Bed of Roses (35 page)

An inaudible, resentful sigh passes over the stifling room. Robert feels it; feels a pop of glee; can’t prevent those lips from curling slightly as he waits, patiently, for all eyes to be turned towards him. ‘It’s a worry which I’ve had for some time now, and which one or two parents have also voiced concerns about. I feel, as deputy head of the school, it’s my responsibility to draw it to all the governors’ attention—’

‘Well, get on with it,’ snaps the General.

‘It’s about Fanny’s conduct. There have been one or two incidents involving – I feel – highly inappropriate behaviours towards the kiddies.’

The General thuds himself back against his chair, rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, bilge!’ he mutters. ‘Here we go.’

Robert turns to Fanny. ‘On 4 May, Fanny, I believe you kept Scarlett Mozely back from school – without any advance warning to her or to her parent/guardian. Am I right?’

‘What?…’ She thinks about it; remembers the occasion. ‘Well, yes, I did, but—’

‘As guidelines require us so to do.’

‘They do, but—’

‘But of course guidelines aren’t for the likes of you, Fanny,
are they? At one point I believe you pulled the young lady towards you, entirely against her will. You pressed her head to your – breasts, and held her there…bore down on her with open lips, while she struggled as best she could to get away. I believe she very nearly lost her balance.’

Fanny laughs. ‘Robert, what are you trying to imply? I gave her a kiss! A tiny little kiss! She’d never shown me any work before, and—But I would never want to upset her. Has Scarlett complained about this?’

‘I saw you,’ says Robert; whispers Robert. ‘
I saw you!
’

‘You were spying on me!’

‘And on 22 May, can you deny that you physically and verbally abused and humiliated young Oliver Adams on the stairs outside your office?’

‘What? No!’

‘Didn’t you, as punishment for bringing an unsuitable object into the playground, point a finger between his eyes and prod him, hard, on the forehead, inflicting damage to his ocular, auditory and cognitive facilities?’

‘What damage did I inflict? It was harmless.’

Robert nods at her. ‘His mother has lodged a complaint, you know.’

‘Has she? Who to?…Not to me, she hasn’t.’

He hesitates. He also has been unable to reach Geraldine since yesterday. Since she knows nothing about the prodding incident (so far as he knows) she hasn’t had a chance, yet, to lodge a complaint. But she will. When he tells her. He feels confident. ‘
Wild flowers
we may be, Miss Flynn. Out here in the back of beyond. Or rare flowers. Or garden weeds. Whatever you and your little friend so patronisingly choose to call us. But we still have to abide by the law.
And I saw you!
’

‘Because you’ve been spying on me!’

He tilts his head. Doesn’t deny it. ‘I felt I needed to,’ he says simply.

‘Well, fuck you, Robert.’

‘Incidentally,’ he says, ‘I’ve been wondering – you said Scarlett was the rare orchid, didn’t you, and her mother was the Deadly Nightshade. Isn’t that right?’ He smiles, enjoying the shock on her face. ‘So what does that make the rest of us, Fanny? What does that make me?’

‘Nothing,’ she says, too stunned to come up with anything clever. ‘You’ve been spying on me,’ she says again.

‘As I said—’

‘
Fuck you!
’

‘Really, Fanny,’ clucks the vicar. ‘That’s not quite…I must say, Robert, I’m certainly unaware of any complaints being lodged. However, these are serious allegations, Fanny…Really, physical—’

‘
Sexual
abuse,’ spits out Robert. ‘
Sexual abuse
of a defenceless little kid, of a physically challenged little kiddie…whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time…Don’t, Reverend, whatever you do, attempt to trivialise this…’

The vicar licks his lips. He glances nervously at Kitty who sits there relishing every minute of it. His mind spins, imagining the telephone calls from the diocese, the LEA…‘I presume you deny it?’ he asks Fanny hopefully.

‘What? Of course I deny it!’

‘Well. That’s all right, then.’

‘How can she deny it?’ demands Robert, pointing at Fanny. ‘She’s already admitted to it! We heard her!’

Fanny glances from one to the other. ‘No,’ she says. ‘I mean –
no
. I deny what he’s
calling
it. I don’t deny I gave Scarlett a hug. And, yes, as for Oliver Adams…I mean,
no
. Maybe I prodded him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I certainly didn’t do him any harm…I just…Christ, he hardly even noticed.’ Mistake. She sees the look of victory on Robert’s face and falls silent.

The vicar gives a deep sigh. ‘But Fanny, there are
rules
,’ he says sadly, shaking his head. ‘You know it as well as I do.’

‘I know, but—’

‘There are
systems, processes, guidelines, regulations…
All of which have to be put in place for allegations such as these.’

‘
Really
,’ crows Kitty, ‘little did I know when I entrusted my daughter’s care to you—’

‘Oh, shut up!’ snaps the General.

‘And I must say,’ continues Kitty, ‘I’m extremely grateful for your vigilance, Robert. I shall certainly be pressing charges, or whatever one does. At this stage. Vicar, what does one do? Scarlett has already complained about the incident. I’ve been meaning to mention it. Actually she’s been complaining about it for weeks.’

Fanny struggles, for a moment, to control herself. ‘I don’t believe you, Kitty,’ she says at last. ‘I don’t believe you.’

Kitty shrugs.

‘And furthermore, I don’t believe
you
believe it either.’

Kitty guffaws. ‘What?’

‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’ Fanny’s voice wobbles. She swallows.

‘Of course you haven’t!’ says the General.

‘I’m sure you haven’t,’ soothes the vicar. ‘There’s not a doubt in my mind. However,
protocol…
’

Fanny shakes her head. ‘I’m doing a good job. Reverend, you said so yourself. The school’s come alive. The children are happy.
Ask them
. Ask them! And I can’t understand.
Why would you all want to ruin that?
’

‘I don’t!’ cries the General. ‘Fanny Flynn, if I may say so, you’re the best thing to have happened to this village in years.’

She smiles at him gratefully, then looks around the room;
at Kitty and Robert, staring back at her, their gloating faces brimming with hostility; and at the vicar, staring at his hands, unhappy, annoyed, disappointed, maybe even a little suspicious…‘If you don’t believe me, read the inspectors’ report. They’ve never—It says in there that they’ve never—’ She frowns, to pull back the tears. But she can’t remember the exact words. ‘
I’ve done a good job!
I’ve done a bloody good job!’

‘Nevertheless, Fanny,’ says the vicar kindly, ‘if you really won’t deny it—’

‘How can she?’ asks Robert smugly. ‘When she’s already admitted it? Not once but twice, now. In front of all of us! She can’t deny it.’

‘Well then, I’m forced to admit that under the circumstances—’

‘This is absurd,’ splutters the General. ‘This is appalling!’

Robert raises an eyebrow, says nothing. Doesn’t need to.

‘As I say,’ perseveres the vicar, ‘these are – will be – considered serious allegations. Made,’ he glances at the General, ‘by the school’s
deputy head
, and substantiated, or so it appears, by one of the victims’ parents. They are unfortunately allegations which we’re simply not permitted to ignore. And I’m sorry, Fanny, I have no choice. As you know. Pending further inquiries, a move will have to be made for temporary—’

‘Suspension?’ Fanny laughs in disbelief. ‘After all this? You can’t do it!’

‘Unfortunately, I must,’ says the vicar, not daring to look at her. ‘I believe these things can take several months. After which, of course, there are various appeals procedures—’

‘Reverend Hodge, you know as well as I do,’ interrupts the General, ‘the school won’t stay open for appeals. They’ll close it down. And the only person to benefit will be,’ he leans forward, jabs a finger at Robert, ‘
that gentleman over
there
. To whom the public purse will no doubt have to fork out some phenomenal sum. For doing nothing. Except single-handedly wrecking a perfectly charming 150-year-old village school. Actually, thanks to Fanny, a bloody
good
150-year-old village school.’

‘Steady,’ mutters the vicar, agreeing with every word. ‘Steady on, General. I don’t think we can quite say that.’

‘
He’s
the winner, Reverend! No one else!’ The General’s face is very red. Fanny puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘General. It doesn’t matter,’ she says.

‘Yes, it bloody well does! If that bugger persists with his repulsive allegations, they’ll close the school down. Mark my words. Within a month they’ll find some excuse, and they’ll—’

‘Please, General,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself. Nothing’s going to go to court. I’m resigning, that’s all.’

‘Certainly not!’

Fanny looks at him, sends him a crooked smile. ‘You know my track record. I’m a very restless person…’

‘Absolutely not!’

‘We-ell, General,’ says the Reverend, ‘given the circumstances, I think it might be the best option. If we can just make a smooth transition…’

‘In that case, I would like to put my name forward to be the new head,’ says Robert. A glimmer of a smile at the vicar, at Fanny, at the General. They all hear the implied threat. ‘I hope that’s acceptable?’

‘Over my dead body!’ cries the General.

Fanny ignores him. She nods to herself, turns to the vicar. Silence. She clears her throat. ‘Reverend Hodge, I resign.’

‘Nonsense!’ the General shouts.

‘Too bloody right, it’s nonsense. You’re not “
resigning
”, Fanny Flynn,’ shouts Kitty as Fanny walks away, towards
the door she’d burst through so happily only a few moments earlier. ‘You’re
fired
! Isn’t that right, vicar? Eh, Robert? We’re voting you off the board, baby. And it’s good riddance –’

Bang!
The door closes.

‘– to bad rubbish!’ A silence. Kitty clears her throat, rolls back her head and begins to laugh. ‘Good work, Robert. Well done! Didn’t think you had it in you.’

Fanny walks for miles after that, saying her goodbyes to the landscape; she and Brute walk until it’s dark. Perhaps, she thinks, they will move to America now. Or maybe to Spain; spend some time with her mother and the retired tax inspector. Or maybe to Edinburgh…Or Australia. Australia sounded good. It was miles away.

She sighs. ‘That’s what we need, isn’t it, Brute? You and me. And Louis. If he wants to come. We can go anywhere. Anywhere in the world! We’ll have a new beginning.’ But even thick Brute fails to be fooled by her optimism. ‘Eh, Brute? What do you reckon? How about a new beginning?’

He ignores her.

She returns to the cottage – where there is still no sign of Louis. She should pack, she thinks. That’s what she normally does at this stage in the cycle.
Get busy. Move on. Start the packing.

Instead, she takes a packet of Marlboro Lights and a bottle of whisky, and wanders out into the garden…
Lavender and sandalwood.
Solomon must be home. She breathes in. Must be out in his garden…She finds herself wishing she could go over and join him. Tell him all her
problems, while his three sweet little daughters sleep upstairs. Lie under the stars drinking wine, putting the universe to rights with him. And his new girlfriend, if he has one yet. She feels a sharp internal shrivelling.
Jealousy
, for crying out loud. Where had
that
come from? As if she doesn’t already have enough to worry about.

She spots Macklan at the far end of their own, shared garden, sitting under the peach tree, in the very place she’d been planning to sit herself. The moonlight on his handsome face makes him look pale and drawn. She smiles – an exhausted smile – and plops herself down beside him. ‘You and Grey McShane look just like vampires,’ she says. ‘After dark. Budge up.’

He budges up. She offers him a cigarette, which he takes. She lights his and her own, and they sit in silence, listening to the quiet breeze and to the Maxwell McDonald lambs, chattering away in the field behind them.

‘Good day?’ she enquires eventually.

He smiles. ‘Shitty day…What about you?’

‘Yeah, well.’ She shrugs. ‘I suppose it could have been better…Tracey working tonight? Why aren’t you at the pub?’

‘Her Uncle Russell told me yesterday. She’s pregnant.’

‘She’s pregnant?’

‘I suppose you knew all along, did you?’

‘No. Of course not. I noticed she’d been putting on weight. But I thought, you know, looking at her mother…’

He laughs. ‘So did I, if you want the honest truth. But it’s pretty bloody obvious, isn’t it? When you know. I feel such an idiot.’

Fanny doesn’t reply. Doesn’t know what to say, where to start. Tracey’s Uncle Russell had been making himself very busy recently.

‘She’s staying at her mum’s. She won’t speak to me. Won’t tell me anything.’

‘At her
mum’s
?’ says Fanny. ‘Bloody hell. Things must be bad.’

‘I don’t even know who the father is.’

‘Oh! I assumed—Macklan, I’m sorry.’

He shakes his head. ‘The stupid thing is I don’t even care. If she came to me with a Martian in her belly, I wouldn’t care. I’d love it. I would – if she wanted me to. I mean,’ he laughs, ‘it’s not like
I
was the most carefully planned baby of all time…I’d do anything for her, Fanny. I love her.’

‘I know you do,’ says Fanny, taking a swig from the whisky and passing it to him. ‘It’s very obvious.’

‘So why won’t she trust me, then? Why won’t she talk to me about it?
Why?
’

Fanny doesn’t have an answer to that. She takes the bottle back, swigs it down again, takes another pull from the cigarette. ‘Got fired this evening, Macklan. Can you believe it? Incidentally,’ she adds, after a pause, ‘have you seen Louis today?’

‘He went to Kidstead, I think. Or somewhere. One of the newspapers sent him. He was very pleased about it. Fanny,’ he adds suddenly, ‘maybe now’s not the time to mention this but there’s something you should probably know about Louis…Louis and Kitty Mozely…’

‘Ahhh yes,’ she says quietly. ‘Of course. Kitty and Louis. Kitty more or less told me this evening.’ She smiles, and feels a wave of unmistakable relief wash through her. And sadness. And no surprise, not even a flicker. So it’s over. Over. They are free to stop pretending. She is free to go. ‘Well…’ She sighs. ‘We had to give it a try, didn’t we, Mack? I don’t think Louis and I were ever honestly cut out to be anything more than friends. Not like you and Tracey…’

He shakes his head. ‘Sorry, Fanny.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ she says, more to herself than to
Macklan. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She’s not going to cry. ‘At least not very much.’ She won’t cry. ‘And we’ll still be friends. Eventually. Definitely, we will.’

A pause, broken by Macklan, unable, in spite of Fanny’s troubles, to stay off the topic closest to his heart for very long. ‘But do you seriously thinks she loves me, Fanny?’

Fanny laughs. He’d not even remembered to commiserate about the job – not that she cared. ‘I’d lay my last 20p on it, Mack. When you two are together there’s something…’ she searches for the right word, ‘
luminous
about you, a sort of luminous happiness that makes other couples look a bit pathetic, makes us feel like we’re trying too hard. I think you two were born to be together. Seriously. I do.’

He beams at her.

She gives him a wan smile. ‘Anyway, I don’t really know what you’re doing talking to me about it. You should get yourself down to the pub. Talk to her. She’s working tonight, isn’t she?’

‘Of course she is.’

‘Well, go on then!’

‘She won’t speak to me.’ But he’s leaning forward, hopeful again. ‘I’m standing there on the side of the bar calling her name and she acts like she’s deaf. She won’t bloody well answer.’

‘But she can’t stop you talking to her, can she? Does she know how you feel – about the baby? That you’ll love it like your own? Have you told her what you just told me? Because if you haven’t—’ Fanny laughs. ‘I mean, Christ, Mack. There aren’t many men—She certainly won’t be assuming it.’

‘She won’t?’ He sounds surprised.

Again Fanny laughs. ‘Erm – no, Mack.’

‘I’m going to tell her.’ He springs up, stops, glances back
down at Fanny. ‘You’ll be all right, though, won’t you, Fanny?’

‘I’ll be fine. Go on, Macklan, GO!’

He’s already halfway across the garden.