Thursday's Children (26 page)

A young man in a grey suit walked on to the stage and tapped the microphone. It sounded like the beat of a bass drum, which then turned into a spiralling howl. People in the hall put their hands to their ears.

‘Could someone do something about that?’ he said. He took a small pile of index cards from his pocket and looked at the top one. ‘I’m Tom Cooke. I’m the headmaster of Braxton High School and I’d like to welcome you all back.’

Frieda heard a voice, so close to her ear that it almost tickled.

‘He looks more like the head prefect.’

She looked round. It was Chas, standing at her shoulder, leaning in towards her. There was a terrifyingly thin blonde woman just behind him, wearing a purple silk dress and makeup that was a formal mask over her strained face. Her shoulders were knobbly and her arms all sinew and bone. Chas’s wife, thought Frieda.

The headmaster looked down at his index cards. ‘“Born to serve”,’ he said. ‘As you all know, that is the motto of Braxton High School. Someone once said to me that it sounded like the motto of a tennis academy.’ He paused, leaving space for a laugh that didn’t come. He swallowed, too close to the microphone, so it sounded like water in a pipe. ‘But you here, you old Braxtonians, are living proof of our motto. Among you I’ve been told that there are people
who have made their mark in business and in the retail sector, in the law and insurance and in the City. We’ve got a potter and someone who can repair your boiler. I might give him a call myself.’ There was a pause for a laugh that, once more, didn’t come. ‘I’ve even been told that there may be a psychiatrist here tonight, so mind what you say to your neighbour.’

‘Your fame precedes you,’ Chas murmured.

‘I’m not a psychiatrist,’ Frieda said.

‘I don’t think they know the difference out here.’

Tom Cooke moved gradually through his pile of index cards. He talked of the refurbishment of the science building, of the challenges of the school’s new academy status; he informed them about a special exhibition illustrating the school’s history on display in the corridors, and he pointed out the location of the pay bar and the fire exits.

‘In conclusion,’ he said, ‘I hope you’ll all think of joining the Friends of Braxton High School and ensuring that we continue the school’s great traditions and, in the words of our motto, continue to serve a new generation.’

There was another silence, then a sprinkling of applause as he walked away from the microphone. Immediately, the atmosphere changed. The lights dimmed, and the murmur of conversation grew louder.

‘This is my wife, Clara,’ said Chas.

Frieda put out her hand and Clara gripped it in her cold thin fingers. ‘I’ve heard of you,’ she said. ‘And I gather you came to our house.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Frieda.

Clara leaned forward, her large eyes glittering. ‘It’s a gilded
cage.’ She gave a high laugh and turned away unsteadily on her spindly heels. She was clearly already drunk.

Chas looked after her and shrugged. ‘I don’t know why she insisted on coming,’ he said. ‘It’ll only make her jealous all over again.’

‘Should she be?’

‘Women hate men to have a past.’

‘I think it’s more often the other way round.’

‘What’s your past?’

‘Frieda Klein.’ Frieda turned round. Two women were staring at her with amazed expressions and both gave a little scream of greeting. ‘Frieda bloody Klein,’ said one. ‘You are literally the last person I thought would ever come to a school reunion. Paula and I were talking last night and the one thing we agreed was that you wouldn’t be here.’

Paula, Frieda said to herself. Paula. The name meant nothing to her. She couldn’t remember the faces either. But it didn’t matter because the two women then caught sight of Chas, gave another little scream and hugged him. Chas glanced over their shoulders at Frieda with amused helplessness. She saw how he gave each woman a kiss just a little too close to her mouth. Frieda took the chance to slip away, jostled by crowds of men who had started drinking before they arrived, and women who’d spent too much time thinking about what they should wear to a reunion. How did they want to appear and who was it they wanted to be when they met all their friends and pseudo-friends from the past?

Beyond the people, the special decorations, the bunting and the exhibition, Braxton High School was both changed and utterly familiar, as if she were revisiting her past in a
dream. She walked out of the main hall and along a corridor with classrooms on either side. An extension had been built at the end, jutting out into the old playground. All the classroom doors were new and brightly coloured. The whole space had been scoured year after year by new cohorts of teenagers but something remained, a smell, the feel of the wooden floor, so that she felt herself back there, and it was no longer a memory but a vivid, queasy sense of dread and darkness. She could hardly believe that she had come back but she reminded herself that there was a reason: she had a promise to keep.

Returning towards the noise of what now sounded like a boisterous party, she saw a couple walking along the corridor. Their faces were turned away from her towards a project on the wall. As she got closer, she recognized the man.

‘Lewis,’ she said.

He turned round and smiled. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Looks like we couldn’t keep away.’

The woman with him was tall, curvy and very dark, like a gypsy. She wore a knee-length black shirtdress, belted at the waist. Frieda saw what looked like a chain wrapped around one of her ankles but then recognized as an ornate tattoo. Lewis introduced her awkwardly as Penny, then introduced Frieda with a complicated and incoherent explanation of who she was, which made Penny look at Frieda with new attention.

‘Max has been talking about you,’ she said.

‘We’ve got some interests in common,’ said Frieda.

‘He’s being a bit mysterious at the moment. Is everything all right?’

‘I think it will be.’ She looked at Lewis. ‘He’s a thoughtful young man. I like him.’

His face relaxed. ‘Good. In fact, he’s here tonight.’

‘Here?’

‘A group of them are helping out with the catering. Roped in, volunteered, whatever. He’ll probably offer you a cocktail sausage or a mini pizza. Though you might not recognize him – he had to put on smart trousers and a jacket.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out.’

‘We’re going outside for a smoke. Some things never change. You want to join us?’

‘There are some people I need to see.’

‘So one thing has changed.’ He turned to Penny. ‘We used to go out to the sports field at lunchtime.’

Penny slid her arm through Lewis’s and smiled at Frieda. She obviously wasn’t one of those women who Chas had said were jealous of their partner’s past.

Frieda walked back into the hall, where she had to push her way through the crowd. Some still looked like children, others were her own age and a few were much older. This was where she had come from. Frieda felt a lurch at the thought, then saw Vanessa clutching two plastic glasses and looking around. She wore a dark silk dress with a flowery jacket. When she saw Frieda she gave a nervous smile. ‘I was bringing a drink for someone but I’ve forgotten who they are and I can’t find them anyway. Do you want it?’

‘What is it?’

‘White wine.’

‘All right.’

Frieda took a sip. At least it was cold.

‘Is Ewan here?’

‘He’s around somewhere.’

‘He’s right behind you,’ said a voice, and she felt his arm around her shoulders. Ewan kissed her on both cheeks, then held her at arm’s length. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he said. ‘I’ve just bumped into Mrs Flannigan. You know, the old PE teacher. God, she terrified me. I used to pretend I was ill on days when we had PE. Cross-country runs. Do you remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘It was all right for you. You could run, which I couldn’t, and also you looked great in shorts. Which I certainly didn’t. Jeremy! Jeremy, over here.’ He waved both arms in the air. ‘I was just saying that Frieda looked great in shorts.’

‘She probably still does,’ said Jeremy. He was wearing a silvery-grey suit and a red bow-tie. Maybe that was the latest look in the City, thought Frieda.‘Where’s Catrina?’ asked Vanessa. ‘Catrina was in the year below us,’ she explained to Frieda. ‘That’s why Jeremy’s here.’

‘I think she’s in some screaming huddle near the front door,’ said Jeremy. ‘It’s really strange. As if people aren’t just remembering the past but actually returning to it. Soon everyone will be snogging on the dance floor.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ said Vanessa.

‘I won’t be snogging anyone but you, honey,’ said Ewan, patting her on the back as if she had hiccups.

‘That’s because it was Vanessa you were snogging then,’ said Jeremy, with a laugh that took everyone by surprise. ‘But who was I snogging?’ He looked at Frieda, who turned away.

‘Are you having a good time?’ she asked Vanessa.

Vanessa took a gulp of wine. ‘I’m not sure. I suppose I must be. Have you met any old schoolmates?’

‘A couple.’

‘Does it bring back happy memories?’

‘My memories of the school are a bit mixed.’

‘Max,’ said Ewan, turning with a smile. ‘What a transformation. Hey, watch out!’

Max, dressed in black and his hair brushed flat, was holding out a silver tray at a tilt. Several smoked-salmon blinis slithered to the floor and lay face down. A gaggle of teenagers, most of them girls, stood nearby, also carrying trays. They were giggling at him. Frieda saw Ewan and Vanessa’s daughter, Charlotte, among them.

Vanessa stooped and picked them up. She was wearing a dress that was slightly too small for her, her breasts almost bursting out. Frieda saw Max glance down, then quickly away, mortified.

‘How are you?’ Frieda asked him.

‘I don’t know why I’m here.’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘Have you seen my dad?’

‘He’s with Penny. Who seems very nice,’ she added encouragingly.

‘Is he … you know?’

‘He’s fine. I think he’s having a cigarette outside.’

‘I’m a bit drunk,’ he admitted. ‘I can embarrass him for once. I finish at half nine. Could we have a talk before I go home?’

‘Shall I meet you by the swings?’

‘Hello, girls.’ It was Chas again. He put an arm round Vanessa and Frieda. ‘Are you meeting up with some of your old flames?’

‘No.’ Frieda stepped out of his embrace.

‘I’ve only just arrived,’ said Vanessa.

‘I’ve already encountered a couple of my guilty pleasures.’

‘I don’t even want to know what that means.’ But Vanessa giggled.

‘I’ve had a couple of women of a certain age come up to me and, well, you know, it’s funny the things you’ve forgotten about until someone reminds you.’ He glanced at Frieda. ‘I suppose you disapprove of the idea of guilty pleasures.’

Frieda was spared having to answer when she noticed Eva standing on her own and walked across to join her.

‘Thank God,’ Eva said. She was dressed in a brightly striped dress and had put on blue eye-shadow. ‘Finally someone I recognize. I really thought I’d know more people but most of them look too young to come to a reunion. Or too old. You look nice, though – I love that scarf thing. Or is it a stole? Do I look like a tent? Is Josef with you?’

The last question was such a sudden change of subject that it took Frieda by surprise. ‘You mean with me at the reunion?’

‘He could have come. He said he might. People are bringing people.’

‘He’s got a job on a big construction project in London.’

‘Good for him.’

‘Look, Eva, if you want to talk about it …’

‘Because that’s your job, isn’t it? But there’s nothing to talk about. It was one of those modern adult sort of relationships. No commitment on either side. Just two people having a good time.’ She raised her glass, then saw that it was empty. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Now, look over there. Do you remember Mr Hollesley?’

Frieda saw him talking to the two women she had failed to recognize earlier. They were gazing up at him adoringly. ‘Greg. Yes. I met him the other day.’

‘Greg,’ said Eva, admiringly. ‘I would never dare call him that. He’ll always be Mr Hollesley to me. He’s still so handsome. But there were some people who called him Greg even when we were at school. Do you remember Teresa Marland?’

‘I remember the name.’

‘Do you remember the school trip to Belgium?’

‘I didn’t go on school trips.’

‘If Teresa Marland is here, ask her about the hotel room in Ghent and Mr Hollesley and see if she goes red.’

‘I don’t think I will.’

‘Things were different in those days,’ said Eva. ‘They couldn’t get away with it now.’ She looked more closely at Frieda. ‘Am I shocking you?’

‘No,’ said Frieda, slowly. ‘It’s just hearing you talk about what happened with you and Josef. It was painful for you. Then, hearing you talk like that about Greg Hollesley and that girl, as if it was just fun.’

‘Well,’ said Eva, ‘we’re at a reunion. We’re meant to be laughing about the past. All of us have things we’re not proud of.’

‘Like what?’’

‘We just do. This isn’t the evening to talk about it. Or then again, maybe this is the only evening to talk about it.’

From then on the evening was like a series of snapshots, flashes in a dream. Greg Hollesley came up to her and gave
her a kiss on both cheeks, wine breath and aftershave. Max reappeared, and this time he was clearly drunk, swaying on his feet, his tray tipping and wine spilling over the brim of the glasses. Lewis and Penny came back into the room, looking blurry. He whispered something in Penny’s ear and she laughed. Was he telling her something about what Frieda was like as a teenager? Was it funny? Then she saw Eva go up to them. She looked a bit drunk and she put her arms round Lewis’s neck while Penny watched with a bemused expression.

She saw Vanessa and asked her where Ewan was. She wanted to ask him something about the evening, that other evening when they had been together, most of them, most of the time. So many alibis. So few opportunities.

‘He went out with some of the gang for a cigarette. They’re probably behind the bike sheds.’