Sure. 14:10
Lorna Fielding, Phoenix’s mum
I’m happy to organize. Shall we say ten pounds per child, or whatever you would like to give? 14:11
Erin Mackie, Tilly’s mum
Thanks, Lorna. Appreciate you taking this on. 14:11
Lorna Fielding, Phoenix’s mum
No problem. 14:12
FORTY-THREE
Wednesday 25 November
Imogen watched as James appraised the interior at The Wood Oven pizzeria. He was assessing everything with his astute eye, checking the details of the interior design, the table layout and mentally calculating the income they would be generating. She’d done a good job; she knew it, and she knew he knew it too.
‘Are bookings still strong?’ he asked.
‘Fully booked every weekend right up until Christmas,’ she said. ‘And over New Year, there’s very little space left. Erin has given us some fantastic publicity and will be here opening night too.’
‘That’s good. Carol’s looking forward to our first night.’
‘She’s got the best table in the house,’ said Imogen, ‘reserved for her and Lorna.’
‘Thanks for that.’ James kissed her appreciatively on the lips. She felt his hand reach up to her breast. ‘Fancy a quickie?’ he murmured into her ear.
She supposed it couldn’t hurt. It was early – only 7.45 in the morning, so none of the staff or deliveries were here yet.
As he lifted her skirt, she wondered how much longer she might carry on with the affair. It had been good, and both had gained a lot from it. She knew James was eminently flattered by sleeping with a woman eighteen years his junior. She had a backer for her new business at a time when traditional financial help was impossible. She had no plans for their liaison to go on forever though, especially now life seemed to be turning a new corner.
She briefly wondered how things might have been different if she were married to James, the ambitious man, rather than Dylan, the worthy man. She’d certainly have been able to keep the house; James would have been able to buffer the financial fallout of her Covid-blighted restaurant. She would never have had to move, suffer the humiliation of the bank taking her home away. She brushed these thoughts aside. Thinking about what might have been was never a good idea. And anyway, there were other ways of changing one’s destiny.
Imogen had been very interested in the last flurry of messages in the mums’ WhatsApp group – all that talk about Nancy being responsible for the increase in algae. She wasn’t sure how much truth there was in it, but it had set her thinking. What if there was a connection of sorts, no matter how tenuous? The council took these sorts of things very seriously indeed. What if some planning law had been broken? Or some environmental regulation? Then Nancy would have some very uncomfortable questions to answer. She would find herself even less accepted in this village – and if she was by some chance responsible for this spate of dog poisonings, my God, it would be impossible for her to stay.
Imogen allowed herself to fantasize for a moment, remembering to respond to James’s thrusts. Imagine, she thought, imagine if Nancy decided to move out. If her house became available again. The thought was so exquisite, Imogen found herself coming to orgasm, much to James’s delight.
The timing of their affair was currently fortuitous. There were other things too – small things he could do that would make a big difference to her life.
‘James,’ she said, kissing him softly on the lips as he leaned, panting against the bar. ‘Dylan has his interview Friday.’
‘Want me to put in a good word?’ he asked.
She smiled gratefully. ‘Only if it’s not too awkward.’
‘Not at all.’ He bent down to retrieve his pants, which had gathered around his ankles.
She kissed him again. ‘Thank you. And one last thing,’ she said, taking over and buckling up his trousers for him. ‘I had an email. From Rebecca Young. Asking me to come in for a chat. Something about Rosie not being very nice to Lara again. But I think she’s forgetting what Lara did to Rosie back in September. Trying to drown her,’ she reminded him. ‘Plus there was that altercation with the mother,’ she added darkly.
‘If Rosie’s out of line,’ said James, ‘then I can’t ignore it. We have to deal correctly with inappropriate behaviour, or it will damage the school’s reputation.’
You mean your reputation, thought Imogen. She looked up at him. ‘I completely get that,’ she said. ‘And I know we all have to follow policy. And of course I’ll have a wordwith Rosie. But there’s no need to exacerbate this further by my coming into school. You know how the mums love to gossip. Rosie has been attacked twice, the second time very publicly by an adult who should absolutely know better. Rosie may have done some unkind things but there’s always unkindness – they’re children. The point is getting the balance right. It wouldn’t look good if the heavy handedness came down on Rosie when it should so very clearly be on Nancy.’
He gathered up his things. ‘Are you telling me how to run my school?’ he asked, but it was said lightly and she knew she’d got through.
She smiled. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
