mayhem at the gates?’ she asked.
‘It’s unbelievable.’ The story was igniting, a slow-news summer suddenly transformed. A blonde, photogenic wife of a cabinet minister sweeping through the school gates on Day
Two could have only thrown petrol on a blazing fire. ‘They must’ve been all over you.’
She gave a self-deprecating shrug. ‘I’ve got used to navigating it. Ian’s going to be so pleased you’re here.’ She touched my shoulders, lightly grazing each of my
cheeks with her lips. She was wearing a pair of leg-lengthening skinny jeans topped off by a V-necked grey marl T-shirt, her skin as fresh and luminous as it always was. Now I felt overdressed,
like I’d come for a job interview in a provincial bank. ‘Shall I show you where his office is?’
‘Don’t worry. He said it was down there and to the left in his text.’
She paused, cocked her head, brooking no argument.
‘No, let me. I’m just sorting through the books. I organise an auction every summer term, and the book fund’s a big part of where the money goes.’ She exhaled. ‘I
need to feel like I’m doing something useful here. Does that make sense?’
‘Of course it does.’
‘This was his classroom.’
She moved backwards as she said it, and I stepped in, without really wanting to. How did she do it, take total command of any space she occupied?
‘Was he a good teacher?’ I regretted the question as soon as I’d asked it. It felt callous, bald. Why did I feel the need to fill the space?
‘He definitely made the children feel special. He always went the extra mile.’ She gave a smile which didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Which should be a good thing,
shouldn’t it?’
What did that even mean? I couldn’t waste energy decoding it: instead I took in the room, the project they’d obviously been doing on the environment, the clumsy crayon drawings of
birds and animals, a big orange sun, a recycling bin with an ostentatious tick. Emotion surged up in me, and I looked downwards, not wanting her to see my face. She hadn’t exactly ambushed
me, but she’d caught me off guard. It all felt so close suddenly, Saffron’s chaotic paint splatters lost somewhere in that jumble.
‘Let’s go and find Ian,’ I said.
‘Sure thing. I’ve got my police interview this afternoon. I need some time to psych myself up. Deep breathing, is that what you’d recommend?’
It always felt like she was mocking me, her pinches so light they left no bruises. God, I missed Lysette in that moment – she’d normally know if I was being oversensitive, and not
make me feel like an idiot if I was. It’s humans’ fatal design flaw, the way we only appreciate the ordinary once it’s no longer ordinary at all.
‘I tend to find breathing helpful in most situations,’ I said.
She smiled, didn’t say anything for a beat longer than was comfortable.
‘I really must come and see you, mustn’t I?’
*
I looked at my watch as I followed Kimberley down the corridor, conscious that Lysette would be in her police interview at this very moment. By the time I got back from my
meeting with Krall, the news about the cameras had leaked out, which was kind of a relief. I’d hoped it might bridge the gap I’d felt opening between us in the preceding days, the
confirmation that her hunch was right, but if anything she felt more distant. Her way of psyching herself up for her interview was to get progressively angrier, convinced they’d be out to
malign Sarah.
‘They weren’t having an affair,’ she’d said, yanking the cork out of a bottle of wine like a cowboy drawing his gun. I saw a look cross Ged’s face as she did it,
but he didn’t say anything. ‘I know that’s what everyone’s going to say, but it’s bullshit.’
‘But for him to do that to himself – he must’ve been obsessed with her?’
She flung up a dismissive hand.
‘Everyone was obsessed with Sarah, Mia. She was that kind of person.’
I tried not to feel the
‘It’s unbelievable.’ The story was igniting, a slow-news summer suddenly transformed. A blonde, photogenic wife of a cabinet minister sweeping through the school gates on Day
Two could have only thrown petrol on a blazing fire. ‘They must’ve been all over you.’
She gave a self-deprecating shrug. ‘I’ve got used to navigating it. Ian’s going to be so pleased you’re here.’ She touched my shoulders, lightly grazing each of my
cheeks with her lips. She was wearing a pair of leg-lengthening skinny jeans topped off by a V-necked grey marl T-shirt, her skin as fresh and luminous as it always was. Now I felt overdressed,
like I’d come for a job interview in a provincial bank. ‘Shall I show you where his office is?’
‘Don’t worry. He said it was down there and to the left in his text.’
She paused, cocked her head, brooking no argument.
‘No, let me. I’m just sorting through the books. I organise an auction every summer term, and the book fund’s a big part of where the money goes.’ She exhaled. ‘I
need to feel like I’m doing something useful here. Does that make sense?’
‘Of course it does.’
‘This was his classroom.’
She moved backwards as she said it, and I stepped in, without really wanting to. How did she do it, take total command of any space she occupied?
‘Was he a good teacher?’ I regretted the question as soon as I’d asked it. It felt callous, bald. Why did I feel the need to fill the space?
‘He definitely made the children feel special. He always went the extra mile.’ She gave a smile which didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Which should be a good thing,
shouldn’t it?’
What did that even mean? I couldn’t waste energy decoding it: instead I took in the room, the project they’d obviously been doing on the environment, the clumsy crayon drawings of
birds and animals, a big orange sun, a recycling bin with an ostentatious tick. Emotion surged up in me, and I looked downwards, not wanting her to see my face. She hadn’t exactly ambushed
me, but she’d caught me off guard. It all felt so close suddenly, Saffron’s chaotic paint splatters lost somewhere in that jumble.
‘Let’s go and find Ian,’ I said.
‘Sure thing. I’ve got my police interview this afternoon. I need some time to psych myself up. Deep breathing, is that what you’d recommend?’
It always felt like she was mocking me, her pinches so light they left no bruises. God, I missed Lysette in that moment – she’d normally know if I was being oversensitive, and not
make me feel like an idiot if I was. It’s humans’ fatal design flaw, the way we only appreciate the ordinary once it’s no longer ordinary at all.
‘I tend to find breathing helpful in most situations,’ I said.
She smiled, didn’t say anything for a beat longer than was comfortable.
‘I really must come and see you, mustn’t I?’
*
I looked at my watch as I followed Kimberley down the corridor, conscious that Lysette would be in her police interview at this very moment. By the time I got back from my
meeting with Krall, the news about the cameras had leaked out, which was kind of a relief. I’d hoped it might bridge the gap I’d felt opening between us in the preceding days, the
confirmation that her hunch was right, but if anything she felt more distant. Her way of psyching herself up for her interview was to get progressively angrier, convinced they’d be out to
malign Sarah.
‘They weren’t having an affair,’ she’d said, yanking the cork out of a bottle of wine like a cowboy drawing his gun. I saw a look cross Ged’s face as she did it,
but he didn’t say anything. ‘I know that’s what everyone’s going to say, but it’s bullshit.’
‘But for him to do that to himself – he must’ve been obsessed with her?’
She flung up a dismissive hand.
‘Everyone was obsessed with Sarah, Mia. She was that kind of person.’
I tried not to feel the
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