The three tried not to look surprised.
‘That’s very good of you,’ said Liz. She could have addedand it’s totally undeservedbut naturally she didn’t.
‘I dunno.’ Ffion looked awkward. ‘I reckon it’s what Nev would have wanted,’ she said. ‘Like I say, I never loved him, not really, but at least I can do this one thing for him.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t reckon I knew what love was till I bought my first Cleveland Bray.’
More than once whilst driving through Hollinby Quernhow, the mussel-blue Corsair hit a puddle, sending curtains of muddy water over the straggly verges.
‘I can’t get over how different it is,’ said Liz.
‘One extreme to the other,’ said Pat. ‘They’re giving out flood warnings in York. What’s that all about?’
Outside the Old Police House, a bedraggled-looking family could be seen dashing in out of the rain.
‘Poor things,’ said Liz. ‘I hope they’re having a good holiday.’
‘It wouldn’t suit me,’ said Pat as the last houses faded into the rain. ‘I like somewhere with a bit of life going on.’
Thelma laughed. ‘I rather think,’ she said, ‘that Hollinby Quernhow has had more than a bit of life going on recently.’
‘I tell you something,’ said Pat. ‘It’s good to see you back driving again.’
‘And thanks for picking us both up,’ said Liz.
‘Not at all,’ said Thelma. ‘More than happy to. And run you back home.’
‘Unless …’ said Pat. ‘I was wondering if you had time for a coffee at the garden centre?’
‘I’m in no rush,’ said Liz. ‘Our Jacob’s doing something with courgettes.’ She rolled her eyes mournfully.
‘I’m not due at the charity shop until three,’ said Thelma. ‘Why, was there something you wanted to tell us?’
‘Not about Neville Hilton,’ said Liz. ‘I’ve had about enough of dark goings-on for now.’
‘Nothing like that,’ said Pat. ‘It’s just we’ve had the first sonogram of the baby. I wanted to show you, but it didn’t seem right before.’
She was about to say more but Liz and Thelma interrupted with that noise lady primary school teachers are so good at: a joyful exclamation at the anticipation of coffee and some exciting news to celebrate and mull over.
Epilogue
September
The school was large, the school was ultra-modern –This is a place where children strive and thrive!screamed out the school logo. The corporate identity was everywhere, the Airforce blue colour scheme, the logoed sweatshirts and books, the identical fonts on the hessian-backed noticeboards, in the endless signs exhorting all young learners to push themselves on to that next level.
To stand in one classroom was very much to stand in all of them – with the exception of the corner room on the ground floor. Yes, there were the notices, the hessian, the fonts – but there was also so much more. A display of books about elephants presided over by an enormous multicoloured Elmer. A mound of rainbow-coloured beanbags in one corner, in another a wobbly construction of painted cartons proclaimed itself to be the Wearside Longship.
The intense heat of those July days was a far-off memory. Indeed, as Chloe gave out writing books with the well-practised precision of a card shark that cold, gusty late September morning, she wondered whether the rain would hold off or bring an abrupt end to playtime. She knew, as all primary teachers do, a focused five minutes is a precious resource. Once all the books were given out, she should just have time to trim the Viking artefacts in readiness for that afternoon’s 2D Viking ship burial.
‘Excuse me?’ The tentative voice accompanied by a tentative knock arrested her just as she was reaching for the paper cutter. Looking up, she saw Thelma Cooper in the doorway accompanied by her two friends, the worried one who’d been with her at the school that day, and the hennaed one who she’d met at Annie’s funeral.
‘The office did say as it’d be all right to come down,’ said Liz, anxiously fingering her dull blue lanyard.
‘Hello!’ Chloe smiled in the slightly abstracted way primary school teachers do when interrupted mid-task.
‘We’re so sorry to interrupt,’ said Thelma.
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Chloe. ‘Only the kids’ll be in, in five minutes—’
‘—and you’ve nine million things to do,’ supplied Pat.
