Wellies and Westies. Cressida McLaughlin

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       Chapter 1

      ‘Now, just stay in the bag until I say so, OK? This could go one of two ways.’ Cat pushed the furry head back into her cavernous turquoise handbag and hoisted it up on her shoulder, pushing a strand of her pixie-cut chestnut hair out of her eyes. The sun was hesitant, the early March day too cold to be called balmy, but it was trying hard, and the thought that they were at last leaving winter behind gave Cat a spring in her step. She approached the main doors of Fairview Nursery, nodding and smiling at the clutches of parents, some with older children on their way to primary school, most with pushchairs, hoping that none of them would notice her bag’s unusual bulge.

      Alison was already in the office, printing off the day’s register and listening intently to messages on the answerphone; parents calling to say their child was ill and would be absent from nursery, someone wondering about the Easter opening hours.

      Cat lifted her bag off her shoulder and placed it carefully on the chair next to the coat hooks. It wriggled, her keys jingling alarmingly, and Alison flashed her a questioning look, her neat, dark brows knitting together below her glossy fringe. Cat shrugged off her coat and scarf, hung them up and filled the kettle.

      ‘Good morning,’ Alison said, when the messages had finished. ‘Did you have a nice weekend?’

      ‘Yes, thanks. A couple of nice long walks, a lie-in, a meal out with my friend.’

      ‘Polly?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘The one you’re living with?’

      ‘Yes, and her brother.’ Cat stirred milk into her tea, and put a single sugar in Alison’s coffee. ‘I’ve known her for years, and when this job came up, they…’ she stuttered, ‘they had space so…’ Her words trailed away, and she wondered how her boss, a few years older than her and about three inches shorter, could make her feel as if she was always on trial for something. Or maybe it was just today, because looking at Alison, and listening to the muffled sounds coming from her handbag, Cat knew that she had made the worst decision since her move to Fairview.

      She blew on her tea, attempting nonchalance. ‘How was your weekend?’

      ‘Good.’ Alison nodded once. ‘Can you come and help me get the children’s coats off? I’ll be letting them in shortly.’

      Cat rolled her eyes. As ever, she was denied a glimpse into her boss’s personal life, any titbit of information that might help Cat understand why a woman in her early thirties could be completely devoid of warmth, and be in charge of a nursery. Cat prided herself on her ability to get to know people but Alison was an impossible case. She followed her into the classroom. Miniature chairs and tables were set out in front of СКАЧАТЬ