Wicked! (26 page)

‘Probably wants him to flog drugs to our “little toffs” when he visits Bagley.’

‘Oh God, I hope not.’ Then, stammering and angry: ‘Desmond Reynolds said he couldn’t think why you were wasting your time on Larks.’

‘Ah.’ Hengist forked up one of her potatoes, ‘Because I believe in improving the state system. When I’m old, I want well-educated, positive, happy young adults running this country.’ He smiled. ‘Or it could be that I fancy you rotten.’

Janna’s blush came through Pearl’s war paint.

‘Stop taking the piss.’

‘And because you remind me of Oriana.’

‘She’s wonderful.’

‘And terribly tricky. If only she’d take a nice job with the BBC in Bristol instead of being addicted to trouble spots.’

‘I’m amazed she can tear herself away from the Shakespeare Estate.’

Hengist laughed. Then, as waitresses stormed on with strawberry pavlova: ‘I’d better get back to my seat.’

Against the colourful banners of the Boys’ Brigade, the Rotary Club, the Parish Council and the Honorary Corps of Elephants and Buffaloes, the chairman of the county council made a colourless speech laboriously outlining Larkminster’s plans for the Jubilee.

He wasn’t anticipating a visit from Her Majesty but there were plans for a Jubilee mug and the shops would be decorating their windows. No street parties were planned.

‘My children would love a street party,’ shouted a now drunk Janna and was shushed.

Noticing Ashton shaking his head and exchanging a pained, what-did-you-expect glance with Crispin and Rod, Hengist thought angrily: They’re willing the poor child to screw up. More resolute than ever he rose to his feet.

Miss Painswick had typed out his speech in big print, so he didn’t have to wear spectacles; a lock of black hair had fallen over his forehead. As he thanked the waitresses and waiters for all their hard work, they crept back into the dining room to hear him.

‘The Queen has been on the throne for nigh on fifty years,’ he said warmly, ‘never put a foot wrong, and deserves to be celebrated. And, like myself,’ he went on slightly mockingly, ‘she believes there is no privilege without responsibility.

‘We in the independent sector have always recognized there is no justification for our work if pupils grow up to use the benefits of their education only for their own advancement and profit. We at Bagley Hall have a tradition for community work: we go into hospitals, we give concerts in the cathedral, members of the public and other schools use our golf course and our park for cross-country running. We are also clearing ponds around Larkminster and carrying out conservation in the Malvern Hills.’

Then he launched into an attack.

‘I appreciate many county councils and education authorities are actively opposed to private education. Larkshire’s LEA, in the past, was too busy to answer our letters and ignored our offers of help. S and C Services have shown themselves equally pigheaded. So we approached Janna Curtis direct and to our relief found she puts her children at Larks before her prejudice.

‘Larks has been described as a “head’s graveyard”,’ went on Hengist idly. ‘One might almost believe S and C and Councillor Cindy Payne are frightened of Janna breaking the mould.’

‘Prepostewous. Nothing could be further from the twuth,’ spluttered Ashton.

‘Good,’ said Hengist smoothly. ‘Just to let you know that Larks will be paying their first visit to Bagley on Wednesday.’

‘Oh, goodness.’ Janna clapped her hands in delight.

Col Peters was writing furiously.

‘This has nothing to do with Janna Curtis or helping her students,’ hissed Councillor Cindy Payne to Ashton, ‘it’s Hengist establishing himself as a dove. If Jupiter takes over the Tories, he’ll find Hengist a quick seat and give him Education and God help us all.’

Glancing over to the enemy table, Janna noticed Alex Bruce quite unable to hide his jealousy. Hunched like an old monkey throughout Hengist’s speech, he had mindlessly wolfed his way through an entire plateful of petits fours. A denied Crispin was almost in tears.

No sooner had Hengist finished, to mixed applause, than the press gathered round him, except for Col Peters, editor of the
Gazette
, who pulled up a chair beside Janna, plonking a bottle of red on the table. Close up he really did look like a toad, his eyes glaucous, fixed and bulging.

‘What did you think of that, Miss Curtis?’

‘Fantastic.’ Janna raised her glass. ‘Hengist has been marvellous to us, which is more than you have. Why are you always slagging off Larks? Don’t you realize my kids read your rotten paper and are utterly demoralized by your lies?’

A good row was boiling up when Janna was distracted by the peroxide-blonde wife of the chairman of the Rotary Club, who’d drunk even more than she had, and who, passing Councillor Cindy Payne in the gap between the tables, called out: ‘Thank God we got Lottie, our grandchild, into Searston Abbey, Cindy, or we’d have had to go private or out of county rather than end up at that dreadful Larks.’

‘They’ll probably bid for specialist status now they’ve got Hengist B-T on board,’ joked Cindy, who must have been aware of Janna’s proximity.

‘Crime’s Larks’s only speciality,’ sneered the Rotary chairman’s wife. ‘They hold their old school reunions in the nick.’

‘How dare you slag off my school!’ Janna jumped to her feet. ‘And you, Councillor Payne, haven’t even had the courtesy to visit Larks.’

Seizing Col Peters’s bottle, she was tempted to give Councillor Payne’s mousy hair a red rinse, when Hengist grabbed her wrist, increasing pressure so violently she gasped and dropped the bottle, spilling red wine all over Pearl’s mother’s lovely dress.

‘Now look what you’ve made me do.’ She turned, spitting, on him. ‘Get off me, you great brute.’

Loosening his grip only a fraction, Hengist dragged her out into the corridor and let her have it:

‘When are you going to learn to behave?’ he yelled. ‘Have you got some sort of death wish? Do you want to wreck everything we’re doing to save your school?’

Bursting into tears, Janna fled into the night.

24

Janna woke to find herself on the settee, her breath rising whitely as a reproving sun peered in through the window to dissect her hangover without the aid of anaesthetic. Pearl’s mother’s green handkerchief dress was her only protection against the bitter cold.

Whimpering and wailing, she pieced together last night’s broken dreams. How could she have nearly tipped wine over Cindy Payne, sworn at Col Peters and Hengist, who’d made such a lovely speech about her, then driven home plastered?

As a contrast to such anarchic behaviour, she caught sight of the green and gold serenity of Graffi’s mural of Larkshire. He had worked so hard. But now she had stormed out on Hengist, Graffi and his pals would no longer get the chance to run joyously on Bagley’s green and pleasant pitches or blossom in art studio, library or concert hall. She had blown it for them and she’d never see Hengist again.

Staggering to her feet, she noticed Pearl’s make-up all over the recently upholstered coral settee. Why did she ruin everything? Tottering into the kitchen, wondering if she could keep down a cup of tea, she fell over a padded blue basket and gave a moan of horror as she took in the tins of Pedigree Chum on the window ledge and the blue collar and lead with the newly engraved disk: ‘Partner Curtis’. In the fridge was a Tesco’s cooked chicken to tempt his appetite.

Glancing at the clock she realized she was due to collect him in three-quarters of an hour. Rescued dogs, particularly ones as traumatized as Partner, needed calm, relaxed owners and she hadn’t had the decency to stay sober the night before his arrival. Bloody Larkshire Ladette. And what the hell had she done with Pearl’s mother’s shawl?

Partner’s delighted wagging when he saw Janna was still punctuated by whimpers. His tail, which they’d managed to save and had wrapped in a net gauze dressing, was still very raw and sore.

‘Bathe it constantly with cold water,’ said the nurse, ‘and he’ll need antibiotics and painkillers for another fortnight. We ought to keep him in longer, but he’s pining in here. He’ll do better in a home environment.’

As Janna sank to the floor holding out her arms, Partner crept into them, licking away her tears as they poured from her reddened eyes. ‘He needs me as much as I need him,’ she whispered.

‘Be happy for him,’ said the nurse, handing her a box of medicine. ‘He’s such a brave little dog; we’ll all miss him.’

Reluctant to leave at first, Partner perked up in the car, resting his roan nose on Janna’s shoulder all the way home. He peed in excitement over the stone kitchen floor before wolfing a huge chicken lunch.

Janna’s hangover was hovering like an albatross. She must plan tomorrow’s staff meeting. Still cold, she lit a fire. Determined to start as she meant to go on with Partner, she brought his basket into the lounge. Ignoring it, he jumped on to the sofa beside her.

‘Not on my new settee,’ she said firmly, then caught sight of the streaked make-up and relented.

‘Agenda for staff meeting’, she read. On top was a note that Mrs Chalford, head of history, who’d been off all term with stress, would be back in school on Monday. Evidently she was a dragon and a bossy boots. The file dropped from Janna’s hand.

She was woken by furious barking. Partner, although he was taking refuge under the sofa, was defending his new home against an enchanted Lily.

‘What a charming dog. Part corgi, part Norwich terrier, I would say.’ Then as Partner, cheered to be attributed with such smart origins, crawled out to lick her hand: ‘Oh, your poor little tail. How are you feeling?’ she asked Janna.

‘Terrible.’

‘I’ve brought you a hair of the dog.’ Lily brandished a bottle of last year’s sloe gin.

Janna shuddered. ‘I’d never keep it down.’

‘It’s to celebrate Partner’s arrival. What are you going to do with him during the day?’

‘Take him and his basket to Larks.’

‘It’s too soon. I’ll look after him here until his tail mends.’

‘Oh Lily, you’re an angel. Are you sure?’

‘I expect he’ll tree the General to start with, but the old boy needs a bit of exercise.’

‘OK, I will have a glass,’ said Janna.

As they toasted Partner, Lily said, ‘You look terribly tired. What happened last night?’

Janna was about to tell all, when to her horror Partner went into another frenzy of barking and up rolled Graffi, Feral, Paris and this time Pearl. Janna had completely forgotten they were coming.

From Paris’s point of view, the afternoons spent at Jubilee Cottage had been the happiest of his life. Afterwards, the memories of gentle football, picking apples and sweeping leaves and twigs for bonfires would be suffused by a golden glow. Best of all had been his hours by the fire with Janna toasting marshmallows and crumpets, the long, leisurely conversations about books, the quiet after the needy, anguished clamour of the children’s home. Often, when younger, he had pretended to be his mother and read out loud to himself. Sitting on the floor, not quite letting his head fall on to Janna’s little jeaned knees, he had listened to her reading from the
Aeneid
, Aesop’s
Fables
,
Paradise Lost
– ‘With thee conversing I forget all time’ – with no other sound except the swish of Graffi’s brushes and the crackle of Lily’s apple logs.

Paris had never loved anyone as he loved Janna, but never by the flicker of a pale eyelash would he betray his feelings or embarrass her. He never had any difficulty attracting girls – they lit up like road signs in his headlights as he approached – but it was only an illusion that faded once he’d passed. For, however much they ran after him, inside him was desolation. He must be worthless and unlovable if his mother hadn’t wanted to keep him.

Paris didn’t have to be back at Oaktree Court until eight o’clock – nine, when he reached fourteen in January – so as the evenings closed in, he would wander the streets of Larkminster: wistful, lonely, pale as the moon, gazing into rooms lit up orange like Halloween pumpkins, bright with books, pictures, leaping fires and mothers, arms round their children’s shoulders, as they helped them with their homework.

Bleakly aware that he was incapable of expressing the love that would make him lovable, that he had nothing to offer emotionally, longing for a family would overwhelm him and he would howl at the night sky, reaching for the stars beyond the branches.

What terrified Paris was once Graffi’s mural was finished, there would be no excuse for them to roll up at Janna’s every weekend, so he kept dreaming up extras for Graffi to include: ‘Put Rod Hyde in the stocks.’

As the Wolf Pack rolled up that Sunday, blown in like dry, curling leaves, Paris tried not to feel resentful at having to share Janna with Graffi, Feral and a chattering, first-among-equals Pearl as well as Lily, who was puffing away on the sofa, already stuck into the booze with a fox on her knee, who promptly shot terrified under the sofa.

‘Meet Janna’s new dog,’ said Lily.

‘Is it all right if we come today?’ asked Graffi.

‘Sure,’ said Janna weakly.