A Desirable Residence - By Madeleine Wickham Page 0,28

.’ Duncan shot him a look of triumph.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s the zeitgeist. All the best people live in Silchester.’

CHAPTER FIVE

They had been running the tutorial college for nearly a month now, but Liz was still unsure precisely how she felt about it. She veered continually between a heady, sparkling feeling of power; of boundless energy and control—and a crushing conviction that the enterprise was far too ambitious; that it would ultimately overwhelm, sink and ruin them. On good days she strode about the building proprietorially, making confident snap decisions, speaking with a clear, well-articulated voice, marvelling at the way the place almost seemed to run itself, and even wondering whether they should not think eventually of expanding. On bad days she had to force herself out of the flat, into the exalted, exposed position that she occupied as Co-Principal, and longed to be, once again, a simple teacher; an employee, with a well-defined, limited remit and no responsibility outside the classroom.

Jonathan, meanwhile, kept an even keel. He had matter-of-factly shouldered this project, for good or for bad, and he took each day as it came; neither reaching Liz’s heights of rejoicing, nor sinking with her into her pits of despair. This evening, Liz was in rejoicing mood, after a particularly successful meeting with the modern languages tutors. Her eyes were flashing, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration. She had begun to peel the carrots for supper, but after she put the knife down for the third time in order to describe, with waving hands, her plans for a trip to Italy, Jonathan quietly took over.

He was filling the saucepan with water when the phone rang. Liz, in her freshly confident mood, didn’t hesitate, but grabbed the receiver.

‘Hello?’

‘Mrs Chambers?’ It was a male voice which she half recognized.

‘Yes, speaking.’ Was it one of the tutors? Or the students?

‘It’s Marcus Witherstone here. From Witherstone’s.’ Liz’s heart gave a little jolt.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said, adjusting her voice to a more friendly pitch. She felt Jonathan raise questioning eyebrows at her, and for some reason, which she would think about later, she turned casually away from him. She shook back her hair and gave a little smile to the cork pinboard in front of her.

‘I’ve got you some tenants.’ He sounded animated and rather pleased with himself. ‘Ginny and Piers Prentice. The couple I told you about.’

‘How nice,’ said Liz. She allowed herself to dart a triumphant look at Jonathan’s back. ‘That’s wonderful news. When can they move in?’ Jonathan swivelled round, a surprised look on his face, but Liz turned away again before he could catch her eye.

‘Sooner than I thought,’ Marcus was saying. ‘Apparently they can leave their place in London in a couple of weeks. And Ginny, the girl, will be in Silchester tomorrow. She wondered if we could meet to sign the contracts and talk about furniture. We thought the best place would be the house itself, some time in the afternoon.’ Liz felt a lurch of disappointment. She was teaching all afternoon.

‘Yes, that would be fine,’ she found herself saying. ‘Three o’clock. See you then.’

Without looking at Jonathan, she quickly dialled the number of Beryl, an elderly languages tutor who only worked mornings.

‘Beryl? It’s Liz Chambers. Listen, could you take a couple of classes for me tomorrow afternoon? From three o’clock. Something’s come up. Yes, I’ll fill you in over lunch. Really? Oh, Beryl, that’s great. Yes, of course, usual rates. Of course. Bye!’ She replaced the receiver, and turned to face Jonathan.

‘We’ve got tenants for the house.’ She felt her eyes glitter and her face flush.

‘So I heard,’ said Jonathan. ‘That is good news.’ He went to the door. ‘Alice!’ he called. ‘Come and lay the table!’

‘Is that all you can say?’ demanded Liz. Her voice sounded guiltily truculent to her own ears. ‘After giving me all that pressure about where are these famous tenants?’

‘Of course not.’ He turned back and grinned at her. ‘I’m sorry I was a doubting Thomas. I take it all back. Excuse me!’ He reached past her to the shelf for the tomato ketchup, and Liz had a sudden urge to slap him. She stared at him, at his mild forehead, and narrow shoulders, and bony hands, and felt a mounting frustration fill her body with an unchannelled, pulsing energy.

The kitchen door opened, and Alice shuffled in. ‘Hi,’ she said, in a discouraging voice.

‘Knives and forks, Alice,’ said Jonathan. He opened the oven door and peered inside. ‘Who wants two pieces of