‘What do you mean?’ Imogen asked.
‘For fibbing. At Tilly’s party, remember? Didn’t Rosie say she hadn’t opened the hamster cage and let Claude escape? Next thing we know he’s hanging limply from the jaws of next door’s cat.’ He smiled mischievously. ‘And we know it was her because it was on the nanny cam.’
‘Good God, Marcus, she wasfive,’ said Erin, before mouthing a ‘sorry’ to Imogen.
‘That’s all right,’ said Imogen graciously.
‘All kids lie at five,’ added Erin. ‘And that wasyearsago.’
Imogen was beginning to tire of the conversation, was irritated that her husband was staying so quiet and not sticking up for Rosie more. The fact was, Rosie had been caught in reeds under the reservoir and had she not been pulled out, she would have drowned. She had come out of that lake near hysterical. And yes, Lara had denied everything, hot tears running down her cheeks, but Imogen had seen the terror in Rosie’s eyes.
‘Everyone else was wobbling except for me,’ Rosie had explained, as she’d sat hunched on a bench, wrapped in a towel. ‘Because I’d done it before. When we lived at our old house.’
It was true, they’d all had their own paddleboard – she and Dylan too – and they’d often gone out onto the water at the weekend. They’d been sold along with everything else.
‘Lara didn’t like it – that I could stand up. She kept trying herself but it was too difficult for her and she got really angry, and so she tipped the edge of my board so I fell in.’
When Imogen had asked if the instructor had seen, Rosie had replied: ‘No, she made sure he wasn’t looking. He was helping Tilly when she did it, so he was distracted. Then when I tried to get back out of the water, she held my head down.’
Imogen’s blood had run cold. ‘She what?’
‘She put her hand on my head, kept pushing me under the water and I was kicking so much, my feet got caught in the reeds.’
Imogen had seethed when she’d heard it all, furious thatanother girl’s petty nastiness had led to near-tragic consequences. Was her own daughter supposed to diminish her achievements merely to satisfy some jealous child?
‘More wine?’ asked Dylan, picking up the bottle.
James held out his glass. ‘Thanks,’ he said, as Dylan filled it. ‘How’s school? Sorry to hear about the Ofsted inspection.’
Dylan bristled. ‘It was unjust. As you know.’
‘Don’t know why you stick it out there anyway. You know there’s going to be a job coming up at Kingsgate? Good teacher like you, you’d walk it.’
‘The kids at Ripton High deserve good teachers too.’
‘Dylan wants to make a difference,’ said Imogen drily.
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ said Dylan.
‘Nothing. But if you worked at Kingsgate, we’d get a sixty per cent reduction in fees for Rosie.’
‘We’d still have to find the other forty per cent,’ said Dylan. ‘She’ll be fine at Ripton High.’
‘No. She won’t,’ said Imogen.
‘How do you know?’
Her mouth had dropped open. ‘What...are you serious? The drugs, the class disruption, the...underage sex.’ Sometimes it frightened her how far apart she and her husband seemed to have grown with their thinking. It wasn’t like that when they’d first met, almost fifteen years ago now in London. He’d been a new-ish teacher, recently awarded gold for ‘Teacher of the Year in a Secondary School’ at the National Teacher Awards. She’d just been promoted to chef de partie at a restaurant owned by a French culinary genius.She’d been impressed with what she’d seen as Dylan’s ambition, his future starry rise to the top. They’d fallen in love and everything had seemed to slot into place, especially when she was offered a sous chef position by her boss, who was opening a new restaurant in one of the most affluent villages in Derbyshire. Dylan had been ready for a change too – he had grown up in the Northern countryside and wanted to return. She’d thrown herself into her job, always with an eye on opening her own place one day. Dylan, however, seemed to stall. He was content remaining as a teacher in a secondary school, and Imogen began to realize they had different ideas of what ‘ambition’ meant. For her it was money and status, something she didn’t feel the need to apologize for. For her husband it was all about serving the community and grassroots teaching.
Dylan sighed. ‘They’re not all like that. Stop being such a snob.’
Imogen was stung. ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I just want the best for my daughter.’
‘Of course I want that too. It’ll teach her a bit of resilience. She’s had a lot handed to her on a plate – ponies, clothes, the latest tech.’
‘I’m sure Rosie will keep on the straight and narrow,’ said Carol diplomatically.
‘You know I’m Chair of Governors at Kingsgate,’ said James to Dylan. ‘And a close friend of the head. Why don’t you let me put in a good word for you about that position?’
