In the Wars

Ros walked into the staffroom.

‘Someone’s been in the wars.’ One of the older teachers remarked, her lips compressed in disapproval.

‘Oh.’ Ros put a hand to the livid bruise on her temple. ‘Doesn’t look good, does it?’

‘Nic been on the razzle, then?’ A new voice.

‘Nothing so exciting.’ She felt herself flush in embarrassment as she sat down. ‘Whacked myself with a broom handle.’

‘How did you manage that?’ Maggie had a sneaking suspicion there might be more to it.

‘Stood on the brush-head. Next thing I knew the other end whipped up and caught me one.’

‘Ouch,’ someone said, with a shudder. ‘I hope you put ice on it.’

‘I wish. I was trying to blitz the housework.’ Rueful smile. ‘You know how it is. I’d just defrosted the fridge. Didn’t even have a pack of frozen peas.’

‘So, what did you do?’

‘Ran the cold tap. Wrung out a tea towel. That got some of the swelling down. Then Max woke up and, well…’

‘Where was Nic while all this was going on?’ Maggie lapsed into private investigator mode.

‘Working late.’ Ros didn’t meet her eyes.

‘Poor you.’

‘I know. Put it down to lack of sleep.’

‘Pity you couldn’t manage a break,’ someone offered.

Her face lit up. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve got one planned.’

‘Oh, when’s that?’

‘Weekend after next. Nic’s giving a paper at a conference in Cambridge. I’ve taken the Monday off. Max and I are going down to Edinburgh for a long weekend.’

Maggie flushed with pleasure for her friend. ‘That’s good.’

‘Better than good,’ Ros beamed. ‘I’ll be staying with my folks. They absolutely dote on Max, so I’ll be able to catch up on my sleep, maybe even meet up with some of my old school buddies.’

And get away from that controlling husband of yours! The thought ran through Maggie’s head.

Ros’s smile vanished. ‘That’s if Nic doesn’t change his mind.’

‘Why would he?’ Maggie queried. ‘Didn’t you say he was going to be away?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘I’m sure it will turn out fine.’ A third voice. ‘In the meantime, what about that eye?’

Maggie seethed. She’d spent many a fretful night deliberating over the subject of Nic Prentice – that’s when she wasn’t worrying about Sheena Struthers or her kids. Time and again she’d told herself it was no business of hers. More, that marital problems were best left to a trained mediator. But she had a growing affinity with the young teacher, not only because they’d joined forces against the old guard in the staffroom, but because Maggie saw, in Ros, a mirror of her own isolation. They both, in their own way, ploughed a hard and lonely furrow.

‘What are you saying, Maggie?’ A voice broke her train of thought.

‘About?’ Startled look.

‘Ros’s black eye. Arnica or liver?’

‘Oh,’ she joshed. ‘Give me a lump of liver every time.’