In the last few months she’d finally managed to get rid of a lot of her insecurities, but there was still that lingering doubt. She’d spent a good chunk of her childhood feeling dispensable, as an adult knowing she had some security had always been important, the most important thing.
‘You don’t need to tell me that.’ Sally rolled her eyes dramatically.
‘What about when Josie comes back, what if it seems a better idea to move?’
‘Then move. But you don’t have to go back to your old place in Birmingham, do you? You don’t have to hang on to the past and look backwards, Lucy. The world’s your oyster.’
‘It’s just a bit of security, having that house.’
‘So keep it. Carry on renting it out.’
Which was what her head kept saying, but some part of her heart was telling her to let go. To be really brave, braver than she’d been in accepting this job. Follow her heart.
But she was scared.
Scared of waking up one day and realising she didn’t belong here. Scared that she should have stayed where she was, the place she understood. Scared that one day the past would catch up with her in this cute village and it would all be wrecked again. The nightmare of her dad leaving them had been replaced with the one of him finding them. A city was big. Anonymous.
‘Either way, it’s only a house, Luce. It’s not like some inherited mansion or something,’ she paused dramatically, ‘is it?’
‘No, it’s your bog standard semi.’ But it was her bog standard semi.
‘Well then, a place here sounds much better.’
‘I know.’
‘It just means you’ve got your security here, not there. And you can always move again. Here, anywhere.’ Sally paused, bottle of wine in hand, Lucy must have let her thoughts flitter across her features. ‘And you might always fall in love with somebody else.’
She gave a grim smile, ignoring the Charlie remark. ‘It’s a good source of income.’ The bottle of wine was still in Sally’s hand. Poised. ‘Are you pouring that or is this some weird mannequin challenge I don’t know about, Sal?’
But it wasn’t just about an income, security now. It was a decision. A step. It was letting go of her anchor.
Sally topped up their glasses. ‘Don’t stress about it. You’ll know, when the time’s right, you’ll know. Maisie likes you, doesn’t she?’ She tipped her head on one side and smiled. ‘She was in the surgery yesterday, talking about how she wished she could live with you all the time, instead of with Charlie who always says no.’
Lucy smiled back. ‘I like her too. She might go off me now I have my teacher hat back on though.’ It was hard not to fall in love with Charlie’s curly haired daughter, although she wasn’t always quite the angel she appeared – with her halo of soft auburn curls. They’d had a good summer, the three of them, but it was hard. She wasn’t Maisie’s mother, she didn’t want to get too close to her. A part of her held back.
‘What if Josie doesn’t come back? You know, says she can live with Charlie permanently.’ Sally was offering the other option.
She wasn’t ready to be a mother, she didn’t know how to be a mother. ‘Oh don’t be silly, she’s Maisie’s mum, of course she’ll come back.’ Then where would that leave her? But worse, what if Josie started laying down the law again, made it hard for Charlie to see his daughter?
Josie had taken Maisie away from Charlie once, she could do it again. And if a DNA test proved that Maisie wasn’t his, well, it didn’t bear thinking about. A hard lump formed in Lucy’s throat at the thought of him having to suffer again. Although she knew he’d fight. But was the law on his side?
Charlie had told her it was over between him and Josie, and she believed him. But who knew what would happen if it came to the crunch? If Josie insisted he had to choose between seeing his daughter, and seeing her? She’d have no choice, she’d do whatever she could to make sure he saw Maisie. No way would she ever want the little girl to grow up without her dad, like she’d had to.
They’d both held back since the start of term, Maisie was the important thing, Charlie’s priority now, and however much Lucy had fallen for the gorgeous vet she knew she couldn’t jeopardise that.
‘Pour the wine Sal, then seeing as it was your idea you can help me wash Pork-chop. He can’t go into school smelling of chicken poo.’
***
The Ofsted inspector stepped neatly round Pork-chop and squatted down next to Harry, who was clutching a small box.
‘Now, young man, who do we have here?’
‘Mario.’
Lucy’s heart sank, and she looked at Jill in alarm. Harry’s hamster Mario had sadly died in the spring and as far as she knew had been buried. Surely not? No, it was impossible, Harry couldn’t have dug him up. Could he? She edged closer. He was opening the box, the inspector was peering in. He put his hand in, and pulled out … a hamster treat, followed by a picture, and a tuft of fluff.
‘My dad said we had to bury him, but we made him a mim, mimo, mimor thing to remember him by.’
‘A memorial! How wonderful, what a clever boy you are.’
‘When the vet came in to school we talked all about him dying, and we drew pictures, and I took this picture home so I could put it in his mimoroyal box.’ Harry nodded wisely. ‘But I don’t look at it much now because I’ve got a lamb.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Well he was a lamb and I had to feed him with a bottle and everything cos his mum dropped dead.’ He shook his head. ‘Sheeps always do that you know. But that lamb is getting real bossy now, we’ll be having him with mint sauce soon I reckon.’
The inspector, looking slightly shocked, got to his feet and moved on to study the children’s books which had been laid out on a table by the window.
***
‘Well.’ Jill shut the door firmly and leant against it. ‘That was an interesting day.’
‘Gawd, I thought he was never going to go, I think Sophie producing her nit comb and telling him what her mam had to say about it was what finally convinced him he’d heard enough.’ Lucy sat down on one of the tiny chairs. ‘Any news on how the rest got on?’
‘No, but Liz Potts was singing so that’s a good sign. They’re in again in the morning, but we should get an update in the afternoon.’ Jill grinned. ‘I did overhear some comment about it being the first time he’s seen a pig in a classroom.’
‘And it will be the last time anybody sees one in my classroom, if it has anything to do with me. Roll on Friday.’ One thing Lucy was sure of was that tonight she would fall into bed exhausted – but at least she’d done her bit. Now all they could do was wait for the verdict.
Charlie couldn’t help it. He needed to talk to somebody, or he’d be snapping at Maisie and upsetting the very fragile state of her emotions. When he’d met her from school on Wednesday she had been bubbly, excited to tell him about her day, what Roo had done, and how she wanted a ‘pet day’ every day. But then she’d wanted to tell Mummy all about it, and Mummy unfortunately was not in an area with Wi-Fi. The skype tone had echoed out until he’d had to admit defeat, and the hope had died from her face.
Then he’d felt guilty. It had