‘Right. See you Friday,’ said Alice, before she turned and headed across the hall to her flat.
‘Looking forward to it,’ Mark called out, realising he actually might be. He would take a couple of bottles of decent wine. He knew a thing about USA wines, after he and Diane had toured a winery in the Napa Valley.
As Alice left, Mark heard the strains of another episode ofFrasierstarting on the television, so that was his mind made up. He would settle down and watch several episodes that were showing on a loop.
He found himself mulling over Alice’s invitation, and wondered whether he had been a little hasty in accepting it. His life was ticking over nicely without the company of neighbours, although he occasionally wondered if it was healthy to distance himself from those who lived nearby.
In his old neighbourhood, he and Diane would sometimes socialise with neighbours, especially around Christmas time when it was open house, Diane welcoming everybody inside for a drink and a mince pie. She had been the driving force, the one who found events to attend, circling things on the calendar. Left to his own devices he would never have sought out company.
The invites from friends still came after Diane passed away, but over time they stopped, and he would instead receive the occasional text asking after his well-being.
He was comfortable being alone these days. Too comfortable maybe.
Mark eyed the crime novel on the coffee table that he kept meaning to start, so perhaps he would do that this afternoon. He had had a poor sleep last night, so despite his slightly restless mood, a day taking it easy was probably on the cards. Tomorrow he might venture down to the marina and take the boat out.
FOUR
JESS
‘Have you got a minute?’ Maisie’s teacher, Miss Jenson, asked Jess when she arrived to pick Maisie up.
‘Sure,’ said Jess, even though she probably didn’t really. ‘Is everything okay?’ This was slightly concerning. Not just because she wondered what Maisie had gotten into.
She followed the teacher into the classroom, and the smell of Play-Doh and crayons hit her nostrils.
‘There was a bit of an incident,’ said Maisie’s teacher, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
‘An incident?’ Jess frowned.
A child ran back into the classroom then, grabbing her blue cardigan with the school badge, that was hung over the back of her chair, before running back outside to her mum.
‘Yes. Another girl has the exact same pencil case as Maisie, and there was a mix-up,’ Miss Jenson continued. ‘Maisie insisted the other child had hers as her own had gone missing. Anyway, she found it in the end. She’d taken it to the toilet with her and left it there.’
‘So what was the problem if she found it in the end?’ asked Jess. ‘I hope she apologised to her classmate, though.’
‘Maisie pushed the other child over at playtime quite forcefully, and she grazed her knee,’ explained Maisie’s teacher. ‘Her mother has just been on the phone to the headteacher complaining.’
‘And is the head still here?’ asked Jess.
‘Yes, she’s in the office, but she might be busy, I…’
Jess did not wait to hear any more; she grabbed Maisie’s hand and strode purposefully, the teacher following, her heels clipping on the wooden floor. She always taught Maisie right from wrong, and found it out of character for Maisie to react the way she did. She needed to hear the whole story.
‘You might need to make an appointment,’ Miss Jenson said, as she struggled to keep up with Maisie and her mum. When they reached the headteacher’s room, Jess rapped on the door.
‘Come in,’ came a voice from behind the door.
The cropped-haired headteacher, somewhere in her forties, glanced up from her laptop.
‘I’d like a word, please,’ Jess said firmly but calmly. ‘About the incident today with Maisie and the pencil case.’
‘Ah yes. Please take a seat,’ said the head, removing her glasses. She gestured to a nearby chair, and the class teacher took a seat opposite her as Maisie stood silently beside her mother.
The room with magnolia painted walls and office-style seats was soulless, thought Jess, who wondered why it had to look so corporate. But then, that’s what schools were these days, businesses. Results published for all to see and parents making decisions based upon them. If they lived in the right catchment area, of course.
Jess thought it might be more inspirational to the children if some of their work was displayed on the walls of the headteacher’s room, or at least something that gave it a personality. She recalled her own primary school, and how theheadteacher had some exceptional artwork pinned to a board in his office, and how the reception area proudly displayed clay sculptures and cardboard vehicles made during science lessons.
‘I hear the child’s mother has complained to you about Maisie pushing her daughter over,’ said Jess.
