Page 9

I see my father shaking his head, laughing. Fruitcake, Frances. You are the fruitcake.

I imagine laughing along with him at my silliness. Everything is fine. No need to worry.

There’s a thistle among the raspberries and I yank it out. The thorns bite into my hand but I don’t loosen my grip until I can toss it in a bucket. My hand throbs.

I check my phone again. Dan hasn’t read my message. I call and it rings twice before it cuts off. He hung up on me. I flush red and bite my lip, hard. Then the white ticks go blue and he starts typing.

Sorry. In meeting. Nothing from J.

That’s it. That’s it? In meetings or with his mistress? I shove my phone away.

But he did say today’s meetings, if that’s what they really are, are important. He seemed excited, in fact.

I sigh. I should just leave it for an hour or so, see if she turns up. But it’s four thirty and there’s no harm in calling the school.

Sarah, the receptionist, picks up. She is, I think, a little scared of me, what with my involvement with the PTA and school fundraisers. So I tell her again how grateful I am for the new events calendar before explaining about Jenna.

‘She’ll have been at her drama rehearsal, I think, with, uh, Miss Smith?’ As I say it my ears fill with the buzz of bees tending to honeysuckle on the way back into the orchard.

‘Oh, what fun,’ says Sarah. ‘I can’t wait for the show. Miss Smith is amazing. I’ll give her a call and…’

Miss Smith is amazing.

She’s great. Kind of perfect, actually.

It’s important to focus on what Sarah’s saying. She’s nice. I should make more of an effort with her. She has a busy job and the Valentine’s dance mix-up wasn’t a big deal. Maybe I’ll get her something for the end of term. It’s good to keep these people on side. She always has perfume on her desk. Maybe she’d like something fancier – but what would that be saying? Here, now you can smell like us. Do I want to say I think she smells common? Even if she probably does. She probably gets those tacky little bottles at the supermarket. Tesco Clubcard deals.

My hand is stinging again. It looks red.

Why am I thinking such mean things about Sarah? What has she been saying?

I try to focus but instead I see a flash of Georgia Smith this morning. The pristine white skirt suit. That short-cut bob, a bit like Jenna’s new haircut.

I feel like I’m wearing a corset and someone has just wrenched the laces tight.