The Secret Letter

Nate chuckled. ‘Don’t be. It must be hard for you coming from London where people aren’t as liberal.’

He was joking, I thought. But I blushed anyway.

Nate introduced me to another teacher – Celeste – who was a dead ringer for a young Michelle Obama, right down to the enviable upper arms. I slid my own bingo wings into my cardie as I spoke to her, feeling self-conscious and not just about letting myself believe that everyone in Elm Heath was a boring stereotype.

Paula’s husband Chris was on the barbecue and their daughter Chloe, who was in sixth form, handed out drinks. It was all very pleasant, just a bit – overwhelming. Trying to make a good impression on so many new people was hard work.

Needing a moment to myself, I slunk across the garden to an empty deckchair and sat down. To my left, Paula’s husband Chris was flipping burgers. He was engaged in what seemed to me to be a fairly heated discussion with the man who’d been talking to Nate’s handsome husband. The other man was shorter, stockier, and more dishevelled than Marc, but also very attractive in his own way.

Both Chris and the other man looked quite cross and I was intrigued. I leaned slightly to the side and tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

‘I think you’re being unrealistic,’ Chris was saying. ‘Idealistic.’

The other man frowned. He looked worried. ‘I thought perhaps, I could just see it as business …’

‘Are you the new headmistress?’ a voice at my elbow said, interrupting my earwigging. I turned to see a small girl – year three, I guessed with my expert eye – with a gap-toothed smile and wonky bunches.

‘I am,’ I said.

She fixed me with a serious stare. ‘Are you a nice headmistress or a strict headmistress?’

I thought about it. ‘Could I be both?’

‘S’pose.’

‘Then I will be both.’

‘You don’t look like a headmistress.’

‘Why not?’

‘You look like a mummy.’

I smiled, a genuine, not-nervous smile. ‘Do I look like your mummy?’

‘My mummy is dead.’

I stopped smiling. ‘I’m sorry.’

The little girl grinned at me. ‘I have a daddy.’

‘That’s nice.’

I shifted awkwardly in my seat. Obviously, I considered myself to be good with kids, but I was off my game this evening and this small child was unsettling me.

‘What is your name?’ she asked.

‘Ms Armstrong. What’s yours?’

‘Cara,’ she said, frowning. ‘What is Mizzzzzzz?’

‘It’s a title, like Mrs or Miss.’

Cara shook her head, her lopsided bunches bouncing. ‘I think you’re getting muddled,’ she said kindly, patting my hand. ‘Miss means you haven’t got a husband or a wife, and Mrs means you have. Mizzzzzz is just pretend. Do you have a husband or a wife?’

I swallowed. ‘No, I don’t have a husband.’

‘Do you have a wife?’

‘No.’

She nodded. ‘Then you are a Miss,’ she said, speaking clearly like I was elderly and hard of hearing. ‘MISS.’

‘Cara, are you being a nuisance?’

The attractive man who’d been talking to Chris was standing in front of us. He flashed me a smile and for a split second I felt a flicker of interest and not just in his conversation. He was wearing a rumpled T-shirt and jeans and his hair was sticking up, but there was something about him that I liked.

‘I’m chatting to MISS Armstrong,’ Cara said. ‘She is the new headmistress and she is nice and also strict and she doesn’t have a husband or a wife.’

I felt myself flush as the man raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Strict, eh?’

Urgh. ‘I have my moments,’ I said. Where on earth did that come from? Was I flirting?

The man put his hand on Cara’s head. ‘We need to go, angel,’ he said. ‘It’s late.’

‘But Daddy, it’s a party.’

‘And now it’s finished.’

Cara rolled her eyes and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Nice to meet you, MISS Armstrong,’ the man said. ‘I’m Danny Kinsella, by the way.’

‘Are you a teacher?’ I said, running through the list of names Pippa had bombarded me with in my head.

‘God no. Just a friend of Paula and Chris.’

‘And a daddy,’ Cara said.

He smiled down at her. ‘And a daddy.’

‘See you at school then, Miss Armstrong.’

He waved at me, and he and Cara wandered off down the side of the house and out on to the road. I stared after them feeling slightly off-balance. There was definitely more to life in Elm Heath than I’d imagined.

Chapter 4 (#ulink_408c72ce-c95e-5a0d-b85e-f224039e698b)

Lizzie (#ulink_408c72ce-c95e-5a0d-b85e-f224039e698b)