Chapter 24
‘Excuse me, could I speak with you for a moment?’
Cassie had gone out to the gate to pick up the children, when she was approached by a very tall woman around her own age. There was no need to introduce herself – her height and features meant she could only be Martin’s, the giant’s, mother.
‘The thing is, he’s not very good at public speaking. He’s hardly slept at all these past few weeks. I really don’t want him to miss the opportunity to be involved in the show but .?.?.’ Her voice dropped and she took a step closer. ‘He’s not able for it. Please don’t make him do that big part.’
Yet again it seemed that fate was intervening in the best possible way.
Cassie felt a surge of warmth towards this anxious mother. ‘I understand, leave it with me. We don’t want any child doing something that causes them upset.’
Relief flooded the woman’s face. ‘Thank you for understanding. I’m not sure that certain other people – who we won’t mention – would have been so kind.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the school building.
Cassie wondered if perhaps Marisha wasn’t as universally loved as she imagined herself to be.
‘Don’t give it another thought.’
Poor Martin had obviously been going through hell over the past few weeks and finally here she was in a position to help. She’d just arrived at the door with the class when she was met with Roger Newcombe. He looked agitated but was struggling to hide it.
‘Cassie, Miss Upton isn’t that well. She’s phoned to say she’ll be in for eleven.’
She panicked at the thought he might have heard about Marisha’s confession the previous day, but he showed no signs of awkwardness towards her.
She did notice he’d been wearing the same rather-worse-for-wear brown jacket all week rather than rotating them as usual, which was a clue something was going on.
On a positive note, she now had carte blanche to organise the 4B play so that everyone would get a chance to shine, though if there was one valuable lesson Cassie had learned from Marisha, it was organisation. All the inspiration in the world would only end up in frustration without it. She did wonder if that hadn’t been her own problem all along: all impulse and no proper planning. Well, it was high time she became a grown-up. In fact, the success of 4B’s production of Jack and the Beanstalk depended on it.
‘Now, boys and girls. Miss Upton will be out for the first part of the day and you’ll be having me instead. I know, very exciting,’ she quipped, to a few grins. ‘So, we’re going to make a few changes at this point in the show – tweaks, they’re called, and that just means we’re going to make it even better than it already is. First of all, we’re getting a new character .?.?.’
There was a buzz of interest.
‘And it’s going to be .?.?. the beanstalk ! And it’s going to be played by .?.?. Martin. Martin, you’re going to need a new green costume with branches. So that means we’ll need a new giant, who’ll be played by .?.?. Rowley.’
The round freckled face lit up like he’d been plugged into the national grid. His friends all cheered, while the other kids reacted with a mixture of hilarity and outrage.
‘He’s smaller than me, he can’t be a giant,’ piped up a little girl from under a fringe like a Yorkshire terrier.
‘It’s called acting, you don’t have to be the person .?.?. You just have to make your audience think you are. If you believe it, they’ll believe it. You’ll see.’
Rowley barrelled up to the front of the class and launched himself up on a desk, to Cassie’s consternation. Still, this was important, health and safety be damned for the moment.
‘Fee-fi-fo .?.?. bleedin’ fum!’
‘You’re not a giant, you’re only a little scut,’ roared one of the class bullies. Oh no, was this going to backfire horribly? But if there was one place Rowley could handle himself, it was in front of an audience.
‘Whaddy’a talkin’ about? Enough o’ that or I’ll stick yez in a kebab for me supper.’
What followed were a few exchanges to the effect of, ‘Oh no, you won’t,’ and, ‘Oh yes, I will,’ in classic panto style. Cassie’s heart soared – this was exactly what she’d hoped to achieve. Rowley’s inventiveness and lack of fear pulled the others along with him and instead of the usual spiritless delivery, even the shyer kids edged forward to find their place in the fun. Trevor, who was playing Jack, had been worrying her, as he came across stiff and self-conscious, which wasn’t at all what Cassie knew he was capable of.
He confessed that his hero was Spiderman, so she helped him to imagine Jack being Tom Holland playing Peter Parker, Spiderman’s real-life identity. Immediately, something seemed to click with the boy and all his awkwardness fell away.
Sophie, Jack’s mother, spurred on by the overall excitement, seemed to be drawing dramatic inspiration from The Playboy of The Western World to great admiration from the rest of the class, while the Bondarenko twins were delighted to be cast as the cow, though where Cassie was going to find a cow costume, she dreaded to think. That was for another day.
When break time came around, the children erupted out into the yard. Rowley hung back.
‘Me granda has a little stepladder at home .?.?. I can have it under my arm for the show for lookin’ tall. And, eh, d’you think the show will be at night, ’cause my ma works nights an’ I know she wouldn’t want to miss me?’
Cassie reassured him that every effort would be made to make sure all the families could come. It was only afterwards she panicked at the responsibility for making every kid and their families’ dreams come true.
That lunchtime Cassie sat quietly at the end of a table, when she overheard Babs and another teacher sniggering to each other. ‘I can’t believe it either. What on earth does she see in him, with those musty suits? And, apparently, the husband’s a dish.’
She could see Marisha at another table, nibbling what looked like white bread and a banana, plus the obligatory Actimel. Poor thing, she was probably feeling hellish and trying to behave as normal. Cassie almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
*?*?*
As they were leaving on Friday evening, Marisha called her aside. ‘Cassie, could I ask you a favour? I hope you won’t think I’m being inappropriate, but I know my children have met you before and you seemed to get on with them. It seems my ex has an arrangement on Saturday evening, so I was wondering if you might be free to babysit for me? I know it’s short notice .?.?.’ Oh hell. This was her longed-for night with Finn that was going to make up for all the last-minute cancellations. She felt on the verge of blurting out everything. Mightn’t that be the best thing to do? Once you let an opportunity to tell the truth pass, it became a lie by default. Don’t be a fool, she decided, go home, phone Finn, tell him everything and clear the air.
‘I’m really sorry, Marisha, I’ve already made plans for Saturday night.’
She hated these half-lies but what else could she do?
Marisha shrugged. ‘That’s a pity, I was really looking forward to a night in. And you seem to be so good with Conor. He really needs someone who can understa—’
She suddenly looked horrified.
‘Are you OK?’ Cassie asked, alarmed. The dust motes tumbling in a shaft of sunlight seemed to freeze.
‘It’s you, isn’t it?’
All Cassie could do was nod dumbly.
‘I’d a hunch he was seeing someone. So, it’s you. I’m not surprised, I can see you’d be his type. So much for choosing a safe person to confide in,’ she added bitterly. ‘Well, it seems like you know pretty much everything about my life now. Congratulations.’
Cassie’s shoulders collapsed. ‘I’m so sorry, I never wanted this to happen. I hated not being able to be truthful.’
‘No, you were able. You just chose not to be.’
Cassie nodded miserably. What could she say?
‘On the other hand, you’re obviously discreet, because if you’d told Finn already, all hell would’ve broken loose.’
‘I hadn’t a clue what to do but in the end I just .?.?. cleaned my apartment to keep myself busy,’ confessed Cassie.
‘Could’ve done worse.’
‘Look, I’ll leave. I can’t see another way. I never meant to be deceitful. Please believe me. I’ll just tell Mr Newcombe that I’m finished and that’ll be it.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You might as well stay. You know everything now, what more can happen? By the way, my ex-husband is an overgrown adolescent. You do realise that?’
Cassie reflected that that was exactly what she liked about him.
‘That’s if you still want to stay – I fully understand if you don’t.’
‘No, I do .?.?. I really do.’
‘Well, then, we know each other’s secrets. Let’s call it quits?’
Cassie nodded. ‘Quits.’
‘In case you’re wondering what to do next, please let me tell Finn. My call. I haven’t even shared it with the kids yet, so that’s next on the list.’ She sounded weary but resolute.
In fairness, it was true what Finn had said about her: Marisha really was a grown-up.
‘OK, I’d better go. Have a good weekend.’
‘I doubt it, but thank you.’
*?*?*
On the way home, Cassie’s head was buzzing, so she stopped off in Georgian Fare and grabbed an irresistible slice of baked cheesecake. When she got home and opened the door to her apartment, she was met with a blast of music coming from the back. She was happy to see Ramona curled up on the small plush sofa in the kitchen, cradling a mug of coffee.
‘You’re looking chipper, so what’s up?’ she asked.
Cassie made herself a cup of coffee and recounted the whole story to Ramona, having first sworn her to secrecy.
‘Wait .?.?. stop .?.?. stop .?.?. Let me get this straight, she actually confessed that whole pregnancy thing and the stuff with the headteacher to you just because you’ve made such a screw-up of your own life?’ Ramona looked at her wide-eyed. ‘That actually came out of her mouth?’
Cassie nodded. ‘She meant it in a nice way.’
‘Really? Holy crap, imagine what she’d have confessed to me.’
They both cackled with laughter.
‘Seriously, though, underneath she’s actually kind of a good person.’
‘Honey, underneath I’m Little Miss Muffet but who’s going to dig that far?’
‘Well, the good news is, she didn’t get me fired.’
Ramona’s light seemed to dim a little.
‘Good for you, sister,’ she said.
Attempting to lighten the moment, Cassie whipped the cheesecake out of her bag, cut it in half and placed it onto two plates, before refilling their coffee cups.
‘It’ll come right, Ramona, just give yourself a chance.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘This is such a relatable golden moment for the guys,’ she said, referring to her followers, who apparently hadn’t abandoned her en masse, as she’d feared. On the contrary, since the accident, her followers had soared and now they numbered almost seventy thousand. You had to admit, she’d a genius for marketing. From Cassie’s perspective, she was just sitting on a boring kitchen counter, eating a piece of squishy cake, but in Ramona’s Instagram story, especially with the filters on, the same picture became aspirational and inviting. It just showed how daft it was to take people’s social media personas literally. Real life happened moment to moment, without the special effects.