Sarah and Jenny, two stalwarts under Marion’s rule, looked a bit cross at this whereas the newer mums nodded supportively. They had obviously spent most of the preceding academic year being told how unworthy they were and now believed it. It was like those cults or training grounds where they beat you down and left you with nothing and then built you up again to fit the image they wished you to be. Pippa reckoned that Marion’s new ladies – Alison in particular – must be about to complete the knock-all-the-joy-out-of-you stage fairly soon.
‘So, let’s go through the stalls list and assign any unknown spaces. Firstly, cakes. Now, Pippa your mother normally does this. Is it safe to assume she will this year?’
‘Yes, she’s looking forward to it, although Polly, my sister, will be cramming for her exams and can’t lend a hand so without her or Mum’s friend, Joanna, who can’t make it this year, Mum will need a spare.’
‘Oh, my mum is coming down for half-term. She will be here for the fayre and has asked if she could help. Perhaps she could do cakes with Pippa’s mother?’ Kam jumped in. Pippa sent him a sideways smile. That was cute. He hadn’t mentioned that the other day, and she would love to meet Kam’s mum. Although she had slight anxiety about her own mother being let loose anywhere near her.
‘Excellent, I’ll pencil that in then and you two can ensure they’re okay on that stall.’
Pippa flashed Marion her fakest smile. ‘Will do, also I was wondering if you’d like me to run a vintage clothes stall. I could donate half the proceeds and I have some lovely pieces at the moment. I have an original Alexander McQueen bustier for a st—’
‘No, thank you. It’s a May Fayre, not a jumble sale, or a chance for shameless self-promotion. Do try to think of the community.’ Pippa’s mouth dropped open and she saw Rosy shoot Marion her scariest warning look. Marion tittered before carrying on. ‘Now, Sylvie, I understand you are happy to stage a maypole dance with all your little ballerinas, such a wonderful opportunity, and such a shame my own dear boys haven’t got a place in your classes yet.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry about that, Marion,’ Sylvie didn’t look particularly sorry. Pippa smiled across at her. Her colleague was oh-so-dainty and used it to get away with murder. Pippa often vowed to tone down things herself and take a leaf from Sylvie’s book, but she never seemed to last more than thirty seconds before her natural, more ebullient self kicked right back in again and opened its mouth!
Marion carried on running through her list: Rosy and Matt were to man the plant stall and offer a gardening advice spot; Alice and Amanda from Class Four were tasked with the running of the toy stall under the caveat that this year it was not allowed to become a dumping ground for everyone else’s tat; cream teas were to be staffed by Sarah, and Alison was trusted to take charge of the Pimm’s stall; Davinia, from the local stables, would be bringing in some pliable ponies for pony rides around the edge of the field, and Harmony was told she should be able to manage the hook-a-duck because, as far as Marion was aware, plastic toys didn’t have feelings; Sarah Fielding and her TA were put on the book stall with the same caveat as the toy stall. Other parents had signed up for a bran tub, penalty shootouts and the tombola. Marion was very clear about the type of donations she expected for tombola and had already briefed Sheila, the school secretary, about putting out a newsletter with her minimum requirements. It would seem that a bottle of brown sauce or a tin of beans were no longer welcome.
‘I think we should be grateful for anything we receive, Marion. Not every mother has a cupboard full of Clarins going spare. I shall talk to Sheila and take that bit out. Penmenna prides itself on being an inclusive school and I pride myself on seeing that maintained.’ Rosy was quite firm and Marion respected her enough not to mutter about a socialist state, but everyone sat around that table, and most of those forced to stand, could see her thinking it.
‘Of course, you are the head. I’m merely in charge of the PTA and acting chair of governors. And after all I’m a firm believer in a level playing field…’ Pippa snorted on her caramel shortbread so hard that Kam had to pat her back. She wondered if she could try faux choking if she got him on his own? He was great fun in the classroom, but she wasn’t making much progress on moving them on from friendship. She reminded herself sternly that she was only meant to be daydreaming, not trying to turn the fantasy into reality. Plus, imagining the Heimlich manoeuvre in a romantic way was not normal and probably all sorts of wrong. She should concentrate instead on what Kam had told her about sorting out his career before he could think about romance, and try to stop having such thoughts in the first place.
‘…when you’ve finished Miss Parkin. My own dear boys have achieved so much this year. I was thinking they could be in charge of a stall. They’re very responsible with money. Rafe never seems to run out, despite his generosity. And did you know they are all nearly fluent in French, fluent. And dearest Rufus is beginning to speak a little Russian. Why, did I tell you—’
‘Yes.’ The whole school staff chorused unanimously and Pippa thought she saw a flicker of amusement in some of the PTA mums’ eyes, a flicker of amusement was the first step to revolt, or at least so Pippa hoped. Surely this meeting couldn’t go on for much longer? She wondered if she could get away with zoning out until it was time to return to class.
It would appear she could, only to be awakened from her daydream by Kam using her name.
‘Miss Parkin and I can do that. I love those things. Can I put us both down for that?’
Miss Parkin cocked her head on one side to assess Marion’s reaction to whatever she was being volunteered for. Surely she wasn’t going to let Kam and Pippa spend time together, not when she was so keen on getting her own fuchsia-painted talons into the new teacher whilst her husband was away?
It would seem that Pippa was wrong.
‘Thank you, Kam. That’s very kind. We often have trouble getting people to volunteer for that. The children can get a little excitable and it is all the way across on the far side of the field. But with your natural authority – she looked him up and down in a fairly salacious manner – I’m sure you’re going to be just fine.’
Was Rosy not going to say anything? That look was virtually sexual harassment in action. But it would appear the esteemed Miss Winter was too busy giving Kam a look of her own which Pippa couldn’t quite decode.
Surely the meeting had to be over by now?
‘Right, well done, everybody. I think that brings us to the end, unless anyone has any questions or further suggestions.’ Marion’s face clearly stated she didn’t expect any. Fancy saying her beautiful bustier, in fact all of her clothes, were only fit for jumble. She really was a cow. Pippa raised her hand tentatively.
‘Just before we go, I was asked to pass on a message from a highly esteemed local artisan who, at this time, would like to remain anonymous, but would like to donate a one-off, truly unique piece of… ahem… art. Perhaps you could put it down for the raffle?’
We’re on space hoppers!
I know, right. So excited for this.
We’re going to make a cracking team.
We are already a cracking team.
Mind you, we’re up at the end with Davinia’s horses. It could all go horribly wrong. Do you know much about horses?
Nope. But I know that if we’ve survived Marion today, we can easily survive that.
Bet I can go fastest.
Pshaw. You don’t stand a chance.
