A Song in the Night (54 page)

“Well – six, seven, eight – that sort of age.”

“Yes. Yes, I have. At the nursery we used to run holiday clubs outside of term time – for children up to eight. I’ve done a few stints in them.”

Paulette looked thoughtful. “Do you enjoy working with that age group?”

Rosie admitted that she’d considered the possibility of branching out into that area at some future point.

Paulette nodded. “D’you know, Rosie – I think I might have something that would suit you very well. It’s only a temporary vacancy but if you fancied trying it, it would put you on for a few weeks until something else comes up. Non-Teaching Assistant at a primary school in the next village to yours.”

“Aylesthwaite?” Rosie ventured.

“No, Miston. It’s in the other direction – about the same distance. There are no formal qualifications needed for NTAs other than four GCSEs or equivalent … and you’ve easily got that. Plus you’ve a whole load of other stuff, and lots of experience with children. I think you’d be perfect. Unless you’re specifically wanting to work in Northallerton?”

Rosie shook her head. “Not particularly. I quite like the village feel if I’m honest.”

Paulette was pleased. “Look, Rosie – I’m going to make a phone call. Why don’t you go into the foyer and get yourself a drink while I try and speak to the headteacher. Have you any objections to my passing on your mobile number?”

Rosie said that she hadn’t and went off to get a coffee. Several minutes later, Paulette reappeared with good news. The head was very keen to fix up a meeting. How would next day suit? A little surprised at the speed of this response, Rosie said that it would suit her fine.

“Good. I’ve passed on your number and you can expect a call sometime later today. I think she’s eager to get the position filled. Sounds like they’re struggling. But she’ll fill you in with the details.”

Later, as Rosie travelled back to Ridderch Standen, she reflected on the speed of events. Last week, she’d been a nursery nurse in London. Tomorrow, all being well, she was about to be interviewed for a school job in Yorkshire. Her life seemed to be taking off on its own. The only thing she could do was try and go with the flow.

When she arrived back at Oak Lodge, Cassie was nowhere to be seen. Rosie found Ed in his garden studio, sketching out a rough draft for a painting. He looked up and smiled as she walked in. But Rosie could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Cass won’t be back for a while,” he said gruffly as he flicked his pencil across the canvas. “Kay Jenison has taken her back to her place for a bit o’ dinner. She told me to tell you there are plenty of ready meals in the chest freezer and to help yerself. She’ll see you later.”

“Have
you
eaten yet?” Rosie asked softly.

Ed shook his head. “I’m not bothered at the moment, Rosie. Thanks all the same.”

As she walked to the house, Rosie wondered when Ed had last tucked into a meal with any enthusiasm. His large frame seemed wasted these days, his clothes baggy and ill-fitting. In many ways, he bore the same haunted look as Ciaran.

She had something to eat, watched a bit of television and finally went up to her room. A slight headache was beginning to play around her eyes. She lay on the bed to try and relax. However, it wasn’t long before her mobile phone began to ring.

“Hello –
Rosie Maconochie?
”

Rosie didn’t recognise the voice. “Yes, speaking.”

“Hello, I’m Bev Carradine – headteacher at Paddock Hill Primary. Paulette Sharp contacted me earlier with your details.”

Rosie sat up quickly and tried to collect herself.
First impressions, girl, first impressions …

“Did Paulette mention to you the possibility of our meeting together tomorrow at the school? Just an informal chat – to see if you’re the kind of person we’re looking for.”

Rosie confirmed that the suggestion had been made.

“The post is only temporary, Rosie, but it
is
urgent. I’m afraid one of our members of staff has been involved in an accident. I think we’re looking at three months minimum before she’s able to return to work. We’re keen to find someone to fill the position as soon as possible.” There was a calm authority in Bev Carradine’s voice which Rosie found reassuring.

“What time would you like me to come into school?”

There was a slight pause. “Well, I’ve been thinking, Rosie. I come through Ridderch Standen every day to get to work. How would you feel about my picking you up outside Saint Edwin’s in the morning – say, about ten to eight? It’s not out of my way. I just thought it might be easier for you, with your being a newcomer in the area.”

At her end of the line, Rosie suppressed a smile.
Sounds fine to me. A little unorthodox from where I’m standing, but maybe that’s how they do things up here.

“Thanks, that’d be great. Do I need to wear a yellow carnation or anything?”

Bev laughed. “No, just look out for my car. Silver BMW. I’ll be there about ten to.”

They said goodbye and Rosie clicked off her phone. Well, there was one woman who certainly didn’t waste time. She lay back on the bed again. Her headache seemed to be getting worse. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly eight thirty. Perhaps she was overdue an early night; after all, she needed to be in good shape for tomorrow. She scribbled a quick note to Cassie telling her about the day’s events and her forthcoming meeting with Bev Carradine. Leaving it on the kitchen table, she took a couple of painkillers and went to bed.

She awoke early next morning and was relieved to find that her head had cleared. She showered and spent the next twenty minutes experimenting with outfits, eventually opting for a skirt suit in soft grey, pinstriped with baby pink. A pale pink blouse complimented it perfectly. She felt quietly confident as she left her room and went downstairs for breakfast.

The kitchen was bathed in soft, golden light. The morning sun had filtered its way through the closed cotton curtains, their pale colour serving to diffuse the rays and give the whole room a brightness which was tinged with optimistic promise. Because of the earliness of the hour, a lovely stillness seemed to brood over the house. The only sound was that of morning birdsong coming from the garden. Rosie suddenly thought of Beth and smiled to herself. The more time she spent at Oak Lodge, the more she understood about her friend. This place had been built into her very being from birth. Its seasons, its moods; its stillness and its happiness. No wonder Beth had been such a together kind of person. No wonder she had come back here to die. This house felt to Rosie like the next best thing to heaven, if such a place existed. As she chomped thoughtfully on her cereal, she couldn’t help feeling that it did. And that Beth was there. A sudden ache filled her. How she would love to tell Beth about all this. That she’d moved up to Yorkshire. That she was living in
her
house with
her
family. That she was going for an interview in a school just up the road. She could imagine Beth screaming with laughter at the irony of the whole thing. How Rosie wished they could have shared it together. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away. She could almost hear Beth’s voice telling her off.
You’ve an interview to go to, girl. Don’t you go messing up your mascara!

She shuffled in her chair and took another mouthful of cereal to try and distract herself. But she couldn’t stop the thought that rose up from her heart.

Jesus … if Beth’s with you, please tell her about it all. I’d really like her to know. And tell her I’m missing her.

Ed came downstairs at half past seven. Rosie was all ready to leave the house. When he saw her, he smiled admiringly. “You look very smart, Rosie. Very smart. I’m sure they’ll be bowled over with you.”

Rosie grinned, a slight shyness creeping over her. “Is Cassie awake yet?”

Ed shook his head. “She’s fast on, bless her. That massage thing must have done somethin’. She’s not been sleepin’ right for months. This must be the latest she’s stayed in bed for as long as I can remember. She wanted to get up and see you off this morning, but I thought I’d leave her asleep. You don’t mind, I hope?”

Rosie smiled. “Not at all. I’ll catch up with her later. I’ll have more to tell her then.”

At quarter to eight, Rosie found herself standing outside Saint Edwin’s. Five minutes later, a silver BMW drew up at the side of the road. The driver opened the electric window.

“
Rosie Maconochie?
I’m Bev Carradine – Paddock Hill Primary.” The woman looked to be in her early fifties, smartly dressed with short, well-cut dark hair.

Rosie presented her best smile as she opened the passenger door. Suddenly, she felt nervous.

The older woman extended a hand and Rosie shook it. “We can have a little chat as we drive, Rosie,” Bev said cheerfully, pulling out onto the road. “Tell me about yourself.”

Rosie told her about her work at the nursery and the qualifications she’d obtained whilst working there.

“What made you decide to move up to Yorkshire?”

Rosie could tell from the innocence of Bev’s tone that Paulette Sharp had not filled her in with any of the details about Beth. She explained the situation as briefly as she could. “It seemed the best thing to do,” she concluded. “To be near my brother while he gets over things. Besides, I was getting ready for a change.” She decided not to mention the fact that just before her move she’d felt close to cracking up, and that Cassie’s invitation had been something of a lifesaver.

Bev was sympathetic. “I’m sorry to hear that, Rosie. It’s very sad with someone so young.”

An awkward silence filled the car for a moment or two. Rosie decided to change the subject. “I hope your member of staff’s recovering from their accident?”

Bev groaned. “Yes. Yes, she is. But it’s going to be a while before she’s fit for very much. Parachute jump … need I say more?”

Rosie winced. “Ouch. She’ll make a full recovery, I hope?”

Bev nodded with a smile. “Oh yes. You can’t keep a good woman down. Lydia always manages to bounce back.”

Rosie suspected this wasn’t the first of Lydia’s mishaps. “Pity she didn’t manage to bounce on this occasion, eh? She’d have saved herself a few broken bones.”

Bev threw her head back and laughed. “Good one, Rosie.”

The atmosphere was relaxed as they travelled the rest of the way. Bev explained the situation in Helen Walker’s class. “It’s a Year Three group – a class of twenty-four. Unusual in a village school. Our class sizes are generally smaller. Must have been something in the water the year that little lot came along.”

Rosie smiled to herself. She was already warming to Bev Carradine.

“Anyway,” Bev continued, “as if that wasn’t bad enough, we have a new child in class that needs more or less constant supervision.”

“Statemented?” Rosie interjected.

Bev shook her head. “No. Apparently she was fine at her last school. But her parents recently divorced. Six weeks ago the mother moved up here with her new partner and it seems the child has been very unsettled since. Refusing to talk, bouts of crying, a couple of aggressive behaviour incidents – one day she even tried to run away from school. Since that episode, Lydia Vardy hasn’t let her out of her sight. Until now of course, with the accident and everything. Poor old Helen Walker’s had an awful time of it this week. I’ve had to move one of our volunteer parent helpers into that class. But she can’t be there full time. It’s a difficult situation.”

Rosie nodded. It certainly sounded it. But it sounded like a challenge too. She’d spent the last few years playworking with preschoolers and caring for little babies. It had been fun, but she was ready for something new. And as Bev pulled into her parking spot at the front of Paddock Hill Primary, Rosie knew she wanted this job very much.

Bev called Helen Walker into her office to meet Rosie. As Bev made coffee for the three of them, Helen and Rosie chatted together, covering much the same ground as had been discussed in the car. At just before half past eight, Rosie noticed the other two women exchange glances as if in a secret understanding. Then Bev leaned forward at her desk. “If you’ve nothing else arranged, Rosie, how would you like to spend some time in Helen’s class this morning? Just sit in and observe for a while. It might give you a better feel of the place – help you get to know the children a bit. Perhaps let you see what you’d be letting yourself in for if you join us.”

Inwardly Rosie glowed. This was looking positive. “Thanks. I’d like that very much.”

Bev gave a satisfied smile. “Good. That’s settled then. Registration’s at eight forty-five. We don’t have assembly until after lunch on Thursdays, so Helen will be getting straight into teaching this morning.” She checked her watch. “Eight thirty – go to it, ladies!”

Rosie took a seat in a back corner of the classroom. It wasn’t long before earlycomers began to drift in. Some of the boys eyed her with slight suspicion, discussing the intruder in low, conspiratorial whispers as they made their way to a small cloakroom which adjoined the front end of the classroom. The girls seemed a little more welcoming. Some of them viewed her with wide, curious eyes, while others smiled at her shyly. Rosie found the experience rather amusing, if slightly disconcerting. These children might only be seven or eight, but they were a whole lot different from the age group she was used to working with. She was glad when Helen called the class to attention.

“Right, Class Three! This morning we have a visitor. She’s going to be spending some time with us and watching how well we do our work. So I want you all to try very hard to show her what a lovely class we have here. Now we’re going to say good morning to her. Her name is Miss Maconochie.” Helen flashed a quick grin at Rosie, then signalled the children to stand to their feet.

“G-o-o-d m-o-r-n-i-n-g, M-i-s-s M-a-c-o-n-o-c-h-i-e!”
Their slow, singsong voices made Rosie smile. But she was impressed that they’d actually managed to get their tongues around her name. That had to be a good start. She stood to her feet and greeted them in return.

The day began with Literacy Hour. As Helen taught the first part of the lesson from the front, Rosie discreetly looked round at the children. So far, there was no obvious indication of the problem child. She suspected one or two of the boys might be a handful, but Helen didn’t let situations develop. At one point, she stopped teaching and turned to a chubby boy with sandy hair. “Josh – I was hoping we might have a better day than yesterday. Now I won’t have you spoiling lessons for everyone else. If I have to tell you off again, I’ll send you to Mrs Carradine.” There wasn’t another murmur from Josh for the rest of the morning.