Chapter 11 #2
Alison switched off her car engine. ‘To be honest, I was stunned when he told me he was going. He’s never shown much interest in Dane’s band before.’ She lowered her voice a little, even though we were the only ones in the vehicle. ‘That sort of music isn’t usually to Evan’s taste.’
I fetched my bag from the footwell, dumped it on my lap and proceeded to fiddle with the strap. ‘He was chatting to a blonde woman in the pub. Very pretty. Sacha.’
Alison’s expression tightened. ‘Sacha? Are you sure that was her name?’
‘Yes. Why?’
She rested both her ringed hands-on top of the steering wheel.
The way the golden May light was slipping down her profile, highlighting the strong sweep of her nose and the pout of her bottom lip, reminded me of Evan.
‘She’s bad news, that one. She’d sell her own grandmother to get a byline.
’ Alison adjusted her sunglasses perched on top of her head. ‘And you’re sure that it was her?’
I nodded. ‘He wasn’t with her at the start of the evening, but they left together at the end of the night.’ I contorted my mouth into what I hoped was a casual smile.
Alison looked like someone had stood on her foot. ‘Maybe I should speak to Evan. Ask him about her.’
‘No. Please don’t,’ I blurted. ‘He might work out that it was me who told you.’
Alison gazed ahead through the windscreen at the rise and fall of the high school roof. ‘I don’t want him getting involved with that bloody woman again. She hurt him so much the first time.’
Her words jabbed at me. I kept replaying the image of Sacha pawing at him last night. I wondered what had happened. It must’ve been a messy affair if Evan ended up getting hurt by her. Maybe Sacha was still an itch that Evan wanted to scratch?
The very idea made hurt and resentment well up inside me. Well, I wasn’t prepared to be somebody else’s reserve.
I wanted to push the conversation on further, though. What had Sacha done? What had she done to Evan to make Alison say that? Had she broken things off? Had he ended it and regretted it?
I shook my head. No. I’d be gone soon. Hopefully only another two or three days at the most. It wouldn’t be right to pressure and probe Alison about Evan’s previous relationship, even though a part of me was desperate to.
I shifted my position in the passenger seat. ‘Please, Alison. Don’t say anything to Evan. At least not yet.’
Alison cranked open her driver side door. ‘Ok, Daisy. I promise I won’t mention Sacha to Evan, at least for the time being. But if that woman thinks she can just swan back into his life and hurt him all over again, she’s got another think coming!’
I clambered out of my side of the car and slung on my shoulder bag.
We both headed round to the boot, and Alison unlocked it.
The material we’d packed in there, glossy, patterned rolls of fabric, was stashed in huge holdalls.
There was everything from chintz to paisley and from silk, satin and velvet to cotton.
We retrieved them and set them down by our feet. ‘Can you tell I used to be in the drapery trade?’ She grinned at me.
‘Now you come to mention it.’
Alison locked the boot, and we set off towards the school building. ‘When did you work in drapery?’ I asked her.
‘I had my own little business when Evan and Dane were younger. It was a place in the local high street. It’s now the little tearoom on the corner.’
‘What made you decide to stop, if you don’t mind me asking?’ I squinted in the light.
Alison’s sunglasses bobbed on top of her head as we got closer to the school entrance.
‘People stopped spending as much money on that sort of thing. Then my in-laws passed away, and Bennett found out his parents had left him The Ramblings in their will.’ Alison adjusted the strap of the holdall in her hand.
‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful house and I love living there, but it costs so much to maintain it.
It swallows up money.’ She sighed. ‘We’ve even had to let our full-time gardener Freddie go recently.
He’d been with us for years. Lovely man. ’
We slowed as we drew nearer to the entrance of the high school. ‘At least Dane is good with plants. He’s been trying to keep on top of the grounds as much as he can whenever he happens to be here.’
I recalled meeting Dane when I first arrived, clothes dirty and trowel in hand, and assuming he was the gardener.
‘Bennett loves the place and is so sentimental about it. He grew up there, and it’s been such a huge part of his life.
’ She frowned. ‘Evan is very fond of The Ramblings as well, whereas Dane doesn’t have the same emotional connection to the place.
He just sees it as bricks and mortar. I think it’s because he’s on the road so much with his band.
’ Alison stared up at the sky for a moment, appreciating the duck egg blue shade and the waltzing puffs of cloud.
‘Do you know Evan insists on giving us a monthly contribution towards the upkeep of The Ramblings?’
I stared at her, surprised. ‘Does he?’
‘Oh yes. We didn’t want to take it, but Evan got really annoyed. He said it’s part of his childhood, too, and that he would be really offended and hurt if his father and I didn’t let him try to help out.’
My heart shifted. Why did Alison have to tell me that?
I was trying to dredge up any reason I could to try and switch off my attraction to him.
I hoped I’d got him wrong, and it would turn out he was vacuous and self-centred.
Instead, I learned he was giving his parents a monthly amount of money to maintain their stately home.
Alison dropped her voice. ‘Please don’t say anything to Evan, but even that amount of money he gives us is being swallowed up. If it’s not the roof, it’s the heating, or we stumble across dry rot. It’s never-ending.’
Alison pressed the intercom, and we were put through to the school office. ‘Alison Lord here, with Daisy Madden. I called earlier. I’ve got some materials to drop off for the art department.’
‘Oh yes,’ croaked a lilting Highland female voice. ‘Hold on a second please, Mrs Lord, and I’ll buzz you in.’
The double doors whooshed back, and Alison and I entered, negotiating entry with the holdalls of rolled up fabrics.
I gazed around. It was just how I remembered it, except for more large, white, ceramic, square tubs housing greenery dotted around the place.
‘Changed much?’ asked Alison, as though reading my mind.
I shook my head. ‘The mosaics are new over by the stairwell, and there’s fancier photography on the walls, but apart from that, no.’
One of the school secretaries gazed up from her computer screen and approached the glass partition. Her trendy spectacles glinted at us.
There was the odd student drifting up and down between classes, resplendent in their black and gold piped uniforms and silvery, striped ties. It reminded me of being a teenager, charging about the school corridors here the same way.
The school secretary took our names and tapped at her computer screen. ‘I’ll just let Ms Carnegie know that you’re here. Please take a seat over there.’
Alison and I took up seats on a couple of black and chrome leather chairs in reception, still armed with the spare materials, while the secretary contacted the art department.
A few moments later, a young woman in a waistcoat and flared trousers came striding towards us from along the left-hand corridor and pumped Alison’s hand up and down. Then she shook mine. ‘Thank you so much for all of this! I promise it will go to very good use.’
‘No problem, Nadia. Glad to be of help.’ Alison smiled at me. ‘I won’t be a second.’
The teacher assisted her with the canvas bags of material, and they vanished back up to the left, chatting together.
I’d just taken up my seat again to wait for Alison to return when I had the feeling I was being watched. I shifted in my chair and admired the mosaic artwork of Loch Crawe up on the wall and the black and white photographs of the high street in years gone by.
Still, the feeling remained that someone was watching me.
I glanced around before realising that I was right. Someone in the school office was indeed peering through the partition at me.
It was a woman who I estimated to be in her mid-forties with rich, burnished, short hair and soft lines around her wide-set, pastel green eyes. Maybe she thought I was someone else.
I trained my attention again on the impressive mosaic for a few moments and then glanced back at the school office. She was still there, staring through the glass at me.
I delivered a brief, nervous smile.
I got a big, dazzling grin in return. Then she beckoned me over.
I peered around, looking for anyone else, but no, it was me she was indicating to.
I stood up and tentatively approached. ‘Hello,’ I said, not sure what else to say and wondering what was going on.
‘Hi.’ Her eyes popped at me. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but aren’t you Tammy from that ITV drama series?’
My cheeks flared with delight. Someone recognised me? ‘Yes,’ I faltered, my smile getting wider. ‘I am. I mean, yes, I’m the actor who played her.’ I wanted to shake her hand, but she was stationed behind the school office glass. ‘I’m Daisy Madden.’
‘I knew it!’ she gasped, one excited hand fluttering up to rest on her chest. She was wearing a white blouse with a black, velvet pussy bow. ‘Och, I’m brilliant at spotting celebrities. Wherever me and my husband go, if there’s someone famous around, I can see them a mile off.’
I laughed, flattered. ‘I’m not a celebrity or famous, believe me, but thank you very much for saying so.’
The woman kept grinning at me. ‘You were wonderful in that series! I loved it!’
Ha! Up yours, Fox, I thought to myself in triumph, still beaming at the school secretary.
‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’ This was just what my confidence needed.
After Fox’s appalling review of Sinister, my current acting work drought and then Evan making me feel at all sixes and sevens, it was lovely to be recognised.
It was at that moment that the woman flapped her hand to get someone’s attention behind me. ‘Mrs Hazelwood? Excuse me? There’s a phone message that’s been left for you.’
It took a moment to process. Mrs Hazelwood? My old drama teacher?
I whirled round.
She had hardly changed at all in thirteen years. Her auburn hair was shorter, now skimming the top of her shoulders, and her face had filled out a little, but she was still pretty in an effervescent sort of way. ‘Thanks, Gillian.’
Mrs Hazelwood leaned closer to the other side of the partition to collect the note. Behind it, a few of the school secretaries were tapping on their keyboards.
I took in her smart, fitted trousers and shimmery top, memories flooding back.
How she would stride into drama class, bubbling with enthusiasm and telling her students to throw off the shackles of feeling self-conscious.
She’d always greet us with a cheery ‘Howdy!’ and proceed to ask what dramas or films we’d been watching that week on TV; what actors stood out for us and why.
‘Mrs Hazelwood?’ I blurted.
She was about to walk away. ‘Yes?’
Her ice blue eyes grazed my face. A slow smile grew as she examined me. ‘Wait a minute. Daisy? Is that you?’
‘It’s me.’ I laughed, delighted she’d recognised me after all these years.
She bundled me into a hug, much to the bemusement of a couple of passing teenage boys. ‘My goodness! How are you? What are you doing back here?’
‘I was supposed to be heading home to visit my grandfather, but this bomb situation has put paid to that, at least for another day or two.’
She nodded vigorously. ‘Oh, of course. Hopefully they’ll have it resolved by the end of this week.
’ She clapped her ringed hands together.
‘Last I heard, you were treading the theatre boards, and then you were in that wonderful TV drama!’ She turned to grin at the school secretary, who was watching us both with keen interest. ‘One of my former drama students. A stand-out pupil was Daisy. I always knew you had talent.’ She folded her arms, waggling the note she’d just been given.
‘So, you’re staying locally at the moment? ’
‘For the time being, yes,’ I answered. ‘And how are you, Mrs Hazelwood?’
Her dangly ruby earrings shimmered as she moved.
‘Oh, still married, three teenage kids now though, and a springer spaniel. And please stop with the “Mrs Hazelwood”, Daisy. Call me Josie.’ She shot me a long, smiley look.
She appeared to be debating something. ‘I don’t suppose I could grab a very quick word with you? ’
‘Yes, of course.’ I wondered what she might want to talk about.
Mrs Hazelwood led me over to the staircase, and we huddled under the stairwell. She shuffled from foot to foot in her loafers, and said ‘Daisy, I don’t suppose I could ask a favour of you?’
‘Ask away.’
‘Would you consider coming to give a short talk to my senior drama class? I know they’d love to hear about your career and how you got your break in the business, especially after your appearance in Sinister.’
Behind us, the school office buzzed with chatter and the odd ringing phone.
I looked at Josie. Her eyes were pleading.
‘Some of the kids sadly don’t have the support and encouragement you had. I mean, I do my best, but they aren’t getting that additional support at home to follow their acting dream.’
I’d been lucky that I’d had my grandparents as my constant cheerleaders. Everybody needed encouragement and help, no matter how strong they insisted they were. I offered a flattered smile. ‘I’m delighted you’ve asked me. If I can help in any way, I’d be glad to.’
Josie looked like she’d been on the receiving end of a huge lottery win. ‘Are you sure, Daisy? I mean, please don’t feel any obligation.’
‘It’s fine. I’d be honoured, and it’s the least I can do after all the encouragement and support you gave me when I was one of your students.’
Josie took my hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. ‘I know it’s rather short notice, but I don’t suppose you’re free at half past two this afternoon to come back and speak to the students? See a few of them perform? That’s when I have my next class with them.’
‘That’s fine by me. I’ve got nothing else planned.’
This seemed like a win-win all right. The more I could avoid Evan until I departed The Ramblings and headed off to Strath Ross, the better.
The way he’d left Dane’s gig with Sacha last night.
My heart contorted at the memory.
I wouldn’t let him make me feel like that again.