A reminder pings on my phone and I glance down at it and swear. It’s that bloody school governors’ meeting tonight. I had completely forgotten about it. I can’t dip out. I’m part of the sub-committee who have been overseeing the application for new parking restrictions and a build-out into the road to make it safer for the kids to get to school. It will be more hassle not attending and passing on the information than it will to actually attend.
I check my watch. It’s not worth going home. I might as well go straight to the school. Hannah’s school is in the next village, but due to rural spread of new house-building, the villages of Little Dray, where we live, and Budlington, have almost merged. A small strip of road, about one hundred metres long, is the no-man’s-land between the two places. Little Dray’s primary school was closed two years ago and the children now all attend Budlington Primary, which has put an increased pressure on the village infrastructure. Traffic flow through the village at school dropping-off and picking-up time has increased considerably. The flock of 4x4 vehicles and MPVs that swarm in and out of Budlington twice a day, when I’ve been privy to witness it, reminds me of a flock of starlings. They arrive en masse, dipping and diving in unspoken synchronised manoeuvres as they queue to enter the small turnaround in front of the school, drop their children off, or pick them up, and then move on out. The locals living near the school are not very happy, to say the least. I give a sigh and mentally prepare myself for the governors’ meeting as I pull up in the school car park. Before I go in, I tap out a quick text message to Luke.
Sorry, school govs meeting. Be home as soon as I can. Xx
A reply comes back just as I’m getting out of the car.
Okay, Babe. See you later. This is accompanied by a sad-face emoji.
If I was of the praying persuasion, I’d run off a quick thank you that I have such an understanding husband and that Luke doesn’t highlight the guilt trip I’m already on. Only one more academic year and then I can give up the governor’s role. I had taken it on as a favour to the school, really. They needed some legal advice, which I was happy to give for free but, before I knew it, I was more involved than I had anticipated.
As I walk across the car park, I meet with my friend, Pippa Stent. ‘Hiya! How are you?’ I ask, as we walk together.
‘Not so bad. Got a million things to do tonight, as usual. Why do these meetings always fall on the busiest night of the week, when Baz is away and my mother has a new boyfriend to distract her from grandmother babysitting duties?’
‘Oh, yes. How is your mum’s love life these days?’
Pippa pulls a face. ‘Don’t ask. Honestly, there should be an age limit on those dating websites. I tell you, the old ones are the worst, I’m sure. Not that I’ve been on them, of course, but you know. I feel like my mum has turned into a teenager!’ We laugh at the thought. ‘To be honest, I nearly forgot about tonight.’
‘Me too,’ I confess. ‘Our routine is totally out of the window at the moment.’
‘Oh, yeah. How’s it going with your visitor? Your sister, I should say, sorry.’
I wave her apology away. ‘Good. Yeah, good.’
Pippa stops walking as we get to the main entrance. ‘Well, that sounded convincing,’ she says, eyeing me suspiciously.
I hesitate, but decide to be honest with my friend. ‘It’s hard work. It’s awkward. It’s like you have this total stranger in the house and, yet, you have to behave as if you’ve known each other all your life.’ I look over and notice Michael, one of the other governors, approaching.
Pippa follows my gaze. ‘Look, come round for a coffee when you get a moment. We’ll chat then.’ She gives my arm a reassuring pat and then turns to Michael. ‘Hi, Michael, how are you?’ The three of us make our way into the school.
The meeting drags on even longer than I thought it would and if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m on the parking and speed sub-committee, I would have floored it out of that car park like a F1 driver. Instead, I force myself to make a sedate exit, but once I’m round the corner and out of sight, I drive as fast as I dare from one village to the next. The small stretch of road, which divides Budlington and Little Dray, is narrow and twisty. With no footpath, it’s a devil to negotiate as either a driver or a pedestrian. In the dark it’s even worse and am relieved as I round the last bend and the streetlights of Little Dray appear. The radar-activated speed sign flashes as I near the village. The digits 30 and the words slow down flash alternately. I take heed; it wouldn’t do to get a speeding ticket. That would be rather ironic.
I eventually get home and haul myself and my briefcase through the front door. I can hear laughter coming from the kitchen. It sounds like Hannah and I smile, grateful that Luke has let her stay up to see me.
He greets me at the door. ‘Hey, there,’ he says, coming down the stairs and giving me a kiss. ‘Sorry, you’ve just missed Chloe. She was shattered, so I had to put her to bed.’