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It’s Parents’ Evening tonight which is like speed dating with piranhas. Trevor insists that we hold it before half term, even though it’s still too early in the academic year to form an opinion about how the children are handling starting school. They change so much in the first few months: the shy ones grow in confidence; the bolshie ones settle down. Each parent has ten minutes with me and in that time, I am expected to deliver a thorough assessment of their child’s needs. It’s a system designed to frustrate everyone concerned. Every parent is convinced their child has special qualities that I am yet to discover. Most of the parents are older than me and regard me with great suspicion, clearly doubting that I have the experience or qualifications to look after their little darlings. Sometimes I think they’re right.
Still, I’m looking forward to seeing Tom tonight. I haven’t seen him all week and I’m missing him like crazy. He’s been busy with a project at work and I have been struggling to get away from school without my absence being noted. We’re not exactly prohibited from leaving the building, but most of the teachers stay in at lunchtime, catching up on paperwork or reluctantly supervising the kids. It’s not easy to get away without people commenting. I wish they would mind their own business. If only there were a fast-forward button that I could press to take our relationship to the next level or Tom would sit down with Jack and tell him about us. At least then I could go over there in the evenings. All I want is for us to be a proper couple, a family. I’m fed up of sneaking around like we’ve got something to hide.
I go home after work to quickly change my clothes and by the time I get back to the school, the parents have already started arriving. I pass Rhona’s classroom and I can see through the window that she is in the middle of what looks like an intense discussion with Oliver’s parents. I wonder whether she is managing to keep her temper. I give her a quick wave and walk to my classroom where a line of parents has already gathered in the corridor.
‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,’ I say, sounding like a doctor’s receptionist as I unlock the door and usher the first set of parents in. Phoebe’s mother is cold and frosty as she settles herself down on the small chair in front of me. I pull out my folder and outline that while her daughter may be academically gifted, she doesn’t pay attention in class.
‘I think she finds the work you give her boring. A girl of her abilities should be challenged.’ Her husband fiddles with his watch and doesn’t say a word.
‘I don’t disagree, Mrs Abbott, and we will be starting her on some higher-level work next term,’ I lie. Perhaps her mother is right? Maybe I should be challenging Phoebe more? I will need to discuss it with Trevor though. He doesn’t like us deviating from the curriculum.
Mrs Abbott spends far longer than ten minutes telling me how to do my job so it’s good in a way that the next parent fails to turn up. Emma Whitaker is a bit of an enigma. I see her occasionally when she comes to pick Nathan up from school, but she stands at the end of the road, away from the other parents, and barely speaks to anyone. I wonder if she feels intimidated by the ‘yummy mummies’ that dominate the village. She has never even thanked me for saving her daughter’s life. I don’t want her gratitude, but I do wish she had made the effort to come tonight. I have been worried about Nathan recently. He comes to school sleepy and doesn’t concentrate in class. I want to get to the bottom of why he’s slipping behind. I’d like to bring the educational psychologist in to run some tests, but I wanted to discuss it with her first. I mark her absence on my list.
Pretty soon it’s Tom’s turn and I can feel a fluttering in my tummy as he walks in and closes the door behind him. I have to hide the huge smile I can feel forming on my face.
‘Good evening, Miss Metcalfe,’ he says in a stupid voice, pretending to be one of the kids.
‘Good evening,’ I roll my eyes at him, as he pulls the chair up close, our knees nearly touching. I talk about Jack’s progress this term, as I would with any other parent, but of course Tom already knows all this. His hands are resting on his knees and are tantalisingly close to the hem of my skirt. I move my legs away.
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ I whisper, looking over to the door. Trevor is patrolling the corridors.
‘Yes, miss.’ He gives me a wicked grin and I can tell he is probably imagining us sneaking off to a broom cupboard somewhere. I feel myself getting flustered and my discomfort get even worse when Trevor decides to walk in and observe our interaction. I find Trevor intimidating. He is one of the youngest heads in the country and a rising star of the teaching profession. He loves statistics and league tables and likes his staff to compete against each other. He gives pep talks in meetings about raising our game and aspires to get our tiny school an ‘Outstanding’ Ofsted. Rhona calls him the ‘young pretender’ and says he won’t be here for long; but he’s the only boss I have ever had, so I don’t have any one to compare him to.
I have to hope Trevor doesn’t pick up on the sexual tension between me and Tom, although it must be glaringly obvious. Fortunately, Tom knows better than to misbehave in front of my boss. I drink a glass of water quickly to try to cool down as Tom departs and Trevor continues to make notes in his folder.
‘I see that Mrs Whitaker didn’t turn up for her appointment,’ he says, looking at my attendance sheet.
‘Yes, I was planning to give her a ring tomorrow. See if she can come in another time.’
‘You know the family’s circumstances, I presume?’
‘Yes, of course.’ There’s no-one in the village that doesn’t know about Nathan’s father.
‘Well, follow the procedures and I’m sure it will be fine.’
I hide a smile. Rhona does a fantastic impression of Trevor telling us all to ‘follow the procedures’.
My phone beeps with a notification and I blush as I reach into my bag and make a big show of turning it onto silent. Trevor shoots me a warning look before leaving the classroom. As soon as he has gone, I take the opportunity to check the message. It’s from Tom.
‘Coming over later?’
Inviting me over while Jack is in the house is a big step for Tom. I am about to reply when the next parent takes a seat in front of me. I try to remember whether it is her child who is still not properly toilet trained. I make a half-hearted attempt at giving my report, getting the child’s name wrong twice, and the parent leaves, shaking her head in disgust.
As soon as I get a chance, I sneak off to the loo and text Tom back, spelling out what I plan to do to him later. It feels like an eternity until it finally reaches half past seven and the last parents leave the building. I walk out of the school with Rhona.
‘Phew! I need a drink after that,’ she says, pulling me in the direction of the pub.
‘I can’t tonight, sorry. Tom’s invited me round.’
She raises an eyebrow and then breaks out into a laugh. ‘That’s progress.’
‘Hmm, took him long enough.’
‘Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’
‘Have a good evening, ladies.’ My skin crawls as Trevor walks past us. He must have overheard our conversation and I can only hope that he doesn’t know who we are talking about.
‘Oh shit, do you think he heard us?’ I ask Rhona as soon as he is out of earshot.
‘Don’t worry. Probably not, and even if he did, he won’t know who Tom is. There are loads of Toms. He might think you’re talking about Tom Fletcher.’ Tom Fletcher is the school caretaker and about seventy. I pull a face.
‘Gee thanks.’
‘Well, I’m going to catch up with the others. Seriously, have a nice time. And I want all the details tomorrow morning!’
I walk quickly towards Tom’s house. It’s a beautiful night, the sky is full of stars and a thin crescent moon casts its light over the river. A dog walker emerges from the stone steps and bids me a good evening as I walk across the bridge. Tom’s estate is quiet, doors locked, and curtains closed. The sound of broken glass breaks the silence as a woman throws an empty wine bottle into her recycling bin. Everything is peaceful and reassuringly suburban.
Tom opens the door before I can ring the bell.
‘Shh!’ he says, pulling me into the hallway and kissing me. ‘I’ve only just got Jack to sleep, it took him ages to settle.’
I giggle. ‘I couldn’t wait.’
‘God, me neither. You looked so hot in that classroom, all prim and proper.’
I look up and see a little face peering at me through the banister. Jack looks sleepy and bewildered, which is hardly surprising. It’s confusing enough for children his age to see their teachers out of school, let alone standing in their hallway, kissing their father.
‘Daddy!’
Tom turns and pushes me into the shadows. He looks horrified and I wonder if he realises that Jack has already seen us.
‘I can’t sleep,’ Jack whines. ‘Will you read me a story?’
Tom rolls his eyes and looks torn but, with a resigned smile, turns his attention upstairs. ‘You get back into bed and I’ll be up in a couple of minutes.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
Jack goes back to his room, trailing behind him a blue blanket that looks well chewed.
Tom runs his fingers through his hair as I readjust my clothes. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK. Do you want me to wait? Come back later?’
‘He’s going to be up and down all night, I think. Maybe another time?’
‘Of course.’ I try not to sound too disappointed.
He kisses the tip of my nose. ‘I’ll tell him. Soon. I promise. No more sneaking around.’
I make my way home, past the school and towards the inviting lights of the village. I hesitate outside the pub, debating whether to join Rhona and the other teachers, but it would be too humiliating. Rhona would know I’d been rejected, again, and it’s hard enough without her pity. I turn my back on the laughter and warmth spilling out of the inn and take the tiny side street towards my cottage. It is pitch black and a bit spooky. A cat runs across my path, making me jump. It halts in the middle of the path, staring at me, before sneaking back into the shadows. I look behind me to check I’m alone – I think those messages have creeped me out a bit – and I am relieved when I reach the front door of my cottage.
It’s still early but I can’t be bothered to light a fire. I snuggle under some blankets on the sofa instead and think about ringing my sister but I’m not in the mood to hear about her exciting life in London. I really don’t understand Tom’s problem. Jack seems to like me as his teacher; I’m sure he would accept me as his dad’s new girlfriend. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
CHAPTER TEN
I was planning to go down to London at half term to visit my sister, but she hasn’t replied to any of my messages. Lisa has recently joined the regular cast of a popular TV drama and has become something of a celebrity. The money is obscene, but the hours are long. It’s weird seeing my little sister on the cover of magazines in the supermarket. In some of the photographs, she is barely recognisable from the girl I grew up with. She’s naturally beautiful anyway but by the time they have finished styling her, making her up and then Photoshopping out any flaws, she looks picture perfect.
Since she moved down to London to pursue her acting career, her life has become a whirlwind of parties and long days on set. Our relationship has been reduced to a series of social media posts, one-line messages and broken promises to catch up soon. It took her a while to get a serious part and she has done her fair share of thankless auditions, non-speaking parts and naff commercials. With her blonde hair and pale skin, she used to get typecast by directors, but it sounds as if her days of playing beautiful corpses on daytime TV may be over.
She updated her Facebook status last night with a selfie taken with some celebrity on the red carpet. My sister looks thin and elegant, pouting into the camera to show off her cheekbones. I don’t recognise the celebrity at all; he’s probably from one of those reality shows that catapults ordinary people into fame for five minutes. I’m a little bit cross that she can find the time to post a selfie but not message her sister, but I guess that’s the life of a TV star.
I had been looking forward to going to London, shopping in Oxford Street and maybe catching a show but, as I haven’t heard back from her, I decide to go to the coast to visit my parents instead. I was hoping Tom would come with me, so he could finally meet them, but he fobbed me off, saying he had a big project on at work. His parents have agreed to look after Jack over the holidays and are coming up to collect him. He didn’t offer to introduce us. I worry that he’s not really serious about our relationship; that this is just a bit of fun for him.
Mum and Dad have lived in Morecambe since the 80s. The ebb and flow of the estuary, its tea shops and guest houses, coach parties and comedians, formed the backdrop of my adolescence. My memories of growing up are full of moody walks in the early morning, picking up shells and watching the sun rise over the horizon, turning the sea golden; the sound of gulls crying overhead; the dangerous tides and the treacherous quick sand; spending my pocket money trying to win cheap toys in the amusement arcades and huddling in bus shelters with my friends to escape the lashing rain that whips across the promenade. The Yorkshire Dales is lovely, but I miss the sea. Morecambe will always feel like home.
My parents still live in the same house that we grew up in. It’s on the outskirts of the town with a spectacular view of the bay. My sister and I would spend ages at the shore, making up stories about pirates and smugglers, then writing up our adventures in little notebooks like the Brontë sisters did. I don’t know where those books are now, probably buried in a box in the attic somewhere. Lisa and I always got on as children. I know some sisters that fought over everything, competing for their parents’ love and attention, but we always had each other’s back. We’re not biological sisters – I was adopted when I was a baby and Lisa came along three years later – but it’s never made a difference. Mum and Dad have always made it clear that they love us the same. It’s hard not to be jealous of Lisa sometimes though; she’s naturally pretty and attracts attention wherever she goes. I’ve got used to feeling like the Ugly Duckling in comparison.
As I pull up to the house, my parents’ chocolate Labrador runs up to greet me. I get out of the car and pat him on the head as he jumps up, splashing mud across my skinny jeans. I’m not overly keen on dogs but I pretend to like him for my parents’ sake. There’s a big stack of leaves in the corner of the tidy garden and a rake rests by the wall. It’s a nice crisp Autumnal day so I don’t know why Dad isn’t outside making the most of it. He’s usually a permanent feature in the garden. A thin trail of grey smoke rises from the chimney.
I make my way around to the back of the house, shouting ‘hello’ as I push open the backdoor and walk into the kitchen. The scent of baked apple and cinnamon hits me and makes my stomach growl. I never bake at home; it seems pointless when you live alone, but my mum is a fantastic cook. She is crouched over the oven, peering at a golden-brown pie, and I make her jump when I walk through the door.
‘Holly, sweetheart!’ She seems so pleased to see me and I feel a pang of guilt that I don’t come home more often. She gives me a big hug, leaving floury handprints on my cashmere jumper. I don’t know why I bothered putting on my best clothes. She has cut her hair since I last saw her, and the new short, spiky style suits her.
‘Hi Mum.’
I dump my bags at the door. I can hear Dad chatting to someone in the living room.
‘Have you got visitors?’
‘Go and have a look.’ Mum’s eyes twinkle with excitement and I wonder what she’s hiding.
I make my way into the living room and am almost knocked over as my sister launches herself at me.
‘Hey Hol, Mum said you were coming home for a few days, so I thought I’d surprise you.’
My sister looks perfect as usual. She’s dressed in skinny jeans and a jumper like me, but they fit her better. I recognise her perfume as a brand I would love to be able to afford and a Mulberry handbag has been slung carelessly on the end of the sofa. Even with no make-up and her hair scraped back in a ponytail, she outshines me.
Dad is sitting in the seat closest to the wood burning stove. He looks older and thinner than before and I wonder if there is something wrong that he’s not telling us. I worry myself sick about my parents dying. I don’t know how I would cope without them. They have always been there for me through thick and thin. Life without them would be unbearable.
‘Both my gals, home for the weekend,’ he says. ‘It’s like old times.’
It is like old times. We fall back into familiar patterns, sitting in the same seats at the table, arguing over who gets the last parsnip. Over dinner, Lisa tells us about the latest development in her career: a new storyline featuring one of the soap’s biggest stars. She’s banned Dad from watching it for the next few weeks as there are some steamy scenes coming up.
‘Is he as hot in real life?’ I ask.
‘Hotter,’ she says, helping herself to a second slice of Mum’s apple pie. I don’t know how she manages to retain her figure. ‘But he’s got a boyfriend. He says kissing me is like having to snog his grandma.’
‘Charming.’
‘So, we won’t be seeing you both on the front of OK Magazine?’
‘Ha! You never know. There’s always plenty of speculation about my love life. Do you know some reporter had the cheek to ask me if I had a baby bump last week? Honestly, I was on my period! I was just a bit bloated!’
‘And have you met anyone down there yet?’ Mum asks, trying and failing to be subtle.
Lisa laughs. ‘Well, there is someone I’ve been seeing … but it’s early days. I don’t want to jinx it. That’s all I’m going to say.’
‘You girls and your secrets. We’ve not met your sister’s boyfriend yet either. I’m beginning to think you’ve made him up, Holly.’
Mum’s words cut like a blade. Typical. No-one ever suspects Lisa of making boyfriends up, but I couldn’t possibly have managed to find anyone to love me.
‘I’ve told you, he’s busy this week.’ My words came out harder and more brittle than I intended but I can’t take them back. The tension hangs in the air as Lisa flashes me a warning look.
‘All I’m saying is that you need to be careful going out with a married man.’
‘Mum …’ Lisa tries to defuse the situation, but it doesn’t work.
‘They’ve split up. She lives in America now. It’s not like I’m his mistress or something.’
‘Yes, but they’re not divorced yet and there’s a child to think about.’
‘We do think about him. All the time. You don’t understand.’ I sound churlish and sulky, like a teenager. Mum always seems to bring out this side of me.
‘Well, maybe you could bring him next time you come, and we can actually meet him. And his son. They’d be very welcome,’ Mum says stiffly.
‘Yes, I’d like to meet this chap,’ Dad adds. ‘See if he’s good enough for my princess.’
‘Dad … I’m not a little girl.’
Lisa smiles at me over the table. ‘He sounds great and I’m sure he’s much better off with you than his bitch of an ex-wife.’
Mum purses her lips and clears the dessert plates. Lisa tries to change the subject and talk about Dad’s cauliflowers, but I am still cross. We were having such a lovely time and I’ve ruined it by being over-sensitive. I know they think Tom is too old for me, and that I don’t know what I’m letting myself in for, but I do. Once they see us together, they will realise we are right for each other, that I’m ready to be a step mum, to commit myself to Tom and Jack.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The tension diminishes over an evening game of Scrabble and by the time Mum and Dad go to bed, things are almost back to normal. Lisa pours us generous helpings of Dad’s port and we settle down on the sofa to catch up properly. I find myself telling her all about Tom and my fears about his lack of commitment.
‘It’s like he’s holding back all the time,’ I say.
‘Are you worried Rebecca’s going to come back?’
‘No, I don’t think so. And he wouldn’t let her just walk back into Jack’s life anyway. Not after what she did. I suppose I feel a bit insecure. Everyone tells me to give it time, but all I want is for us to be a couple. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?’
‘You need to tell him how you feel, sis.’
‘But what if I push him too hard and he dumps me?’
‘Then he isn’t worth it. You should have more confidence in yourself, you’re a catch. He’s lucky to have you.’
I wish I had Lisa’s faith. ‘So, tell me about your new man. Is he famous?’
‘No, he doesn’t even work in the industry! He actually works in IT. He’s called Alex and I met him online. It’s really early days though, we’ve only been on a few dates. I don’t think we’re even exclusive yet, well, I’m not any way! But you know what Mum and Dad are like. They’ll be talking about marriage and grandkids and that is so not where we are right now. We’re keeping it casual, you know?’
I’d forgotten how nice it was to be around my sister again. When we’re around Mum and Dad we seem to revert to our teenaged selves, but when we’re alone, it’s more like having a best friend. Lisa tells me all about her life in London; the good and the bad. Amid the glamour and the VIP parties, she tells me there’s loads of pressure, particularly on the younger women in the cast, to keep in shape.
‘I’m thinking of getting a personal trainer,’ she says. ‘Most of the other girls have them. One woman goes to the gym for four hours a day. I mean, God, can you imagine anything more tedious? Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely that you get sent stuff to wear all the time but sometimes you want to bung on your jeans and a hoodie and go to Tesco like everyone else.’
Lisa confides that most of the cast regularly invest in Botox to look younger and there’s a lucrative sideline in modelling and sponsorship deals if you have the right look.
‘Which basically means blonde hair and big tits,’ she laughs. ‘I’m thinking of getting mine done actually.’
‘Doesn’t it bother you, people judging you all the time?’
‘Oh God, you should see what they say about me on social media! I don’t know, you can’t let it get to you. Besides, those that mind, don’t matter …’
‘… and those that matter, don’t mind!’ I finish off the quotation for her. It is one of Dad’s favourites.
She tells me that she is saving for a deposit on a flat in London but the house prices, particularly compared to the North, are horrendous so it’s going to take her years.
‘Then I might do something a bit different. Theatre perhaps.’ I admire my little sister. She has so much drive and determination that I know she’ll achieve anything she sets her mind to.
Lisa has to get back the next day, but I stay on for the rest of the week, helping Dad with the garden and catching up with my lesson plans. Dad convinces me to stay for Sunday lunch, which seems to go on forever, and then insists on packing me up with a box full of vegetables from the garden which delays me even longer. Mum wraps up some leftovers and tells me I need to look after myself a bit more.
‘I’m sorry if I upset you, darling,’ she says as she hugs me goodbye. ‘I only want you to be happy.’
‘I know Mum, and I am, honestly.’ I promise to ring them next weekend. I know they both want what’s best for me, but they have been overprotective ever since I came back from Thailand. It’s like I’m a fragile piece of porcelain that they are terrified will shatter into pieces any second. They have no idea how strong I had to be to pick myself up after what happened.