Chapter 14
ROBYN
‘He’s having you on when he says he can’t sing and act.’ Sorrel stood in front of Robyn as she moved to turn up the heating in the drama studio.
‘Hmm?’ Robyn, intent on picking up bits from the floor that the cleaning staff appeared to have missed as usual, wasn’t concentrating on what Sorrel was saying.
She liked the students in her dance classes to work barefoot and there’d been a nasty moment the previous week when a drawing pin had become embedded in Chloe Jennings’ big toe.
There’d been quite a to-do about it, phone calls and emails being exchanged between herself, Mason and Chloe’s father who was, apparently, talking of suing the school. As if!
‘You’re not listening.’ Sorrel tutted.
‘I am, I am, go on.’
‘Joel? He can sing and you can teach him to act. And maybe you can adapt the script so that he can do more dance moves.’
‘He’s over in Castleford with his aunt, Sorrel. He’s not going to be around to rehearse.’
‘You’ve changed the performance dates, so loads of time to catch up. You’ve a good three months.’
‘Still only gives him a term to come up to scratch. Anyway, he says he won’t do it.
He turned me down flat when I asked him the other day.
’ Robyn folded her arms. ‘And I’m not convinced his support team would want to be bringing him over on a daily basis just to rehearse.
Why would they? They’re doing it at the moment because Ms Waters pulled out all the stops to enable him to come back for revision sessions as well as to do his actual exams here after Easter. ’
‘What happens if his aunt over in Castleford tells his team she’s not prepared to have him any more?
Apparently, according to Joel, when she offered to have him when he came out of hospital and needed to be away from the gang who attacked him, she didn’t realise she’d be expected to have him so long.
And he’s feeling really guilty because she’s supposed to be going off on some cruise that she’s saved up for years for her fiftieth birthday.
’ Sorrel emphasised the words. ‘And Joel’s no longer on bail, remember.
The court case is over. He’s in the hands of the local authority social worker team as well as the youth justice team overseeing his court order.
Which, according to Joel, he’s totally keeping up with. ’
‘Well, if he can move back in with his mum, that would be great.’ Robyn saw a tiny glimmer of hope regarding the performance.
‘Not sure that’s the best way forward.’ Sorrel took a deep breath. ‘So, here’s the plan.’ Her eyes were shining. ‘It suddenly came to me when I was in the shower this morning.’
‘Go on.’ Robyn looked at her watch. ‘You’ve one minute.’
‘So, how about if Joel asks if he can change his address to Jess’s cottage?’
‘What? And then what?’ Robyn actually put up two hands.
‘Duh! Then obviously he moves in with her.’
‘With Jess? What? She’s only just got Dean out of her hair. Why on earth would she want a sixteen-year-old – already with a criminal record for supplying – in her spare room? She’s got Lola to think about… You can’t have a sixteen-year-old boy in the next bedroom to an eleven-year-old little girl.’
‘How bloody insulting is that?’ Sorrel glared at Robyn. ‘Making him out to be some sort of paedophile?’
‘I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…’ Robyn tutted in turn.
‘Oh, I think you did, which really wasn’t very nice of you at all.’ Sorrel was most indignant. ‘And anyway, people who foster teenagers often have children of their own.’
‘You seem to know a lot about it.’
‘I do,’ Sorrel retorted. ‘I googled it. And Jess is a qualified and experienced foster carer. She’s had loads of kids in that box room of hers.’
‘Exactly! A little box room. Joel is a big strapping lad. The kids who were brought to Jess were always a lot younger. And usually on an emergency, temporary basis.’
‘This would be temporary. His social worker is looking for independent living for him, but is not having much success at the moment. So it would be on a temporary basis. Maybe for the summer term while he does his exams and helps get Grease back to being a reality? Let this dump of a school go out with a sizzling performance before the demolition lot move in?’
Robyn winced at that: she knew she’d been burying her head, at first not really caring that the school was seemingly breathing its last, that each school bell was daily ringing its death knell ever nearer to its demise.
She’d refused to acknowledge the probability of the end of St Mede’s; refused to accept that she was going to be out of a job by the end of the summer term.
Surely the staff would all have been told by now if this were the case?
‘Jess is about to start a brand-new venture at The White House, Sorrel. She’s already stressed to high heaven about that.’
‘All right then, let him stay with you! He really wants to come back to Beddingfield.’
‘What! Are you mad? No way!’ Robyn’s arms, as well as her hands, were now shooting skywards. So, this was what they meant by ‘up in arms’!
‘If it means you can still put on your performance of Grease?’
‘Nope! Forget it. We’ve already had to let Boris go back down south because we can’t look after him.’
‘Joel wouldn’t need much looking after. He’s housetrained and he’d be out all day, and here at school doing his GCSEs and learning his lines.’
‘Sorrel, no! Absolutely no way!’ She needed to nip this ridiculous idea in the bud before her little sister got totally carried away.
* * *
Jess
‘Oh, hello, what’s up?’ Busy at my kitchen worktop, I afforded Robyn only a peremptory glance over my shoulder before turning back to my task.
‘Ooh, that looks good.’ Robyn squeezed into the tiny space between me and the stove. ‘What is it?’
‘A saffron rice pudding with roasted forced rhubarb and a pistachio praline.’
‘Oh, yum. God, you’re clever.’
‘Nicked, I’m afraid, from Ravneet Gill in the Guardian. I’ve come up with four other puds, and they’re totally original, but I’ve made this one before and loved it. Suppose I’ll have to acknowledge ownership or I could be done for copyright?’
‘Pudding plagiarism?’ Robyn laughed, then sighed.
‘Fabian’s not stopped for the last couple of days either, coming up with ideas for his five starters for The White House.
He’s gone about it in typical Fabian style: out of bed at 5 a.m.; Post-it Notes everywhere, doing mathematical ratio sums and costings.
He’s like a bear with a sore head… Actually, you ought to go down to our place, Jess, and be there with him.
Even with two of you in the kitchen, there’d be more room than here. ’
‘It’s fine. I’m used to working in here by myself,’ I said.
‘If you remember, I did all my outside catering from this kitchen. I’ve got my Level 2 Certificate in Food Hygiene for food handlers as well as Level 3 for managers and food business registration…
’ I broke off. ‘Sorry, I’m rambling. Always go on a bit when I’m nervous. ’
‘What are you nervous about?’ Robyn paused, not looking at me. ‘Actually, feeling a bit nervous myself.’
‘Oh?’ I glanced across at her.
‘You first,’ she said, moving to look at what was in my pan.
‘I’ve done something stupid,’ I said.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, but I won’t take it any further. It really was stupid…’
‘What was?’
I started laughing, interspersed with spooning out and licking from the bowl where I’d made the praline. ‘Hell, no wonder I’m fat.’
‘Fat is a feminist issue…’ Robyn broke off to think. ‘Who said that?’
‘No idea! Some stick-thin know-all presumably. Fat is a big-bum issue as far as I’m concerned.’
‘So, what have you done that’s stupid?’ Robyn asked.
‘You’ll think I’m mad.’
‘No, I won’t.’
‘You will.’
‘Go on, you tell me everything!’
‘So… I’m on…’ I broke off, unable to go further.
‘On?’
‘On…’ I tittered, embarrassed, unable to tell Robyn.
‘On? On heat? On for a promise? On benefits? On The Jeremy Kyle Show?’ Robyn started laughing herself. ‘You and Dean on with JK?’
‘On Tinder.’ No longer laughing, I turned away.
‘Are you mad?’
‘There, I knew that’s what you’d say,’ I retorted.
‘Tinder? Jess, you’ll have every bloke we ever went to school with swiping right.’
‘So?’
‘Dean’ll be on there!’
‘He’s not. I looked.’ I shook my head. ‘And actually, it’s not Tinder I’m on – Dean probably is on that one – it’s the other one. The upmarket one.’
‘Are any of them upmarket?’
‘That’s from someone who is secure in a relationship and knows they’ll never have to go on one of these dating apps,’ I said crossly. ‘It’s Hinge, not Tinder. I did my research first.’
‘Oh, well, lovely! Well done! You do right.’ Obviously remembering what she’d really come for, Robyn became effusive in her response.
‘But it’s a waste of time and effort because I won’t use it.’
‘Let’s have a look,’ Robyn enthused, heading to my laptop on the kitchen table. ‘See who we fancy!’
‘Who you fancy?’ Mum had let herself in through the kitchen door and we both jumped almost guiltily. I shook my head warningly in Robyn’s direction.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Robyn smiled across at her. ‘How’s it all going?’
‘Not seen you for a couple of days, Mum,’ I said almost accusingly. ‘Been over in your luuuurve nest?’
‘D’you mind?’ Mum pulled a face. ‘Yes, I’ve been over at Kamran’s. The garden needs so much doing over there at this time of year.’
‘The gardens here do as well!’ I snapped, immediately regretting both the words and the accompanying accusatory tone.
‘Jess!’ Robyn chided.
‘I’m glad you’re both here,’ Mum said. ‘The thing is, we’ve actually set a date…’
‘A date?’
‘For the wedding.’
‘Oh, right, fabulous.’ Robyn went to hug Mum.
‘Well, at least you won’t have to get divorced,’ I said. ‘Seeing as how Jayden never got round to marrying you.’
‘Thanks for that, Jess.’ Mum gave a little smile in my direction while Robyn nudged me hard in the ribs.
‘When, Mum?’ Robyn asked.