Caught in the Act. Gemma Fox

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ be up on that kind of stuff: an ornate ebony casket for the toenail of St Kevin the Just.’

      ‘Wrong mob; we’re Low Church, less incense and stained glass, more jumble sales and cheery gatherings around the kitchen table, and besides, my jewellery box is salubrious. Hedley gave it to me as a wedding present. It’s rosewood, I think. Belonged to his mother.’ There was a long slow silence and then Diana said, her expression softening, ‘You know, it’s so good to see you again. I thought you might have gone and grown up. It’s been hard maintaining the whole born-to-boogie ethos all on your own.’

      Carol snorted. ‘Born to boogie? When were either of us ever born to boogie, Di? You’re a vicar’s wife, for God’s sake.’

      Diana laughed and finally handed Carol the photo album. ‘But I wasn’t always a vicar’s wife, was I?’

      ‘No, I suppose not. Do you still play cards?’

      Diana reddened. ‘Not for money. Hedley asked me to stop after I cleaned up at his preordination party.’

      Carol giggled. ‘Nine-card brag, poker. It was like going around with the Maverick. I remember you used to cut a deck with one hand.’

      ‘Oh, I can still do that,’ Diana said casually. ‘I’ve won enough matches at our annual Christmas whist drive to burn down half Europe.’

      Carol smiled. ‘OK, well maybe things aren’t as bad as they look.’ She opened the first album.

      The photograph was a long shot of the entire school taken the first year that she and Diana had gone up from primary school, when they had first found each other and Netty and Jan—three witches and Lady Macbeth in waiting. The picture was taken on the neatly manicured lawn outside the main school entrance, by the pond. Unexpectedly Carol found a lump in her throat. Bloody hell, was this what happened when you got old? Neat nostalgia.

      She swallowed down hard as Diana said, ‘I got them out of the loft when I joined Oldschooltie—just for old times’ sake. I wonder how everyone is now.’

      ‘Look at these,’ said Carol, peering at the rows of faces. ‘God, I haven’t thought about her—oh, look, Mrs Devine, the PE teacher—and Mr Bailey.’

      ‘I was thinking on the drive over here—it would be great to see everyone again. What about if we tried to organise a reunion? I mean how hard can it be? People do it all the time. It would be great.’

      Carol, halfway through a mouthful of Baileys, spluttered. ‘Are you sure great’s the word you’re looking for, Diana? I can understand what you mean but it would be loads of work and not everyone grew up to be a vicar, you know. What about Sandy Lewis? You remember?’

      ‘Who could forget?’

      ‘Potential axe-murdering psychopath if ever I met one. Do you remember when he burned the cricket pavilion down? Caught red-handed, petrol can, matches, swore blind he hadn’t done it.’

      ‘He probably won’t come. I doubt they can get Oldschooltie.com in Broadmoor; and besides, he’s an extreme example and you know it.’

      ‘How about Harry Longman? Put away for fraud? Kate Lynwood, shoplifting and passing dud cheques…’ She pointed out the faces in the picture.

      ‘All right—don’t be so negative, so not everyone turned out a saint,’ said Diana, ‘but they’re not all nutters and conmen either. I was thinking school reunion here, not Britain’s most wanted. Once I started seeing all those names on the register at Oldschooltie curiosity got the better of me. And then I fished out the photos—and since then I keep wondering what they’re all up to, what they look like, how they’re all doing.’

      ‘You always were so nosy,’ Carol said. ‘Don’t mind me. Actually, it does sound like a nice idea. What had you got in mind? Invite people from our year?’

      Diana pulled a thinking face. ‘I don’t know. I’ve only re ally just thought about it. We could start there. Would you pitch in?’

      ‘Pitch in?’ said Carol. ‘I smell an ambush. And what is this “pitch in”, Di, Enid Blyton’s Famous Five?’

      ‘It is going to be a lot of work and I don’t re ally fancy doing it on my own. We could both contact people and stuff.’

      Carol nodded. ‘OK.’

      ‘What about if we tried to get the drama group back together?’

      ‘The drama group?’ said Carol in amazement.

      ‘Uh-huh, why not? It’s a great idea. The last tour was so good. How about one last time with feeling, do something, maybe a read through and invite the rest of the class, too. It’ll be twenty years ago this July.’

      ‘A read-through of what?’ Carol asked incredulously.

      ‘Well, Macbeth would seem the natural choice.’

      ‘You can’t be serious. A reunion is going to be tough enough. I was thinking more about where we’d hold it.’

      Diana looked affronted. ‘We wouldn’t have to learn it or anything, just do a read-through of the highlights. You know, witches, murder, madness, suicide, trees moving, ghost, Macduff, the end—it’d be great. We could invite everyone else who was interested from school to come along and watch us.’ Diana paused, waiting until Carol looked up. ‘I’m sure Gareth will be there.’

      ‘Sorry?’ Carol felt a little rush of heat and then cursed herself for being so silly.

      ‘Gareth.’

      ‘What do you mean, Gareth?’

      ‘Oh, come on. Don’t play the innocent with me. Gareth Howard, boy wonder. The Gareth Howard. He’s on the website, which re ally took me by surprise. He always used to be so cool, I couldn’t imagine him being on there at all, to be honest. But anyway, I emailed him and he mailed back and he suggested we chat, so I sent him my number and he rang me back more or less straight away.’ Diana paused for effect. ‘And the first thing he wanted to know was how you were.’

      ‘Oh right,’ Carol snorted, but even so she felt her jaw drop and her stomach do that odd little flipping thing that stomachs do; twenty years on and the first question on Gareth Howard’s lips was, how was Carol? ‘You’re pulling my leg.’

      ‘I’m telling you the truth; I’m a vicar’s wife, for God’s sake. He sounded re ally disappointed when I said we hadn’t seen each other for years.’

      Carol stared at her. ‘You’re making this up.’

      Slowly Diana shook her head. ‘Cross my heart,’ she mimed.

      ‘It’s ridiculous,’ Carol said, blushing furiously and then she flicked quickly on to the next page of the album, barely registering the pictures as the heat rushed through her, driven by a pulse set to boil. Gareth Howard, of all people. How many times had she and Diana run and rerun and replayed things he’d said, picking over the bones to try to work out what every syllable, every last nuance and gesture had meant. She had spent more time trying to translate Gareth Howard than she spent on the whole of her French O level.

      Wasn’t it true that Carol СКАЧАТЬ