Here’s the next part of “Leefdale” by Michael Murray.
I’m following a well established nineteenth century tradition and publishing some of the novel in weekly instalments.
You can find the links to previous instalments on this page.
So, if you like the Dickensian idea of reading your novels in weekly instalments,
read on …..
Sharon moved hurriedly around the bedroom, tidying it up. She quickly made the bed, placed several days-worth of used clothing in the laundry basket and stuffed three pairs of shoes in the bottom of the fitted wardrobe. Ideally, she’d have liked a shower before he came round but there was no time. She had Louise’s tea to cook.
She went over to the dressing table mirror, thinking again about the letter which Louise had pressed into her hand when she’d collected her from the after-school club. She ran a comb through her hair and dabbed perfume behind her ears. Then she picked up the letter from the dressing table and re-read it for the fourth time.
Leefdale Primary School,
10th April 2001.
Dear Ms. Makepiece,
This afternoon Louise was involved in an unpleasant incident with Jade Maynard. They were sharing a computer during the Information Technology session and became involved in a quarrel. In the course of it, Louise hit Jade several times and pulled her hair.
I have spoken to both girls about the incident. Jade maintains that Louise was making fun of her acting ability. As you know we are at present rehearsing the school production of “Oliver”. Worryingly, Louise refused to give me any explanation at all for her conduct.
Of late, I have become increasingly concerned about Louise’s deteriorating standards of behaviour. She continues to be anti-social and aggressive. Please would you come in to school at your earliest opportunity to discuss the situation with me.
Sharon replaced the letter on the dressing table, wondering how she was going to re-organise her work commitments in order to make time to visit Mrs Henshall before the Easter holiday. She set off to consult her diary and then stopped. The phone next to her bed was ringing.
It was Ruby Corbridge, wife of the owner of The Old Rectory, calling from Capri. She’d received Sharon’s message that a potential buyer had viewed the house.
‘Yes. I showed him round this afternoon.’
‘Oh, did he like it?’
‘I think so.’
‘What’s he do?’
‘He’s an artist. His name’s Dylan Bourne.’
‘Never heard of him. Has he got any money?’
‘Well, he must be doing all right. He’s going to call me back tomorrow with an offer… a cash offer.’
‘Cash? That’s good.’
‘I don’t know though.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’
‘I don’t know… there’s something about him that keeps nagging at me… something doesn’t feel quite right.’
‘Is he married?’
‘He said not, but I think there’s someone in the background.’
‘Early thirties, I’d say.’
‘Very good looking.’
‘Maybe that’s it.’
‘The thing that keeps nagging at you.’
Sharon giggled. ‘Ruby, you’re always trying to find me a man!’
‘Come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t find him a bit attractive.’
‘Well, all right, a bit.’ Sharon smiled. ‘But he wears too much leather.’
‘Yes. He rides a motorcycle.’
‘A motorcycle, and he wants the rectory?’
‘Yes. Oh, and he wants to paint me.’
‘Paint you?’ There was a sharp intake of breath from Ruby. ‘Now something about him is starting to nag at me.’
The bedroom door opened and Louise came in. She went straight over to Sharon who was now lying back with her head on the pillows, taking the call. Louise jumped on the bed and snuggled up to her mother. Sharon stroked Louise’s hair.
‘What did he say about the big flaw?’
The vicarage was affected by rising damp in certain places, particularly the cellar. Ruby’s great fear was that this would affect the sale.
‘Nothing. It never came up.’
‘Well, don’t bring it up unless he does.’
‘I won’t. Stop worrying. I told you before, if anyone makes a big deal out of it we just go down a couple of grand.’
‘Call me tomorrow and let me know what he’s offered.’
Ruby sighed heavily. ‘Now, I won’t sleep all night!’
When Sharon had finished the call she put her arms around Louise and gave her a hug.
Louise said, ‘So? What’s the letter about?’
‘Come on, Lou, you know very well what it’s about!’
Louise lifted her head off Sharon’s breast. ‘You mean Jade?’
‘Yes. Why did you hit her?’
Louise scowled. ‘She was being horrible to me again.’
‘She was winding me up. She asked me if my dad was coming to see me in “Oliver”.’
‘The little bitch! Is she starting all that again?’
‘I told you she’s jealous because I’m playing Nancy. She wanted that part.’
‘And that’s when you hit her?’
‘No. Not right away. It was when she said, “Oh, of course, you haven’t got a dad have you? I forgot”.’
‘Christ! I’m glad you hit her.’
‘So I said, “Of course I’ve got a dad. Everybody’s got a dad. As a matter of fact, your dad is my dad”.’
Sharon pushed Louise off and sat bolt upright. She stared at her daughter incredulously. ‘You didn’t?’
Sharon got off the bed and paced over to the window. She turned away from the window and walked up and down the room.
‘How could you, after you promised us!’
Sharon made a sudden lunge at Louise. She grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. ‘I ought to kill you! Kill you! Do you know what you’ve done?’ She shook her more violently. ‘You stupid little girl!’
‘Of course, I didn’t tell her!’ screamed Louise. She pushed her mother away and leapt off the bed. ‘But that’s what I wanted to say. It’s what I always want to say. But I never can. So I hit her instead.’
Sharon sank back onto the bed. ‘Thank God!’
Louise started to sob.
Later, when Louise had stopped crying and was being comforted in her mother’s arms, she said, ‘Why can’t we just go away? Why can’t we just go away?’
Yes, why not? Sharon thought. Why not just go away? Inevitably she thought again of all the reasons not to, and surprised herself by dismissing them. ‘Is that what you really want, Lou?’
‘Yes. If we could move somewhere else, away from here, I’d be happy. I wouldn’t have to keep pretending about dad and everything. Can we go mum? Can we?’
‘All right,’ said Sharon.
Louise squealed and hugged her mother tightly. ‘Oh mum! You promise?’
‘Yes. If it makes you happy.’
‘But you really, really promise?’
‘I just told you.’
‘Oh fantastic. When will you tell dad?’
‘I think he’s coming round tonight. I’ll tell him then.’
Louise hugged her again. ‘Thanks, mum. Where will we go? Luffield?’
‘One thing at a time, Lou.’