Little Woodford Read online

  ‘You going to be all right?’

  But Amy was already out for the count.

  *

  Olivia was sitting at the kitchen table making a shopping list when the doorbell went. She put down her pencil and went to answer the door. Amy was standing on the doorstep wearing a pair of dark glasses.

  ‘Amy? Where are your keys?’

  ‘Dunno, Mrs L. They’ll be at home somewhere. I didn’t realise I didn’t have them till I got here.’ Amy stepped over the threshold and took her sunglasses off.

  Olivia peered more closely at her cleaner. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Not really. Woke up this morning with a banging headache. Can’t think why.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you’re not going down with something.’

  ‘You and me both. Think it might have been something I ate.’

  ‘Do want to leave it for today then?’

  Any shook her head and then winced. ‘Not really. I can’t afford the hit, money-wise.’

  ‘No, no, I quite understand. Well, don’t overdo it.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll just take it slowly. I could murder a cuppa though.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘With some sugar in it?’ Amy added, hopefully.

  ‘OK.’ Olivia led the way to the kitchen and reckoned that, if she was any sort of judge, Amy’s headache hadn’t been brought on by something she’d eaten but something she’d drunk – and quite a lot of that something if Amy’s bloodshot eyes were anything to go by. Well, why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t as if it was the norm and she was a hard worker and why shouldn’t she let her hair down now and again?

  11

  The next week brought the end of the school holidays. On the first day of the summer term, Megan awoke with her alarm and stared up at the skylight, watching the rain pattering onto the glass. Grey, lowering clouds scudded past and the beech trees that gave the house its name were thrashing about like the Hogwarts’ Whomping Willow. School, she thought, and a feeling of dread swamped her. Would she fit in? Would she make friends? Would she be accepted? She threw back her duvet, swung her legs out of bed and made her way into the shower. Even a long soak failed to allay her anxieties or lift her spirits. She wandered back into her bedroom and opened her wardrobe door. Megan picked out her new uniform; bottle green sweatshirt, grey skirt – although she could wear trousers if she preferred – and a pastel green shirt. It was, she thought, completely repulsive – especially the shirt. Whoever thought that particular shade of pale green was attractive needed shooting. Her old school uniform had been nothing to write home about but no one could get upset about navy and white. Megan took the pistachio-coloured shirt out of the wardrobe and held it under her chin. Even with her strikingly dark hair and eyes and her faintly olive skin, she looked washed out. God only knew what it would do to kids who had a naturally pale complexion to start with. She threw it on, brushed her hair and ran downstairs to grab some breakfast.

  ‘Morning, sweetie,’ said Bex, who was loading the boys’ breakfast plates into the dishwasher. ‘All ready for school?’

  ‘Kind of,’ mumbled Megan into her cereal bowl.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Bex. ‘And it’s all local kids. You’ll have a whole bunch of new friends in no time.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What about your old ones? Heard much from them?’

  Megan looked at Bex. Did she tell the truth – that she’d posted on Facebook and Instagram about the new house and her new town and she hadn’t had a single ‘like’? Not one. It was like she was diseased or didn’t exist. She decided to tell a half-truth.

  ‘Not a lot. They were probably all busy – you know, holidays and stuff.’ She hoped she sounded like she didn’t care, that it was normal.

  Bex stopped stacking the machine and stood up. She laid a hand on Megan’s arm. ‘Away for the holidays – and with no Wi-Fi? At all? Any of them? If they’re going to be like that, you’re better off without them. Fair-weather friends are no friends at all.’

  Megan wasn’t convinced but she smiled at Bex anyway. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Trust me, this is for the best. A fresh start where no one knows about...’

  ‘About all the shit that happened back in London? No, I won’t be telling anyone about that.’

  ‘Exactly. And I’m really sorry I can’t come with you for your first day.’

  ‘Bex, we’ve been through this. My school’s at one end of town and the boys’ is at the other. I’m fifteen, I can get there on my own.’

  ‘I know...’

  ‘Anyway, it’ll look lame if I have to have a grown-up to hold my hand.’

  Bex laughed. ‘Yes, it would – but even so...’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ said Megan with completely faked confidence.

  ‘Have you got everything?’

  Megan nodded and pushed back her fringe. ‘Yes.’ She glanced up at the kitchen clock. ‘I’m off. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Yeah, whatevs.’ In a display of bravado that she didn’t feel, Megan swung her backpack over her shoulder and sauntered out of the kitchen. Inside she was bricking it but it would be so uncool to show it. She grabbed her school blazer off the peg on the wall before opening the front door – God, it was still pissing down. She got herself sorted out with her jacket and rucksack, then slammed the door shut before running down the drive to the gate. She put her brolly up before she stepped out to cross the road. The imperious dring-dring of a bike bell made her skid to a halt.

  ‘Careful,’ yelled a woman as she swerved to avoid hitting Megan. The cyclist stopped. It was that posh woman who had visited. Megan couldn’t remember her name.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Megan.

  ‘You must be more careful. You nearly caused an accident.’

  ‘Yes... sorry...’

  ‘It’s Megan, isn’t it?’

  Megan nodded.

  ‘Off to school?’

  Megan was tempted to respond that she was going sunbathing but thought better of it. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have a good day, then. I hope you enjoy it.’ The woman pedalled off.

  ‘I won’t,’ she muttered. Checking more carefully for traffic and waiting till the road was clear, Megan ran across.

  She walked up the high street. Ahead of her she could see small groups of schoolchildren going in the same direction as her. Like migrating animals, she thought. Or lemmings heading for their doom. Everyone seemed to be walking in a group or a pair. She was, as far as she could see, the only loner. She tried not to care but her sense of isolation and vulnerability increased. She went past the coffee shop, past the town hall, past the station, the play park and, as she did, more and more kids poured out of side roads and turnings to join the tide heading for the comp.

  ‘Hiya.’

  Megan jumped and turned. ‘Ash!’ Her heart raced.

  ‘Thought it was you,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Looking forward to it? First day and all that.’

  Megan shrugged. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘So, whose tutor group are you in, do you know?’

  ‘The school wrote and said I’d be in Mrs Blake’s.’

  ‘Mrs Blake’s? But that’s great. So am I.’

  Megan felt her face flushing with happiness. She looked at the pavement, hoping Ashley didn’t guess how she felt. ‘What’s she like?’ She moved her umbrella sideways so it sheltered Ashley too.

  ‘Could be worse. Actually, she’s all right – she teaches humanities. She has her favourites but then which teacher doesn’t? She’s better than old man Johnson who teaches maths. He’s a proper bastard.’

  Megan’s heart sank. She was OK at maths but that was all. ‘He sounds great,’ she said with heavy sarcasm.

  ‘He’s got a temper on him. Hands out detentions for the least thing, gets really grumpy about almost anything and has zero sense of humour. I’m lucky – I don’t have a problem with maths so he and I get on but for some of the others...’
Ashley grimaced.

  Megan swallowed. Oh whoopee. Besides, if she was honest, she didn’t see the point of maths, not when her phone had a calculator.

  ‘Nearly there,’ said Ashley cheerfully as they turned off the main road. Ahead was the sign that advertised the entrance to the comp. ‘You all right?’

  She was terrified. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Do you want me to show you the way?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She swallowed. ‘Yeah, that’d be good.’

  ‘You don’t want to look like a numpty on your first day.’ Ashley wasn’t wrong there.

  She swallowed and gave him a weak smile. ‘No. Not if I can help it. I only need to get to reception. I’ve been told Mrs Blake’ll meet me there.’

  They headed through the main gate and along the drive. On one side was the staff car park and on the other, a sports pitch. Megan tried to control her breathing but she was feeling increasingly panicky. She wondered if she looked as scared as she felt. Ashley squeezed her arm. Startled, she glanced at him.

  ‘You’ll be fine. Promise. I’ll stay with you till Mrs Blake arrives.’

  Under normal circumstances Megan might have protested that she could manage but today was far from normal.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, feeling suddenly teary.

  ‘This way,’ he said.

  Megan trotted along at his side as he strode confidently along the footpath that led beside a modern steel and concrete block towards an older building. It was comforting to have Ashley alongside her; especially as he seemed one of the popular kids at school to judge by the number of pupils they passed who greeted him. Being associated with one of the cool kids couldn’t do any harm, thought Megan. She began to relax slightly.

  They reached the main school door and Ashley, in an old-fashioned gesture of chivalry, opened it for Megan.

  ‘Ladies first,’ he said with a grin.

  She stopped on the doormat, shut her brolly and shook the worst of the drips off it.

  Once again, under more normal circumstances, Megan might have made a pithy come-back but not today.

  She entered the airy, tiled space of the school reception area with its harsh lighting, honour boards around the walls naming head prefects, the group photos and the noticeboards detailing achievements by various extra-curricular groups, like the school sports teams. It was, thought Megan, much like her old school. Probably much like any school. It was just a case of fitting in.

  ‘Megan?’ A voice of authority brought her back to the present.

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice came out in a squeak.

  ‘Thank you, Ashley. I’ll look after Megan now.’

  ‘Gotta go,’ said Ashley and with a cursory wave he disappeared down a corridor.

  Megan felt suddenly abandoned but she masked it with a smile to her new tutor. ‘Good morning, Mrs Blake.’

  There was no welcoming smile in return. ‘Morning, Megan. Lovely to meet you. You had a nice Easter holiday, I trust.’

  ‘We moved house...’ She shrugged. ‘Bex, my stepmum, was a bit busy.’

  ‘Ah yes.’ Mrs Blake looked a bit discomfited. Megan reckoned she’d just remembered about her dad being dead. ‘Yes, of course.’ There was a pause of a couple of seconds and then she continued. ‘But this is a new start for you, a clean break, a time to move forward. It’s not good to dwell on the past.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Megan stared at her new tutor. Was she telling Megan to forget about her dad? She took an instant dislike to her but knew that she’d have to mask it. Now was not the time to make an enemy and certainly not with her new tutor.

  ‘Now then...’ Mrs Blake produced a file and handed it over to Megan. ‘This contains your timetable and a map of the school but I have assigned one of the girls in the tutor group to look after you till you find your feet. Of course, you can always come to me for anything and I’m sure you’ll be settled in before we can say “Jack Robinson”.’ Mrs Blake smiled at her, except it was lacking in warmth. Megan was reminded of a dog baring its teeth.

  She forced a smile back.

  ‘Now then, shall we go to our tutor room?’

  Megan wondered what would happen if she said that she’d rather not. She followed Mrs Blake down a corridor, up a flight of stairs and into a light, airy classroom with walls covered in maps and handmade posters and artwork about food resources – cocoa, coffee, bananas and the like. In the classroom there were also around thirty pupils dressed identically to herself, all talking, laughing, sitting on desks and chairs and all, with the exception of Ashley, strangers to Megan.

  Mrs Blake stood in the doorway and clapped her hands. ‘Everyone, this is Megan. Megan has joined us from London and is completely new to the area.’

  ‘Bully for her,’ muttered a girl’s voice from the back of the class.

  ‘I know you’ll all make her feel welcome.’ Mrs Blake looked around the classroom. ‘Lily?’ A hand went up at the back of the class – from the spot where the snide aside had come from. ‘Ah, Lily. Come and say hello to Megan.’

  Lily stood up – all endless legs, wavy brown hair. Megan noticed, with a deep stab of envy, that she was a natural beauty, with hazel eyes and long, long lashes; Bambi in human form. She even made the dire school uniform look elegant.

  ‘Hi,’ she drawled as she approached Megan and looked down her neat retroussé nose at her. ‘I’m supposed to make you feel at home.’

  Behind her, her friends tittered and Lily turned towards them, swapping her sneer for a smile, revealing a dimple.

  Megan didn’t like the use of the word ‘supposed’.

  ‘There’s no “supposed” about it,’ said Mrs Blake, briskly. ‘I’m sure you’ll do a lovely job, Lily.’

  But Megan really wasn’t so sure. She glanced at Ashley for support but he was in the middle of a group of lads who seemed to be enthralled by something on an iPhone.

  Mrs Blake followed Megan’s look.

  ‘Phones away, boys. You know the rules.’

  There was a shuffling and scuffling in the boys’ corner as they obeyed but still Ashley didn’t make eye contact. Megan tried not to care. Maybe, even out here in the sticks, it wasn’t cool to own up to knowing the new kid.

  Mrs Blake told everyone to sit down and Megan found an empty seat – one right at the front that no one else wanted – the register was taken and then the bell went for first period. Chairs were scraped back, the pupils grabbed their bags, the noise level took off again and Megan felt another churn of panic as she didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing or where she was supposed to go. She looked around for Lily but Lily was already on her way out of the classroom and Ashley hadn’t waited for her either. Megan grabbed her bag, coat and file and legged it after her. As she scooted along, she tried to read the timetable in the file – maths, J4, it said. Megan didn’t have a clue what that meant. Finally, the surge of pupils stopped and lined up outside another classroom. Over the door it said J4. At least she was in the right place at the right time, she thought with relief.

  A teacher appeared and the queue fell silent. He unlocked the door and the class filed in. Once again Megan found herself forced to the front.

  ‘A new girl,’ said the teacher looking directly at her.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Megan Millar.’

  She heard soft laughter behind her. Then some wag whispered, ‘I bet she’s windy.’ Louder laughter followed. Megan felt her face flush.

  ‘Silence!’ It worked. ‘Right, let’s get on. Good morning, class.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Johnson,’ chorused the pupils.

  Oh, gawd, thought Megan. The teacher with the short temper and the intolerance for maths dunces. Just perfect. Just sodding perfect.

  *

  ‘Oi! Oi, Ames.’

  Amy, hurrying on her way to the post office to work her morning shift there, stopped in the street and turned. Oh, Billy. ‘Hiya, stranger. Thought you might be blanking me – you know, after last
week...’

  ‘Gawd, Amy, you didn’t half put it away.’

  ‘I didn’t have that much. I’m not used to it, that’s all.’

  ‘Not like the doctor’s wife, eh? What did you say... four bottles of vodka a week in her recycling?’

  ‘Shhh. I didn’t tell you that, did I?’

  ‘Shit-a-brick, Ames, it was more a case of what you didn’t tell me.’

  Amy felt her face flare. ‘You’re not to go repeating any of it.’ Even as she said it she knew it was a massive case of pots and kettles.

  ‘How were you the next day?’ asked Billy.

  ‘Not too clever. I was sick twice before I got out the front door.’

  ‘You never went to work, not after that?’

  ‘No choice, Bill. Ash and I aren’t flush like you.’

  ‘No, well. Anyway, I got something for you.’

  ‘What.’

  Billy put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a bunch of keys.

  ‘My keys! Where did you find them? I’ve searched high and low for them. I even asked at the pub in case I’d dropped them there.’

  ‘You gave them to me to hold when you were trying to get in the other evening. I must have stuffed them in a pocket when I dragged you upstairs.’

  ‘You did that?’

  ‘Ames, there was no way you’d have got up them stairs on your own. Don’t you remember?’

  But Amy had already realised there was quite a chunk of her evening out which was a total blank. ‘Not really, no.’

  ‘Anyway, when I came across them, I realised they were yours, so... here they are.’ Billy handed them over with a flourish.

  Amy stood on tiptoe and gave Billy a fat kiss on his cheek. ‘You’re a lifesaver.’ She gave him a wink. ‘Big treats for you, Billy-boy, next time my Ash is out for the evening.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that, doll.’ Billy rubbed his crotch before he sauntered off with an even bigger swagger than usual.

  12

  Although she’d only been back working at the school for a week, Heather was already feeling as though there weren’t enough hours in the day. She’d almost got on top of everything over the Easter holidays but now things seemed to be sliding out of control once again. She was finishing washing up the breakfast things when the doorbell rang. She chucked the dishcloth back into the sink and dried her hands on a tea towel. She glanced at the kitchen clock and sincerely hoped this was someone for Brian and not her because she had a mass of stuff to do before she headed up to the school where she was due to work that afternoon.