together. Her face is pale and strained, but she gives me a wan smile.
“Nice garden,” I say, although hers is even worse than mine, just a clump of muddy grass with a brown leaf balanced on top.
“Yup,” she says shortly. “Whatever. Oh God.”
I follow her gaze and my eyes widen. Suze has already arrived and looks radiant as she holds up the best winter garden on a tray I’ve ever seen (out of three total). It’s got moss and branches and snow and acorn figures having a picnic. How long did that take?
“Goodness!” Miss Lucas is exclaiming. “How wonderful, Lady Cleath-Stuart! Is that a real bird’s nest?”
“We found it in a tree,” says Suze. “It was already abandoned,” she adds hastily.
“A real bird’s nest,” echoes Steph in disbelief, and I can see her gazing at Suze’s garden with a kind of exhausted, wistful look.
“Oh, Bex!” says Suze, turning to leave. “Didn’t see you there—” She breaks off and gapes at me. “Your eyes.”
“Thought I’d try a new look,” I say carelessly. “What do you think?”
“Um…yes!” says Suze, after a pause. “Very…D’you want a lift to work?”
“No, don’t worry, I’ll walk. I need to do some steps.”
“Cool. Well, see you there. Hi, Steph!” Suze adds as she passes, and Steph mutters, “Hi,” while quickly turning so that her earthy, cloddy garden is hidden from sight.
Luckily, Minnie and Harvey don’t seem to have noticed how superior Suze’s garden is. (The brilliant thing about children is, they have no idea about anything.) Also, to give her credit, Miss Lucas looks just as delighted with our gardens as she did with Suze’s one.
“Harvey!” she says. “Minnie! What lovely winter gardens!”
“Yup,” says Steph again, in an undertone that only I can hear. “Ours has been short-listed for the Turner Prize.”
I shoot a quick grin—then notice that her eyes are glistening. Oh God. It’s the horrible bastard husband, I know it is, only I can’t ask her about it, standing here in the school corridor.
“Now, I’m glad I’ve caught the pair of you,” Miss Lucas says. “We’ve cast our Nativity play, and both Minnie and Harvey are playing kings!”
A king! I can’t help beaming at Minnie in delight.
“The costume is very simple,” Miss Lucas adds cheerfully. “Here’s the pattern….” She hands each of us a big envelope, and my smile freezes. Pattern? As in sewing? “Just use a simple running stitch,” Miss Lucas continues blithely, “with perhaps some pin tucks. If you did want to add some embroidery or ribbon, that would be wonderful, but it’s not at all essential.” She smiles at us brightly.
Pin tucks? Embroidery?
I clearly remember looking around this school, and I don’t recall the head teacher saying, “Of course, if your child comes here, you will be expected to be proficient at pin tucks and embroidery.” But I can’t say anything. Minnie’s gazing up at me expectantly.
“No problem!” I hear myself replying breezily. “I expect I’ll add some sequins, too, and some extra hand-stitched detail.”
“Wonderful!” Miss Lucas claps her hands together.
Steph, meanwhile, has made no response, just shoved the envelope in her tote, her eyes distant. When we’ve said goodbye to the children and are heading out again, she says, “See you, then, Becky,” and quickly ducks into the ladies’ before I can reply. I stare after her a bit anxiously—then follow her in. I want to make sure she’s OK.
Quite a few mums are in the ladies’, as always. No one’s there because they actually need the loo; they’re just gossiping. Steph makes her way to one of the two sinks, stares at herself miserably in the mirror, then starts redoing her eye makeup. I decide I’ll give her a moment to finish, then draw her aside for a supportive word.
She’s struggling to do her makeup, though, because her eyes keep watering and she keeps having to wipe it all off. After a bit, a woman I don’t recognize peers at Steph and says, “Excuse me…are you OK?”
“Me?” Steph jumps like a scalded cat. “Yes, I’m fine. Fine!”
She gives me a desperate look in the mirror, then quickly heads into a cubicle. Without pausing, I hurry into the one next door. I want to text her, but the signal in here is rubbish. If I whisper, everyone might hear…if I knock on the wall, everyone will definitely hear….
In sudden inspiration, I get out a pen from my bag and find an old receipt. It’s for three No7 serums from Boots, which were on special offer. Ooh. Where did