Past All Forgetting (18 page)

She went out, her dressing-gowned figure redolent of disapproval. 

Janna watched her go with a sigh. If there was any comfort to be gained from the whole sorry mess, she thought, it was that her mother would never appreciate the true irony of that remark. Then she rolled over on to her side, put her hands over her face and began to weep very softly and passionately.

Janna felt utterly tired and dispirited when she arrived at school later that morning. Mrs Prentiss had urged her to, take the day off, but she had refused. The demands of her job were in many ways exactly what she needed to take her mind off her troubles. And she knew, besides, if she stayed at home, she would be forced to listen to her mother's plaintive recriminations.

Her father had had little to say on the subject. Before he had left for the office he had dropped a light kiss on her hair.

You know your own mind, Janna. If you have no regrets, then that's good enough for me.'

At the other end of the table, her mother had sniffed loudly.

As she walked to school, Janna had reflected that her mother's reaction had been one of the most disturbing elements in the whole affair, and it threw a whole new light on the relationship between her parents, and their different aspirations. Janna had always known that her father was quite contented to remain in Carrisford, a large pebble in a smallish pond. She had assumed that her mother shared this contentment, and was satisfied with her busy, involved life. Now she wondered whether Mrs Prentiss had merely been using all this activity to mask her disenchantment.

It was clear that it was not so much Colin's personality that had made him an attractive proposition as a son-in-law, but his position, and his father's money, and what that would mean to Janna as his wife. Colin seemed less a person in her eyes than an opportunity—a chance that had been missed. Janna sighed. She felt that a whole new aspect of her mother's personality had been revealed in recent weeks, and one that she did not particularly relish.

And there was also her bitterness towards Rian. Janna found it difficult to comprehend why this had arisen. It was almost as if her mother suspected what had happened, and was in some odd way trying to defend her.

She did not want to think about Rian, she told herself. Such thoughts brought in their train pain and a sense of loss that was well-nigh unbearable. What a fool she had been to think that by closing her mind to him, she could bar him from her heart. Child though she had been in many ways, what she had felt for Rian all those years ago was. She knew that now, and knew too that all that suppressed emotion had merely been lying dormant. Now it was alive again, and a Constant torment. She could only be thankful that Rian would never know. What a weapon that would have made for him, she thought sadly.

And yet there had been one wild confused moment on that narrow bed in the motel room when she had thought that he not only recognised her emotion but shared it. That he loved her. She lifted her gloved fingers and pressed them almost unconsciously against her lips as if she was safeguarding the memory of that last kiss.

But that fleeting hope had soon died, she thought. All he had been doing was contemptuously demonstrating his Own power. She was no longer his adversary, she was. his victim, and how he must despise her for being such easy game.

At least in the classroom she could forget about him, she told herself. And later, as she walked into the room and saw Fleur's small solemn face with the almond-shaped eyes watching her from one of the tables, she realised that, do what she would, she had a constant reminder of him.

For the first time in her teaching career, she wanted to hate a child. But it was a reaction that she rejected with fierce scorn. How could she blame a child for the passion which had resulted in her birth? It was the thought of the mother, that unknown woman who had lain in Rian's arms, that seared her.

She called the register, and accepted absence note&from the convalescents. Fleur, of course, was one Of them, and Janna bit her lip as she accepted the envelope. But the writing on it was not Rian's, she was certain. It was definitely a woman's hand. She tore it open and saw with faint surprise that the signature was G. Benson.

She detained Fleur. 'Didn't your—father write this?' she asked, keeping her voice level.

Fleur shook her head. 'My father—away, Mees.' Janna realised with compunction that she had never given the child a thought the previous night. She had simply assumed that Rian was free to roam the countryside with her until any hour. Surely he couldn't have left Fleur alone in Carrisbeck House with its bare rooms and shadows.

'Then who wrote this?' She held up the note.

Fleur smiled. 'Mees Benson. She kept house for Rian long ago. I stayed at her house last night.' She lowered her voice conspiratorially. 'She is a very, good cook, I think. Last night she baked some cakes, and gave me one to eat at playtime. She also gave me one for a friend.' The almond eyes looked unwaveringly into Janna's. 'I would like you to have that cake, Mees. You are my friend.'

'Oh, Fleur,' Janna said rather helplessly. 'She really meant one of the other children, you know.'

Fleur shrugged. 'I want you to have it,' she insisted.

'Very well,' Janna sighed. 'But the others may call you the teacher's pet.'

Fleur lifted a graceful shoulder yet again. 'No matter,' she said, and went back to her seat. Janna placed the notes with the register. She had forgotten all about Mrs Benson, the Tempests' former housekeeper. She remembered now Colin had mentioned the fact that she still kept an eye on the place when they had visited the house that day. Presumably, she still kept an eye on its occupants also. It was comforting somehow to think that there was a motherly woman to whom Fleur could turn, if necessary.

At breaktime she kept away from the staffroom, aware that her ringless hand had already become an item of speculation, particularly by Beth, who had noticed it first. She called in at Vivien's office and asked if she could see Mrs Parsons during the lunch hour on a personal matter.

Vivien gave her a surprised glance. 'She's free now, if you want to see her,' she suggested.

Janna hesitated, then agreed. If she delayed, she thought, she might well lose her courage.

Mrs Parsons was on the phone again when Janna entered and she signalled her to take a chair while she made monosyllabic replies to someone at the other end of the line.

'These mothers!' she said grimly as she replaced the receiver. 'Terry Wilson's mother wants him to keep his sweater on as well as his vest for P.E. because he's always catching cold. I tried to explain that he would catch a worse cold if we allowed him to do as she asked, hut she wouldn't listen. Now, Janna my dear?'

Janna took a deep breath. 'I'm afraid I have to offer my resignation.'

'Oh dear!' Mrs Parsons' eyes travelled swiftly to her left hand and back to her face. She sighed. 'Can I assume that the fact you're no longer wearing that rather splendid ring has something to do with this?'

Janna bent her head. 'You could say that,' she conceded. It was odd to recall how only a few short weeks before she might have been handing in her notice on the grounds that she was going to be married soon, she thought.

'Oh, Janna.' Mrs Parsons leaned forward earnestly. 'I know you must be feeling raw, my dear, but don't do anything hasty. Keep your decision in abeyance for a week or two—you wouldn't be able to leave until the spring anyway. I won't inform the office yet awhile. Who knows, everything may change, and you may decide to stay with us, I don't want to lose you, you know.

'You're very kind.' Janna stared down at her clasped hands. 'But I must leave. I—I know that officially I should stay until Easter, but I was wondering if you would put in a word for me. I—I'd really prefer to leave at Christmas if it could be arranged.'

Mrs Parsons sat back with a slight frown. 'You seem to be very determined,' she commented. 'Are you sure you've thought about this? Teachers' jobs are not easy to come by these days. Have you another post in view?'

'No,' Janna was forced to confess.

'I see.' The headmistress was silent for a moment. 'I won't pretend the office won't consider making a special case. With so many teachers on the dole, they seize every vacancy that occurs. I'll see what I can do. But I hope you're not making a mistake you'll regret. You could be thowing away your training and your security, not to mention your gift with children.'

'It's a risk I'll have to take,' Janna said steadily. 'Everything has been very easy for me so far. From school to college and back to teach in the school I started in. Maybe a little hardship wouldn't come amiss.'

'Hm.' Mrs Parsons was clearly unimpressed. 'I won't phone the office until lunchtime tomorrow. If you change your mind, let me know at once.'

Janna thanked her and left the room. She knew a feeling of relief now that her decision had been taken, and she knew too she would not be contacting Mrs Parsons in the morning. She would be glad to get away, she thought. It seemed the only way she could possibly heal the wounds that the past had dealt her.

She walked back slowly along the corridor. The laughter and boisterous shouting of the children reached her ears, quite clearly through the glass of the long row of windows overlooking the playground. On an impulse, she stopped and looked out. There wasn't the slightest doubt that she would miss it all. She liked children, enjoyed handling them and never complained of the noise they made as some members of staff did.

She wondered whether she would seek another teaching job—perhaps even abroad, but somehow it didn't seem to matter much. Just at the moment, she did not wish to consider her future prospects too closely.

The feeling of introspection passed as something on the far side of the playground caught her attention. Fleur was standing there, quite alone, her small body almost pressed against the tall wire-mesh fence which bordered the school grounds. Every line of her tense little figure seemed to spell an almost agonised anticipation. Janna felt disturbed, as she watched her. The child had seemed so content, so well adjusted to her new surroundings. Had they all been too complacent about her?

Janna gave a little worried shake of her head before continuing on her way, resolving she would keep a special eye on Fleur over the next week or so. Everything about at her, at that moment when she thought she was unobserved, seemed to indicate an urgent desire for escape.

It was something they shared at the moment, she thought with a rueful smile as she went back into the classroom. Perhaps, if all else failed, they could run away together somewhere.

She watched Fleur closely for the remainder of the morning, but could find nothing unusual in her behaviour. She was unfailingly polite, and interested, almost disarmingly so. But I'm not disarmed, Janna thought shrewdly. I'm wise to you, young lady, although you may not know it.

At the end of the morning, she introduced the subject of the Nativity play, enjoying the flutter of excitement that went through the room. The days could seem very long for children as November lengthened into December, she thought. Talk of the play and by inference, the end of term, served to bring Christmas that little bit nearer to them. There was the usual rather shy competition among the girls for the privilege of playing the Virgin Mary. All the class beauties fancied themselves in the simple blue robe and white veil wrapped in tissue paper at the bottom of the dressing-up box. But looks, as Janna always swiftly pointed out, were not the main essentials for the performance. An ability to sing a solo rendering of 'Away in a Manger' without forgetting the words, substituting the tune of 'Land of Hope and Glory', bursting into tears or wetting one's knickers with excitement—catastrophes that had befalled some of the previous leading ladies of bygone years—was far more important. Auditions, she said firmly, would start that afternoon.