would end up trying to fornicate on the gym mats.
He sent Marion a text after the meeting to see if she wanted to meet up so he could let her know how things had gone but received a terse reply about how Jenny had already done so and she was very busy. Which left him somewhat at a loose end. He supposed if nothing else he could go and google Frank Butcher costume ideas.