here,’ Mrs Godwin replied. ‘The children did a sponsored silence for it, as I remember.’
‘Which just happens to be my all-time favourite way to fundraise,’ Lara said. ‘I salute the genius who thought of
that
.’
Mrs Godwin allowed a rare public chuckle, causing the other mother to eye Lara with that mix of resentment and admiration that one-upped parents customarily extend to the one-upper.
As Mrs Godwin pointed out various features of the classroom layout, I took the opportunity to study Lara’s husband. He was about my age, his face unremarkable in feature and colouring, at least from a distance, and his expression effortfully neutral. I guessed he was impatient to be done with this and get to the office, as most of the fathers I dealt with were. Likely he was one of those workaholic, socially disinterested husbands you often found with glamorous women; opposites on the colour wheel. He was to be commended for wearing a suit in this heat. I caught his eye and offered a sympathetic smile, but as I did so I thought I saw a flicker of query in his gaze, a flicker that caused an involuntary raising of my fingers to the right side of my forehead, masked though the skin was by concealer.
‘Mrs Steele, please don’t let us interrupt you,’ Mrs Godwin told me, in the way she had of disguising
an order as an apology. ‘It sounded as if you were having a discussion about the Second World War, were you?’
‘We were,’ I agreed. ‘I was just about to ask everyone what they might wear to the end-of-year party next week. The theme will be VE Day.’ Not the Riviera, I wished I could add for Lara’s benefit, and I had an involuntary image of myself arriving at her party in the kind of glamorous, structured dress I had never owned.
‘Gosh, I don’t hold out much hope for the catering,’ she said, favouring a succession of pupils with an individual beam. Sophia, among the lucky ones, had sprung awake and begun slurping from her water bottle. A girl who liked to touch things she wasn’t allowed to, she probably longed to finger the silky fringe of that yellow shawl.
‘It’s going to be rock cakes,’ I said, warming up now and smiling directly at Lara.
‘They’re not
actually
rocks,’ someone told her, and Alfie looked disgusted that such a statement should need to be made.
Miles Channing checked his watch. It was only when he slipped, phone in hand, behind another male adult, that I remembered the other couple were there and that I should spare them a little attention. If they hadn’t already enquired, they’d be hoping the Channings’ child was not in the same year group as their own because, if he was, it was a foregone conclusion as to who’d be offered any available place.
At the end of the school day, I dropped by Mrs Godwin’s office. Originally the vicarage’s drawing
room, it had a beautiful bay with French windows to the grounds. I imagined the smaller pupils appearing at the glass, mouths agape, then fleeing from it at the first sign of a raised eyebrow. I knew, even within a year of employment, that I would never come to occupy this room.
‘I was just wondering how the rest of the tour went this morning?’ I said.
‘Oh, it was fine. All very smooth.’
‘It was a shame you didn’t come by two minutes earlier. You would have caught Alfie Mellor using the word “ersatz”.’
‘Yes, that
would
have been impressive,’ said Mrs Godwin, and we exchanged looks that concurred it was just as well he was precociously bright because his parents wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less.
‘Which year are their children in?’ I asked.
‘The Wilkinsons have twins for year two. They’ve moved back from the Far East unexpectedly and are in a bit of a panic. I’ve just come off the phone with Mrs Wilkinson, actually, and she has accepted the places.’
‘They’re lucky two came up at once.’
‘Well, with Isabella moving out to Hampshire and Harry switching to City, they
‘Which just happens to be my all-time favourite way to fundraise,’ Lara said. ‘I salute the genius who thought of
that
.’
Mrs Godwin allowed a rare public chuckle, causing the other mother to eye Lara with that mix of resentment and admiration that one-upped parents customarily extend to the one-upper.
As Mrs Godwin pointed out various features of the classroom layout, I took the opportunity to study Lara’s husband. He was about my age, his face unremarkable in feature and colouring, at least from a distance, and his expression effortfully neutral. I guessed he was impatient to be done with this and get to the office, as most of the fathers I dealt with were. Likely he was one of those workaholic, socially disinterested husbands you often found with glamorous women; opposites on the colour wheel. He was to be commended for wearing a suit in this heat. I caught his eye and offered a sympathetic smile, but as I did so I thought I saw a flicker of query in his gaze, a flicker that caused an involuntary raising of my fingers to the right side of my forehead, masked though the skin was by concealer.
‘Mrs Steele, please don’t let us interrupt you,’ Mrs Godwin told me, in the way she had of disguising
an order as an apology. ‘It sounded as if you were having a discussion about the Second World War, were you?’
‘We were,’ I agreed. ‘I was just about to ask everyone what they might wear to the end-of-year party next week. The theme will be VE Day.’ Not the Riviera, I wished I could add for Lara’s benefit, and I had an involuntary image of myself arriving at her party in the kind of glamorous, structured dress I had never owned.
‘Gosh, I don’t hold out much hope for the catering,’ she said, favouring a succession of pupils with an individual beam. Sophia, among the lucky ones, had sprung awake and begun slurping from her water bottle. A girl who liked to touch things she wasn’t allowed to, she probably longed to finger the silky fringe of that yellow shawl.
‘It’s going to be rock cakes,’ I said, warming up now and smiling directly at Lara.
‘They’re not
actually
rocks,’ someone told her, and Alfie looked disgusted that such a statement should need to be made.
Miles Channing checked his watch. It was only when he slipped, phone in hand, behind another male adult, that I remembered the other couple were there and that I should spare them a little attention. If they hadn’t already enquired, they’d be hoping the Channings’ child was not in the same year group as their own because, if he was, it was a foregone conclusion as to who’d be offered any available place.
At the end of the school day, I dropped by Mrs Godwin’s office. Originally the vicarage’s drawing
room, it had a beautiful bay with French windows to the grounds. I imagined the smaller pupils appearing at the glass, mouths agape, then fleeing from it at the first sign of a raised eyebrow. I knew, even within a year of employment, that I would never come to occupy this room.
‘I was just wondering how the rest of the tour went this morning?’ I said.
‘Oh, it was fine. All very smooth.’
‘It was a shame you didn’t come by two minutes earlier. You would have caught Alfie Mellor using the word “ersatz”.’
‘Yes, that
would
have been impressive,’ said Mrs Godwin, and we exchanged looks that concurred it was just as well he was precociously bright because his parents wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less.
‘Which year are their children in?’ I asked.
‘The Wilkinsons have twins for year two. They’ve moved back from the Far East unexpectedly and are in a bit of a panic. I’ve just come off the phone with Mrs Wilkinson, actually, and she has accepted the places.’
‘They’re lucky two came up at once.’
‘Well, with Isabella moving out to Hampshire and Harry switching to City, they
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