Bed of Roses. Daisy Waugh

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СКАЧАТЬ to be veering off the point.

      ‘But in this particular children’s author’s house, money’s short, Miss Flynn.’ (And so it is, in a way. It is for Kitty. She owns her pretty cottage and she lives off a small private income, about the size of Tracey Guppy’s combined salary from the pub, where she works four nights a week, and the school, where she works as a cleaner/caretaker/dinner lady. But Kitty Mozely came from a very rich family once, plus she was spoilt for years by being so clever and pretty; her luck turned, she often says, from the moment she discovered she was pregnant with Scarlett.) ‘Money’s always a problem. We do struggle. And with all Scarlett’s special requirements…Plus she eats like a—Really,’ she adds bitterly, having just come back from Safeways, ‘you’d be surprised how much that girl eats.’

      ‘I’m just wondering if you have any idea,’ persists Fanny, ‘what she might be scribbling or drawing or whatever in that notebook of hers? I’m intrigued. And I think, maybe, I mean, if I’m going to help her I really do need to know—’ Fanny is humiliated to have to admit it. ‘To be frank with you, Mrs Mozely—’

      ‘Ms. Ms Mozely, actually, Ms Flynn. But it doesn’t matter.’ She gives a wheezy, smoker’s chuckle. ‘Call me Kitty.’

      ‘To be frank with you, Kitty, it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t even know for sure if she can read or write!’

      Kitty bursts out laughing. ‘Read and write! My daughter? I have a degree from Oxford University, Miss Flynn. Of course she can bloody well read and write! Are you mad? What the bloody hell—’

      ‘Good!’ Fanny says quickly. ‘Well, that’s something at least.’

      ‘She’s been at your school for over a year!’

      ‘I know,’ Fanny says. ‘I know. Only Mrs Thomas isn’t – making herself available. She’s not returning any calls. And I must admit we can’t currently, erm, locate Scarlett’s notes.’

      Kitty isn’t listening. ‘I mean, of course she can bloody well read,’ she says, but she sounds suddenly less certain. She tries to envisage her daughter either reading a book or writing a letter, and – absurdly – she finds she can’t manage it. Her daughter is helpful in the kitchen. She’s actually a very good cook. But other than that, what does her daughter do all the time? Besides squabble with Ollie Adams? Kitty laughs. She honestly can’t think! The problem is, of course, Scarlett spends so much time in her bedroom.

      ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ promises Kitty hurriedly, keen now to get off the telephone before the true extent of her ignorance is revealed, ‘I’ll do a little detective work, shall I? See what the little monster’s been getting up to! And I’ll let you know what I find out.’

      ‘Well, if you could…’

      ‘Absolutely. I’ll get on to it right away. I promise.’

      A rash promise, made in haste, which, predictably, Kitty fails to keep.

      Fanny waits. She tries again to get hold of Mrs Thomas, who has apparently taken her stress-related pay-off very seriously, and completely evaporated from the planet.

      At the end of lessons a few days later Fanny’s watching Scarlett, as usual, fastening her intriguing red notebook inside her battered satchel, and slowly limp towards the door. Scarlett is always the last out.

      ‘Scarlett,’ says Fanny, and she can see from the way Scarlett tenses that she’s heard her, but she still walks on. ‘Scarlett, don’t ignore me. We need to talk. This is becoming ridiculous.’

      Scarlett turns slowly, flushing with surprise. She limps towards Fanny’s desk and stands there defiantly, waiting. Fanny pulls up a chair.

      ‘Sit down.’

      ‘I don’t want to keep my mother waiting.’

      It is the longest sentence Fanny has heard from her, but of course it’s also not entirely true. By standing on her seat, which Fanny then does, she can see the school gate, and Kitty Mozely, as usual, is nowhere to be seen.

      Fanny knows more about Scarlett’s daily habits than Scarlett, accustomed to being ignored, could have possibly imagined. She knows that Scarlett often goes home with Ollie Adams. She’s watched her, limping miserably behind as Ollie and the au pair march on in front, squabbling with each other. She knows that if Scarlett’s not going home with Ollie, she usually has to hobble the mile home to Laurel Cottage alone.

      ‘Your mother’s not out there, Scarlett.’

      ‘How do you know?’

      ‘Because,’ says Fanny, dropping back down into her seat again, ‘I know what she looks like. I’ve seen her.’

      ‘When? In the pub?’

      ‘Since you mention it, yes. She’s been pointed out to me. I’ve seen her a couple of times.’

      ‘So you’re in there yourself, are you, most nights? Just like Kitty. You must be lonely, then.’

      Fanny gives a thin smile. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you were a bit retarded, Scarlett.’

      Scarlett sniggers.

      ‘But you obviously aren’t. So tell me. What’s going on?’

      Scarlett keeps sniggering.

      ‘What’s funny? Scarlett, I asked you to sit down.’

      She sits. Finally Fanny says, ‘Is your mother at home?’

      ‘How should I know?’

      ‘I’m going to call her and let her know you’ll be staying late. So you can show me some work – OK?’ She smiles; Scarlett doesn’t. ‘And afterwards I’ll drop you off home in my car. All right, Scarlett? Do you understand?’

      Scarlett doesn’t answer.

      ‘OK, Scarlett?’ says Fanny again.

      ‘Do I have a choice?’

      Fanny hesitates. ‘Er – you don’t actually, no. So. Will you tell me your mother’s telephone number, or are you going to make me go all the way upstairs to the office to look it up?’

      Scarlett looks at Fanny as if she’s an idiot. ‘I’m going to make you go—’

      ‘Of course. Stupid question.’ Fanny opens a maths book to the page the rest of the class has been working from, and asks Scarlett to set to work. ‘Do what you can,’ Fanny says. ‘And don’t worry if you get stuck. It doesn’t matter. It’s what I’m here for. I’ll be back in a minute, all right?’

      Fanny pokes her head out into the hall. The staff-room door has been left open. There is no one inside. She glances from left to right; no sign of Robert, then. She’s spotted him a couple of times recently, skulking around after school, obviously waiting for her. Today it looks as though he’s gone straight home. But she still runs across the hall, just in case, and takes care to close her office door, and even to lock it, before dialling the Mozely number.

      She leaves a brief message on Kitty’s answer machine and returns to the classroom, СКАЧАТЬ