What Maisie Did Next Read online

  ‘You’re not trying hard enough. Go on, the cafetières are in that cupboard and the coffee in the jars marked mine and his. His being full on caffeine, mine the opposite.’

  Maisie spooned coffee into the jugs and added water. If Bryony really wanted to spoil her one cup of coffee a day by letting Maisie make it, who was she to argue? They both knew her coffee making skills were negligible. Even when she used her all singing all dancing coffee machine for idiots that Bryony had given her for her birthday, it still looked and tasted like sludge. Maisie was used to it. She’d always been the same, and at uni her mates had clubbed together to buy her a recipe book with a page in it on how to make proper coffee. After three weeks they told her not to bother they’d make the coffee. Maisie suspected one or two of them thought she’d mucked it up on purpose. A good idea maybe, but she hadn’t thought of that. It was no wonder she had every respect and a lot of envy for those baristas who made excellent espressos, lattes and Americanos every time, and didn’t need to spend ten minutes clearing up the coffee beans that would be everywhere if Maisie had been in their shoes.

  ‘Here and on your own head be it and all that.’ Maisie looked pensively at her efforts. ‘Hmm, does this look better than usual?’

  Bryony peered into the mug Maisie handed her. ‘Nope. Ah well, here goes.’ She took a cautious sip and shuddered. ‘I have no idea how you do it. I mean it’s coffee in jug, add water, leave for a bit, depress plunger and pour. What’s to go wrong?’

  Maisie shrugged. ‘No idea here either. But we all have our strengths and weaknesses. Coffee making falls in my weakness bit. But I’m good at other things.’ She winked. ‘Or so I’m led to believe.’

  Bryony spluttered into her drink. ‘That’s not fair. I can’t even think of indulging and you’re bragging? For that I want all the gen on you and Stanley.’ She paused. ‘Well, maybe not all, but most of it. I’ll let you keep the extra little details to yourself.’

  ‘You mean like how good he is bed?’ Maisie rolled her eyes as Bryony giggled. ‘Let’s say there’s nothing I’m missing.’ And if that sounded ambiguous so be it. Stanley’s hot and cold attitude was bothering her, but she knew he was worried about his exams so hoped once they were over things would get back to normal. That wasn’t something she intended to share though. Bryony would be likely to tell her to have it out with him, but what exactly was there to have out? ‘He’s busy studying for his exams, but thinks I’m doing the right thing in applying for this job.’

  ‘Even with the distance from here to him?’

  Maisie wasn’t going to say that was concerning her as well. ‘If I get it, he might move, who knows? We haven’t talked about it in any great detail, we’ll wait and see if I get offered the job, then discuss it and see what happens.’

  ‘Hmm…oh hold on…that’s Theo stirring.’ The snuffling noises had changed to a babble. Mop walked to the monitor, and then back to Bryony, where he leaned on her leg. ‘That’s Mop making sure I know. I’ll give it a sec and if Dario doesn’t go, I will. This conversation is suspended for now. To be continued at a not so much later date. Okay?’

  Maisie nodded. ‘Yes, Miss.’ In truth she was looking forward to explaining her thoughts to Bryony. It might help her to clarify them. Muddled up was an understatement. ‘Where are the cats?’ Crosby and Jess, Bryony’s cats usually appeared to meet visitors.

  Bryony grinned. ‘Probably on your bed.’

  ‘Figures.’

  By the time Dario had shouted through the intercom that he’d got Theo all cleaned up and they were coming down, at Bryony’s behest, Maisie ditched the first pot of coffee and made a fresh one. Not she decided any better, just…different. And hotter.

  She put her mug down as Dario passed Theo over for a cuddle. Maisie held the wriggling cheerful bundle close and laughed as Theo batted her earring.

  ‘Dnokkoo.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, my lovely.’ The sweet scent of wipes, talc, and baby overwhelmed her. She’d never thought of herself as overly maternal, but now… ‘I might even want one, one day.’

  ‘Ohhh,’ Bryony said and high fived. ‘Hold on, who with?’

  Maisie shrugged. ‘That’s the rub. Stanley is adamant he’s not dad material.’ It was one thing that could upset the apple cart. ‘I didn’t think I was, but now, I can feel the clock ticking. It’s something we’d need to talk about.’

  Bryony sniffed her coffee. ‘I’ll put my thinking cap on.’ She picked up a spoon and stirred the contents of her cup. ‘Could be a relationship breaker.’

  ‘We’ll sort it when the time is right,’ Maisie said firmly. The last thing she needed was Bryony meddling. ‘Stop making faces at the coffee. I knew I shouldn’t have had another go.’ Maisie took the spoon from Bryony and dropped it in the saucer. 'Licking the spoon won’t make my coffee taste any better. I told you, you should do it.’

  ‘I want you to learn. I thought twice in one day might help.’

  Why on earth it should, Maisie had no idea. She liked her crap instant coffee well enough, and it made her appreciate proper coffee even more. When someone else made it of course.

  ‘Hmmm, well anyway. Let me get this interview over and done with, and then we can celebrate or commiserate. Me on wine and you on soda. And forget men, offspring and anything else. What do I need to know about the school and its inhabitants, both kids and adult. Go on give me insider info. Why is the head leaving?’

  ‘Not a lot to say really. Head is leaving because her husband has got a job abroad somewhere, and she can’t juggle childminding any more. Or so it’s said. As her kids are all in their teens, I’m not sure that’s the real reason, or if she just fancies a change. For which I can’t blame her. I mean sitting on a beach somewhere warm, or slogging away in a classroom of preteens? No contest. Not that the school is a bad one, it isn’t. Usual mix of kids including Maddie’s two hellions. Just over a hundred pupils in four classes, one of which you as head takes. The other teachers are okay as far as I know. Two have got interviews. One, Liz Kidder - she’s the deputy head - was telling Mrs Cherry about it in the shop. So it’s not insider info per se. Oh, and I meant to say Dario is only going to sit in and not actually interview. Anyway, Liz was telling Mrs C that of course it should go in-house, and Pam Loftus, the other teacher to be interviewed, really isn’t experienced enough…though she’d make dear Liz a good deputy one day. Liz isn’t really a bitch, just a tad over assured.’ She didn’t sound too certain. ‘Well, she’s not one of the witches or Faye Soole’s alter ego anyway.’ A quartet of women who had cattiness down to a fine art and who Bryony, along with several others, had had a run in with over the years. ‘She’s only a quarter as bad.’

  ‘Oh Lord, thanks a lot.’ Maisie rolled her eyes. ‘All I need if I get the job. An antagonistic deputy, who really hates the idea of grockles, thinks she should be the head and has some of Faye Soole and the witches attributes. It’s enough to send me screaming to the hills. Or to the gin.’

  ‘No gin, I can’t have one so you can suffer with me. I’ve a nice non-alcoholic wine chilling.’

  Maisie rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll stick to soda.’

  ‘Dario will have a good bottle of rioja stashed away for the two of you to share.’

  ‘Two,’ Dario said. ‘At least.

  ‘Rotter, I’ll just have to doubly sniff the cork. Anyway, Liz will have to get over it if she doesn’t get the job,’ Bryony rattled on. ‘Not everyone thinks she’s the bees knees. Dario says she’s okay but another one who needs more experience. There were two more on the short list but both pulled out. That also didn’t come from my husband, who can be as close as the grave when need be. I got that on the QT from the head, when we met at the recycling bins.’

  Dario rolled his eyes. ‘That’s an idea for a book. Meet me at the recycling bins and get recycled…’

  The ideas that conjured up. Maisie didn’t laugh but got a mental picture of a load of people standing around the bottle bank with lists of gossip t
o exchange and debating who got the chop. For some strange reason giving each other marks out of ten for artistic effort and so on. She blinked. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Liz will end up as deputy head of education I reckon, and still say she should be head. A small village school is not really best for her but she likes being a big fish in a small pond. The third teacher is a bloke. Ken Dent. His wife is a head over in Newton Abbott. Ken says one higher up in a family is enough and anyway he loves what he does. He doesn’t mind what ages he teaches, enjoys the challenge of composite classes and excels at sports. Brindish Primary has won the interschools football tournament and the rounders and netball every year since he took over the teams.’

  That was music to Maisie’s ears. PE was not her forte. ‘For that nugget, you can have two non-alcoholic wines. Which in my mind is a misnomer.’

  ‘Gee, thanks. Actually, I can have a spritzer as long as it’s heavy on the spritz, and there is a nice New Zealand sauvignon blanc in the wine fridge. Now stop waffling and let’s make sure you’re on the ball or whatever for tomorrow.’

  Maisie spluttered. ‘Me, waffling. That’s a bit pot, kettle, and black.’

  Bryony giggled. ‘Yeah, okay, so are you all sorted for the interview?’

  Maisie wrinkled her nose. ‘Probably not, but I’ll do my best. However, I’m putting this out there now, if I do get offered it, I’d need to decide if it really is right for me and the village.’ To say nothing of her and Stanley. ‘Could I run the school in a forward-thinking manner and not upset all and sundry? Find somewhere I can afford to live that doesn’t take me longer to get to school than it does in London? I mean I’m not driving from Exeter every day, affordable housing or not. Will I be accepted by parents and the rest of the village? You of all people know what some people, not all I grant you, but some are like with incomers. That’s before I think about the dreaded school inspections, budgets and arsy parents. Kids who are determined to be anti everything going. Fags behind the bike sheds…if there are any? Bike sheds I mean, not fags. Chewing gum on my seat, flat tyres on my car…oh whatever.’

  ‘Even in Primary School?’ Dario asked. ‘I’m sure I hit puberty first.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Maisie said with feeling. ‘Even year one. Some of the stories I could tell you would make your hair stand on end. One kid used to put a match – lit, of course - in the bins at least once a week. He thought it was fun to see the staff rushing around to put it out. Only when it was missed once, and the fire brigade was called did it stop. He didn’t want to give them extra work, just his teachers. Little b.’ She giggled. ‘He’s well on his way to being a straight A student now and wants to be a surgeon.’

  ‘All the more reason we need a genuine, no nonsense head, who lives and works in the village then. Newcomer, oldie, whatever.’

  ‘Point taken,’ Maisie allowed. ‘Anyway, we’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘As long as one of you let me know what happens as soon as possible.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dare not to.’ Dario said and laughed. ‘Though Maisie will know first. Now I need some coffee.’

  Bryony laughed. ‘Maisie made it.’

  ‘I’ll make fresh,’ Dario said promptly. ‘Anyone else want one?’

  Maisie hugged Theo who babbled and grinned before bestowing a sloppy kiss on Maisie’s cheek. ‘Mnunty.’

  ‘Probably,’ Maisie agreed. ‘Dario, surely you’ll know who gets it?’

  ‘I will but you’ll have to let Bry know, I won’t tell.’

  ‘Amen,’ Bryony added and went bright red. ‘Shoot, foot in mouth again time. It’s as well Dario’s not still a lay preacher. Now remember, show them your all.’

  ‘Maybe not my all, I’d prefer not to have my underwear on show.’

  ‘Okay then, your best.’

  ‘Sure will.’

  Brave words, but as she sat in the tiny staff room of the village school being eyed with interest by both other occupants and in one case, outright hostility, Maisie understood just how hard a time she could have if she was appointed.

  She’d arrived to an apology from Dario that due to unforeseen circumstances—not explained—all the candidates would, after a tour of the school wait together. He’d grinned. ‘As only you need the tour, let’s go and do it.’

  Now she smiled politely at the other two women in the staff room and introduced herself.

  ‘Hello, I’m Maisie MacLean.’

  One woman smiled back. ‘Pam Loftus.’

  The other sniffed. ‘Not local then.’

  ‘Not unless I get the job, no.’ Maisie replied pleasantly. Oh, how she wished she could come back with ‘oh my, what an unusual name’, but perhaps not. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.’ Mainly because it hadn’t been offered. Of course, she knew who it must be, but an imp of mischief made her ask.

  ‘Mrs Kidder. I’m the deputy head at present.’ And should get the job, her tone inferred. ‘Local.’

  ‘Liz,’ Pam sounded aghast. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘Local jobs for local people, who are loyal to the area.’ Liz folded her arms over her ample chest and looked mulish. ‘I say it how I feel.’

  And don’t care who you offend?

  ‘Are you related to Faye Soole?’ Maisie asked, in a butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth tone. ‘Or Penny Whoosit?’

  Liz looked at her suspiciously. ‘Faye and I are second cousins. Why?’

  ‘No reason.’ It figures. Faye Soole was one of the women who had been the most vocal about newcomers in the area taking jobs and buying up the houses. It must be a family trait. Next she’d get the ‘my aunty/brother/ cousin three times removed had to move away because of incomers’ spiel.

  She didn’t, and Maisie was saved having to answer any further by a tall, imposing man who came in and glanced at Liz. ‘Mrs Kidder? Will you come through please?’

  Liz stood up and smoothed her ultra professional skirt down. Maisie bit back the remark that the button over the middle of Liz’s boobs looked about to undo. She guessed it would be seen as a complaint, not a hint to help.

  ‘Of course.’ Liz’s four-inch heels clacked as she followed the man out of the room. Maisie stifled the ignominious thought that if the woman wore those around squabbling kids, she could do someone an injury. Would they be counted as an offensive weapon?

  ‘Terry Piltman. Local solicitor and not a local,’ Pam said, with a ghost of a smile once the door shut behind the two. ‘Doesn’t suffer fools gladly, so our Liz will never diss him to his face. Look, don’t take her too much to heart. She’s not typical of most of us. Always thought herself as a cut above everyone else. Went to private boarding school and all that. Shared a room with some minor royal of an obscure foreign line and never lets us forget it. Mind you, I give as good as I get. I never let her forget our grandmothers worked in the fish factory together, and her mum still does.’

  ‘Just as well I’m not one of them there fools.’ Maisie said with a grin. ‘Well, not all the time. And my Gran was a Lyon’s Corner House waitress and my mum a clippy.’ She noticed Pam’s puzzled expression. ‘An old London café and a bus conductress.’

  She wouldn’t consider herself a fool, unless applying for a job, where there were few home comforts of the brewery smell, exhaust fume and a myriad of deliverable take away food outlets type counted. She’d find out if and it was a big if, she was the successful candidate. Meanwhile she would have to wait.

  Pam smiled. ‘I love family history. I’m starting to research mine. Do you mind if I read? I’ve got one of Mandi Rook’s books to finish and I’m at an exciting part. Where the heroine is about to turn the scales on the hero - or is he the baddie? Written by a local author and a bit on the scary hot side.’

  ‘Be my guest.’ Did she know who Mandi Rook was, Maisie wondered. If not, Maisie had no intention of sharing that information. She pulled out the Times crossword.

  However, she kept getting distracted. Pam’s hisses of indrawn breath, a low flying RAF j
et, and a fly that buzzed about the room. Around three quarters of an hour later, as she was struggling with the last clue, Liz re-entered the room with a triumphant smirk on her face.

  ‘That,’ she said, without anyone asking her. ‘Went incredibly well. Of course, as deputy head I am in a position to know what’s best for the school and its pupils.’ She gave Maisie a condescending look. ‘Plus, no time was wasted showing me around. I am familiar with the ethos, the heritage, the building, and its quirks. Plus, it’s important to know the school and understand your parents as well as your pupils, as I do.’ And you do not, her tone inferred.

  ‘Oh, I absolutely agree,’ Maisie said sweetly, as she put the crossword away. Ten down would have to wait. ‘Which is what any good teacher does each year. After all, children grow up and move on, and others take their place. Parents too. Even buildings like the porta cabin used as a temporary classroom for years and then one day, it’s gone. Makes life so interesting doesn’t it? It would be oh so boring if everything was static.’ Pam did one of those sniggers turned into a cough that most adults who were around children learned to do so well. ‘That doesn’t bear thinking about. Can you imagine the same annoying or irritating child in your class for ever?’

  Liz glared. ‘I fail to see,’ she began, just as the door opened and the same man as before entered. He smiled at Maisie.

  ‘Miss MacLean? Would you like to come in?’

  Maisie wondered what he would say if she answered, ‘actually, no not really?’ She didn’t of course. She stood up, did a similar smooth down the skirt thing that Liz had done—not as elegantly—checked her blouse buttons were all tightly fastened—they were, they didn’t have as much to cover—and smiled at him. ‘Of course, thank you.’ She followed him in her one-inch wedges. They didn’t clack nearly as much as Liz’s heels had.

  An hour later she shook hands with the three interviewers, smiled faintly at Dario who was positioned a few feet behind them, and it seemed, took notes, and made her way back to the staff room. Pam looked up.