Chapter 9
‘Has anyone seen my silver necklace?’ Gemma heard her own voice come out with a panicky edge as she crouched down on all fours, looking to see if it could be anywhere on the floor.
‘What does it look like?’ asked Bella in an interested tone.
Gemma tried to get her head straight. ‘It’s a chain.’
‘With a pendant or without?’ asked Jean soothingly.
‘Without,’ she said, almost in tears.
‘Oh.’ Bella’s disappointed voice clearly suggested that in that case, there wasn’t much to get excited about.
Bella, Jean and all the children tried to find it, but without any luck. Together they searched the messy corner, the quiet corner, the Wendy house and the playground. Nothing.
Gemma’s neck felt naked and there was a lump in her throat which threatened to choke her. Was it a sign?
‘Did someone special give it to you?’ asked Bella in a knowing voice.
Gemma pretended not to hear the question, not trusting herself to give a coherent reply. Meanwhile, she was in charge of twenty small people for the morning, and she simply had to put her personal pain behind her to concentrate on their needs rather than hers.
It didn’t help when there was a fuss over the sandpit, thanks to Freddie deciding it would be fun to flick sand at anyone who passed. Jean had handled it brilliantly, bless her.
‘Freddie,’ she’d begun, ‘can you put a bit of sand in your hand and move it around with your finger like this? Good. It feels sharp, doesn’t it? That’s what it’s like for someone if they get some of your sand in their eyes. So shall we stop?’
‘I catched it,’ called out Matthew, who was playing softball.
‘Caught,’ groaned Bella, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. ‘Not catched. And watch what you’re doing with those play scissors, Billy.’
It was amazing, thought Gemma as she helped Clemmie to cut playdough shapes into quarters (four quarters make a whole – see?), how you could almost tell what kind of adults they would become. Clemmie, who always wore the princess costume and would only eat her mid-morning snack off a pink spotty plate, might well end up as a fashion designer. Freddie, who was very organised – just look at him lining up the cars in the play garage – might be an engineer.
Molly, who had a permanently runny nose, wanted to work with animals like her mother. And as for Billy, who was leaping up and down in his seat at Bella’s paper-cutting table, who knew what Billy would do? Prime Minister? Young Offender? Either was possible.
Meanwhile, Gemma was keeping her eyes peeled for the silver chain. If only she had time to look! But then Johnnie bumped his head on the corner of the sandpit during Messy Play and had to go down in the Accident Book, although there wasn’t even a bruise to be seen. ‘No problem,’ said Lars his au pair smoothly when he arrived fifteen minutes late to pick up his charge. ‘I will sext my boss.’
It was all Gemma could do to keep a straight face. No wonder Johnnie’s command of the English language was rather sketchy!
‘Come on then,’ Bella said as they started tidying up the art corner, otherwise known as fart corner thanks to Toby whose inability to keep smells in, regardless of whether he was on antibiotics or not, was legendary. She nudged Gemma. ‘You can tell me now they’ve gone. Lily’s surname isn’t her name at all, is it? She’s the daughter of …’
‘Shhhhhh!’ Gemma gave her a warning look as their new cleaner clanged by with her bucket and broom.
‘Anna’s all right. She hardly speaks so she probably doesn’t understand much English. Go on. You can tell me.’
Gemma thought back to her conversation with Beryl during the summer holidays and last night’s chat with Joe Balls. Privacy was everything. It was one of the reasons why Dilly Dalung, one of the most famous female rock singers in Britain, had chosen to send her daughter Lily to a state playgroup rather than a high-profile society pre-prep or nursery school.
Certainly she could have afforded the latter. It was no secret that, much to the locals’ excitement, Ms Dalung had bought a mansion on the other side of Corrytown after her very bitter divorce, during which she’d accused her husband of some pretty awful things. Gemma, like many women in the country, had been unable to prevent herself from following the case in detail.
The fact that she had chosen to send her daughter to Puddleducks was, as Joe had pointed out unnecessarily, a huge compliment to the playgroup. Now it was up to Gemma and her staff to ensure they all rose to the challenge. If Dilly Dalung was impressed by the care and education they prided themselves on offering, it might help in saving their skins.
They also had an obligation to look after the child. Of course, they did that with all their Puddleducks, but after what Dilly Dalung had told Beryl about her ex, Gemma couldn’t help feeling a special concern for Lily.
‘Sorry,’ she said, sounding primmer than she’d meant to. ‘I can’t say. Now, if you mop up that puddle over there, I’ll prise the glue off the cupboard door.’ Bella gave the puddle a doubtful glance. ‘Is that soapy water from Messy Play or Honey leakage again?’
Could be either! Despite her worry over her necklace, Gemma felt like laughing at her assistant who was now putting on her own pair of rubber gloves with black fur trim (which she always carried in her bag) and reluctantly mopping up the spillage before washing her hands thoroughly at the sink. ‘I’ll be off now, if that’s all right.’ She sniffed. ‘Honestly, at times I wonder why we do this.’
Because, thought Gemma, taking a palette knife to the cupboard, we love it. Because there was nothing like seeing the relieved look on the face of a new, worried mother, like the American woman when she came to collect her son yesterday and he not only gave her a big warm hug, but was also jumping up and down with excitement to show her the papier-maché football he had made. Or the look on Daisy’s mother’s face when she’d arrived this morning, complete with twin slings, to see her daughter shooting off to the sandpit.
‘Miss Merryfield?’
Joe’s deep voice made her jump. She hadn’t even heard him pressing the security buttons. She tried to hold his gaze to show she wasn’t intimidated by him, but it was difficult. His eyes, which were strangely mesmeric, had that intense expression which reminded her of a former university tutor who was never happy with his students’ performance, even if they achieved top grades.
‘Thought I’d come down to see how your day went.’
His voice had that tough, let’s-go-forward edge, and Gemma suspected that this man was more into power talking than power walking. ‘My day? Great, thanks.’
‘Great?’ he repeated.
‘Is that the wrong answer?’ She hadn’t meant to retort so sharply, but she’d always wished she’d stood up more to that tutor, and now this northern Mr Grumpy, as Di in the school office rather naughtily called him, was bringing out some of her past resentment.
He gave her a steely look. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well,’ she said, taking a deep breath, ‘I can’t help thinking that whatever I say is wrong. If I say I had a great day, are you thinking that I am being too self-congratulatory? What I really mean is that over the last two days, I persuaded one child to leave her mother’s ankles with the help of Mouse’s baby, who was also feeling homesick. I also stopped a rather lively Puddleduck from shearing someone’s hair and turned his attention to writing letter outlines instead. Together with my team, we got through Music Mania without bursting any eardrums, and we’ve also had our first rehearsal for Pyjama Drama.’
Was that a smile curling on Joe Balls’s lips? It almost made him look friendly.
‘May I enquire what Pyjama Drama involves?’
She pointed to a pile of neatly folded pjs on the side. ‘Everyone dresses up in them and we write our own play about a family of pyjamas. This term the storyline is about Mr and Mrs Pyjama teaching their children to fold themselves up properly.’
It was a smile!
‘And this baby mouse? Where does he come in?’
Quick as a flash, Gemma pulled out a spare baby from her skirt pocket. Tucking her index finger into his body, she made him do a quick bow. ‘Pleased to meet you, sir,’ she said in a squeaky voice. ‘You can take me home if you like.’
Instantly, Joe’s face tightened. ‘I don’t have children.’
Really? Somehow she’d assumed that at his age – he must be in his mid-thirties, surely? – he’d be married with a family of his own. Too late, Gemma realised she’d put her foot in it again. She herself always felt slightly inadequate when new parents asked if she had children herself, and now she’d made Joe feel awkward too.
‘Sorry. How about nieces or nephews?’
Her keenness to make amends was making her gabble.
‘Godchildren. Two.’
She thrust Mouse Baby Mark One at him. ‘Then please, do give him as a present. I’ve made plenty more.’
Looking decidedly amused (a good sign, surely?), the new head of Reception shoved the poor mouse in his trouser pocket. Then he spoke with a lower voice so that she had to go nearer to hear him. Their proximity made her feel slightly awkward: she could even smell something lemony which might or might not be his aftershave. ‘I also came down to find out how Lily has been getting on.’
Gemma glanced around to check that everyone else had left. The coast was clear apart from the cleaner who was clanging away in the downstairs loo, far enough away to be out of earshot.
‘Great. Fine. I mean, she settled in without any trouble.’ She paused. ‘Her mother dropped her off yesterday.’
‘Really?’ Joe’s very dark blue, almost black, eyes flickered with interest. Nice to see he was human, deep down, thought Gemma. Talk had been rife amongst the staff, and she’d had to warn Bella to keep off the topic. Now it seemed that Joe was as curious as the rest of them.
‘She looked very elegant.’ Gemma couldn’t help it. After all, it wasn’t as though she could share this juicy piece of information with anyone else. ‘Just like the magazine pictures, if you read that sort of thing.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Me neither, apart from old copies,’ she added hastily. ‘Anyway, we only spoke briefly. Lily’s nanny picked her up as arranged and brought her in today.’ Joe nodded. ‘I can’t tell you how important it is that a) this is kept private, and b) you make sure that no one picks up that child apart from the designated carer.’
As and Bs? What kind of a man spoke like that? ‘Of course!’ Gemma felt righteously indignant. ‘We are always careful about security, regardless of whether a child’s mother is famous or not. By the way, I thought you might be interested to know that Lily’s very bright – got a great ear for language. She was incredibly quick in our French game this morning.’
‘French?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t realise you started so young here.’
Was that criticism or praise? It was so hard to tell with this man, who seemed approachable one minute and almost hostile the next. ‘We just count to ten and do hello and thank you,’ she said casually, making to put away a clutch of crayons that had sprawled over the desk. ‘That sort of thing.’
‘I see.’ His tone was grudgingly admiring. ‘By the way, have you got any ideas for the banking competition?’
Give her a chance! ‘I’ve given out the handouts but it’s early days.’
Joe’s head was nodding. ‘Of course.’ His hand was in his pocket, as though fiddling with the mouse gift. Gemma only hoped her stitching would survive. ‘Listen, I didn’t mean to sound prickly early on. I wonder … would you like to have a quick cup of coffee down the road?’
Not another work meeting! ‘Sorry. But I’ve got a date.’
He was nodding again. ‘Of course you have. Well, thanks for the update. You look as though you’re doing a pretty good job.’
How condescending! ‘Thanks.’ Gemma returned his look. ‘Brian always used to think so.’
‘Ah yes, Brian.’
A silence hung between them. ‘The thing is, Gemma,’ said her boss in the voice he had used before suggesting a working coffee, ‘things are very different from Brian’s day. And the sooner we get to accept it, the better.’
He put his hand in his pocket again. ‘By the way, I spotted this by the gate as I came in. Maybe one of the mums has lost it.’
Gemma’s heart soared as she saw her silver chain lying in the palm of Joe Balls’s hand.
‘It’s mine,’ she cried. ‘Thank you.’
For a minute she felt like hugging the man, but stopped herself just in time. Instead, she started to fasten the chain around her neck.
‘Want me to help you?’ asked Joe, his tone indicating that he would really rather not and was only issuing the invitation out of politeness.
‘It’s all right thank you.’ Gemma wanted to burst into song, but at the same time she couldn’t help wondering why she was so happy. Didn’t the chain stand for everything that she had given up? ‘I can do it myself.’
If only Joe had known that her date was with a can of baked beans and a baked potato, thought Gemma lightly as she flew up the stairs, looking forward to getting into her cosy bedsit at the top of Joyce’s warm Victorian terrace home.
‘Had a good day, love?’ called up her landlady from the kitchen. Joyce, who always enjoyed a natter (rather too much of one, at times), made a habit of keeping her kitchen door open so she could have a chat with her lodgers. At the moment, Gemma was the only one left on the top floor now the woman next to her had saved up enough money for her own deposit, and so far no one had responded to the ad that Joyce had put in the local newsagent.
‘Yes thanks.’
Joyce’s smiley face popped out from behind the door. She was a woman in her early fifties who looked much younger, and she happened to have a son who was working abroad at the moment but was coming home in a month. It was clear from the way she always spoke about him that she thought he and Gemma would make a perfect couple. If only she knew!
‘Had another postcard from Barry, I did. Want to see it?’
Not wishing to disappoint her landlady, Gemma made admiring noises at the picture and appropriate noises as she read the scrawled message about diving in South America, where Joyce’s son had just spent some of his leave from the army.
‘Sure you don’t want a bite with me, love? I’ve made more than enough macaroni cheese.’
‘No thanks.’ Gemma thought with longing of the packet of chocolate raisins she had treated herself to on the way home and the romantic film she was going to watch on Netflix after she’d done her lesson-planning for tomorrow. ‘It’s really kind of you but I’ve got some work to do.’
Joyce shook her head as Gemma departed to her bedsit on the top floor. ‘I don’t know, dear. All work and no play. You teachers work so hard, even nursery teachers.’
Talk about damning with faint praise! Slipping out of her skirt and into a nice comfy pair of jeans, Gemma became aware of her phone bleeping with a text message or as Johnnie’s au pair would have said, ‘sext message’.
‘How did it go?’
The text popped up just as she lay down on her bed, allowing herself to stretch out and finally relax. Dear Kitty! The two of them had met on the first day of uni. ‘I’m going to be a singer or actress,’ her new friend had announced. ‘Not sure which, yet.’
When she had, after a rather chequered career, got to the semi-final of Britain’s Best Talent , Gemma hadn’t been at all surprised. Kitty was always doing crazy things, and appearing on a reality show in an evening dress, a bright scarlet bow in her hair and a recorder that she managed to play like a flute, was exactly what she’d have expected of her. The only pity was that she hadn’t been selected to go through to the final. Still, it had led to all kinds of bookings, including a stint at Puddleducks Playgroup which she’d kindly promised to do without charging.
It was typical of her that even with all her showbiz commitments, Kitty hadn’t forgotten Gemma’s troubles.
‘OK,’ Gemma texted back.
‘Did u get that stuff done?’
‘Still wtng.’
Gemma shivered. Kitty was the only one who knew her secret. The only one aware how important this December was to her.
Sometimes she wondered if she was doing the right thing. On the other hand, surely she’d waited long enough? It was time to finally accept that there was no hope. The only way forward was to move on.