Rainy Day Sisters (28 page)

Lucy

THE WEDNESDAY AFTER HALF
term Lucy watched with a sinking heart as Oliver Jones was marched towards reception. Diana stopped by the counter, her mouth tightening as she watched the boy slouch into Alex's office.

“I try to cut him some slack, honestly I do, but he pinched another boy in the class, hard enough to leave a bruise. I can't have that.”

“I know,” Lucy said, but her heart ached for Oliver.

Alex's door closed and fifteen minutes later a woman came hurrying up the lane. She stepped inside the foyer, her expression pinched, her eyes dark and shadowed.

“I'm here for Oliver,” she said, and with a start Lucy realized this was Mrs. Jones.

“He's just in with Mr. Kincaid,” Lucy said. “I'll go check for you.” She knocked on Alex's door, and after he answered tersely, she opened it and stuck her head around the doorframe. “Mrs. Jones is here.” Oliver, she saw, had his head bowed and was scuffing his shoes along the floor.

“Please send her in,” Alex said, and Lucy motioned the woman forward.

She felt twitchy and tense for the next half hour; she could see the tops of all their heads through Alex's window, but she had no idea what was going on. She hoped Alex would consider Oliver's situation and not come down too hard on the boy.

Finally the door opened and Mrs. Jones came out, one hand on Oliver's shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured to Alex, who had walked out behind them, looking unhappily resolute. “Come on, sweetheart,” she murmured to Oliver, who was leaning into his mother. “Let's get your things.”

Lucy watched them covertly, surprised by the tenderness Oliver's mother showed the boy, and the way he clearly craved her comfort. She'd assumed Oliver's mother was both uncaring and indifferent, but in that moment she realized Mrs. Jones was doing the best she could, just like everyone else.

They left a few minutes later and she turned to Alex. “Why is he leaving school in the middle of the day?”

“He's suspended for two days.”

“That seems harsh—”

“It was his third infraction,” Alex said flatly. “I can only make so many exceptions, Lucy.”

“You know about his mother—”

“I make it my business to know as much as I can about every pupil's home situation. But I can't let Oliver's behavior go unpunished, no matter what's going on at home.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “This job is hard sometimes, and there are no easy answers. But Lena Jones said she'd try to get some help, so that's something.” With another sigh he disappeared into his office.

The Saturday after half term Lucy bought the
Whitehaven News
and scoured the Help Wanted section. There were plenty of jobs she wasn't remotely qualified for, and a few she was and didn't want. Nighttime office cleaning? No thanks. Working in the cafeteria at the secondary school? A possibility, but she wanted to stretch her wings a little more, maybe even do something with art, as Juliet had suggested.

Well, she had time, she told herself. It was only the first week of November, after all. Plenty of time.

Guy Fawkes Day was that week, and the following Monday was Bonfire Night for the village.

“You do remember Guy Fawkes Day, I hope,” Juliet said severely, on the morning of the bonfire. Lucy gave her a sheepish look.

“Umm, sort of . . .”

“Guy Fawkes almost blew up Parliament in the early sixteen hundreds,” Juliet explained, sounding very much like a schoolteacher. “So since then, to celebrate the king's escape from assassination, we have fireworks and a bonfire.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “People used to put a straw man on the bonfire, meant to be an effigy of Fawkes. Some still do.”

“You burn a straw man on a bonfire?” Lucy exclaimed. “And this is a holiday for children?”

Juliet shrugged. “It's just an excuse to have fireworks, really,” she said. “But I'm in charge of Bonfire Night, as you know, and I could use some help running the thing.”

The whole village, Lucy saw that evening, came out for Bonfire Night. It was held on a sheep field at the bottom of the village; men in fluorescent vests guided cars into a makeshift parking lot on another field, but most people just walked. Lucy watched them come down the high street in a steady stream; she was meant to be collecting tickets, but judging from the other woman who was collecting, it was more of an excuse to chat with various people. More than once, the woman waved someone towards the bonfire, smiling. “Ah, you're areet, John. Come along, then.”

Lucy felt rather shrewish demanding people show her their tickets, and so she ended up just smiling at everyone and waving the tickets she'd already collected rather feebly. Maybe Juliet should have assigned her to the food stall.

The bonfire was impressive, though, the flames leaping twenty feet towards the sky. The smell of woodsmoke drifted on the air, and people laughed and chatted as they sipped from paper cups of soup and nibbled sausage rolls bought from the food stall, run by a formidable Liz Benson, wielding a large ladle and sternly informing everyone not to jump the queue. Since it seemed as if most of the people had already arrived, Lucy abandoned her post as ticket collector and went to join the line for a cup of soup.

“How was the week in Manchester?” she asked Diana after she'd gotten her soup and was standing near the leaping flames of the bonfire.

Diana gave a little grimace. “Okay, I suppose.”

“That doesn't sound all that okay.” The last time Lucy had talked to Diana about Andrew being in Manchester, her friend had seemed upbeat. “What happened?”

Diana blew out a breath. “We looked at some of the flats and they were . . .” She hesitated, her distant gaze on her two teenagers, waiting in the line for hot chocolate.

“Small?” Lucy suggested, and Diana shook her head.

“No, it wasn't that. They were . . . bachelor pads.” She let out a slightly bitter laugh. “Sleek, modern places with tiny kitchens and one bedroom and everything made of chrome and glass. And the
buildings
 . . . let's just say there weren't many married couples in those places, and absolutely no families.”

“But you wouldn't all be living in a place like that,” Lucy said after a moment. “Would you? I thought it was just meant to be a weekday place for him.”

“Yes, it was. Is. But the thought of Andrew having a life down there, in a place like that, while I'm cooking sausages and mash and going to teachers' meetings and all the rest of it . . .” Her gaze swung back towards Lucy, and she was discomfited to see the depth of bleakness there. “We might as well be divorced.”

“Don't say that, Diana—”

“Why not? It's true. Andrew hasn't been back for a weekend since early October.” She shook her head, her gaze turning even grimmer. “He's got his own life now, and it doesn't include us. That's what the week down there showed me.” She moved off to join her children before Lucy could answer.

“What's wrong with Diana?” Rachel asked as she came over, her hands cradling a cup of soup. “She looks positively thunderous.”

“Just the usual,” Lucy said, and Rachel nodded knowingly.

“The husband in Manchester? Bad news, if you ask me.”

“I think Diana's coming to that realization.” She took a sip from her own cup of soup. “What about you? How was the tour of universities?”

“Well,
I
liked them.”

“Lily not so much?”

Rachel's face tightened. “She refuses to give anything a chance. She says she doesn't even want to go to university, which is enough to make me tear my hair out.”

Lucy had heard this sentiment before, and when she'd met Lily a couple of times, she'd sensed the tension between the two sisters. “Why do you want her to go to college so badly?” she asked cautiously, because she knew this was a touchy topic for Rachel.

“Why wouldn't I? You sound like Juliet. She asked the same thing—”

“Juliet didn't go to university—”

“I know that, and she's done well for herself, but that's not the norm. Education is power, Lucy.”

“It wasn't for me. I have a BA in fine art and it's practically useless.”

Rachel shrugged impatiently. “Well, Lily isn't going to study art.”

“Isn't she interested in graphic design?”

“That's just a phase. She's predicted to get an A star in biology. She could do so much with that. Medicine, research—”

“But if she's not interested—”

Rachel gave her a quelling look. “I think I know my sister better than you do,” she said shortly.

“Sorry. I don't mean to push.”

Rachel ran a hand through her unruly hair, leaving it messier than before. “I know. I'm sorry to sound so bitchy. It's just that I've practically raised Lily. My mother broke her back when Lily was three years old and I took up the slack. She means more to me than anything, and I want to make sure she has the kind of opportunities I couldn't take advantage of.” Rachel pressed her lips together, looking like she regretted admitting so much. “I should go check on her,” she said. “And Meghan, my other sister. She's brought her little boy, Nathan, and he's likely to jump into the fire if someone doesn't watch him.”

Lucy watched Rachel move off and wondered how long she would be able to carry all of her family's burdens. Her gaze moved around the crowd; she saw Dan Trenton standing by himself, nursing a beer, and Abby on the other side of the bonfire, holding Noah's hand. Oliver Jones had come with his mother, who was still looking shadow-eyed and anxious, but she held Oliver's hand and laughed at something he said.

So many people.
Friends.
She really had made a life for herself here. Then Lucy saw Alex coming towards her with his two daughters in tow. He caught sight of her a second later, and she thought he might veer away and avoid her completely, but Poppy tugged him towards Lucy.

“Why don't we see you anymore?” she demanded.

The awkwardness, Lucy thought, was palpable. “You do see me, Poppy,” she said in that cringing too-jolly voice she'd stopped using with children ages ago. “At school every day.”

“I don't mean at school,” Poppy declared. “At home. You never come round anymore.”

As if she'd had a habit of coming round, when she'd been only twice. But two times to a seven-year-old probably felt like a lot.

“I've been busy,” Lucy said feebly, and Alex reached for Poppy's hand.

“Let's get in the queue for hot chocolate,” he said, and Poppy turned to him with an eager smile.

“And toffee apples?”

“Fine.” He pulled Poppy along, and Bella followed them with one last fleeting glance at Lucy.

Irritation warred with hurt and Lucy decided not to give in to either. This discomfort between her and Alex had to end. Either they could be civil and preferably normal with each other or they couldn't.

“So what do you think of Guy Fawkes Day?” Maggie Bains asked as she came up to Lucy.

“It seems like a nice way to get the village together,” Lucy answered. “I don't know about burning effigies, though.”

“Oh, we don't do that anymore,” Maggie assured her, then added, “Not much, anyway.”

“Good to know.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes as she cocked her head towards Alex, who had lined up at the food stall with Poppy and Bella. “How are things with Mr. Kincaid, then?”

For a moment Lucy thought Maggie knew about her and Alex. Then she realized Maggie must be asking about work, and relief rushed through her. “Oh, fine. You were right—his bark is worse than his bite.”

“He's a good man really,” Maggie said. “But he hasn't had an easy run lately, bless him.” She laid a hand on Lucy's arm. “You must give him time, Lucy.”

So it seemed Maggie did know about her and Alex. At this rate Lucy wondered who didn't. Soon they'd feature in a question on the pub quiz.
Which staff member was seen entering the head teacher's house?

“Thanks for the advice,” she mumbled, and with a fleeting smile she left Maggie and went in search of some solitude.

She stayed on the edge of the crowd, away from the light cast by the flames of the bonfire, watching as people mingled and talked, laughed and joked. She felt both part and not part of it all; the village had embraced her in so many ways, and she had embraced it. But in a few weeks, if she went back to Boston, this would be nothing more than a quaint and distant memory.

And if she stayed?

Lucy's heart lurched at the thought. She was afraid of so many things: of interaction with Alex being uncomfortable forever, and of not being able to find a decent job. Of failing again, just as she had in Boston. She didn't want the people she'd come to know and like see her fall flat on her face.

And if they did? They might help you back up again.