Civvy Street (14 page)

‘I remember the school bus,’ said Maddy. ‘I used to get half my homework done on it before I got off. Of course, sometimes it bore a remarkable resemblance to my best friend’s.’

Susie grinned. ‘And talking about the bus journey home...’ She paused. She needed to ask Maddy a monster favour but was this the right moment?

Maddy looked puzzled. ‘Is there a problem? Surely there’ll be a bus back for them.’

‘Oh, there is. Except there won’t be anyone in when they get back. I won’t get away from the mess till five thirty at the earliest – much later if there’s any sort of function, and Mike’ll be working till gone five as well and the kids finish school at three. I really don’t think they’re old enough just yet to be left for well over two hours on their own.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘That’s the thing, Mads.’ Susie looked her friend in the face. ‘You said to me a while back that you couldn’t see that you’d be getting back into the saddle any time soon regarding getting a job, what with being the OC’s wife and with two tiny children...’

‘Ye-e-e-s,’ said Maddy, slightly warily.

‘Well, there’s a school bus that passes the barracks. If the girls caught that one, could they jump off here and stay with you till either Mike or I can pick them up after work? I’d pay you, of course,’ Susie added hastily. ‘The proper going rate and everything.’

Maddy considered Susie’s proposition. ‘Susie,’ she began, ‘can I think about it for a day or two? It’s quite tempting, and you know I adore Ella and Katie but it
is
quite a commitment.’

‘Yes, yes of course.’ Susie hadn’t totally expected Maddy to bite her hand off but she’d thought there might be a bit more enthusiasm.

‘In fact, it might be worth getting hold of Caro. She’s coming back to the battalion, she’s qualified. You might be better off with her. Not that I wouldn’t step in if you, or she, had an emergency.’

*

Dan Armstrong let himself into his flat and found Jenna, as usual, lounging on the sofa, reading a magazine. Eliot was on his playmat, under his activity centre, bashing the brightly coloured beads and bangles that were suspended above him. The flat, as always, was pristinely tidy and Jenna looked a million dollars so why, wondered Dan, did Jenna’s lack of obvious activity annoy him so much? He knew he was being unreasonable; she
had
tried to get work as a hairdresser before she’d had Eliot, and obviously, now she was a mother, getting work when there were childcare considerations made things more difficult, but he couldn’t help feeling resentment that he earned all the money and she spent it. Anyway, he had news for Jenna that might change all that.

‘Hiya, babe,’ said Jenna, looking up from her mag. ‘Good day?’

Dan chucked his beret on the coffee table.

‘Don’t do that,’ said Jenna. ‘There’s a hook in the hall.’

Dan ignored the comment. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

Jenna brightened. ‘Ooh, lovely.’

‘It’s not a present, it’s this.’ He pulled a thin magazine from his pocket.

Jenna’s nose wrinkled. ‘The garrison newsletter? What would I want with that?’

Dan opened it and folded the page then handed it to his partner. ‘I thought you might be interested in this.’

Jenna scanned the page and handed the magazine back. ‘Yeah, I know about that.’

‘Jenna, they’re advertising for a hairdresser for the new community centre. It’s right up your alley. And I’m reliably informed there’ll be a crèche there, right on the doorstep, so Eliot could be properly looked after while you do people’s hair and if he needs you, you are right there. It’s perfect.’

Jenna shook her head. ‘Like the wives would come to me? With my reputation?’

Dan sighed, exasperated. ‘No one remembers that now.’

‘Wanna bet? I was hardly flavour of the month back at the old place, was I?’

‘But that was ages ago.’

Jenna stared at him. ‘And you think they’ll have forgotten?’ She snorted. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘But when Maddy had the business with that mad stalker and the baby coming early and everything, you were the hero of the hour.’

‘On the officers’ patch, maybe. I didn’t see any of the soldiers’ wives patting me on the back. I don’t suppose they even knew.’

‘Don’t be like that, I bet they did, you know what the rumour mill is like. But you wouldn’t know because you never have anything to do with them. You never go to any functions, you never interact...’

‘Don’t meet trouble halfway, that’s my motto. I don’t want to give my old neighbours the chance to spit in my face. And they more than likely would.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Huh.’

‘Look, Jenna, I know my pay as a sergeant isn’t bad but we’re hardly flush.’

‘We’re all right.’

‘If you worked we could afford to go somewhere nice on holiday – take Eliot to Greece or Spain for a proper holiday. You’d like that, wouldn’t you; get a proper tan instead of having to spray one on.’

‘You want me to get skin cancer now?’

Dan rolled his eyes. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that and you know it.’

‘Anyway, I don’t want no crèche looking after little Eliot. I’m his mum and looking after him is
my
job, not some stranger’s.’ Jenna narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you suggesting I don’t make a good enough go of it?’

‘No, of course not. I’m just saying that here is a job that would be perfect for you, it comes complete with childcare and I really,
really
don’t get why you’re turning it down.’

With exaggerated slowness and enunciation Jenna said, ‘I’ve just explained why.’

‘OK,’ said Dan. ‘Then I’m going to explain things to you from my point of view. If you don’t apply for this job, the next time you want a new outfit or to fill your car up with petrol, or get your nails done professionally, don’t come to me for the money. You can have money for the groceries and stuff for Eliot but after that you’re out of luck. This is a partnership and at the moment I’m doing all the heavy-lift.’

‘You wouldn’t?’ said Jenna, looking genuinely shocked.

‘Try me.’

‘What if I apply for the job and don’t get it?’

Dan knew just how good a hairdresser Jenna had been. ‘You will,’ he said. He handed the magazine back to her. ‘I suggest you ring this number right now.’

Jenna snatched the magazine off him and picked up her mobile. ‘Satisfied?’ she said a few minutes later after she finished the call to Maddy. She glared at him.

‘There, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it?’ he replied, refusing to rise to her belligerent tone.

‘I can see it’s going to be a right pain in the arse to get it off the ground. The place is half built and I’ve got to go and see the admin officer to get insurance and terms of trading sorted out. Honestly, Dan, it had better be worth it.’

‘Of course it’ll be worth it – it’s a job.’

‘Maybe, but once we take out the cost of Eliot’s childcare and tax and national insurance there’ll be precious little left.’

‘Whatever it is it’ll still be more than what you are earning right now.’

Jenna wasn’t convinced and she certainly wasn’t sure it was going to be worth the effort but Dan had made his point of view perfectly plain and she wasn’t going to risk her relationship and her lifestyle by thwarting him. She flashed him a smile.

‘You’re right, hon.’

‘Good.’ Dan drew her to him and gave her a kiss.

‘But I do worry about some of the wives.’

‘It’ll be a five-minute wonder – maybe not even that. Once they realise how good you are they’ll forget all about your past.’

‘Hey,’ said Jenna, ruffling Dan’s number two buzz cut, ‘how do you know I’m any good?’

‘Your mate Maddy rates you – that’s good enough for me.’

Yeah, thought Jenna, Maddy did – but she was only one out of hundreds of wives.

Susie drove the family estate up to the gravel sweep in front of Browndown School and stared at the beautiful building looking spectacular in the bright summer sunshine. The stands of mature chestnut trees that flanked the main house were a brilliant green, the lawns beneath were immaculate and the distant playing fields gave the impression that the school was set in acres and acres of parkland. It looked more like a stately home than a school – but then that was exactly what it had been once upon a time. Around her, other cars were drawn up – mostly top-of-the-range four-by-fours driven by mothers in designer clothes and carrying ridiculously expensive handbags. Susie glanced at her Marks and Sparks faux-leather bag and her Boden summer dress and tried not to feel envious. Still, they would fit right in where she was going to be living next – they might even be considered posh.

She opened the car door and stepped onto the crunchy well-raked gravel. She’d been dreading this. Despite what the vile Miss Marcham had said about Katie and Ella, they’d made friends at this place and had been happy here and taking them away from the school – which had pretty much been their home for a year – was going to be hard on them. Maybe they
had
been naughty but Susie wondered if it hadn’t been more a matter of high-spirits, which would explain their popularity. Not that that dried-up old trout Miss Marcham would understand about popularity. Susie bet her bottom dollar that Miss Marcham had been Nora No-Mates when she’d been at school and consequently now resented those girls who weren’t. Yes, that probably explained a lot, thought Susie. Still, Miss Marcham’s past wasn’t going to have any bearing on the twins’ present and Susie suspected that it was going to be a very tearful end of year service in the school chapel and an even more traumatic departure. She checked her bag for tissues. Lots... good.

There was a steady trickle of parents – mostly mothers – heading to the chapel at the rear of the main building. The women, like Susie, were mostly in dresses, some in skirts and smart jackets, and the handful of men were dressed in business suits. Some of the parents were greeting each other like long-lost friends but most were just picking their way across the gravel, the women concentrating on not letting their high heels sink into the soft ground under the path. The herbaceous border that flanked the route was wonderful and the scent of roses and lilies was heavy in the air. Susie wondered casually how much the school spent on gardeners and groundsmen but, given the annual bill for fees, it was probably quite a lot. Not the sort of money that poor old Winterspring Comp could run to. No wonder the campus of the girls’ new school mostly consisted of paving slabs and asphalt. The difference was going to come as such a shock to the girls after five whole years in the private system. No manicured lawns, no swanky sports pavilions, no soundproofed music rooms, no grand piano in the school hall... No, Winterspring Comp was all utilitarian and functional, all hard edges. And the words ‘hard edges’ probably applied to the pupils as much as their surroundings, thought Susie as she pushed her worries as to how her daughters would cope to the deepest recesses of her mind.

She entered the cool gloom of the chapel and was handed her service sheet by a sixth-former who represented everything that Susie hoped her own daughters would become: self-assured, elegant, poised and, very possibly, given the school’s excellent academic record, intelligent. Susie took her seat in one of the pews reserved for the parents, at the side of the chapel, and bent her head. She wasn’t praying – she wasn’t the least religious – but she knew it was important to observe the social norms in an environment like this. Although, since in about an hour she’d be an outsider to this exclusive group, she spent her time in this position wondering why she bothered. She sat up straight again and began to look at the other parents. She nodded at a few that she recognised and was rather shocked when one woman didn’t return the silent greeting and deliberately looked away. Ah, thought Susie, the ostracism has started. Word has got out that we’re no longer wealthy enough to afford the fees so now I am persona non grata. Still, as she didn’t want to be friends with people that shallow, she didn’t much care.

There was the sound of the approach of distant voices and the scuffing of crêpe-soled shoes on flagstones which gradually grew louder. The voices stilled as the girls began to file into the chapel and fill the central pews, form by form, the youngest girls – Katie and Ella amongst them – nearest the front. The sixth formers, the last in, made their way up the length of the aisle to the choir stalls and sat there. During previous services Susie had imagined her girls in that lofty position, but it was never going to happen now.

The school chaplain made his entrance, everyone stood and the first hymn began. ‘I Vow to Thee, My Country’, the school hymn, had always moved Susie but this time it seemed especially poignant and before they’d got halfway through the first verse she found that she was unable to sing properly because of the lump in her throat. She struggled on as best she could, till the last verse when she reached into her handbag and dabbed her eyes, hoping no one had noticed. She glanced around, feeling faintly foolish about her display of emotion. Luckily no one had been looking at her – no one, that was, except Miss Marcham, who was at the lectern and who was looking at Susie with a sneer of disdain as she waited to read the first lesson. Susie narrowed her eyes and stared back till Miss Marcham dropped her gaze. Rancid old bag. Susie wouldn’t miss
her
when the kids left.

Packing everything the girls had with them at the school took an age and filled every inch of space of the car that wasn’t to be occupied by Susie or the twins. Other children could leave a sizeable proportion of their personal kit at the school till the autumn term but not Ella and Katie. The fact that the girls were taking everything just served to make their departure even more public and, as Susie spotted the conversation between the mothers, followed by the glances in their direction, even more humiliating.

And then came the moment when the two girls had to say goodbye to their friends. Their tears were heartbreaking as they hugged their classmates and made promises to keep in touch, and Facetime or Skype or text all the time. Susie watched, wondering just how long these friendships would last when the other children’s parents realised where Ella and Katie were going to be living. Houses on an army patch mightn’t be luxurious – and certainly not when compared with the homes of girls whose parents were in the ‘super-rich’ league – but at least the neighbours on the patch all had a respectable occupation, talked with the right sort of accents, sent their kids to the right sort of school and held political beliefs that were acceptable to the Rolex and Range Rover brigade. Susie didn’t think they’d want their precious daughters visiting ASBO Central any time in the future. No matter what plans the children were making for the holidays, Susie didn’t think any of them would come to fruition.