in a mishmash of sizes. The wrong shoes. A PE bag that was a supermarket carrier bag with his name written on it in marker pen. The kind of parents that no kid would choose.
Dumb with shock, vaguely she registered Avril checking her watch and making ‘back to work’ noises, the students moving off in a body to whatever awaited them next.
And Joe gazing ruefully back at her.
Through the soulful brown eyes of Rich Garrit.
If he hadn’t been cursing himself so bitterly, Joe could almost have laughed at Georgine’s flabbergasted expression. Lips parted, sea-green eyes wide, sandy eyebrows almost vanishing into her hair.
But, shit. Even if he’d known the chances were high that this day would dawn, he’d hoped to find his feet in his new life before being obliged to embark on the emotional journey back to the infinitely crappier one.
He cleared his throat. ‘Why don’t I get us both a coffee—’
‘Have you got an extended lunch hour or something? My watch tells me it’s time to get back to work,’ Avril put in, giving him a tiny prod in his shoulder as she got to her feet. ‘Crack the whip over your new assistant, Georgine!’ She giggled.
Wrenching her gaze from Joe, Georgine stumbled to her feet, backing away. ‘I have to get back to work too.’ Dispensing with farewells, she rushed to join the line straggling out through the cafeteria doors.
With a rapid, ‘Bye!’ tossed back to Avril, Joe hopped up and charged after her. Georgine’s amber hair made it a cinch for a tall person to keep her in view as the flow of students carried her along until she forked off right towards her room. He watched to check she went inside, then headed left for Oggie’s quarters.
Finding the principal of the institution at his desk he whipped over to the coffee machine and helped himself to two cups of coffee with a breathless, ‘Sorry, Oggie. Explain later.’
Oggie, who rarely looked anything other than serene, actually frowned. ‘Joe, you’re supposed to be—’ was all he got out as Joe, heart beating surprisingly hard and high up in his chest, set off in pursuit of Georgine.
At her door, he paused, then stepped inside. ‘I brought you coffee.’
From the other side of the large table, she gazed at him, her expression frozen into unfriendly lines. ‘You’re supposed to be—’
‘Accompanied, yeah. So sue me.’ He closed her door with an impatient foot. ‘You’ve obviously realised who I am. I’d like to explain.’ He put one of the coffee cups down on the table and pushed it across to her. It felt like he was creeping up on a wild creature and trying to gain its trust with food.
Georgine’s eyes moved over his face. ‘This is beyond weird. Like a time warp crossed with the hall of mirrors.’
He offered a smile. ‘I had a few reasons for not reminding you who I was straight away.’
‘You had planned to come clean at some time, then?’ She glanced at the cup of coffee but didn’t touch it.
Her words rankled but he didn’t let his irritation filter into his voice as he pointed out, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong to “come clean” about. I recognised you. I can’t help it if you didn’t recognise me.’
The green eyes were wary. ‘You’ve changed so much. I kept getting a strange feeling about you, but not knowing why. The penny dropped when you almost answered that kid when he said “Rich”.’
‘I was a ragged arse runt when you knew me. Becoming healthy after being underfed for most of your life is bound to prompt changes,’ he said with a hint of bitterness.
‘Your hair’s a lot darker now. You wear glasses. And, crucially, unlike me, you’ve changed your name.’ She took a few steps around the table, then paused as if not wanting to venture too close.
He remained where he was, willing to stay out of her personal space but not by backing up. ‘Why don’t we sit down and I’ll tell you the story over coffee?’
‘Because I have to start ringing around the parents who are volunteering to act as house managers or to run the bar and refreshments counter during show week. Six shows means a lot of volunteers.’
‘Right.’ For an instant he’d forgotten he was in a ‘normal’ job. Maybe because he hadn’t had too much experience of normal. He spent a lot of his life on the road or rehearsing or recording. He didn’t think he’d ever had a reason to be in the same building five days a week since he’d left college.
‘I feel odd,’ she said, before he could speak again. ‘I’m supposed to be looking after you, but I actually don’t want to, not this afternoon. I want to concentrate on what I’m doing, not trying to solve the puzzle that’s you.’
‘I’m not a—’ he began.
She held up her hands. Impatience seemed to be taking the place of shock. ‘No, don’t. I’ve got most of the notes together for you so I’ll walk you to the staff room. If you have your copy of the Very Kerry Christmas script you can begin adding your tech notes.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘But it’s important we clear the air.’
She nodded, though her heavy sigh suggested she regretted the necessity. ‘Could it be away from here? Maybe tonight, if you’re free. If we’re to work together a talk would be … enlightening.’
‘I can be free this evening.’ Until he made a decision or two, every evening on his calendar was free, with a question mark over Christmas week. His uncle and aunt, Shaun and Louise, usually invited him, but this year Shaun was working with a band in Australia and Louise had gone along for the whole Christmas-on-the-beach experience. ‘Here in the village? Is there a coffee shop?’
‘The Angel, but it’s only open in the evenings in summer or when there’s something on in the village. It’ll have to be the pub. Give me your phone number and I’ll text you details.’
He shifted awkwardly. ‘I don’t have a phone I can use right now. Just tell me where and when and I’ll be there.’ His phone was off and as he’d no intention of switching it on any time soon it wasn’t a lie to say he couldn’t use it.
She frowned, as if the fact that he didn’t have a working mobile phone made her even more wary. As if to show him what he was missing, her phone began to burble. Reaching for a notepad, she tore out a page and scribbled The Three Fishes, Main Street, 8 p.m. on it, shoving it towards him as she answered the call.
‘I’ll be there,’ he murmured.
‘OK.’ Then, into her phone, ‘Hello, Maddie. Yes … no, I wasn’t going to, but I can come along if you want me to.’ She reached for her production file and laptop, pausing to grab the cup of coffee he’d brought her then waiting for him at the door. He followed as she walked briskly up the corridor to the staff room and saw him inside with a nod and what passed for a smile.
The door swung closed.
He’d
