She had pulled him away from the school Year Six camp when he was eleven because she didn’t think the facilities were clean enough; when she had discovered from Ben – three samosas and he was her number one source – that Kam was taking a girl to the cinema she had turned up and sat behind them the whole time, giving advice: ‘Kam, you need to offer her a drink. Kam, she has run out of popcorn. Kam, check she is alright. This is a very scary film. You should have chosen a nice romantic drama, Kam!’ He dreaded to think what she could do when she discovered Jan was equally desperate to get Pippa settled.
Perhaps if he told her about Pippa’s relationship with James, whatever that was, it might put her off or stop her hatching plans. But still, for now, it was nice being surrounded by his family in the place he had decided to call home.
He looked at Marion, up there in her element, but something seemed to be off. He wondered if he was just thinking that because Pippa had flagged that she may need their support. But as he examined her face he could see it was more drawn than usual. There was a darkness around her eyes and a greyish tinge to her face that no amount of Estée Lauder (thanks to Anuja’s YouTube addiction he knew all the tricks) was going to cover up. She was dressed in the electric blue leopard print again – it clearly having become a firm favourite – and had scarlet lips and nails with a flash of blue on her eyelid. He had to hand it to her: whatever was going on under the surface, she was doing a grand job up there. She was smiling down at the assembled cast of parents, staff and interested locals and bestowing her best and most regal facial expressions.
‘We haven’t been able to tot anything up yet, but it looks like we may have smashed last year’s target and raised well over three thousand pounds…’ – she paused again for applause and recognition of her genius – ‘…that we can split between the school here and the Healing Hearts Foundation as run by our very own celebrity, Alex Mackenzie. Talking of celebrities, I’d like to give a big thanks not just to Alex but to Matt Masters too for his stellar work on the plant stall – although I did say very clearly onlytastefulplants. I shall be watching that extra carefully next year – and his generosity in agreeing to be a raffle prize.’ She tittered as Matt waved his hand in the air and smiled at everyone. ‘Although, of course, whoever wins him can’t keep him longer than a couple of hours or our very own headmistress will have something to say. A big thank you also to Sylvie Rowe, whose little darlings from the ballet school made me quite emotional with their exceptional beauty and grace. So talented at such a young age, all of you.’ She paused again whilst people clapped the ballet class made up of boys and girls dressed in green leotards and tights with ivy woven crowns, who had performed around the maypole erected in the field to celebrate the season.
‘Now before I go ahead and draw the raffle, an extra big thank you to all the parents without whom—’
‘You!’ A female voice, loud and accusatory in tone rang out. Marion paused and the whole room took a deep breath and turned to see who had interrupted Marion’s flow. Alison, Ashleigh’s mum, who had been running the Pimm’s stall wove her way to the front of the crowd, swaying and pointing at Marion, whilst repeating the word ‘you’ a few more times. Each time loudly and badly articulated. Alison lent in and grabbed the ivy crown from Ashleigh’s head and plopped it skewwhiff upon her own head before attempting to stand up a little straighter. She drew herself up with what she hoped was dignity, in that way very drunk people do when they’ve sank more than a battleship would need to keep afloat.
‘You, you are a… a beashtly beasterly woman. I have come here to tell you that never never again…’
Marion was still rooted to the spot, stricken as the scene began to unfold. Kam looked around and started to gently push his way to the front, approaching Alison calmly with the intention of guiding her away before Jenny, Marion’s number two, could get to her; Jenny was approaching in a much more aggressive fashion than Kam, with a face that would have worked well in Stalin’s Russia. He also spotted Rosy discreetly moving forward to the front of the stage, but figured he should press on anyway. This wasn’t a too many cooks spoil the broth situation. Marion was still, uncharacteristically, frozen as Alison continued.
‘…only a few months, and you have pat… pat… patronised me, snapped at me, told me I was stu… stupid… you’ve been…’
Just as Rosy and Kam reached Alison, another voice rang out across the hall.
‘I suggest, madam, that you take a seat. My wife works exceptionally hard for this school and it is not a place where we tolerate rudeness or unpleasantness in any form. If you have something to say then there will be an appropriate time to do so. Tonight is not that time.’ Mr Marksharp’s voice rang out from the big wooden hall door through which he had just entered.
The whole hall remained silent, bar Rufus who shouted ‘Daddy, Daddy’ the minute he saw his father launching himself at Richard Marksharp’s leg and clinging to it, his father stopping to ruffle his hair and plonk a kiss on top of his head before continuing, ‘It looks like another splendid evening. You’ve clearly outdone yourself again, darling. Now, were you about to draw the raffle? I can see we have some outstanding prizes here on the table. Which lucky person…’ There was a momentary pause as his eyes lit upon a stoat standing on its back legs. Kam, who had been watching Pippa beaming as Richard defended his wife, now saw her most mischievous grin flash across her face before hiding her smile. He never had got to the bottom of why she had donated a stuffed stoat in a tutu and holding a cane.
Mr Marksharp pulled himself together ‘… um… wonderful prizes, exotic and quite unique some of them.’ He climbed upon the stage and in front of the whole hall wrapped his wife up in a great big cuddle, whilst Kam led Alison into the library where he settled her on a chair shaped like a dinosaur. Angling himself so he could still see the stage, he sat with Alison and waited as Alice bustled in with a cup of coffee.
Meanwhile on the stage, Mrs Marksharp leaned into the hug, relief across her face and, for a flash, the whole hall saw a different side of Marion, a human side. The hall was no longer silent; murmurs were beginning break out and opinion seemed divided on whether Marion deserved such an outburst or not.
Kam watched Rosy mount the stage as Marion still clung to her husband, electric blue leopard print leaning against a traditional charcoal pinstripe.
‘Your attention, everybody, let’s have a big round of applause for Marion, a fantastic evening and we appreciate everything you and all the parents do.’ Rosy led a loud ferocious clap in an attempt to gather support for the head of the PTA, and Kam watched as the school community curled around the woman and kept her warm.
Chapter Twenty-six
Oh my goodness, that was some evening. Did you get home okay?
Yeah, I walked back along the beach. Thought it was best to leave the car in Penmenna. I didn’t realise how strong those Pimm’s were!
Let’s face it, you’re not the only one…
Right. I’ve never seen anything like that. I hope that Ashleigh’s mum is okay, I can’t help but sympathise with her. I’ve not been at Penmenna long but Marion’s behaviour is pretty awful.
I know. But in this instance so was Alison’s. I wouldn’t want to be her tomorrow morning.
We had fun though, didn’t we?
Oh my goodness, yes. Best. Fayre. Ever. I can’t wait for you to come to Feast Week now. That’s the next big thing.
When’s that then?
End of summer. Remember it’s in the second half terms plans. We all concentrate on Cornwall and its marine heritage. And then ta-da we celebrate it all once term ends and Penmenna has its feast week. Which is kinda like a regatta but with a bit more drink.
And everyone celebrates the village’s history?
I don’t know about that but everyone gets utterly, utterly sloshed. Roger tries to force his home brew on all of us and at least six people in the village will end up sleeping on the beach.
So, Cornwall in the summer is just party after party?
There’s a reason people love it. It might look all quaint cottages and overpriced restaurants but we have a proud heritage to follow.
