Civvy Street (21 page)

She told herself that if the water rose another couple of inches she was going to ring 999. Better to be accused of wasting the emergency services’ time and of being a drama queen than do nothing and endanger her children. She got her phone out and held it in her hand while she watched the water level.

Movement in her rear-view mirror caught her eye. Mike? Oh, thank goodness. For a second relief flooded through her followed by a bolt of apprehension. Shit – maybe they
were
in real danger and he’d come to get them out. And he was now in danger too.

He got out of his car, waded through the now ankle-deep water and got into Susie’s.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said as he slammed the car door. ‘This is a bit of a turn-up. When the particulars said “hot and cold running water” I assumed they meant in the house,’ he joked.

Susie’s apprehension subsided a fraction at his attempt at humour, but it still didn’t explain his presence, nor did it mean their predicament was any less serious.

As casually as she could, not wanting to display any panic in front of the twins, she said, ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought as the emergency planning officer you’d be up to your ears dealing with this.’

‘I have been, but the fire brigades are all coping, any flooding is very localised and no new emergency calls have come in. But there’d been a report of flooding here so I thought I’d better check up on you. I’m on a mobile if they need me again.’

Susie shut her eyes in gratitude to that report. ‘Mike, I am so pleased you’re here. I did have a bit of a moment a while back.’
A bit?
She paused and stared at the brown, swirling water. ‘What will we do if it gets any higher?’

‘I don’t see how it can. That mad thunderstorm has gone, the rain has stopped and I know it’s caused problems with the drains and sewers across the county because just about every fire brigade we’ve got is either pumping out properties or clearing drains but they’re winning the battles. Give it another half-hour and it’ll all be back to normal.’

‘Really?’

‘Do you think I’d have been able to come back and check on you if the whole county was about to go under for the third time? No, honestly, the Met Office assures us the worst is over.’

With Mike being there Susie calmed down and she was able to observe the rushing water without feeling panicky. And, just as Mike predicted, it wasn’t long before the water began to go down, receding first off the pavement, then off the footpath to the front door until, finally, the flood was confined within the drainage ditch itself. Their front lawn, which had been tatty and weed-ridden to start with, now had a brown slick of mud covering it, along with rubbish and other detritus that had been carried down with the torrent. The family got out of Susie’s car and picked their way up the mud-slathered path.

‘At least,’ said Susie, as she opened the front door, ‘the house didn’t flood. That ditch served its purpose. Handy it was there, really.’

But the knowledge that another six inches might have caused a real problem left her with a nagging worry. Given what the weather gloom-merchants kept saying about climate change and a more frequent chance of extreme weather events, there was a distinct possibility that it might happen again, only next time they mightn’t get away with it. Really, she thought, the sooner they could get Mike’s credit rating back on track and move somewhere else, the happier she’d be.

Susie was popping out of her office the following day when she met Sam crossing the lobby on her way to the dining room for lunch.

‘Hi, Sus— Mrs Collins,’ said Sam with a slightly self-conscious laugh. ‘I’ll get used to calling you that one day.’

‘Afternoon,’ said Susie.

‘What was it I heard about you being involved in those floods?’

‘It wasn’t as bad as all that – just rather a lot of water got between where I’d parked the car and my front door.’

‘Scary.’

‘Well... it wasn’t great but it could have been worse. The trouble is...’ Susie paused.

‘Is?’ prompted Sam.

‘Is that Mike... sorry, Major Collins... and I have just realised about the name of our road.’

Sam shook her head. ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me there.’

‘We live on Springhill Road. When we had that storm, the water that came down our road was more than just what fell from the sky. It seemed to come pouring out of nowhere. So Mike... Major Collins... asked around and guess what? There’s a spring – a stream – that makes a seasonal appearance, which explains why we have a socking great ditch across our front garden.’

‘But it hasn’t caused a problem before?’ said Sam.

‘No, but then that storm was a bit out of the ordinary.’

‘Well, then,’ said Sam. ‘It’s not likely to be a regular event – or not on that scale anyway.’

‘I know... I just worry about it happening again. Global warming and freak storms and all that. No, you’re probably right, it was a one-off. Anyway, mustn’t keep you...’ She bustled off towards the mess kitchens.

‘That must be a bit of a worry,’ said Sam to herself.

*

Maddy was racing to the Spar to grab some bread for lunch before Seb came home and found that she had precious little to feed him with. She’d got all behind following a meeting with Camilla in her own house which had overrun by a whole hour and was feeling fed-up, pissed off and put upon in almost equal measure. It wasn’t just that Camilla had dragged the meeting out interminably but it was also as if she thought she was her own personal lackey. And as for the way she’d caught Camilla running a finger over her mantelpiece, looking for dust... Maddy had been seriously tempted to march straight round to Camilla’s place and do the same to her, see how
she
liked it. She stamped along the road, pushing Rose in her buggy and hauling along a reluctant Nathan, thinking about how she would treat wives if ever she became a CO’s wife, and not really looking where she was going.

‘Careful!’

Maddy stopped in her tracks. ‘Caro.’

‘Maddy.’ Caro’s voice was cool to the point of being frosty.

The two women stared at each other before Caro sidestepped round the buggy and walked on. Maddy felt her eyes pricking with tears. How had it come to this? How had their friendship soured so quickly and so badly when she’d done nothing,
nothing
, to hurt her friend?

She turned and stared at Caro’s retreating back view, longing to run after her, ask for an explanation or forgiveness or... something, make some sort of rapprochement. But the trouble was, Maddy knew what the explanation was, and that meant that she, personally, wasn’t in the wrong so why
should
she beg for forgiveness? She sighed and squared her shoulders. No, fuck it; it was Caro’s loss that they weren’t friends any more. Besides, she had loads of friends – one less wasn’t going to make any difference.

Except she knew she was kidding herself.

*

The next morning Susie had more to worry about than how the mess members addressed her or whether global warming was going to threaten her home, as Katie and Ella confronted her about their new school uniform.

‘This is gross,’ said Ella, tugging at her navy polo shirt.

Katie turned on her mother. ‘You can’t expect us to go around in public in
this
.’

‘Why not? All the kids around here do.’

‘But they’re sad losers,’ said Ella dismissively.

‘No they’re not. And don’t be so judgmental.’

‘God, Mother, you’ve only got to look at the kids on this estate to know that,’ sneered Katie.

‘Anyway, I think this is loads nicer than the Browndown uniform. Whoever thought that brown was an attractive colour for a uniform got it wrong, in my opinion.’

‘Duh,’ said Ella. ‘
Brown
down School.’

‘Don’t talk to me like that,’ snapped Susie. She tried to be patient with the girls but it was a real struggle some days. They were so negative about everything. It didn’t matter what she said, did or suggested, they ganged up against her and it was grinding her down. It was as if they thought that everything was deliberately judged to piss them off when, in reality, she was busting a gut – and so was Mike – to try and keep life as close to how it had been as possible. The exception had to be, of course, their school. They could not stay in the private system and that was that.

Ella and Katie rolled their eyes and exchanged a look. Susie had to hold her hands tight by her side. She itched to slap them but, apart from being wrong on every level, it wouldn’t help matters. Instead she counted to three.

‘Right, well, if you are both ready you should head for the bus. You don’t want to be late – not on your first day.’

Katie turned to face her mother. ‘Like going to this school is going to make a difference to our lives. It isn’t as if we’re going to learn anything there. It’s rubbish and you know it.’

Susie shook her head. ‘We’ll see, won’t we. Now get going. Do you want me to walk to the stop with you?’

‘We’re not babies,’ said Ella dismissively. She picked up her rucksack and slung it over one shoulder.

‘And you’ll remember to get the other bus at the end of the day. You won’t forget you’re going to Caro’s? I’ll pick you up after I’ve finished work.’

‘God, Mum, we
know
,’ said Katie, grabbing her own school bag.

The pair headed for the door.

‘Have a good day,’ Susie called after them as they headed out of it. ‘Bye...’ But the door slammed as she said it.

She turned away from it, trying not to worry how they would get on at their new school, how they would cope with being split up, how they’d integrate with their new classmates. And then she worried that maybe, this first day, she should have taken them herself, instead of leaving them to catch the school bus. She sighed and pushed her worries away. She’d never worried like this when she’d sent them off to board when they’d only been eight. Well, she had worried a little, but the prep school had been so lovely and the staff so kind that she’d known that her twins would be happy. And then when they’d moved to Browndown the transition had been almost seamless and loads of their friends had moved with them so, again, Susie was sure they’d settle in quickly. Except that, of course, she now knew that their time at Browndown hadn’t been a total success. Miss Marcham’s words still echoed inside her head. Rude. Disruptive. Lacked focus.

God, what if their behaviour caused a confrontation with the staff at Winterspring Comp? Would the different standard of discipline at a state school intimidate Ella and Katie or make them even worse? Susie really started to worry. But what could she do about it? Time would tell, she supposed, miserably.

Time. She glanced at her watch. Hell, she was going to be late. She grabbed her car keys and raced out of the house.

As she drove down the road she saw her daughters standing at the bus stop, apart from the gaggle of other identically clad kids, and both looking apprehensive. The bravado and uncaring attitude at home had been a front; that much was blindingly obvious. Susie’s anxiety rocked up several more notches. Would they fit in? Would they make friends? Would they get bullied? Dear God, she hoped not the last. And even more fervently she hoped they wouldn’t be insolent to the teachers.

Maddy pushed a contentedly sleeping Rose along the road to the community centre. She had a whole hour before she had to collect Nathan from his playgroup in the garrison church hall which he could now attend on three mornings a week, and she was keen to see the new amenity now it was up and running properly. It had been opened last week by General Sir Pemberton-Blake – Maddy reckoned that Sam had had her arm twisted by the CO to get her future father-in-law to agree to perform the ceremony – but now, four days after the formal shenanigans, the café, salon and crèche were all properly open for business. Having been in from the start of the project, Maddy was keen to see how it was all working now. And besides, she had business of her own there that she needed to do. She wasn’t looking forward to the encounter she was about to have, but it had to be done.

She turned into the drive and was pleased to see a satisfactory number of empty pushchairs parked outside. The tiny ex-occupants were, presumably, now being entertained in the crèche and Maddy hoped that their mothers were either getting their hair done or relaxing over coffee and cake. She parked her own pushchair, extricated Rose, who mewled in protest before slumping sleepily over Maddy’s shoulder, and went in. As Maddy pushed open the front door the hubbub of chat told her that the café was obviously doing a great trade – which was pleasing – but given the almost irresistible smells of freshly brewed coffee and baking cakes it wasn’t surprising. And, over and above the delicious aromas from the café, Maddy could detect the scent of hairdressing products. Good, Jenna must have got a client too. Maddy so wanted the salon to be a success; partly because she wanted Jenna’s skills as a hairdresser to get wider recognition but partly because she felt the salon was her idea and she wanted to see it do well as a matter of personal pride. There was a nagging doubt that this initial success might be down to the novelty factor but she had to hope that the community centre would become an established part of garrison life when that had worn off.

Maddy walked past the café to the crèche, and opened the door. Caro was there with a couple of helpers and the three of them were sitting on the floor playing with the children. In the conservatory were several cots, two of which contained sleeping children, but the other children were happily entertained by a selection of brightly coloured toys and seemed perfectly contented.

Caro looked up as Maddy entered.

‘Maddy,’ she said as she got to her feet.

Maddy took a deep breath. This was going to be tricky.

‘Hi. I’d like to book Rose in for a morning, please.’

Caro stared at her. ‘Really? When?’

‘Thursday.’

‘We’re full.’

‘Friday?’

‘Nope, full then too.’

‘Could you check, please?’

Caro picked up a desk diary off the counter. She barely glanced at it before she snapped it shut again. ‘As I said, we’re full.’