Chapter 9
NINE
‘Rosie said Lara pushed her in deliberately,’ said Imogen, her face set hard as she passed the dish of fondant potatoes across the table to James.
As head teacher of the primary school, he should know about these sorts of incidents.
OK, so it hadn’t happened in school hours, but he needed to be aware of who he had just accepted into Ripton Primary.
‘What a little cow,’ said Erin. She refused the potatoes as they came around. Imogen knew the carbs and butter wouldn’t be to her best friend’s taste.
‘Is Rosie all right?’ asked James.
‘Still traumatized,’ said Imogen.
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Erin. ‘That kid tried to drown her.’
‘We don’t know it was like that,’ said Dylan.
Imogen shot her eyes up at her husband. They’d been disagreeing on a lot lately and sometimes she felt as if he said black to her white just because he could. Surely he was going to side with his own daughter on this?
‘Lara pushed Rosie in,’ said Erin. ‘Then while no one was looking, she held her head under, right where there was a tangle of underwater reeds. If that instructor hadn’t pulled her out, then . . .’
Imogen shuddered.
Dylan stopped eating, his knife and fork held in mid-air. ‘Thank God for him,’ he said. ‘But what I mean is, Rosie has had a terrible experience but we haven’t got to the bottom of what exactly happened. Remember, Lara had a different version of the story.’
‘Now hold on a second . . .’ started Imogen.
Dylan looked at her. ‘I didn’t see it. Did you?’
She hadn’t, but it aggrieved her that he should be airing this . . . notion that their daughter might not be telling the truth in front of their friends.
‘I believe her,’ she said firmly.
‘You should set out some sort of punishment,’ said Erin, looking at James. ‘Strip her of her Head of School status, for starters.’
‘He can’t do that,’ said Carol, spooning potatoes onto her plate as they came to her. ‘This incident didn’t even happen at school.
‘My wife is correct,’ said James.
‘She shouldn’t even be Head of School,’ said Erin. ‘She’s only just started there. And anyway, who’s going to take any notice of her after she’s done this?’
‘It was a democratic vote,’ said Carol firmly. ‘Fair’s fair.’
Imogen hid her irritation. It was nothing to do with Carol. She seemed to think that because she was married to the head teacher and her daughter, Lorna, was Chair of the PTA she could wade in with her opinion. Well, it was unwanted.
‘So what is Lara’s side of the story?’ asked Carol.
‘She said Rosie had fallen in herself,’ said Imogen. ‘And swore blind she hadn’t held her head down.’
‘Lied through her teeth, in other words,’ said Erin. ‘She’s a menace.’
‘This wouldn’t get by in a court of law,’ said Marcus drily, as he waved a hand around the table. Erin’s husband was a criminal barrister who worked on extremely high-profile cases in London and thought local village ‘spats’ mildly amusing.
‘It’s a character assassination,’ he continued, ‘and this Lara kid’s got no defence counsel.’
‘What, are you offering?’ said Erin sharply.
‘Hang on a moment, hasn’t Rosie got form?’ said Marcus, seemingly remembering something.
Erin nudged his arm – an instruction to shut up.
‘What do you mean?’ Imogen asked.
‘For fibbing. At Tilly’s party, remember? Didn’t Rosie say she hadn’t opened the hamster cage and let Claude escape? Next thing we know he’s hanging limply from the jaws of next door’s cat.’ He smiled mischievously. ‘And we know it was her because it was on the nanny cam.’
‘Good God, Marcus, she was five,’ said Erin, before mouthing a ‘sorry’ to Imogen.
‘That’s all right,’ said Imogen graciously.
‘All kids lie at five,’ added Erin. ‘And that was years ago.’
Imogen was beginning to tire of the conversation, was irritated that her husband was staying so quiet and not sticking up for Rosie more.
The fact was, Rosie had been caught in reeds under the reservoir and had she not been pulled out, she would have drowned.
She had come out of that lake near hysterical.
And yes, Lara had denied everything, hot tears running down her cheeks, but Imogen had seen the terror in Rosie’s eyes.
‘Everyone else was wobbling except for me,’ Rosie had explained, as she’d sat hunched on a bench, wrapped in a towel. ‘Because I’d done it before. When we lived at our old house.’
It was true, they’d all had their own paddleboard – she and Dylan too – and they’d often gone out onto the water at the weekend. They’d been sold along with everything else.
‘Lara didn’t like it – that I could stand up. She kept trying herself but it was too difficult for her and she got really angry, and so she tipped the edge of my board so I fell in.’
When Imogen had asked if the instructor had seen, Rosie had replied: ‘No, she made sure he wasn’t looking. He was helping Tilly when she did it, so he was distracted. Then when I tried to get back out of the water, she held my head down.’
Imogen’s blood had run cold. ‘She what?’
‘She put her hand on my head, kept pushing me under the water and I was kicking so much, my feet got caught in the reeds.’
Imogen had seethed when she’d heard it all, furious that another girl’s petty nastiness had led to near-tragic consequences. Was her own daughter supposed to diminish her achievements merely to satisfy some jealous child?
‘More wine?’ asked Dylan, picking up the bottle.
James held out his glass. ‘Thanks,’ he said, as Dylan filled it. ‘How’s school? Sorry to hear about the Ofsted inspection.’
Dylan bristled. ‘It was unjust. As you know.’
‘Don’t know why you stick it out there anyway. You know there’s going to be a job coming up at Kingsgate? Good teacher like you, you’d walk it.’
‘The kids at Ripton High deserve good teachers too.’
‘Dylan wants to make a difference,’ said Imogen drily.
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ said Dylan.
‘Nothing. But if you worked at Kingsgate, we’d get a sixty per cent reduction in fees for Rosie.’
‘We’d still have to find the other forty per cent,’ said Dylan. ‘She’ll be fine at Ripton High.’
‘No. She won’t,’ said Imogen.
‘How do you know?’
Her mouth had dropped open. ‘What . . . are you serious? The drugs, the class disruption, the . . . underage sex.’ Sometimes it frightened her how far apart she and her husband seemed to have grown with their thinking.
It wasn’t like that when they’d first met, almost fifteen years ago now in London.
He’d been a new-ish teacher, recently awarded gold for ‘Teacher of the Year in a Secondary School’ at the National Teacher Awards.
She’d just been promoted to chef de partie at a restaurant owned by a French culinary genius.
She’d been impressed with what she’d seen as Dylan’s ambition, his future starry rise to the top.
They’d fallen in love and everything had seemed to slot into place, especially when she was offered a sous chef position by her boss, who was opening a new restaurant in one of the most affluent villages in Derbyshire.
Dylan had been ready for a change too – he had grown up in the Northern countryside and wanted to return.
She’d thrown herself into her job, always with an eye on opening her own place one day.
Dylan, however, seemed to stall. He was content remaining as a teacher in a secondary school, and Imogen began to realize they had different ideas of what ‘ambition’ meant.
For her it was money and status, something she didn’t feel the need to apologize for.
For her husband it was all about serving the community and grassroots teaching.
Dylan sighed. ‘They’re not all like that. Stop being such a snob.’
Imogen was stung. ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I just want the best for my daughter.’
‘Of course I want that too. It’ll teach her a bit of resilience. She’s had a lot handed to her on a plate – ponies, clothes, the latest tech.’
‘I’m sure Rosie will keep on the straight and narrow,’ said Carol diplomatically.
‘You know I’m Chair of Governors at Kingsgate,’ said James to Dylan. ‘And a close friend of the head. Why don’t you let me put in a good word for you about that position?’
Imogen looked at Dylan in hope.
‘Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,’ said Dylan.
‘Gotta say, Ripton High sounds like more fun,’ said Marcus, then let out an ‘Ow!’ as Erin kicked him under the table.
Imogen lowered her eyes, unable to hide the anger and upset that coursed through her.
Erin’s daughter, Tilly, would be going to Kingsgate, Marcus’s salary would ensure it.
So would Nicole’s daughter, Bella, Rosie’s other friend.
Nicole’s parents had offered to pay. For a brief moment she let the question enter her mind about Lara.
She didn’t need to think about it; with the money Nancy appeared to have it was a given she would go too.
She would take Rosie’s place, just as she seemed to take everything else.
Later, when Imogen and Dylan were clearing up, he took the cloth from her hands and gave her a hug.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on one earlier. It’s that man. I know he’s a friend of yours but sometimes he really winds me up. So bloody pompous and condescending.’
‘He was only trying to help.’
‘Thought I was incapable, more like. What, a word from him and the head of Kingsgate is going to be on the phone, offering me a job?’
‘That’s not what he said.’
‘It’s what he implied. I get the feeling he looks down his nose at me. Thinks I need a leg-up, and an education on what’s good for me and my family.’
‘He doesn’t,’ said Imogen. ‘He thinks a lot of you.’
Dylan gave a wry smile. ‘Is that what he says when you guys go on your weekend runs together?’
‘Not exactly . . .’
‘No. So what do you talk about?’
‘Not much. Usually too out of breath.’ Imogen paused. ‘Why won’t you even consider Kingsgate for Rosie?’
‘It’s not an option,’ said Dylan gently. ‘We can’t afford it. Even if I did go and work at the posh school.’
Deflated, Imogen looked at the clock – it was after midnight. ‘Let’s finish up. I want to go to bed.’
As James and Carol walked home through the village, Carol tucked her arm into that of her husband’s.
‘You’ll have to keep an eye on the kid,’ she said. ‘At school.’
‘Yes. I’ll mention it to her teacher. Don’t want Rosie falling behind after her ordeal.’
Carol stopped. ‘I meant Lara – this new child. It seems perfectly clear that Imogen and Erin have got it in for her and her mother.’
‘You think? Surely this will all blow over.’
‘The woman’s bought Imogen’s house, James.’
‘I know. But Imogen will get back on her feet. She’s that type of person. It’s all new at the moment. Time has a great way of healing things. Trust me, I’ve been teaching for thirty-five years.’ He smiled at her indulgently. ‘You might like to think I know what I’m doing.’
Carol inwardly rolled her eyes.
‘These spats come and go and everything settles down in the end. By Halloween, they’ll be best friends and their kids will be out trick-or-treating together.’
Carol looked up at her husband. Sometimes, for such a smart man, with his wealth of experience, she couldn’t understand how he could be so short-sighted. She thought about pressing the point but knew there was no getting through to him when he was in this mood, so she let it drop.