Page 14 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
Amy slapped the bench and laughed. ‘Oh, that’s another, sorry. A bit in-depth, that one. Christopher Priest, he’s a science fiction writer. Priest, get it?The Inverted World? Great book. Clara was obsessed.’
‘Mrs. Goldsmith?’
‘Yeah, loved her sci-fi. Asimov, Frank Herbert, Larry Niven, John Daulton, always had a book in her hands. We had a competition last Christmas for who could come up with the best one. Obviously only select staff were involved. Maud, for example, would have grassed.’
‘Sounds fun.’
‘Yeah, it was.’ Amy sighed. ‘Ah … Clara, she was a shining light.’
‘Oh. That’s great.’
Amy looked up suddenly. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just as nice. And you know, everyone has to retire sometime.’
‘Yeah.’
As though the mood had been severed with a poisoned sword, Amy looked at her watch. ‘Well, I’d better get going. Got my script to work on before Monday. You’ll be there after school, won’t you?’
‘Um, where?’
‘At rehearsals.’
‘What rehearsals?’
‘For the teachers’ play. We do one for the harvest festival every year. It’ll be a bit of a dampener, of course, because Porter Street’s community centre doesn’t really have the space, but we’ll still have fun.’
Jennifer’s head was reeling from too much information. ‘Um, didn’t Greg say there were to be no class dramas?’
‘This isn’t a class drama. This is the teachers’ drama.’
‘Isn’t that a little unfair?’
Amy sniffed. A tear dropped out of her eye and dribbled down her check to mingle with the beads of sweat still hanging precariously to her chin.
‘But Clara worked so hard. It was her parting gift to us. We have to perform it, even if it’s in … secret.’
‘Right,’ Jennifer said, feeling yet another slap of inadequacy strike her across the cheek like a hard lump of solidified autumn wind.
‘So you’ll be there?’
Jennifer gave a grim nod. ‘I’ll be there.’
8
New Acquaintances
A little retailtherapy felt in order, so after unpacking some more boxes, Jennifer headed into town, wandering up and down Brentwell’s high street, browsing a surprisingly varied selection of specialist shops, picking up a few things for her kitchen, even buying a set of curtains for the bedroom to give James something to hide behind while he kept watch. She was only spotted by three kids from her class out shopping with their parents: Kelly and Becky Jarder, who squealed with excitement when they spotted her in Primark, hiding behind their mother who gave Jennifer an embarrassed smile, then Matthew Bridges and his mother in the greengrocer. Matthew gave her a polite hello, before bending to pick up a couple of apples his mother had dropped on the floor. The woman, frail and thin-faced, smiled at Jennifer and nodded, before heading out, leaning on a stick with one hand, Matthew helping her with the other, the bag of apples bouncing over his shoulder. Jennifer watched them go with a sense of aching in her heart.
She bought a sandwich for lunch in a bakery then sat outside in the town square to watch the world go by. As always when she allowed herself too much time to think, the doubts about her decision to move started to creep in, but Brentwell was a pretty little town, even if its size meant that due to her status as a teacher at the local primary she would soon become familiar wherever she went.
At least she was back in control. She had her own place, her own job. No one telling her where to go, what to do, when to get up, what to wear, when and how to spend her money.
She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling like an impulsive sod for the mess she had knowingly left behind. It would catch up with her eventually, but for now it was best to put it out of her mind and focus on the future she had chosen.
A future on her own.
When she cameout of a bookshop a little after three o’clock, clouds had rolled in and rain was darkening the streets. Having not brought either an umbrella or a jacket, Jennifer hurried for the sanctuary of a little town museum at the end of the street. Inside, she browsed displays of old farming equipment, pictures of the restoration of the church, relics from an old canal now choked in weeds and mostly buried. Jennifer bought a couple of pretty coasters from a woman who looked vaguely familiar. As the woman put her coasters into a paper bag, Jennifer noticed the name tag on her staff uniform.
Marlie Gordon.
