Wicked! (37 page)

For a second a shadow flitted across Taggie’s face. ‘Is Xav around?’

‘No,’ said Bianca, then irritably: ‘He’ll be doing prep or watching television. Come on.’

‘OK,’ sighed Taggie, slotting a seatbelt over the most delectable bosom.

‘Oh, that I vas that seatbelt,’ sighed Anatole.

‘You did give Xav Daddy’s and my love?’

‘Yes, yes.’ For a second, Bianca’s sweet face hardened. ‘Let’s go, we’re holding up the bus.’

Neither she nor Taggie saw Xavier lurking under a nearby oriental plane, desperate to catch a glimpse of his mother. He mustn’t be a wimp and run to her. Cosmo, alas, had seen him.

‘I hear you insulted Jade,’ he said softly. ‘Getting a bit above yourself, aren’t you, black shit? You’ll pay for it later.’

A furious Alex caught up with Hengist just as he was leaving his office. ‘That window will cost a fortune to replace.’

‘I know, but did you see how far the ball travelled? Boy’s a natural, and surely we’re insured.’

‘Not for my wife’s gift,’ spluttered Alex. ‘It’s irreplaceable. I know how much care she put into it.’ Then an almost coy expression flickered across his face. ‘Although if you asked her
very
nicely, she might model you another one.’

‘Sweet of her but I’m sure there are worthier recipients than I.’

You bastard, thought Alex.

‘A very successful visit, I feel,’ said Hengist, whisking off down the stairs.

On the journey back Wally stopped to pick up Graffi’s balloon, which was roosting in a hedge like a bird of paradise. The children sang the whole time except when Janna went up to the front and clapped her hands.

‘Thank you for behaving so beautifully. I’m right proud of all of you. The Bagley teachers were really complimentary, and thank you for mixing so well with the Bagley kids. Would you like to go back again soon?’

‘Yes please,’ rose the cry.

Paris didn’t sing. He gazed out of the window at the skeletal trees against the russet glow of Larkminster and the cathedral spire, so like one of Rowan Merton’s sharpened pencils that he wanted to pick it up and write volumes about his despair.

Imagine running out of school into the arms and soft bosom of a mother as loving as Taggie, who would ask him about his day and sweep him home to tea. Or think of turning right to Wilmington, feeding Partner, cooking supper with Janna and falling asleep in her arms: ‘Pillowed upon my fair love’s ripening breast’.

Oh God, he wanted a family and a home.

Rocky, after his exertions, had fallen asleep on Kylie’s shoulder.

‘I really like Jack Waterlane,’ she was telling Pearl. ‘He was so sweet to Rocky.’

‘Same intellectual level,’ muttered Graffi.

‘Never seen such lovely men as that Emlyn, so macho,’ gushed Gloria, ‘and that Hengist and that Denzil, who I can assure you is not G.A.Y.’

Feeling there was safety in numbers Wally dropped the children off on the edge of the Shakespeare Estate. Janna shivered at the sight of Oaktree Court, a great Victorian pile with fluorescent lighting and bars on the windows. Paris jumped out, shuffling towards the front door without looking behind or uttering a word of thanks. He couldn’t trust himself not to cry.

Humming Prokofiev One, Miss Cambola was joyfully ringing possible dates for a joint concert with Bagley.

‘Time for a drink?’ Mags asked Janna as they reached Larks.

‘Just let me check my messages.’

‘Mess’ was the operative word. All the displays in reception had been trashed. Rowan had left a note on her desk:

‘Did you mean to switch off your mobile? Ring Ashton the moment you get in. Ditto Russell. Ditto Crispin. Ditto Rod Hyde; he left at 6.30. Girl’s toilets blocked as well now. Martin Norman rushed to hospital after fight in playground. Three windows broken. Satan on roof chucking down tiles.’

‘I’ll come and have that drink,’ said Janna, just finding time to open a note from Lydia: ‘Lovely day; kids very good. We all missed you but heaven without Cara, please burn this.’

Mercifully the Ghost and Castle was empty, except for the skeleton propping up the bar. No disaffected Larks staff in sight. Funny how I lived in the pub when I was at Redfords, thought Janna. Her hair still felt on fire where Hengist had stroked it. Mags insisted on buying the drinks and, between gulps, carrying on knitting the scarf for her future son-in-law.

Mags had the beautiful complexion and sweet unruffled serenity, thought Janna, that a Raphael Madonna might have achieved in middle age if her life had not been torn apart by the tragedy of a son’s death.

‘Thank you ever so much for coming.’

Mags smiled. ‘It was a huge success. You’re right to be proud of your children. You’ve given them so much confidence. Both sides were amazed how much they liked each other.’

Mags prayed the saga of Boffin’s teeth wouldn’t reach the press. She wondered if she should tell Janna about it, then Janna put everything out of her mind by asking her if she’d like to be deputy head.

‘You’d be so good, Mags. The kids love and trust you, and so do the staff. Your lessons are so popular and you don’t grind axes all day.’

Looking at Janna’s little face, at the pallor beneath the dark freckles and the eyes that never seemed far from tears these days, Mags was deeply touched.

‘That’s the sweetest compliment I’ve ever been paid. If you’re part-time, people regard you as a dilettante. But truly two and a half days a week are enough for me, so I can be there for Tim when he’s on a big case and comes home wiped out, and for the children and soon, fingers crossed, the grandchildren who will all want a part of me and expect me to drop everything. And we’ve got Diane’s wedding coming up. I’m better all round if I don’t spread myself too thin.

‘I’ll support you all the way,’ she went on, ‘and the others aren’t that antagonistic. Sam Spink is a troublemaking cow, but you get that in any school. Forget the Dinosaurs. The rest of the staff like you very much, they’re just terrified and poisoned by Cara. You must get rid of her.’

‘Hengist and your nice husband said the same thing.’

‘Cara made a play for Hengist once, asked him to dance. He rejected her with a finesse only he’s capable of.’

‘Really?’ Janna longed to know more, but didn’t want to appear too keen. ‘I think Cara’s mad. Did you see her ripping apart those anemones? Do you think there’s a conspiracy against me?’

Mags looked up, startled.

‘The
Gazette
won’t leave me alone. There was a piece yesterday about the staff leaving in droves. Russell and S and C deliberately thwart my every move. They seem to be willing me to fail.’

‘I’ll have a word with Tim,’ said Mags thoughtfully. ‘You know I disagree passionately with private education, but I have to say both teachers and pupils were terrific today.’

Over at Bagley, Cosmo, Lubemir and Anatole were enjoying their game: shoving Xavier’s dark head down the lavatory, holding him under as they pulled the chain.

‘Might wash you white, black shit. Black shit should go down the bog,’ taunted Cosmo, giving Xav a vicious kick in the ribs.

‘Don’t bruise him,’ reproved Anatole.

‘Bruises don’t show up on black shit.’

‘He is not getting whiter.’ Lubemir yanked Xav out by the hair to examine his face. ‘Try some bleach.’ He emptied half a bottle of Domestos into the water before ramming Xav’s head back again.

Xav squeezed shut his eyes so the bleach couldn’t burn them but, forced to open his mouth to breathe, gulped and choked as bleach went down his throat.

Cosmo meanwhile, having wolfed down some muesli and a crushed bloc of lavatory freshener, retched and, yanking aside Xav’s head, threw up into the lavatory bowl before shoving Xav back again.

‘In you go, black bastard.’

Xav thought he’d choke with revulsion and his lungs would explode with pain. Death would be better than this.

Please God, let me die.

Mags had left her Renault outside the Ghost and Castle. As Janna wandered back to Larks’s car park, she found the words: ‘Go back to Yorkshire you dirty bitch’, scrawled in scarlet lipstick across her windscreen.

I mustn’t panic, she told herself. It couldn’t be Cara, she was off sick. Heart thumping, terrified her brakes had been tampered with, or a mad murderer might rise up in the back to strangle her, she drove very slowly back to Wilmington.

As she leapt out of her car, Partner hurtled out of Lily’s house, then stopped at her feet, whimpering and crying.

‘I’m so sorry to leave you so long, love,’ she said, gathering him up, bitterly ashamed that he was trembling as violently as she was.

Lily admitted that the little dog had missed her dreadfully.

‘He’s fine with me for a bit, then he seems to panic you’re not coming back.’

‘I’ll take him into Larks tomorrow,’ said Janna. ‘I guess I need a guard dog.’

35

Janna was so tired, neither terror of Cara nor dreams of Hengist kept her awake. It seemed only a second later that her alarm clock was battering her brain. Six o’clock already. Tugging a pillow over her head for five more minutes, she was roused at a quarter to seven by Partner tugging off her duvet with his teeth.

Thanking him profusely, showering, dressing, wolfing a piece of toast and marmalade, she took her cup of coffee, torch and dog out for a quick run across the fields, soaking her trousers with dew, tripping over molehills, splashing through streams.

‘In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light.’

Partner charged ahead, barking joyfully, chasing rabbits, but as they returned to the cottage, his tummy dragged along the ground, his pointed ear and the remaining plumes on his tail drooped lower and lower at the prospect of Janna abandoning him.

‘It’s all right, darling, you’re coming too.’

Hope springing eternal, Partner gazed up, ginger head on one side, onyx eyes shining, then went berserk, squeaking and jumping four feet off the ground. As she put his basket and a bag of biscuits in the car, he rushed off to collect his lead, then leapt into his basket in the back.

There was an apricot glow in the east. As they passed the signpost for Bagley, she wondered if Hengist ever thought of her. She kept remembering his powerful body thrust against hers. She must find herself a boyfriend.

‘I’ve got you,’ she called back to Partner, who swished his tail, then as she crossed the bridge into Larkminster, her mobile beeped. Glancing at the screen, she read: ‘Yr toff Bagley friends won’t save you, you rancid old tart’ and nearly ran into one of the Victorian lamp-posts. She must go to the police.

Shaking uncontrollably, moaning with terror, she sought refuge in the boarded-up newsagent’s next to the Ghost and Castle. As she picked up the papers, she was fractionally cheered when the owner, Mrs Kamani, who was always grumbling about the children shoplifting, suddenly announced how delightful they’d been on television last night.

Having installed Partner with a Bonio in his basket under her desk, Janna distracted herself from the foul text message by checking on yesterday’s press coverage. It was pretty good except for the
Gazette
, which angled its report on caring Stancombe giving Larks a £25,000 minibus and taking time out from his impossibly busy schedule to fly down to Bagley.

As the purpose of his generosity had been to rescue Larks pupils from the poverty of their ambitions and a life of crime, Stancombe had felt it sadly ironic that after these same pupils had stormed the helicopter during the opening ceremony, several gold ashtrays, a silver cigarette case and a bottle of champagne had gone missing.

‘Rubbish,’ howled Janna. ‘The helicopter was also swarming with Bagley pupils.’

The piece was illustrated by a glamorous picture of Stancombe and Jade, of Larks and Bagley children looking bored, and of Janna, as usual, smiling coyly up at Hengist.

When was Col Peters going to ease up?

Thank God the television coverage would be seen by millions more people than read the
Gazette
.

Most of our parents can’t read anyway, Janna was shocked to find herself thinking. The rest of the press had followed Venturer’s lead, photographing Kylie in her flowered dress: ‘We thought Bagley would be stuck-up snobs, but they were really nice people.’

The
Guardian
had clearly dropped Sheena’s piece on Stancombe, who’d be livid. They had however included a charming photo of the black children: Xav, Aysha and Feral, sending Aysha’s proud but panic-stricken mother out to buy every copy in case her husband saw it on his return from Pakistan.

Only that most scurrilous of tabloids the
Scorpion
excelled itself by showing Cosmo’s somewhat fuzzy pictures of the geography master’s wife flashing her Brazilian as she descended from Stancombe’s chopper and of ‘Rough Trade Counter’ on the back of the bus, which had a caption: ‘This is what snooty Bagley really thought of Larks’. However, this hadn’t stopped ‘Toff Love’, the caption on a picture of Kylie Rose, ‘a 13-year-old single parent’, breaking down social barriers with the Hon. Jack Waterlane behind a holly bush.