The day was long and exhausting with all the last-minute details needed at the restaurant, and Dylan had picked up Rosie from after-school club by the time Imogen got in.
‘All set for Friday?’ he asked, as she dumped her bag and coat on the kitchen table and went to get herself a glass of wine from the fridge.
‘Pretty much. It’s going to be good,’ she said, and as the words left her lips she had a strong premonition that it would be. But not just opening night, dozens, hundreds of nights to come. This new restaurant – it was going to be a turning point in their fortunes, she could sense it.
‘How about you?’ she asked, topping up his glass for him. He was cooking something delicious and mushroomy for tea. Risotto, by the looks of it. ‘How are you feeling about your interview?’
He wiped his hands on a cloth, exhaled a little. ‘Nervous and...’
‘Go on,’ she said, knowing what was holding him back. Out with it, she thought,say it once more and be done.
‘I can’t help thinking I’m selling my soul.’
She buried the flicker of irritation. ‘The kids at Kingsgate deserve an education just as much as those at Ripton High.’
‘Yes, I suppose...’
‘So don’t take against them just because their parents are wealthier,’ she said. ‘That is also discrimination.’
He rolled his eyes but knew she had a point. ‘I will keep the chip on my shoulder tucked firmly under my jacket. I realize you’ve been working your socks off for this family and I need to do my bit too.’
She felt a surge of relief.
‘They probably won’t want me anyway...’
Imogen kissed him. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a good feeling about it.’
FORTY-FOUR
Thursday 26 November
Rebecca Young had received an email from her boss, head teacher James Whitman, government adviser, asking her to ‘pop in’ for a ‘quick catch-up’ during her free period at eleven that morning. It was the time that she usually allocated to her extracurricular work as Head of English.
She wondered what it was about. She didn’t like unexpected summons. They rarely brought good news.
James’s door was shut. She knocked.
‘Come in,’ he called.
She opened the door and stepped over the threshold. He indicated the door. ‘Close it behind you.’
It was said pleasantly but she got the sense she was now caught in a trap. She went to sit down. He joined her, coming out from behind his desk.
‘Everything OK?’ he asked.
It was, but that’s about to change, she mused. ‘Fine,’ she said.
‘Good. I just wanted a quick chat with you. I knowyou’ve had a particularly challenging set of friendship issues in your year.’
‘You mean the ongoing bullying issues between Rosie Wood and Lara Miller?’
He looked mildly taken aback. She felt a small satisfaction – probably misjudged, but she liked the direct approach.
‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘I understand you’ve asked Mrs Wood to come in and chat about Rosie’s behaviour.’
So Mrs Wood must have spoken to him directly, thought Rebecca. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Rosie has been making Lara’s life miserable for some time. She’s quite sneaky about it but I caught her knocking a paint pot over Lara’s bag earlier this week.’
‘An accident,’ said James.
