Authors: Gill Hornby
The Hive (25 page)
“And then there’s the made-up jobs. People who say they do stuff and make a huge song and dance about it and bossy-bottom about looking down on the rest of us but they’re not doing anything that needs doing and they’re not making any money either.”
Rachel joined in. “You can always tell who they are, because they go to Norfolk or somewhere for six weeks every summer and nobody gives a toss.”
“Like that Abby,” said Georgie.
“Oh, but she’s in advertising,” put in Heather, in a respectful tone.
“She gives her opinions on domestic products in a focus group once a month, actually. And that Liz who’s in publishing—a bit of proofreading every now and then.”
“Destiny’s mum’s my favorite.” Rachel smiled fondly. “Oooh, she’s soooo busy with her career in politics…”
“She went canvassing once for UKIP,” finished Georgie. “Ah, bliss.” She raised her cup of chamomile to the table. “An MUJ. This really is a very special day for us all.”
“The thing is, though,” said Bubba, “you do have to have some sympathy? I mean, you know, if your husband
does
earn pots and
pots
of money, so you don’t
have
to work, but then you want to do
something
, just so you can
say
…” Bubba was warming to her theme, shifting in her seat like a panelist on
Question Time.
“I mean, then, it’s terribly hard. Do you see? It’s what I like to call ‘The Wealth Trap’—”
Still, surprisingly, in a benevolent mood, Georgie patted Bubba on her hand to shut her up. “I’d keep that one to yourself, if I were you,” she advised, and turned back to Jo. “Tell me, tell me. How did you crack it?”
“We’ve got her mother-in-law up the care home now,” said Jo. “Bea and Tony’ve dumped her in there, sold her house, say she’s gaga. But she’s always pretty lucid on the subject of Beatrice, I can tell you.”
“Anyway,” Melissa said firmly. She was never very comfortable during a good old bitch. Georgie had noticed this before. It was a shame—she was great otherwise. “Are you guys forming a team for the quiz?”
“Christ, no,” scoffed Georgie.
“We’re not losers, you know,” added Jo.
“The quiz,” explained Rachel patiently, a kindly prefect to a first-year, “is purely for no-mates.”
“Well I’m going,” said Melissa. “With Colette, Sharon, Jasmine and their partners.”
Georgie snorted. “Pah. Good luck with that lot…”
“Well, it’s not the winning that matters, it’s the tak—”
“But that’s Bea’s team!” Heather was shocked. “They’re always Bea’s team! Since forever!” She gripped the table like it was the only certain thing in an uncertain world.
“Not this year. Bea told them this year she was going to win, and she didn’t want any dead wood,” said Melissa. “They were rather put out…”
“Oh yeah.” Jo came to life again. “That’s another thing. Apparently Bea’s all puffed up because she’s definitely got the quiz in the bag. She’s stolen three of the players from last year’s winners and she’s recruited a secret weapon.”
“Has she?” Georgie wasn’t quite sure what was happening to her. Was it the hormones? Was it the revelations of the morning? It certainly wasn’t the piss-thin lesbian tea. “Has she indeed? Well, we’ll have to see about that.” She looked around the table. “Girls. There’s only one thing for it. Sorry, but here come the words I never thought I’d hear myself say. We are left with no choice.” She gulped, spread her hands out to the table, drew herself up to the full range of her limited height, put on her football-manager voice. “We are going to have to make a team.”
“What?” groaned Jo.
“Really?” added Rachel.
“Actually,” said Bubba, “I’m pretty good at quizzes.”
Heather clapped her hands with delight. “I’ve always wanted to do the quiz, always, but nobody’s ever asked us. Oh, Georgie, you are brilliant.” She reached her hand across the table, tears in her eyes. “And I’m so sorry. Please. Will you forgive me?”
“S’pose so.” Georgie squinted at her. “Wha’ for?”
“For not speaking to you. I haven’t been speaking to you for a whole month.”
MINUTES OF THE MEETING OF THE COMMITTEE (COSTA)
Held at:
The Headmaster’s office
In attendance:
Mr. Orchard (Headmaster), Beatrice Stuart (Chair), Clover, Colette, Sharon, Angie, Melissa
Secretary:
Heather
THE HEADMASTER: Let me just begin by saying, Heather, the Minutes you did for the last meeting were quite fantastic, extraordinary detail.
HEATHER: So pleased you liked them. I wasn’t sure. Sometimes I get a bit carried away…
THE HEADMASTER: But I think probably this time we don’t need quite such a verbatim report. If you could just list the topics covered, say, just make notes of your general impressions of the progress of the discussion and give a quick list of what’s decided in the conclusion? That would be plenty. We couldn’t expect more than that.
1. PROGRESS OF THE FUND-RAISING
This is going really, really well and not just because of stuff organized by COSTA or that was what THE HEADMASTER said, though I got the general impression that BEA wasn’t very pleased to hear that—she did that raising her eyebrow thing at him. Apparently, the FUN RUN raised a lot—at least as much as the LUNCH LADDER and the GOURMET GAMBLE and all that. And it was actually fun, too. We all agreed on that. Except BEA who didn’t come to it, although she hasn’t said why. Everyone else managed to get there.
I got the general impression she’s not as fit as she used to be. She’s actually put on quite a bit of weight, she’s almost jowly, I mean, not really but defo a bit heavier around the jaw, I mean, for BEA, and I just wonder if she didn’t come to the FUN RUN because she can’t even run?
Also some of the dads are running the Marathon—which is so inspirational because that is really, really hard—and they’ve got huge sponsorship which will get the red to the top of the thermostat thingy as long as they make it to the end. So fingers crossed for them this Sunday. And that’s also nothing to do with BEA. In fact, she didn’t even know they were doing it. She raised her eyebrow at that, too.
2. THE QUIZ
Everything is set for next Thursday night, at 7:30 p.m. in the Coronation Hall. BEA assured THE MEETING that it would all be a tremendous success. MRS. WRIGHT, Head of the Juniors, has set the questions. The Quizmaster will be THE RENOWNED TV CHEF MARTYN PRYCE which BEA said was very exciting
although I got the general impression the meeting wasn’t as excited as all that. Nobody seems that sure where on the TV you’re supposed to find him or if you need a special, like, box or app or something. And nobody’s heard of him at all. Colette muttered something like “Come back, Andy Farr, all is forgiven.” Anyway.
So far nearly 100 tickets have been sold and the licensed bar’s all sorted. The idea was that every table bring its own picnic and THE RENOWNED TV CHEF MARTYN PRYCE would then judge the best picnic and award a prize. I got the impression BEA is expecting to win that. Also there would be a RAFFLE and all told BEA assured the meeting the QUIZ would make more than all the other events put together.
THE MEETING then discussed what help was needed before the big night itself, and who could volunteer to help BEA. But unfortunately there were no volunteers because everyone was too busy apart from CLOVER. But then CLOVER assured everyone that she and BEA could get it all done between them as long as BEA could give up a whole day and go around to CLOVER’S house for all of it. I got the general impression BEA wasn’t too happy about that either.
3. DECORATION OF THE LIBRARY OVER HALF-TERM
THE HEADMASTER said that the plan was to get the LIBRARY decorated over half-term, so that it would be ready for an official OPENING CEREMONY towards the end of this term, perhaps on SPORTS DAY with A BLESSING FROM REV. DEBBIE and so on. In order to save funds for books and furniture, THE HEADMASTER has decided that he will give up his holiday that week to do all the painting of the interior. RACHEL MASON had already agreed to paint an illustrative time line of the history of the school as a frieze around the top, above the bookshelves. THE HEADMASTER didn’t know whether MRS. MASON was free to do this at the same time,
and I got the general impression he was too nervous to ask her because of all the rumors and the nasty gossip there was before Easter which was really unfair on both of them and I get the general impression people should just try and mind their own business.
MELISSA said that RACHEL would definitely be around then because her kids were on holiday with their dad and she would certainly be able to do it. She personally guaranteed it. THE HEADMASTER looked really delighted by that.
In fact, I got the general impression that he was thrilled. His eyes went all soupy and glittering like a sort of glittery soup.
He then asked if there were any other kind volunteers who would also give up some time in the holidays to help but no one came forward. I got the general impression that they were going to—COLETTE, SHARON, JASMINE and ME too actually—but when we went to put our hands up MELISSA gave a long hard stare and shook her head. So we didn’t. We just sat there in silence instead.
And THE HEADMASTER looked even happier
. But BEA raised her eyebrow at that too.
CONCLUSION
1. If we include the Marathon and THE QUIZ, the funds have been raised and the target has been reached.
2. THE QUIZ will be organized by BEA and CLOVER.
3. The decoration of the library will be done in half-term by THE HEADMASTER and RACHEL MASON. On their own. With no one else around. While the rest of the school is all shut up and quiet.
THE MEETING
closed at 1:15 p.m.
Heather was just collecting her files off the chair when Tom Orchard touched her arm. “Oh, Mrs. Carpenter.” Bea, Heather noticed, stopped to eavesdrop. “If you wouldn’t mind staying behind so I might have a word…?”
“See you later,” Heather said very firmly to Bea, who did then actually leave the room. She could not quite believe her own awesome power. “I do hope everything’s OK with Maisie?”
“Oh yes. Maisie’s perfect.”
“Hardly.”
“It’s not that at all.” Mr. Orchard sat down and put his feet up on the desk, one at a time. “I just have a proposal I want to put to you. Now, this is confidential at the moment, I’m not talking to anybody else about it and I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you to keep it completely to yourself for the time being…”
Crikey, had anything actually this exciting happened to Heather in her life before? She steadied herself with the back of a chair—it was important that she didn’t faint or have a heart attack just at this moment and miss it all, that would just be
typical.
“Mrs. Black, the school secretary, will be leaving us at the end of term.”
“Oh,” said Heather. Well, that was only the best news ever. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I don’t know how we’re going to manage without her,” said Mr. Orchard, smiling as he tossed a pen in the air and caught it. “But we’re just going to have to move on and find someone new.”
“Hmm.” Heather was racking her brains to remember if anyone had asked her advice on anything ever before…It was just the sweetest feeling. For once, she let herself just live in, luxuriate in, the moment. Ahhh. Now then, what was he saying? She mustn’t miss it, if she was to be an adviser and advise…
“You may not be at all interested, of course, and please don’t worry if so, but: I would really love to appoint someone who knows us all already, and who could be a friend to the children, the parents and the school itself. I was talking to Melissa Spencer about it earlier, and she thought that you were that person, and I must say, the more I think about it, the more I agree with her. I really do think you are exactly what we need. Could—is there any way?—I possibly persuade you to apply, do you think?”
Rachel got to the playground a few minutes earlier than usual. She simply hadn’t been able to settle to anything all day. Dumped, she’d kept saying to herself. Dumped. Dumped. Well, well, well. The dumper: dumped.
But however much she said it to herself, it seemed to make no difference to her life. She kept sending it down, like a sonic depth charge, waiting for the explosion to reach the surface. But nothing came up. Back in the autumn, it would have meant something: he might come back, they might try again. But now, after all she’d been through, it apparently meant nothing at all. Their divorce was just being processed. Chris had not felt moved to speak to Rachel this morning. And she wasn’t sure how much she had to say to him. Two dumpeds, it turned out, did not amount to very much at all.
Yes, she had been lonely in the Easter holidays, and yes, there was certainly a hole in her life. There were loads of holes: she’d been avoiding her mother. She’d had it up to wherever with Heather. She hadn’t had one of her innocent little chats with Tom Orchard since Pamela came at her like the heavy mob, and she must admit she did miss them. Rather a lot. Even though there was nothing going on there at all…
And there had also been a big change in her children. Their activities had always, up to now, caused Rachel to connect with the rest of the human race several times a day—picking up, dropping off, going out, going round. But the past two and a half weeks, Poppy had for the first time been in the driving seat of her own social destiny—off round the neighborhood with Maisie, in the sunshine, doing their stuff. Rachel had been relegated to the sidelines, there for emergency use only, hanging about in the lay-by of life like a traffic cop on a road that should be busier than it was. A bit bored.
But however much she picked over it, the tatty, torn netting that passed as her life, she could not actually find in it a hole that was particularly Chris-shaped. And forget the dumping. The best thing about Rachel’s day was that little taste of adult human company in the Copper Kettle this morning. She was now
hungry
—ravenous, actually—for more. She went to find Heather.