Hard Time Read Free

describing the Pages’ plans for the weekend, giving away all the
family secrets. She shook her head, picturing the little boy who’d stolen her heart the second he was born. Any minute now he’d come hurtling through the double doors, huge grin
lighting his lovely face. On the way home she’d be lucky to get a word in as he chatterboxed her through his day in excruciating detail. Jenny’s smile turned wistful as she thought
about the teenage years ahead when she’d be lucky if he threw a surly grunt in her direction.
    “Mrs Page? How may I help you?”
    The voice was distinctive; Jenny concealed a wince. Gruesome Gallagher, the head with halitosis and a yen for Hawaiian shirts. The old lech talked through a mouth full of rotting plums. Taking a
step back, Jenny swiftly masked her distaste. “Mr Gallagher. How nice to see you. You couldn’t chivvy Daniel along, could you?” And while you’re at it, get out of my
face.
    “ Doctor Gallagher.” His pointed index finger, a touch too close, reinforced the reprimand. His rubbery lips were spread in a smarmy smile that displayed tiny pointed teeth not
quite taking root in anaemic gums. “Come with me, my dear.”
    For the umpteenth time since Daniel started at The Manor, Jenny Page neatly sidestepped a wandering hand as the head tried to shepherd her along. Short of a burqa or a bin liner, she
couldn’t avoid his roving eye. The left one was currently traversing the contours of her body, even though they were all but swamped in a green leather swing coat.
    Gallagher’s small talk during the short walk majored on the weather; Jenny was more interested in the children’s gaudy daubings that brightened the dark panelled walls on which they
were displayed. The sights and smells evoked memories of her school days. Though God knows why: The Manor was more beeswax and potpourri than sweaty trainers and over-boiled brassica. She
concentrated on the present: Corporation Street wasn’t a place to revisit, even in her thoughts.
    “Ah, Mrs Wilson. Where are you hiding Daniel?”
    The teacher was rummaging in the bottom of a cupboard, inadvertently offering a rear view. Jenny looked expectantly at the teacher, pointedly ignored the head’s laboured wink. His
jocularity was forced, too, unlike the genuine confusion that flashed across Shirley Wilson’s moon face. Her troubled glance flitted between Gallagher and Jenny; she opened her mouth a couple
of times but didn’t get as far as actually speaking.
    “Well?” Gallagher boomed, hoisting a straining waistband over a flabby gut.
    The teacher’s uncertainty increased. “But Daniel’s not here.” She gave a tentative smile as if the head and Mrs Page were sharing a private joke. “He had a dental
appointment. He left at playtime.” Her no less troubled glance settled on Jenny. “With you.”
    The blonde woman shook her head, more cross than concerned. “We changed the arrangement. I couldn’t get away. Daniel’s father...” Jenny’s jade eyes narrowed as she
worked it out. Richard was always moaning about not seeing enough of Daniel. He’d have taken him to the dentist, then rather than dash back to the office they’d have indulged in some
father-and-son bonding. Naughty but nice – Rich really should have phoned to let her know. Knowing her boys, they’d be catching a movie, then demolishing a pizza.
    “But, Mrs Page, I saw you at the gates.”
    Lost in thought, Jenny only half heard. “Sorry...?”
    “I saw you.” She tilted her head towards the window. “At the gates.”
    The teacher’s absolute conviction was slightly unsettling, but Jenny was equally adamant. “I was nowhere near the school.” Unless it had an annexe at Chez Jules where
she’d lunched avec Justin. “You’re mistaken, Mrs Wilson.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Come now, ladies.” Gallagher simpered. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. Why not call your husband, Mrs Page?”
    “This is ridiculous.”