Chapter Six
Sam’s first week had gone by so smoothly that Sylvie couldn’t quite believe her luck.
Not only had he been keen to get up and ready super-quick every morning, but he had still been beaming every afternoon when she picked him up.
This evening, however, they were heading back to the school as there was a special PTA welcome for all new parents, and even though Sylvie wasn’t particularly involved in the local community she wanted to show support tonight.
Pass the message to Sam that she supported his school, and that school was important.
Plus, her life had changed so dramatically in the last few months that it was probably time that she got herself a bit more involved with things, maybe make some friends.
She had been a bit of a loner when she was at school here, the odd one, the one the other girls played with when their friends were off school ill for the day.
But the truth was, she wasn’t really interested in the other girls’ games.
She was quite happy twirling around on the school field or the playground on her own; she would be a fairy queen or a sprite and dance her way through her adventures.
Whenever she tried to explain her games to the other girls they would just look at her as if their worst fears were confirmed and wander off.
Then she had moved from infants to juniors and started taking her ballet seriously, eating, sleeping, breathing her dance moves, the stories, watching famous ballerinas from years gone by on a crackly VHS, completely enchanted and only vaguely aware of her mother nipping in and out.
Her favourite times were those rare moments when her mother would stop, come and scrunch up next to her on the battered old sofa as she watched Swan Lake for the millionth time and they would ooh and aah together.
Then when she had won the scholarship and headed off to study ballet in London, she left any potential friends behind, catty girls quick to say she had always been weird and Alice, who she had a tentative friendship with, always away with her family when the holidays came around.
In the city she had found her tribe and didn’t mind the absence of that whenever she came back to Penmenna.
She was there so rarely she was happy to spend every minute with her mum. Felt she should.
She thought it would be different for Sam though, and wondered what her life would have been like had she had an Ellie, who she could see he was keeping his eyes peeled for as she walked him to Class One.
The children were being looked after by a couple of members of staff, whilst the parents were due to be indoctrinated by the terrifying woman in bold prints that Sylvie had seen flitting around the school.
‘Hey!’ Sam had spotted Ellie and flew from his mother’s side, straight to the sand tray where she noticed Alfie and Harry already were.
She watched as the two bigger boys stood back and let Sam through to the front before they continued their play.
She felt a smile creep on her face; something had certainly shifted there and she was fairly sure it involved the determined little girl who was currently scrunching up her face with concentration as she built sand tower upon sand tower, the three boys around her as devotees.
Turning, she left the room and headed back out across the quad towards the main hall.
If Ellie was here then there was a strong chance that her dad would be too.
She managed to miss Alex every morning but in the afternoon he made sure to come and chat, and she had to admit it was kind of nice.
Easy conversation – he managed to make her feel remarkably at ease, which considering their initial first day was quite impressive – with no hint of predatory behaviour.
Nor any hint of a wife yet, and Sylvie had to admit her interest was piqued.
Her money was on an immaculately groomed, terribly professional wife, who shot around all over the place being practically perfect in every way. Bar childcare, it would appear.
‘Sylvie.’ And as if her mind, and her uncharitable thought, had conjured him, Sylvie could hear the pad of his shoes as he chased to catch her up.
Her head turned in welcome as she paused so he could reach her, and she could feel the grin take over her face.
Along with the pale – she hoped it was pale, it was now a daily occurrence – flush that flared across her cheeks.
With any luck, he’d just assume it was a medical condition.
She told herself that she wasn’t that attracted to him, and that her response to him on the beach had been some freaky anomaly, completely unrelated to him as a person.
She just had a habit of blushing at inappropriate times, at the postman, the vicar and occasionally at John, one of Tom’s farmhands.
Pretty much any male in the vicinity, and under seventy.
Experience had taught her they didn’t even have to have all their teeth, let alone their wits.
It had been causing embarrassment ever since she was a teen, but she hoped she might grow out of it any day. Surely?
She watched as he smiled his greeting in return as he came alongside her; the way his eyes crinkled in the corner as he did so, and how the T-shirt he was wearing fitted his shoulders just so.
Everything about him seemed so effortless, whereas she found it difficult enough to find matching socks of a morning.
‘Those two are having a whale of a time together. I’m so glad we… Ellie was lucky enough to meet Sam on the beach that day. Having a built-in friend already has made coming into school so much easier for her.’
‘She’s definitely had an influence on Sam, he’s growing in confidence every day.
So if either of us owes a debt of gratitude, it’s me.
I think your Ellie would flourish anywhere.
She has this shining charisma that pulls people in, bewitches them.
If she keeps that up she will always live a charmed life. ’
A flash of something flitted across Alex’s face. A microsecond of bleak sadness that seemed completely out of context before he replaced it with his characteristic cheerfulness.
‘She’s certainly very confident. Though talking of confident, we’d better head in and see what Marion has in store for us.’
‘Marion? The PTA woman? I didn’t realize you knew her.’
‘Oh yes, I met her when we were students, and she and her husband are good friends of a friend of mine. That’s partly why I decided to send Ellie to Penmenna. Chase invited Marion around and she bullied me into considering it.’
‘Bullied you. You don’t look like you’re easily bullied.’ Yep – there was the flush again; she hadn’t meant in relation to his powerful physique but his air of utter self-assurance.
‘You’d think. But honestly, she is something else. Trust me, if I hadn’t acquiesced quickly she might well have brought pliers to pull my fingernails out next. In this sort of situation I’m a moral coward, I like to take the easy route.’
‘In torture or sign-here situations, I can see why you might do that.’
‘Don’t mock me, you’ll see. Any second now, I should imagine.’
He pushed open the door to the school hall and Sylvie couldn’t help but gasp.
Of course she had been here before, throughout her entire childhood for example, and more recently when the school had had its television debut a few months earlier – the children all involved in a gardening project that had proved to be peak-time television manna – and for the induction day.
But this was something else. She spun around to look at Alex and saw his smug grin, belied by the twinkle in his eye.
‘I expected a few dozen cheese straws, but this is ridiculous.’
‘Told you, she’s a force!’
‘I will never doubt you again.’ Sylvie stood, still rooted to the spot as she saw parents milling about in the hall, which was decorated to within an inch of its life.
The big whiteboard attached to the wall showed sliding pictures of laughing children and beaming parents, and tables either side of the hall littered with foodie delights that would make any winner of MasterChef proud.
There, as a centrepiece, was a cake of Penmenna School and next to it one of Penmenna Hall which had already had some, very neatly cut, slices taken out of it.
One side of that was a chocolate fountain with mounds of glistening fruit around it, jewelled berries piled high and shiny grapes, chunks of pineapple and a jumble of popcorn.
Its counterpart, the other side of the cakes, were three cheese fondue sets, equally spaced for access, and a pile of breads, soft squidgy white, a canary yellow cornbread and seeded wholemeal, all in delicious little squares desperate for plunging cheesy death.
By the interactive whiteboard Marion Marksharp held court, surrounded by women who looked very similar to her.
In fact, two were spookily alike, their hairstyles almost identical to Marion’s, coiffed, mid-length and blonde, and their outfits clearly picked with each other in mind. It was all just a little bit Stepford.
Sylvie discreetly directed Alex to them with a nod and then had to nonchalantly wander off to examine the cake as he burst into laughter.
His laugh meant that Marion’s head spun around and Sylvie watched as she smiled a particularly welcoming smile at him.
She resembled the Enormous Crocodile from the children’s book and Sylvie watched, impressed that Alex didn’t visibly gulp, look flustered in any way or indeed run.
Marion carried on grinning, gave the room one last check, tapped her microphone – a microphone for goodness’ sake – and cleared her throat.