What Maisie Did Next Read online

  Praise for Katy Lilley

  ‘I galloped through this funny, heart-warming book in one sitting, not wanting to put it down. Everyone needs a friend like Bryony Bennett – she’s a real kick-ass heroine.’ Jennie Bohnet – Author of A Year of Taking Chances

  Manatee Books

  First published in 2020.

  This book is primarily a work of fiction. Other names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Manatee Books

  Copyright © 2020 Joanne Robinson

  All rights reserved.

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912347-36-0

  Kindle ISBN: 978-1-912347-37-7

  Cover design by Aimee Coveney of Bookollective

  Images used under licence from Shutterstock.com

  What Maisie Did Next

  By

  Katy Lilley

  This book is dedicated to anyone who can’t imagine life without books…

  Chapter One

  Judging by the cussing, Stanley, her not over emotional or demonstrative boyfriend, had burned something again. Why he insisted on cooking when all he did was grumble, Maisie MacLean had no idea, but as she loved him, she was prepared to sit back and let him do his stuff. Even if it did take her twice as long again to clean up afterwards. She’d lost count of the number of saucepans she’d had to chuck out and had started buying cheap ones for his cooking dates. The Le Creuset was relegated to the back of the cupboard during those.

  However, she could happily cope with the mess—and expense—when it meant she could sit back with a drink, relax and watch the man she loved try to do something nice for her.

  That night she had no marking to do, no lessons to prepare for her Year One class and best of all, no dinner to cook.

  Bliss.

  Friday nights were always a takeaway unless Stanley was around and in a cooking mood. Lately he’d been away a lot for work, so it was a nice change to sit back and chill. Even if it did mean she was still dressed and wearing her bra. Stan was not a fan of slobbing around in pj’s (without a bra) in the evening. Because she loved him, she stayed dressed. Not in her work clothes but in something casual, albeit with a bra underneath. Tonight, that meant fairly neat drawstring trousers, and a loose top.

  Maisie sighed with pleasure, then winced as a crash emanated from the kitchen, and Stanley shouted though to her. ‘Sorry, babe, it’s only some cutlery. I’ve wiped it clean, nothing to worry about. Ready in thirteen minutes.’

  Maybe his attitude towards germs could do with a bit of attention as well as his clearing up skills. At least he was trying and that was the main thing.

  Even if he was ‘cooking’ a ready meal.

  Maisie poured her Friday night celebratory TGIF fizz and made a mental note to not be so catty. After all, it saved her deciding what to eat and having to prepare it. She winced at another clatter as she opened her post. Two charity letters asking for “support”, one asking, “have you made your will?” and…

  It was one of those surreal moments when you begin to doubt your sanity. Maisie stared at the form she’d just taken out of a very official looking envelope, blinked, and stared again. Turned the envelope over and over in case it held any clues as to why she had it.

  It didn’t. The contents sort of did.

  Only sort of.

  Had she applied for a job and not realized it? Or was it a wind up and a semi-clad bloke in tighty whiteys was hiding behind her front door ready to shout gotcha? If so, could someone give her a hint so she could warn Stanley she hadn’t ordered the bloke and put some slap on. No mascara, blusher or lippy made her look very wan.

  She read the form carefully. There, in black and white, under a very impressive line drawing of a familiar village school, it thanked her for her interest and was happy to enclose the necessary form. That was headed, “Application for Head Teacher at Brindish Primary School.” With a lot of information about said school and a closing date at the beginning of May, with the interviews scheduled for two weeks after that. Just in time, Maisie realised, for the successful applicant to hand in their notice and be ready to start after the summer holidays. The form was unsigned and just had an address to return it to. The letter was another matter. That was signed by someone whose signature was very recognisable.

  Dario Monk, Chair of Governors, Brindish Primary School.

  Maisie scanned both sheets of paper twice. She hadn’t applied for any position, especially not outside of her beloved London and in the wilds of Devon, even if her best friend now lived there. Maybe Bryony knew something about it. To think of it, even if the signature was a mere rubber stamp one, Bryony probably did know something about it.

  On cue, the phone rang, and she clicked on reply to hear her best friend’s voice. ‘Did you get it, have you filled it in and when can you start?’

  ‘Hi, Bry, hello, how are you, as well?’

  ‘Oh yeah, sorry.’ Bryony didn’t sound it. ‘Hold on.’ Her voice was muffled as if she’d put her hand over the receiver. ‘Dario it’s in the left-hand drawer. Sorry, my beloved can’t find the sticky tape.’ Her voice became clear once more. ‘It’s where he put it. Men.’ She didn’t sound at all concerned. ‘Hi, lovely, how are you?’

  Maisie grinned to herself. Bryony, probably her best mate in the world, was so loved up with her husband, he could have asked where anything was, and it wouldn’t faze her. ‘I’m fine. Friday night flake-out is in process.’

  ‘Bra off, Pj’s on. Fizz in hand, Chinese meal due in half an hour and going for beef in green pepper and special fried rice tonight?’ Bryony sounded envious.

  ‘Nope,’ Maisie laughed. ‘Bra on, trousers and a top. Stanley’s around and he’s cooking. Not sure what, it’s a surprise.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bryony’s voice changed. It was one of the negatives in Maisie’s life that the love of her life and her best friend didn’t get on. Stanley said Bryony was outrageous and loud with no care for sensible, responsible behaviour—not really true, but she could come across a bit over the top—and Bryony said Stanley was too staid and stifled Maisie’s spontaneity. Maisie did her best not to think that. After all, they were a couple and couples considered each other’s preferences. She chose to think of Stanley, as careful, deliberate and thoughtful. In the interests of harmony, Maisie juggled her life so Bryony and Stanley rarely met, but it weighed heavily on her.

  ‘You on cleaning duties then?’ Bryony said after a slightly too long for comfort pause. ‘Got the scourers on hand and all that?’

  Maisie laughed. ‘Yeah, but it’s worth it not to cook. Anyway, nice to hear from you but it’s a weird time isn’t it? Don’t you usually have your head over the loo at this time of night?’ Bryony, pregnant, was one of those unfortunates who had morning sickness during the evening.

  ‘I think it might be easing off.’ She didn’t sound too certain. ‘It wasn’t this bad with Theo.’

  ‘Well you did decide to have two close together so maybe it stored some up?’ Theo—Theodora—her goddaughter, was a year old and Bryony almost two months pregnant. Why on earth Bryony wanted two babies so close together heaven knew, but Maisie didn’t. Oh, she liked kids, she wouldn’t teach otherwise, but tiny, screaming, peeing, sicking, ones…so close together. Oh my.

  Five year olds you could wave goodbye to at the end of the school day were bad enough. Under two’s? Maisie shudder
ed and remembered she was supposed to be supportive. ‘Great if it’s getting better. Bet this one will be a little rebel rouser.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Bryony coughed. ‘Er… it’s not one. I had a scan today.’

  Not… ‘Fu… er… fish, you’re having two?’ Maisie fell back onto the back of the couch with a thump big enough to dislodge three peanuts—still in their shells—and a pen she’d lost weeks before. She’d no idea how long the peanuts had hidden there. She didn’t even like the things. ‘Twins?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Bryony paused so long that Maisie wanted to tell her to hurry up or the wine would be warm.

  ‘Five.’

  ‘Fi…bloody hell, Bry, how did you do that?’ Her mind boggled. Five all at once. ‘You got a death wish?’ She realised how bad that sounded. ‘Shit, I mean five? How come?’

  ‘The usual way. You know, in out, in in swirl it…’

  ‘Okay I getcha,’ Maisie said in a hurry. ‘Enough already. That’s too much information. But five…’

  Bryony laughed. ‘Nope, I was winding you up. It’s twins.’

  ‘Sheesh.’ She let out her breath in a long loud whoosh. ‘I almost had a heart attack thinking of you with all those babies. Two is…’ What was it? ‘Cute,’ Maisie finished, as she tucked the phone under her ear, grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and peeled it, she was peckish. ‘Copeable and cute. What are they?’

  ‘Your next godchildren. No idea what sex. It was a shock to us as well. But I always did say a big family would be nice and no way did I want Theo to be an only one. This way it’s done in one fell swoop. And before you ask, yes, I am fine. Disgustingly healthy. Eating for three and yes, I was breastfeeding Theo so you can fall pregnant when breastfeeding and okay, enough now, I can feel you cringing. Thank goodness these two won’t be at school until Maddie’s pair have left. Can you imagine another set like those two under the same school roof? Nine going on nineteen. At least you’ll only have them for a couple of years. So, about this job. You can stop with us until you find a place of course, and…’

  Maisie almost choked on the banana. ‘Hold on a sec, Bry. You’re a bit ahead of yourself. Why would I want to move? I love my job, where I live, the hustle and bustle, and Stanley is here. He’s based in London. Everything I want.’

  ‘Smell of the brewery and exhaust fumes, I know,’ Bryony said. ‘But your godchildren need you around. I need you nearer, and no, not for babysitting though that would be nice on occasion of course, I just miss my bestie. You know silly texts, hottie alerts and…’

  Maisie snorted. ‘Bryony Monk, stop with the woe is me tone or I won’t come and visit. Hottie alerts indeed. You get all them anyway, and you a married woman with a hottie of your own.’

  ‘True and he knows I look but have no inclination to touch anyone, unless it’s him and his bum. Which has nothing to do with the job application,’ Bryony’s tone changed. Maisie understood just why. Bryony was about to go heavy. She leaned back, swung her legs onto the settee and waited for the persuasive whys and wherefores. In the kitchen Stanley started to whistle tunefully, which Maisie knew was a sign all was well in his cooking world.

  ‘Will you go for it?’ Bryony said in a serious voice. ‘In all honesty the school needs a good shake up. Some new teaching blood in it. It’s atrophied.’

  ‘Gee thanks, I prefer to keep my blood in me thank you very much, not have it shared in a decaying school. I thought it was a place to teach the local kids, not vampires.’

  ‘Nut.’

  ‘Yeah, a hard one.’ Maisie glared at the peanuts she’d discovered as if they had an answer for Bryony. How had they found their way under her cushions? The only person she knew who ate the darned things hadn’t been round for months.

  Oh god, what a slut. Mental note to me, get the vacuum out.

  Bryony coughed. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, wool gathering. Or peanut hunting.’

  ‘What?’ Bryony sounded confused. ‘Have you had too many gins?’

  No wonder. When Maisie thought over what she’d said, it didn’t make sense. ‘No gin, one small glass of wine. Dinner is almost ready and then I’ll need to clean up. The kitchen will be a mess. I need some more scouring pads.’

  ‘Oh, don’t we all. Can’t he finish the job, you know cook and clean?’

  ‘Nope, not a chance.’ She thought she did well to even get him to stack the pans on the draining board after he’d used them. ‘It’s a rule anyway, if he cooks, I clear up.’ She didn’t add, ‘and if I cook, I clean up as well’, that would just give Bryony another thing to count against Stanley.

  ‘Hmm. anyway, look, Maisie, I’m desperate for the loo, so will you apply?’

  ‘What’s needing the loo got to do with it?’ Even Maisie couldn’t see the connection and she was used to kids and their weird and wonderful thought trains. Bryony seemed to have topped them.

  ‘I need to ring off and go, so can’t stop and beg or nag any longer.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  *****

  ‘What do you reckon?’ she asked Stanley as they sat opposite each other at the kitchen table later, a somewhat crisp lasagne between them. Maisie deliberately didn’t say it was Bryony who had called her or how she’d wound her up. That would give Stanley another chance to turn his mouth down and do the “irresponsible person” lecture again. She said it was one of her fellow teachers asking about something to do with a school inspection because she knew Stanley wasn’t interested in things like that.

  ‘It would be a promotion, but a move. Am I ready to leave here?’ She handed him the letter. She wanted to say, ‘are we?’, but decided that was a bit presumptuous. He said he loved her, spent several nights each week in her house and bed, when he was around, but never mentioned taking things a step further. Sometimes she worried she was more committed than he was but then, a lot of men didn’t display their feelings easily did they? Maisie showed him the application form. ‘Should I try for it?’

  Stanley shovelled some lasagne into his mouth, nodded and chewed. ‘Why not?’ he said after he’d swallowed his food. ‘It sounds brilliant, near Bryony.’ For once he didn’t invest the word with a sneering tone. ‘A great step up, next stage of your life sort of thing.’

  ‘I might not even get an interview, let alone the job.’

  ‘Well, unless you apply you certainly won’t.’ He scraped the last of the food from his place with a screech of his fork over the pottery that set Maisie’s teeth on edge. ‘You were saying that you were ready for a change.’

  ‘I meant of the age of my class, or a bit nearer to home or something. Isn’t this a bit drastic?’

  Stanley leaned over the table and patted her hand. ‘You know you really want to apply, so go for it.’

  He didn’t mention them or what he would do if she did get the job, and Maisie thought she wouldn’t either.

  But it rankled. What about them?

  As usual, once he’d cooked, Stanley put the TV on and left the clearing up to Maisie. She put all the things he’d used into the dishwasher, set it off, and wiped down the work surfaces. For the umpteenth time she had the uncharitable thought it might be easier to do it all herself.

  She made coffee and went into the lounge. As she entered Stanley stood up.

  ‘Let’s take it to bed,’ he suggested. ‘It’s getting late.’

  Nine thirty but she didn’t argue.

  The coffee didn’t get drunk.

  ****

  Maisie rolled over and fumbled for him. She loved the post coital cuddles they shared. She found an empty space. With a yawn big enough to startle any birds within a three mile radius, Maisie switched on the light, just as Stanley emerged from the bathroom and blinked at the bright light.

  ‘Babe, I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. I forgot to say I can’t stop tonight. Need to be off early in the morning, I’m on secondment in Runcorn, remember? Best I get home and a good night’s kip.’ He winked. �
�Well, what’s left of it. Not be awake half the night.’

  Maisie gathered her scattered thoughts. Runcorn rang a bell but not for the next day. ‘Tomorrow? It’s Saturday.’ She’d been looking forward to them spending some time together.

  ‘Yeah, well, sorry, babe. I need to get up there early to sort stuff out and so on. Be back a week on Thursday and we’ll go out eh? Then stay in.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘You go for that job and we’ll go far. Be good when I’m away.’

  He was gone before she had a chance to say “and you too”. Maisie glanced at the clock. Eleven forty-eight. Was he going to change into a gnome if he didn’t leave by midnight or something?

  Weird. Very weird.

  Saturday was long and boring. She did her ironing. Sunday, she went for a walk. Stanley didn’t ring but sent a, ‘be good, see you soon’ text. Maisie went to bed early—not as early as she had with Stanley the previous Friday, but still early—and read. Which meant she didn’t go to sleep when she should. She woke to rain pounding on the windows, and the realisation the alarm had failed to go off. Okay she’d forgotten to set it, but still…

  She scrambled out of bed half an hour late. Used dry shampoo and had a wash instead of her usual shower and hunted out some clothes. Broke the zip on her trousers—probably too much inhaling, also known as scoffing chocolate and cookies—scrambled to find a pair of tights to go with the skirt she’d resorted to, and left her bedroom looking like the aftermath of a jumble sale. If burglars broke in, they’d think someone had been there before them and ransacked the place. Which on consideration might not be a bad thing. Save them looking for any valuables she hadn’t got. One set of artificial pearls and a so-called silver ring she bought abroad years before and turned her finger green was about it. Maisie was an aficionado of costume jewellery she wouldn’t worry about if she broke or lost.

  She reached school three minutes before the bell went. That meant no coffee until mid-morning break and no doubt a need for the loo in an hour or so.