The Mistress - Jill Childs Page 0,56

is she doing? Any news?’

They turned to me as if they’d already forgotten I was there, putting on their public faces once more.

‘Out of hospital,’ Miss Abbott said. ‘That’s something. It’s early days, but they don’t think there’s any permanent damage.’ She looked embarrassed. ‘You know, physically.’

Miss Fry said, ‘I can’t imagine she’ll be coming back to school though, will she?’

Mrs Prior said, ‘Definitely not before the end of term. As for next year…?’ She gave an exaggerated shrug.

Miss Abbott said to me, ‘They think she’ll need a bit of support for a while. You know. Counselling.’ She hesitated, with the air of someone searching for something more cheerful to add. ‘Jayne sent flowers from us all,’ she said at last, ‘when she was discharged from hospital.’

Miss Fry pulled a face. ‘I suppose someone ought to go and see her.’

They looked round at each other, doubtfully. No one, it seemed, wanted to volunteer.

‘I always wondered if she had, you know, a bit of a drink problem?’ said Mrs Prior. ‘I mean, we all like a drink now and then, don’t we? To unwind. But I do remember one time in particular when she came in late and said she’d overslept. Which wasn’t like her. She looked so pale and her hands were –’ she held out a hand to demonstrate trembling – ‘like this. She said it was flu. But I did wonder.’

‘Well, it takes all sorts,’ Miss Abbott said, more kindly.

Mrs Prior turned to Miss Fry. ‘You said how weird she was with the police, after Mr Wilson disappeared.’

Miss Fry gave her a warning look, reminding her not to say too much. I shifted my weight to steady myself. It was my husband she was talking about.

Mrs Prior said quickly, ‘Oh, I didn’t mean… it’s just so awful, isn’t it? One thing after another.’ She paused, trying to read my silence. ‘You must think we’re dreadful.’

‘Not at all,’ I lied.

I’d heard them in action plenty of times before. Miss Fry and Mrs Prior had been giving me sidelong glances for weeks, every time I saw them in school.

Miss Fry said, ‘Laura always was a bit of a dark horse, but it does make you think. The fact you can work alongside someone every day and have no idea what’s really going on with them.’

Miss Abbott turned away to speak to a mother who’d crossed the room to catch her for a word.

As soon as Miss Abbott had gone, Mrs Prior lowered her voice. ‘It can’t have been an accident. Surely. That many pills? And all that wine.’

Miss Fry said, ‘She left her car door open, apparently. Did you hear? Jayne told me. In the car park. Windows down and everything. That tells you something about her state of mind, doesn’t it?’

‘It doesn’t mean she intended to… you know, take her own life. She clearly wasn’t herself,’ I said.

‘Cry for help?’ Mrs Prior hesitated, her eyes on Miss Fry. ‘Maybe. But you’ve got to ask, haven’t you, if you want to be found, why drive all that way, and to a beach?’

Miss Fry gave Mrs Prior a meaningful look and then turned brightly to me. ‘Anyway, Mrs Wilson, how are you? Anna’s such a lovely girl! And doing so well.’

I forced myself to look her in the eye and nodded. ‘Thank you. I’m very proud of her. Ralph was too.’

Mrs Prior took the chance to leave us, heading back towards the bar.

Miss Fry said, in honeyed tones, ‘We’re all so sorry. About what happened.’

‘That’s kind.’ I nodded, considering. Knowing how much these women gossiped, a few careful words now might prove useful. ‘Anna’s loved school. She’ll really miss it next year.’

Miss Fry pricked up her ears. ‘You’re leaving?’

I gave a rueful smile. ‘It’s a big decision. But yes, I feel we should. I’m still exploring options. It’s just… we’ve both got too many memories here. I’m sure you understand.’

She nodded. ‘Well, we’d certainly miss Anna. And you, Mrs Wilson. But of course, whatever you think is best.’ She peered across to the bar where Mrs Prior was chatting to some young male teachers. She looked as if she couldn’t wait to dash across to join her and share the news.

She looked down at my almost empty glass. ‘Another drink?’

‘Thank you.’ I gave her a tight smile. ‘But I think I’ve had enough.’

Bea had been right. We shouldn’t have come, not this year. It was too much.

I went to find Bea to tell her I was leaving and say a quick