Chapter Twenty-two
‘Kam, Kam, Kam!’ A week after Pippa had been moaning about her mum and now his own mother’s unrelenting squawk was piercing his head. Someone needed to record it and turn it into an app. No one was staying in bed after hearing that. Including him. He knew it was May Fayre day and he was getting up early to get to work; he just felt five thirty was pushing it a bit.
‘Mum,’ he answered, experience had taught him that the quicker the answer the less likely the din was to continue, even in a conversation with a door between them.
‘I don’t know what to wear and it’s a very important day.’
‘Mum, I appreciate you coming down to help but the May Fayre isn’t until this afternoon. It starts at five.’
‘And you said I could come in to school with you and help the PTA set it up. Well, I have to look my best for that, don’t I? Now come and help me choose my outfit and I’ll make you a nice cup of peppermint tea.’
‘Can’t the girls help?’
‘Oh, you know those girls, they’ll sleep until lunch if I let them.’
‘Don’t let them then.’ By this point he had got himself out of bed and was smoothing his hair down in front of the mirror. It didn’t matter what he did with it; it always seemed to stick up like it did when he was eight years old. He wondered if it would at eighty. He supposed that would presume he still had hair at eighty, at which point he’d be grateful for its sticky-up-ness. There was a sharp knocking at his bedroom door.
‘Kam, Kam, Kam, Kam.’ It was how he imagined machine gun fire: loud, staccato and piercing.
He pulled the door open quickly.
‘Why have you not got any clothes on? Hmmm? You know better than this.’
‘Mum, it’s not even dawn. It’s still dark and even the birds aren’t up yet. Trust me: when the seagulls are still asleep, then so should you be.’ He may have always loved the sea but living right next to it was teaching him that Cornish seagulls seemed particularly ferocious first thing in the morning, as if they hatched plans to make it as noisy as possible. Sometimes he swore they were playing the drums on bin lids right outside his window. Other times they emitted a noise so piercing that it chilled the soul. Either way, they were nearly as efficient as his mother when it came to working as an alarm.
‘Don’t you want to go back to bed for an hour, maybe two?’ There was no harm in being optimistic and he smiled at his mother in what he hoped was a winning fashion. He knew he would be very keen.
‘You know mornings are when I’m at my most productive.’ She rammed a hot mug into his hand with a pale green liquid steaming inside. It looked nice but it wasn’t coffee.
‘I know, Mum. But it’s going to be a really long day. A marathon. You want to be your best at the fayre tonight, so maybe just rest up and take it easy.’
‘Things don’t get done if you’re always resting. Your father didn’t rest when he was building up his business.’
‘I bet he is now though,’ Kam muttered, knowing his father would be having a blissful lie-in, until six thirty at least whilst his wife was away.
‘Now, hurry up.’ She clapped her hands together before breaking into a big wide smile and standing on her tiptoes planted a big kiss on her son’s cheek. He accepted in that moment that he was up for the day and may as well make the most of it. ‘Breakfast is all ready for you. Come on now.’
‘Hiya. Good morning. Oh hello,’ Pippa grinned a greeting, as a bleary Kam showed his mother into the classroom.
‘Hello, darling, who are you?’
‘This is Miss Parkin. She’s the teaching assistant in Class One,’ Kam formally introduced Pippa to his mum, not unaware of how bloody gorgeous she was looking today. A sweet little dress with flowers on made her look both demure, which his mother would like, and also skimmed her shape rather nicely, which he couldn’t help but be a fan of.
‘Hello,MissParkin, hmmm?’
‘It certainly is. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs Choudhury.’
‘Is thattwocups of coffee? You do know coffee is not good for your body? Caffeine is addictive. It can lead to dependence, headaches, anxiety, all sorts of things. It interferes with that natural calm that we all need. We don’t want to do that, do we, darling? I’m surprised Kam hasn’t told you that coffee is best avoided, and two cups at a time… It looks like the addiction has taken a full hold. He’s a good boy, he listens. His father on the other hand… hmmm… he thinks I don’t know he keeps a secret jar in his van and drinks it at work all day. And then he wonders why he has so much trouble sleeping and can’t get up in the mornings. What can I do? I tell him and I tell him.’ She shrugged as Pippa glanced at Kam and he wondered if she could see that headaches and mild anxiety may indeed be taking hold. None of which were to do with not having his morning coffee.
‘I know, it’s a dreadful habit, two coffees in the morning before the children come in. I shall have a good think about what you’ve said.’ Pippa flashed her most pleasing smile and Kam’s heart melted a little. He had known she wouldn’t rat him out.
‘You do that, darling. So, if you’re the teaching assistant, does that mean my Kam is your boss, hmmm?’
‘No! Mum! It means we work alongside each other. As a team!’
‘It kinda means he’s my boss.’
Kam’s mum nodded happily. ‘And is he a good one? Kind?’
