‘Oh yes, of course, sorry,’ Alex said but he was drowned out by Marion.
‘Two ticks, Rosy dear. And then we’ll be with you. But I’d quite like your help with this as well. I’ll come and find you at breaktime before I head off to Alex’s.’
‘Hmm, if this is what I think it is, and I don’t know for sure, I think it’s best for me not to get involved. Sorry, Alex, but I’m sure you know what I mean.’
‘Rosy Winter! You know I’m Cornwall’s best matchmaker. These dear sweet children…’ Marion turned them to face Rosy,‘…just want one teeny thing and you want to deny them? When your help could be so instrumental? I’ll find you at breaktime.’
Rosy’s shoulders sagged with the inevitable.
‘There is no matchmaking, Rosy, promise,’ said Alex. ‘This is just about doing a nice thing for a friend.’ All four of the people standing there looked at him as if he had started talking in tongues. When were they going to believe him? ‘Right, kids. Back to class now. We’ll find a way to make sure Sylvie is distracted after the staff meeting and as planned I’ll pick you both up tonight and we’ll go do the last-minute things. OK?’
‘OK.’ They both gave him a big cuddle around his waist, Ellie’s head on his tummy and Sam’s head resting on hers, before they headed back in with Rosy. Alex thought he might melt.
‘Rosy will keep Sylvie, won’t you, dear?’ Marion piped up.
Rosy gave Marion a look, one Alex suspected would quell the most unruly child as she took Sam and Ellie back in.
‘How are you doing with the food, and the other thing?’
‘Yep, all done. Hector is a go-go.’
‘He always is.’
Alex smiled; he certainly was. ‘And the air miles, although they call them Avios now, have been gifted to Sylvie’s name so she has complete control. Music also sorted and downloaded to the laptop. It’s going to be perfect. Thank you, Marion. She’s going to love it.’
‘Of course she is. When I set my mind to something, well, you know. I’ll have you married yet.’
Alex rolled his eyesandarched his eyebrows at her, but it didn’t stop the huge grin spreading across his face as, clutching his four travel mugs and turning to leave the playground, he really hoped she was right.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Alex couldn’t believe the day had come around so fast, but tonight was almost upon them and he was going to have to dance, and make a complete fool of himself, in front of the most breathtaking, passionate dancer he had ever seen.
That aside though, things had been going quite well. Marion had turned up at the cottage at eleven and confirmed that she had arranged some additional way for Sylvie to be detained at school after the staff meeting. Alex didn’t dare ask.
But now, as he was leaving the house to go and pick up Ellie and Sam, he was proud of what they had achieved. The tent looked fabulous, really conjured up the air that Alex had wanted. Marion was an absolute bloody marvel; what that woman could do with a few metres of voile and some ribbon was nobody’s business. He found it a little disconcerting that she brought a couple of minions with her, all very similar, one in a dress with synchronized swimmers on and the other wearing clothing dotted with giraffes. He was more than a little uneasy with her methods; they smacked slightly of Egypt’s ancient era of slaves, although on a much smaller scale. He was half expecting her to whisk out a bullwhip at any moment. In fact, had Marion been alive then, it would have been quite possible that pyramids would have dotted the entire globe.
Watching her in full-on Marion mode this afternoon had made him consider starting a revolution in the PTA; he had never seen himself as particularly rebellious in nature but watching this made him feel very uncomfortable. Why thesewomen never snapped back at her he did not know. He couldn’t help but think if Chase and Marion ever joined forces then world domination would be but a step away.
Now though, the food was all laid out and covered ready for this evening. Couscous jewelled with roast peppers and olives; lamb marinated with ginger, turmeric and cinnamon; a myriad of salads, one peppered with feta and pomegranate and mint, another a traditional zaalouk made with tomatoes and aubergine. He had even imported a special flour to make the flatbreads to accompany the home-made hummus. The whole kitchen was filled with the most delicious smells, with preserved lemon, rosewater and ras-el-hanout all competing for primacy.
All that was left to be done was assemble and bake the baklava, weave some lights through the gauzy voile and prod some of the super-sized bamboo candles into the garden to create a lit pathway to the tent entrance. Oh, and practise the bloody dance one more time.
He returned to his cottage with both children, accompanied by Marion and her brood. He left them in charge of organizing the lighting. Marion was to weave the lights through the top of the tent and the children were given the responsibility of banging the bamboo torches into the ground. He was fairly sure Marion’s boys were strong enough to do so and hoped that with her eagle eye they could be trusted to behave. He had pistachio-and-filo pastry to perfect.
He heard the sounds of children laughing and relaxed as he daubed his pastry with the syrup he had made from honey, water and lemon juice. He was loving this life. If you had told him years ago that he would have found his happy place in a small village in Cornwall, constructing sweet pastries for an ex-ballerina, listening to the sounds of children playing just as dusk descended, he would have laughed his leg off, yet here hewas, happier and more relaxed than he had ever been, looking forward to every new day.
Just as he placed the tray on the side ready to pop in the Aga, he heard a child’s scream rend the air and felt a chill clutch at his very core.
As he raced outside he saw Ellie’s back, her shoulders shaking and her sobs loud, and he took a deep breath of relief – thank God for that, she was fine – only for his heart to still again as Rafe, Rufus and Rupert moved a fraction and he saw, just by the entrance to the tent, Sam’s little body splayed out, still and seemingly lifeless, upon the ground.
Chapter Forty
The staff meeting was dragging this evening, and Sylvie was feeling a little odd. She wasn’t sure what was wrong, there was no identifiable symptom as such, but there was definitely something that wasn’t right somewhere, like that feeling her mother used to describe as someone walking over your grave. A shiver for no reason. A frisson of unexplained anxiety. All she knew for sure was that she was desperate to get to Alex’s, grab Sam and head home. She had never felt this way before about the school, but this evening she really didn’t want to be here.
It didn’t help that the school phone had been ringing off the hook in the office but with Sheila gone home there was no one to transfer the calls through. Whatever was making Sylvie antsy this afternoon, the constant shrillbring-bringof the telephone wasn’t helping.
‘Right, I think that’s us all done, and I’m sorry it’s dragged this evening. But you know what this term is like with the run-up to December, there are a hundred and one things to organize, which is why I appreciate all the teaching assistants joining us this evening, thank you. But I reckon we’ve done enough for now, so let’s get home.’ Rosy smiled around the table at her staff, shuffled her papers back into a tidy pile and Sylvie felt a breath of relief whoosh out of her mouth.
