Since he’d started in September, Nathan Finch had been stalking Penny, criticising her teaching and her marking. But Rory hadn’t expected to be the one he asked to coach her. He knew they were friends. It was unprofessional.

Nathan had called her into his office, where he was now leaning back in his black leather chair, fingertips pressed together, swivelling from side to side. All he needed was a white cat to stroke.

Rory had recovered from the flu but had spent the rest of the week off trying to put the damn kitchen together on her own, before giving in and contacting Call Me Adrian. She’d been far too embarrassed to call John after the way she’d spoken to him. Call Me Adrian had been unnecessarily smug before sending out the kitchen fitters. Her kitchen was finished, but so was her self-esteem. She was not in the mood for Nathan’s games.

‘You do know that she is one of my closest friends?’

‘Oh, is she?’ He was clearly faking. ‘Well, if that’s the case, I’m assuming you will jump at the chance of helping her.’

Rory would do anything she could to help Penny, and not just because she was her friend. ‘Like I keep saying, Penny is a great teacher and her results are good. Plus, the kids like her.’

Nathan started to sort through some papers on his desk. ‘Apparently, the head thinks very highly of her, too. He wants me to ensure that she feels supported, rather than… What was the word he used… Attacked?’

‘So why do you still think she needs coaching?’

He looked up. Raised an eyebrow. ‘She doesn’t do things the way I want them done.’

Arrogant pig.

But Rory had begun to have a suspicion that there was more to Nathan’s behaviour than pure arrogance. ‘Maybe you could teach a model lesson for her?’

‘What?’ Nathan looked as if she'd just suggested that he teach Buddhism through interpretive dance. 

‘Teach a lesson to her class whilst she observes. Show her how you want her to structure it.’ It had probably been a while since Nathan had been at the front of the classroom; it would do him good to remember what it was like.

Nathan coughed and flexed his shoulders. ‘I don't think so.’

Rory wasn't going to let it go. ‘Why not? You said yourself, it's only RE.’

He returned to shuffling papers. ‘Penny is not a trainee teacher. She should know what a good lesson looks like. Anyway, I have a meeting with the finance office in—’ he flicked a wrist to expose his expensive watch ‘—ten minutes. So I will catch up with you later.’

Interesting. Obviously no one wanted to teach an extra hour that they didn't have to. But Nathan Finch hadn't looked annoyed. He'd looked scared. 

---

Rory went to find Penny immediately to tell her what Nathan had asked. ‘But I will refuse if you think this is too weird. You’ve been teaching longer than I have and I know what a great teacher you are. There is going to be nothing I can teach you that you don’t already know. I don’t want this to cause problems between us.’

Putting a gentle hand on Rory’s arm, Penny smiled. ‘Stop worrying. I’d much rather have you in my classroom than Nathan Finch.’

It was Rory’s turn to smile. But not for the same reason. ‘Don’t speak so soon. I have a little plan up my sleeve for Mr Finch to feature in your classroom in the very near future.’

Penny gulped. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Wait and see.’

---

Belle was staying at her dad’s that night and Charlie was going straight to Harry’s after school, so Rory was planning on a night in front of the TV after finishing her marking. She didn’t want to even look at the kitchen. The perfectly placed cabinets were mocking her. Just as she got to the last book, the doorbell rang.

Sheila was on the doorstep with a cake that she had made for Rory and Belle. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not stopping. I was making a cake for Olive and George and it was just as easy to make two.’

Rory watched her mum bustle past in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Thanks, Mum. Does that mean everything is back to normal between you now?’

Sheila was already looking in the cupboard for some cake plates. Clearly the ‘not stopping’ had been merely a pleasantry. ‘No. That’s why I’ve made the cake for them, as an excuse to pop in. But I haven’t got the courage up to do it yet.’

‘You still haven’t spoken to George?’

Sheila shook her head. ‘Karen came to see me yesterday. She could tell that something wasn’t right. I couldn’t lie to her. I told her what happened. She looked a little shocked, but she didn’t blame me at all. She suggested I just give him a few days because he can be stubborn. But it’s been a while since I’ve seen them and I’m missing them terribly.’

‘Why don’t you stay for a cup of tea and we can have a slice of cake now?’ That was clearly her mother’s intention anyway.

‘What? Oh, yes. I will. I don’t really know what to do with myself. I’ve got used to spending time there. It’s like going out without going out, just popping downstairs. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone nearby like that to chat to. Since your father went, I’ve got used to being on my own. But it’s surprising how much you can miss having someone to just watch TV with or make a cup of tea for. It’s nice to be needed.’

Rory put an arm around her mum’s shoulders. ‘We need you.’

‘Oh, no you don’t. Not really. In fact, I don’t know that you’ve ever needed me. You’ve always been Miss Independent. I mean, look at this kitchen. It’s marvellous.’

Rory bit her lip. She hadn’t admitted to her mum that she and Call Me Adrian had been right about needing kitchen fitters. This wasn’t the time to do it. Rory bent down to hide her face in the fridge in the pretence of getting milk.

‘Do you miss him, Mum? Do you still miss Dad?’

Sheila sighed, leaning back against the cupboards. ‘Every day, love. Sometimes I still get two cups out in the morning and then have to put one back. He was a good man, your dad.’

Rory’s eyes prickled. She slid the milk onto the counter and Sheila put her hand over Rory’s. They stood in silence for a few moments until Rory could trust her voice. ‘Do you think we’ll ever get used to not having him around?’

‘Probably not,’ Sheila smiled at her daughter. ‘But that’s all right. We were lucky to have him while we did.’

Rory nodded and blinked her eyes. ‘They don’t make them like that any more.’

‘Rubbish.’ Sheila patted Rory’s hand firmly and then went back to her tea making. ‘There are plenty of nice young men out there. And your dad wasn’t perfect, you know. You don’t need someone perfect.’

‘I don’t need someone anything right now.’

Sheila sighed. ‘I don’t want you to be on your own forever. One day, I won’t be here and I’d like to think…’

Rory held up her hand. ‘Mum, please. Don’t do this again. Let’s change the subject. Did Karen say anything about Olive’s health?’

Sheila picked up her cup. ‘Yes. Olive is a little better but George is still worried. He is so good with her, Aurora. I have never known a man so caring and patient. I know you are used to all this equality business but it’s unusual for a man of my generation to look after someone like that. I can’t imagine what would have happened if your father had had to look after me.’

Rory laughed. ‘You’d have been living on bacon sarnies and breakfast cereal.’

‘I would! And I dread to think what he would have dressed me in. Do you know, when I had you, he had to bring clothes into the hospital for me on the day we took you home. He brought in a mini-skirt and a pair of knee-length boots.’

Rory could just imagine her father standing in front of her mother’s wardrobe with a confused expression on his face. ‘I doubt much housework would have got done either.’

‘Exactly. I always said the pair of you would let the place go to rack and ruin if anything happened to me. No, it’s a good job I’ve got all my faculties.’

There was that damn lump in Rory’s throat again. Why was she feeling so emotional lately? Just the thought of her mum not being there…

‘I would look after you, Mum.’

‘I know you would, love. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Anyway, my point was that George is a very good husband.’

Sheila was always singing George’s praises. He was a good husband. A good man. Rory was pretty sure she had also described him as good-looking the first time she’d seen him. ‘Mum? Do you like George?’

‘Of course I do. I just told you that.’

Rory sipped her tea and raised an eyebrow. ‘No, I mean, do you like him?’

Sheila stood up straight. ‘Aurora. He is a married man.’

‘I know that, but it must be like being alone sometimes, with Olive the way she is.’

Sheila readjusted her cardigan. Then patted the back of her hair. ‘I suppose it is, but we aren’t alone. We never leave Olive out of the conversation. I would never do that. George would never do that.’

Now it was Rory’s turn to take her mum’s hand. ‘Mum, I wasn’t accusing you of anything. George is a nice man. If you feel attracted to him, that’s not a crime.’

Sheila pulled her hand away. ‘We are just friends, Aurora.’

Rory chose her next words carefully. ‘But what if Olive wasn’t there? What would happen then? Would you and George still spend time together?’

Sheila blushed. ‘I have no idea. I suppose that would change things. I don’t want to think about it, Rory.’

After Rory’s dad died, Sheila hadn’t even moved the newspaper from the arm of his chair for the first three weeks. Rory had hated going home; every time she walked into the lounge and saw that chair, it had been like losing him all over again.

Rory heard the front door open and close. Charlie would appear in the kitchen any minute, probably wanting more food. She needed to cut to the chase. ‘She is going to die from this, isn’t she?’

Sheila deflated a little. ‘Not from her main problem, but… she does seem very frail… I’m not sure…’

‘And what will happen to him then?’

Sheila busied herself putting away the tea bags and milk. ‘That’s not for us to say, is it?’

Rory wasn’t suggesting that Sheila steal George from under his poor wife’s nose, but they could be friends. ‘When she dies, he’s going to need someone. Someone who understands. Why not the friend he already has?’

Sheila put her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. ‘Oh, Aurora. I’ve done all that. I don’t want to start caring for someone new. At a certain point you realise you’re too old to go down that road again.’

‘You’re no different from me, Mum. You keep telling me to be open to letting new people into my life, but you’re not prepared to even think of it for yourself.’

Rory left her mum wiping the kitchen worktop and went to check on Charlie. It was strange that he hadn’t appeared. Had he gone straight upstairs?