Authors: Merryn Allingham
‘Go on.’
‘Their names are listed meticulously right up until 1883. That’s when the school moved. Each headmistress of the girls’ section appears to have stayed in post for around three to five years. Presumably at that point they either married or moved to another school.’
‘I’m afraid I have to say, so what?’
‘What’s interesting is that initially at least they
were
all headmistresses—there are five different sets of female names—but after 1863 the teacher appointed was male and the Board of Governors then continued to appoint a man to lead the school until it moved to its new location—a total of twenty years.’
‘You think there’s something significant in the shift from women to men?’
‘It was pretty sudden and pretty unusual. At the time school teaching was not a particularly respected profession for men, and heading a girls’ school would have been even less attractive. The Board wouldn’t have found it easy to hire male head teachers. But despite the difficulties, they did. Something could have occurred in 1863 to precipitate their decision.’
‘What, for instance?’
I shook my head. ‘I have no idea. But the last female name on the list might offer a clue, I suppose. She has to be doubly fascinating—literally so. Not one woman but two were in charge in that final female year, and they stayed for a mere nine months.’
‘Do you know anything else about them?’
‘Only that their name was Villiers, the Misses F and G Villiers. They were a double act, a sister act, perhaps. One that may have gone wrong.’
‘Can you find out?’
‘Quite possibly, but I don’t honestly see what use it will be to you.’
‘Dr Latimer, I have a wife on the edge of a nervous breakdown. She thinks she is going mad. I have builders ready to pull out of the project completely and the whole thing is costing me an arm and a leg. I know I’m clutching at straws, but if I can give them any kind of explanation, it might help. You’ve made a start.’
‘And that’s where it could end,’ I warned, ‘but you’re the client. If you want me to continue, I will.’
‘I do. Very much.’
By now we were back in the vestibule and for the first time I felt able to smile. ‘I’ll contact you as soon as I can, Mr Merrick.’
I hope I sounded more professional than I was feeling. The experience in the schoolroom had shaken me, and I was tempted to make a dash back to the flat and normality. But Nick would want to know how the meeting had gone and I felt the less I talked about it, the better I’d be. I would go to Lyndhurst Villas after all, I decided. If I could brave the paranormal, I could brave Hampstead. Nick had earlier volunteered to come with me, but I thought it best to go alone, just in case Oliver had returned from Newcastle.
And he had. I had barely turned the key in the lock when he appeared at my side, his skin an odd shade of pink and the usually calm lines of his face distorted by suppressed anger. I hadn’t expected to be welcomed joyously, but his reaction took me aback; it seemed so extreme. I speculated, foolishly as it turned out, that he had somehow found out about Nick and this was jealousy in action. I soon learnt differently.
‘Where have you been?’ were his first words, no greeting, no pleasantries.
Despite the enormous effort he was making to control his temper, his tone was querulous. We seemed almost to have travelled back in time to continue the dispute of days ago. There was a difference though: I wasn’t the same person. Then I’d reacted stormily to his departure with Rebecca. I’d been upset by his abandonment and angered that a young girl threatened to displace me. Now I was thinking dispassionately, even coldly, and I decided that I didn’t like his attitude one little bit. I counterattacked.
‘Does it matter where I’ve been? You were happy enough to disappear to Newcastle for days. Presumably I’m as free as you to go where I wish.’
‘
I
went on a business trip,’ he said with heavy emphasis. ‘Are you saying that your journey was as essential?’
I couldn’t say that, so I said nothing.
‘Exactly. As I thought.’ A note of triumph had replaced the anger. Then a sad shake of the head. ‘I don’t understand what’s got into you lately, Grace. You seem determined to upset me.’
‘That certainly isn’t my intention.’
‘Perhaps not, but that’s how it appears. We’re partners—we work together as well as live together and I depend on you for certain responsibilities. These days you seem to make a habit of ignoring them. It’s disappointing.’
He tugged fiercely at his beard. He was the college principal and I the head girl who had not lived up to expectations.
‘And what responsibilities would they be?’ I asked, though I had little interest in learning. I thought he was sure to start droning on about the exhibition again and how much trouble my truancy had caused him.
‘Kezia.’
It was totally unexpected and for some reason the single word struck me as comic and I began to laugh. That made him explode. If he had been angry before, he was incandescent now.
‘You find it amusing that you completely ignored a young girl’s birthday to go gallivanting I-know-not-where on some pointless whim, presumably just to spite me.’
The latter held some truth, but I wasn’t going to admit it. Instead I challenged his preposterous suggestion that I was somehow accountable for his daughter’s happiness.
‘Kezia is your child,’ I reminded him coldly. ‘It’s
you
who has forgotten her birthday.’
‘I did not forget, but I was quite unable to do anything about it. I was away working.’
‘So you keep saying. But people do manage to juggle work and family, Oliver. You might even be successful if you gave it a try.’
‘Naturally I would not have gone to Newcastle if I’d had an inkling that you would let her, me, down so badly. Every year for the last—nine, is it?—you’ve arranged a suitable present and attended her birthday party. I depended on you to do the same this year.’
‘Why?’ I felt incensed. ‘
You’re
her parent, not me. Let’s be honest,’ and I had a burning desire to be honest, to let rip with the words I’d carefully smothered over the years, ‘I doubt if you even know how old she is. You’re simply not interested in your daughter and never have been.’
‘That’s a lie.’ The pink tinge had darkened to an unsightly red.
‘I think not. Interesting yourself in Kezia’s life would involve a degree of selflessness.’
‘How dare you speak so! You are in no position to judge my relationship with my child.’
‘On the contrary. Over the years I’ve visited Kezia in your stead, gone to her parties for you, chosen her presents, even taken her on shopping trips that you promised but couldn’t quite make. I’m more than capable of judging your adequacy or otherwise as a father. Forgetting her birthday—and don’t bother to protest—you’ve only just remembered it—is
your
fault. Not mine.’
‘You are my personal assistant. It was your job to remember.’
His refusal to accept any blame was wilful. I’d thought I knew Oliver, knew him and accepted him warts and all, but I had never felt more disenchanted.
‘It wasn’t my job,’ I repeated wearily, ‘but I’m not going to argue.’
‘Good.’ His tone was brisk. ‘There seems little point, now that it’s too late to rectify the mistake. But it mustn’t happen again, Grace. Lately we seem to have got our wires crossed. In future we must make sure that we work more closely together and you’re clearer about what needs to be done.’
A tentative smile had begun to creep across his face. He breathed out quite forcefully, as though he was blowing away the problems of the past. I hated to ruin his moment of satisfaction, but I was going to.
‘I think not.’
‘What do you mean?’ His eyes narrowed as though I was about to play a trick on him, which I suppose in some ways I was.
‘I’m resigning, Oliver. I don’t wish to be your assistant. You can take your job back.’ He was looking shocked, but I ploughed on, ‘And your house. And your sponsorship.’
There, I’d done it, finally jumped free. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. It was as though he was a stuffed exhibit in a museum. I decided against staying to pack suitcases.
‘I’ll take a few things today and clear my belongings next week.’ I pushed past him up the stairs. ‘And I’ll be sure to leave my key on the special hook you had made.’ I couldn’t resist that.
The bedroom looked different, somehow alien as though I had never slept there. But my clothes still hung from the rails, my shoes were tucked neatly beneath the dresser and my potions and creams still nestled on the bathroom shelf. I had slept there but I no longer did. I had burned my boats.
* * *
I walked down the hill in a daze. I guess I was making for Nick’s flat, but I wasn’t entirely sure; I just needed to keep moving. Down the hill and towards the centre of London, shimmering in the distance. I passed underground stations, passed bus stops, and kept walking. I needed the journey back to Thetford Road to take a long time. I felt too upset to return immediately, upset but also relieved. I had just thrown away nine years of my life and that was distressing but it was also inevitable. The business with Kezia had been absurd, a symptom of all that was wrong between Oliver and myself. For years I’d travelled quietly, smoothly, comfortable day following comfortable day, but only because I’d been quiescent. If I’d voiced any hint of challenge, there would have been trouble: Oliver had to be in control. Once upon a time I’d accepted that as a price worth paying, but no longer. For all his kindness and generosity, he couldn’t cope with independence and since meeting Nick I’d shown that to an alarming degree. Nick was so different, it appeared—easygoing, spontaneous, almost careless in his attitude to life. Being with him had blown a refreshing breeze through my world but from the first hello, he’d been pushing at an open door. I’d been ready for change and he had been the catalyst. I felt sad and scared. Sad that I’d left Oliver with only unkind words; he’d looked dumbfounded as I’d walked through the front door. And scared because I’d thrown away my hard-won security, irrevocably. But I’d had no choice. I’d been living behind a sheet of glass, I could see that now, living a life but never truly in it. And despite dark forebodings, something very strong was compelling me to walk through that glass and out the other side.
By the time I reached Thetford Road, I had blisters on my feet and my legs felt woolly and disjointed. I wasn’t used to walking any distance and kitten heels were hardly the most suitable footwear. Around Kentish Town the small haversack I carried had begun to feel as heavy as a cabin trunk. I couldn’t imagine I’d ever feel grateful to be descending the dingy stairs to Nick’s basement, but I found I was.
He was sitting on the floor of the main room, surrounded by a scatter of art Catalogues, and with the remains of breakfast congealing beside him. He’d been busily sifting through one Catalogue after another, marking pages, scribbling notes, but he looked up as he heard my footsteps.
‘Hi Grace, I think I may have an idea for—’ He saw my face and broke off. ‘What’s up?’
I slumped down into one of the two bedraggled armchairs, dropping my bag heavily onto the floor. He was on his feet and at my side in an instant. ‘Was Oliver there? Is that what it is?’
I nodded and the stupid tears began to fall. He put his arms around me and soothed as though I were a child. When I’d snivelled to a halt he went into the tiny alcove that masqueraded as a kitchen and made two large mugs of tea. I saw him ladle spoonfuls of sugar in mine. Normally I can’t stand sweet tea, but this morning it was just what I needed.
‘So tell me,’ he said, sitting at my feet and slowly sipping from his mug.
‘We had a row.’
‘Why are you so upset?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ I felt nettled. He seemed to assume that I was dead to normal feelings.
‘It’s not exactly the first row you’ve had. I thought you’d be accustomed to the yelling by now. Ever since we met, you’ve been at odds with Oliver.’
‘There was no yelling,’ I answered a trifle sullenly.
But he was right of course and I tried to explain. ‘It was over such a stupid thing. His daughter had her birthday while we were in Dorset and Oliver blamed me for not being here. I should have bought a present and gone to the party.’
‘While he was in Newcastle? Makes sense.’
‘It’s ridiculous, I know. He’s never taken much interest in Kezia since the divorce. And if you believe her mother, not much when they were married. Oliver and children don’t really gel.’
‘So the two of you never talked babies?’
The question took me aback.
‘Don’t look so surprised. You were together nine years. It’s not unreasonable to expect the topic to have come up.’
‘I suppose not,’ I conceded. ‘Knowing Oliver wasn’t a fan of small people meant that I never raised the subject.’
‘What about you? Didn’t what you want come into it?’
‘I’ve no burning wish to populate the world,’ I said airily but then realised that I’d never examined my feelings too closely. It hadn’t been worth it, knowing Oliver’s likely reaction.
‘And the problem over Kezia did for you both?’
‘In a manner of speaking. The whole thing was ludicrous. Kezia was the small straw, I guess, the death knell.’
‘Wild mix of metaphors!’
‘It’s how it felt. Oliver was utterly uncompromising—all he could say was that I should have stayed in London because it was my job.’
‘So how did you leave things?’
‘I left. I resigned. I don’t have a job. At least not
that
job.’
Nick didn’t reply straightaway, which surprised me. I’d expected him to rush in with sympathy and hearty words. When he spoke at last, his tone was just this side of peevish.
‘What will you do?’ He must have seen my dismayed expression, because he added quickly, ‘Of course, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.’
It wasn’t quite quick enough: in a few minutes, it seemed, I’d been demoted to an unwanted lodger. I’d never had any intention of staying too long. I suppose I’d thought that Oliver and I would eventually patch up our differences and then Nick and I would say a friendly farewell. The flat had only ever been a temporary reprieve, but his lack of enthusiasm decided me to go as quickly as possible. As soon as I’d found new work and a place to stay.