A Desirable Residence Part 22

'I don't think so,' he said. 'But I'd better talk to her, anyway.'

Liz felt grey. Grey in body and grey in soul. Outside, a pale spring sunlight served not to cheer her spirits, but simply to thrust her melancholy into sharp relief. She sat gloomily in one of the cla.s.srooms, trying yet again to drum up some inspiration for the modern languages department, shrinking into her chair as she heard tutors and stray pupils pa.s.sing cheerfully by the door; wincing as the sound of Alice's pop music penetrated the walls with its dull thudding.

It had taken Alice a mere week to recover her spirits. For seven days she had refused to eat, refused to look Liz in the eye, burst into tears at the slightest provocation, and sat most of the time, holed up in her room, wrapped in her duvet, listening to music which seemed to get louder and louder and gloomier and gloomier by the day. It had taken all Liz's self-control not to go in there and pick a fight. But the knowledge that a row would probably only augment the problem, allied with an inarticulated fear of what secrets Alice might choose to divulge, had kept her from saying anything. And, in part, she had sympathized with Alice's blatant, public display of woe. Her own dull misery was something to be hidden, fought and, if possible, one day overcome.

Which was why she was so outraged to hear Alice now, giggling and shrieking behind her closed door, as though nothing had happened. A pang of envy filled Liz as she imagined the hilarious scenes in that little room; the jokes; the stories; the inexhaustible capacity for giggling. Alice and Genevieve, back together again.

The arrival of Genevieve for a month's home leave had taken them all by surprise. Her manically giggling phone call from Heathrow had turned Alice's black scowl into a cautious smile; within half an hour of hearing Genevieve's voice she was grinning again. Now she bubbled over with excitement every day. Liz marvelled at her rubber-like resilience. And, at the same time, resented her for it. Now she was alone in her apathetic misery.

The cla.s.sroom door suddenly opened, and Genevieve's face appeared around it. It still managed to take Liz slightly by surprise. Genevieve was now deeply tanned and a good half-stone lighter than before going away, and her face was decorated with a newly acquired nose-ring.

'Mrs Chambers?' she said. Her voice had acquired a slight American tw.a.n.g which Liz found alternately charming and trying. 'Is it OK if we make peanut b.u.t.ter?' Liz looked at her blankly. What for? she wanted to ask, but instead, she nodded.

'I don't see why not.'

'Cool.' Genevieve's head disappeared.

'Don't make too much mess,' added Liz automatically. But it was too late. She thought about going after Genevieve and saying it again. Then she decided that she simply couldn't be bothered to.

As Jonathan walked with Marcus into the foyer of Witherstone's he saw Anthea and the two boys sitting in the waiting area.

'Mr Chambers!' Anthea rose and charmingly took both hands in hers. 'Did you see the piece in the paper?'

'Yes,' smiled Jonathan.

'I showed it to him,' said Marcus.

'We're still so thrilled about it all!' continued Anthea. Daniel was trying to catch Jonathan's eye.

'Do you think,' he said, 'that the article in the paper will get you more pupils at the tutorial college?'

'I should think so,' said Jonathan. Daniel immediately looked at Andrew, as though to say, You see You see ... ...

'You still looked like a nerd,' said Andrew placidly to Daniel. Jonathan's mouth twitched, and he looked at his watch.

'I've got to dash,' he said apologetically.

'Of course,' said Marcus. 'Well, just let me know about the house. No hurry,' he added. 'No hurry at all.'

When Jonathan arrived back from Witherstone's, Liz was standing in the kitchen of the flat, disconsolately stirring a mug of coffee. Alice and Genevieve were pouring peanuts into the weighing dish of the scales, giggling helplessly as they bounced off the plastic, onto the counter and onto the floor.

'Not enough,' announced Genevieve. 'Let's go and buy some more.'

'OK!' said Alice. She looked up at Jonathan with bright eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked utterly happy.

'Before you go, let me tell you the good news,' said Jonathan. 'We've had an offer on the house in Russell Street.'

'Oh, right,' said Alice, picking a peanut off the floor and nibbling at it.

'Cool,' said Genevieve politely. Liz said nothing. She felt as though their life had been taken out of her control.

'And there's a possibility,' said Jonathan, 'that we may be able to rent it back off the new owners.'

'Wow!' said Alice. 'Like, live there again?'

'Yes.'

'Excellent!'

'I think that's really good,' said Genevieve surprisingly. 'I mean, this flat's really nice, and everything,' she looked around kindly, 'but your old house was better.'

'Thank you for that insight, Genevieve,' said Jonathan, his eyes crinkling humorously. He tried to catch Liz's eye, but she was staring blankly ahead.

'That's OK,' said Genevieve equably. 'C'mon, Alice.'

When they had gone, Jonathan looked at Liz.

'You haven't said anything,' he said. 'Aren't you pleased?' Liz shrugged despairingly.

'I don't know. I mean, moving back to our old house. Isn't it a bit of a backwards step? Will we really be happy there?'

'No, it's not a backwards step,' said Jonathan. 'And yes, we will be happy there.' He regarded her plainly. 'We will move back there and we will be happy.'

'Is that an order?'

'If you like.' Liz gave a resentful, heaving sigh.

'I can't just start being happy. Just because you want me to.'

'You could,' said Jonathan, 'if you really wanted to.' Liz gave him a baleful look.

'I could pretend pretend to be happy, if you like,' she said in sarcastic tones. 'If that would help.' to be happy, if you like,' she said in sarcastic tones. 'If that would help.'

'Yes, actually it would,' said Jonathan. 'It would help a lot. Why don't you start straight away?' And he picked up a peanut, popped it in his mouth, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Liz staring after him in nonplussed silence.

ALSO BY MADELEINE WICKHAM.

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