Roses Are Red - Miranda Rijks Page 0,63

came onto set and there was another brand of knitting machine. All the paperwork said that I would be presenting a Knit It Qwik! And I know, because I completed the forms myself.’

‘Calm down, Lydia. Let me look through the file.’ With her strong estuary accent, she’s not like most of the other girls in the office, and she doesn’t sound like a Lucinda. I pace the room, fuming.

A moment later she comes back on the line. ‘I got a phone call from Ajay Arya last week confirming that you would be presenting the NitNakNok instead. The product was sent through three days ago. There must have been a communication breakdown at your end.’

Shit. What the hell has Ajay done? It doesn’t make sense that he would undermine me. We both need Cracking Crafts to be successful. When I screw up here, it’s a disaster for the business, a business we’re equal partners in. And then I begin to doubt myself. Did Ajay tell me? Was there an email I’ve overlooked perhaps? I’ve had so much going on recently, it’s quite possible that I have screwed up. Did I research the wrong machine? All I know for sure is that I have totally mucked up. We will have made no sales, and quite possibly BUYIT TV will delist us. And if that happens, we will lose a major revenue stream, and I will have put our business in jeopardy.

Quickly, I gather up my coat and bag and hurry out of the building. It isn’t until I’m outside on the pavement, jostling with other Londoners, their heads down, in a hurry to go about their business, that I remember the phone call from the school. It was less than an hour ago, but it seems like a lifetime. And now I feel even more wretched. How could I forget that my daughter needs me? Business problems are irrelevant in comparison to her well-being.

I try calling her mobile phone, but frustratingly, and unsurprisingly, it is turned off. I leave a message.

‘Darling, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m leaving London now. I should be at school within the next couple of hours. Call me.’

She doesn’t.

It is strange driving to the kids’ school and being able to park directly outside, not having to jostle for a parking space. I dump the car and hurry up to the gates. After I press the electronic buzzer, I explain that the school secretary has asked me to come in urgently. The gate opens. The school is quiet, and I make my way through to the main building where I have to press another buzzer.

‘Mrs Kenner is expecting you,’ the secretary says. My heart sinks. I am being called to speak to the head of the school. The only time I have had a conversation with her was on the school’s open day, and even though she was doing her sales spiel, I found her impressive; the sort of woman you would definitely want to be on your side. I follow the signs to the head’s room, and just as I’m turning the corner, I see Mia sitting on a chair, her head bent low.

‘Darling!’ I exclaim, hurrying towards her. She looks up at me, her eyes red and her cheeks tearstained. ‘What’s happened? Has someone done something to you?’

She cowers away from me, but before I can say anything else, the door opens.

‘Mrs Grant, thank you for coming into school. Please come in.’ Mrs Kenner holds the door open and I step into her study. She is a tall woman with short-cropped grey hair, a slash of cerise lipstick and massive pom-pom black-and-turquoise earrings. Wearing a cerise boiled wool jacket and black trousers, she looks more like the head of an advertising agency than the headmistress of a leading co-ed day school.

‘Please have a seat.’ She sits down behind her wooden pedestal desk piled high with papers. ‘I won’t beat about the bush. I’m suspending Mia for a week as of today.’

‘Why?’

‘She was caught smoking weed in the girls’ toilets.’

‘Mia, smoking drugs!’ I can’t believe it. ‘She must have been set up. There’s no way that Mia would do something like that. And where would she find weed anyway?’

‘That’s something we are investigating, and the reason why she’s being suspended rather than expelled. We don’t believe that Mia fully appreciated the consequences of her actions. We are also aware that she was, up until this term, an exemplary student, and her form teacher is in