Page 66 of A Class Act

‘Been wanting to do that for years,’ Aunty Bea said as Fred Crowther began to finally crumble. ‘Should have hit him round the head years ago when he left me for our Mavis. He askedmeto marry him an’ all.’ Bea gazed round defiantly. ‘Up on’t’moors. You know, near Baildon?’

‘You used to go out with my dad?’ Kath stared. ‘I never knew that.’

‘No, neither did our Mavis.’ Bea started to laugh, her bony shoulders shaking, her birdlike, arthritic fingers still clutching the walking stick now covered in clumps of white and grey. ‘It were all a right long time ago.’ Bea patted her niece on the arm. ‘Luckily for Fred Crowther I didn’t catch on at the same time as our Mavis. That would have been a right to do. Bad enough at our house when Mavis had to tell my mum and dad what she’d been up to. Can you imagine if the pair of us had ended up in the family way? I’d met my Ted just as Fred had to leave for his two years’ national service and, by the time our Mavis realised she was expecting you, Kath, I didn’t care a jot. Just thanked God it was her and not me.’ Aunty Bea grinned, her dentures white against her age-spotted skin. ‘Right, let’s put him with our Mavis, Kath, and then go and get the flask and sandwiches. I’m fair parched.’

‘God, I didn’t think they were going to agree to us leaving them for a couple of hours,’ I breathed. ‘I thought we’d be stuck with them for ever.Andwe’d have had to pay for their lunch.’

‘No way,’ Jess said. ‘I’m not spending any more of Jayden’s money on those three. It’s stopped raining, they’ve got a picnic and a flask and they can have a little snooze for an hour or so before we pick them up.’

‘You OK to drive?’ I asked.

‘Yep. I actually left most of my Coke: never liked alcohol in sweet drinks. Never liked alcohol per se really.’ She started laughing again. ‘It was seeing Aunty Bea bashing Fred round the head that made me laugh so much. OK,’ she said, jumping into the car, ‘Addingham and the Ginger Plum Coffee Shop.’ She put her foot on the gas and set off at speed. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Stop, stop,’ I shouted a few minutes later. ‘Mum’s brakes aren’t wonderful,’ I added as Jess pumped manfully on the brake pedal and we skidded to a halt on the busy A65. ‘We’re going the wrong way. We have to go through Ilkley and then on to Addingham. This is the way home.’

‘Right, right, OK.’

I closed my eyes as Jess executed a dangerous U-turn in the middle of the road.

‘What?’ she asked, grinning. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Stop, stop!’ I shouted once more as we drove through Ilkley town centre.

‘What? What now?’

‘Stop!’

‘I’m stopped! And on double yellow lines. What?’

‘Look!’

‘What? Where am I looking?’

I pointed to a huge banner strung out from one side of the road to the other. ‘Look. Fortuitous or what?’

We both sat and stared, reading the words in bold black capitals:

YORKSHIRE CHRISTMAS TOPCHEF COMPETITION

Final: Saturday, 16 DECEMBER

HARROGATE CONFERENCE CENTRE

TELEVISED FOR FOCUS NORTH TV

Entries being taken now

DETAILS ON FOCUS NORTH’S WEBSITE

‘That’s it,’ I said excitedly. ‘A northernMasterChef. This is your chance, Jess.’

‘Get out.’ Jess laughed. ‘No way.’ She laughed again. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, lunch. My stomach thinks my throat’s cut.’

Jess pulled out into the traffic, throwing a V sign at a bloke in a flashy red sports car who peeped his horn loudly as she almost took off his rear bumper. ‘Food, I need food!’ She grinned. ‘Food, glorious food!’

23

September morphed into October, and the only thing keeping me going was the thought of half-term and a week’s respite. Respite from the daily grind of planning and executing lessons and the seemingly constant aggro that accompanied the majority of lessons I taught. The Year 9 kids were still the bane of my life, the thorn in my side, my bête-noire (I’d been teaching lessons on imagery) but, also by half-term, I had hope that Mum would be back home with us.

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