The rally was a triumph. It was a joy from start to finish. We were really lucky with the weather, which had been wet and wild the week before but cleared just in time and revealed a beautiful, if a bit blowy, spring day.
We all gathered in the school in the morning as Nate took us through the plan for the day.
‘I’m expecting about a hundred people,’ he said. ‘Perhaps a few more. I’ve got banners ready, and Pippa’s made the sashes.’
He gestured to a table by the door where the props were piled. As before, he’d based them all on the now-familiar suffragette banners and sashes but they read Save Elm Heath instead of Votes for Women.
‘I’ve also blown up the photograph of Esther Watkins and used that on some banners,’ Nate added and I smiled at the thought of Esther continuing to campaign, fifty years after her death.
‘So we’re going to gather in the playground then march along the main road through the village to the big roundabout. Then we’ll march round the roundabout, and back to the school,’ he said. ‘I’ve got some of the kids ready with drums to lead the parade and we’ve got the big banner to hold at the front. When we get back to school, there’s a makeshift stage set up round the back where Miss Armstrong is going to make a speech …’
‘This is brilliant,’ I said to Paula. ‘He’s worked so hard.’
‘Everyone’s worked hard,’ she said. ‘Especially you.’
She was right, I supposed. In a desperate effort to stop myself brooding over Danny, I’d thrown myself into working every evening on the campaign to save Elm Heath. I’d helped Nate with the preparation for the rally, organising the closure of the road and finding people to man stalls. And I’d spent hours poring over figures and budgets, trying to find a way to make the school building pay. I’d discovered that the patch of waste ground behind the school belonged to us, too. I had wondered if we could sell it for development but Paula’s husband, Chris, said he thought it was too small.
‘You could build an extension to the school, though,’ he said.
I’d snorted. ‘Ah yes, with all the extra money there is lying around.’
But he’d given me an idea.
‘Maybe we could do some sort of partnership,’ I said, thinking of how Danny’s firm operated. ‘Get a company to build something – a sports hall perhaps or a music centre – and then we can use it for the kids, and rent it out to organisations, and the builders can take a cut of the profits.’
Chris had reacted so favourably that I knew it was a good plan. But though I’d drawn up a list of ideas about what we could build, I was a teacher, not a business guru. I had no idea how to get investment or how to start pitching ideas.
Apart from that, I’d budgeted a plan for expanding the breakfast and after-school clubs into holiday clubs, and for renting out parts of the school at weekends. I’d found a netball club that wanted to use our courts one evening a week, and a painting group that had expressed an interest in meeting in our hall.
But while it was all very encouraging, I wasn’t sure it was enough to compete with the big fat luxury-flat-shaped carrot Texo were dangling in front of Blyton Council.
For now, though, I was determined to be positive, as Nate clapped his hands together.
‘Today couldn’t have happened without you guys – the staff and the PTA of Elm Heath,’ he said, sounding a bit choked up. ‘Your efforts have shown us all that this school is worth the fight we’re all putting up. I think people are beginning to gather in the playground ready to march, so grab yourself a banner, and a sash, and let’s get going.’
There was a small cheer from the gathered group of teachers and other staff. Paula and I followed them all out into the playground and stopped in astonishment at the sight that greeted us. The playground was full of children, parents, local people and people I’d never seen before. Some of them were in Edwardian dress like mini suffragettes. Others were decked out in purple and green. There were so many people that no one else could fit into the school grounds and the crowds were beginning to snake down the road.
‘Oh my God,’ I breathed. Paula grasped my hand and we exchanged startled glances.
‘I never for one minute expected this,’ she said into my ear above the buzz of voices.
‘Neither did I.’
She squeezed my fingers. ‘This is all your doing,’ she said.
‘It’s everyone.’
I felt really emotional as I looked across the heads of everyone gathered. I noticed there were several photographers snapping away, as well as a couple of camera crews. I’d emailed Grant – a bright, breezy message – and asked him to work his magic again and he’d obviously come up trumps. I’d have to message him again and say thank you, I thought, grudgingly. Because for all his faults, he knew what he was doing when it came to publicity.
In the end, it was less of a march and more of a parade. There were the drummers at the front, lots of people with tambourines and other things to bash and crash, and the school’s tiny wind-band – led by Celeste – had been practising walking and playing at the same time so they put on a good show too. There were some children with pompoms doing jumps and cheers, lots of little ones on scooters, and a real party atmosphere. Even the police who were supervising the road closure that Nate had organised were joining in, dancing to the music and high-fiving the kids.
When we looped round the roundabout and made our way back to school, there were still marchers at the back just leaving the playground. It was an astonishing turnout and when I climbed on to the little rickety stage to make my speech, I felt really nervous.
I waited for the crowd to quiet and then I began by saying how amazed I was to see so many supporters and how overwhelmed we all were by the love everyone had for Elm Heath.
‘The founder of Elm Heath Primary was a woman called Esther Watkins, who you’ve all heard a lot about recently,’ I said. ‘She was so passionate about fighting for what she believed in that she even ended up in prison.’
I smiled at the children who’d wriggled their way to the front of the crowd.
‘Now, I’m not suggesting we all get locked up, but I do think we can learn from Esther’s story. We need to fight hard for what we believe. And what we believe is that Elm Heath needs this school. And more than that, it deserves this school.’
I looked out into the crowd and saw, with a shock, that Grant was there. He was standing slightly to the side of the mass of people and he was looking at me with pride. He’d never looked at me like that before.
Faltering, I took a second to compose myself and carried on.
‘When Esther was setting up this school, she wrote to the local education authority and told them why she thought Elm Heath was needed. She wrote that “preparing our children for the world they will one day be running is the most rewarding job there is” and I agree. Today, children, you have proved that you’re going to be running the world brilliantly one day. Far better than we grown-ups have managed. And I’m proud that I – and Elm Heath – have played a tiny part in this. I just hope we’re allowed to carry on.’
I felt tears welling up again and decided that was a good place to stop. I blew a kiss to the children and went to leave the stage. As I made my way down the steps at the side, I saw Danny. He was standing on the opposite side from Grant, but he was also slightly detached from the crowd and he was also watching me closely. I couldn’t read the expression on his face, though. My heart thumped loudly in my chest as I looked at him. I’d barely seen him since I tried to run him over. I’d blocked his number and avoided him in the playground, only catching a glimpse of him at a distance as he collected Cara from school or drove through the village.
I’d thought, foolishly as was obvious now, that I was getting over him. But from the way I had such a physical reaction to his presence, I’d clearly just squashed my feelings down and ignored them. I was still staring at him and he at me, and as our eyes met, he gave me a tiny smile. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up in response, and quickly looked away to where Grant stood, weaving my way through the crowd to him instead.
‘You were amazing,’ he said, giving me a hug. I stood stiffly, arms by my side, and let him embrace me without responding.
‘Thank you.’ I pulled away and gave him a genuine smile. ‘And thanks for getting all the press here. I really appreciate it.’
He shrugged. ‘They all had it in their diaries anyway,’ he said. ‘It’s a great story. When’s the final decision?’
‘Monday,’ I said, feeling nauseous at the thought. ‘In the evening. Full council meeting with reports from all sorts. I don’t fancy our chances.’
‘Never say die.’ He gave me another hug and this time I did respond. I was pleased he’d come.
‘Fancy a drink? I saw a beer stall over in the corner.’
‘That would be great.’
We wandered round the edge of the playground towards the awning where the pub landlord had put up his stall.
‘You never called me,’ Grant said casually, as we walked. I tried to pretend I’d not heard but he took my hand and stopped, tugging me so I turned to face him.
‘I want you back, Queenie. I made such a mistake letting you go.’
Back when our marriage had first gone wrong, I’d have done anything to hear him say those words. But now, I smiled at him, looking at his handsome face, and winning smile, and slowly shook my head. ‘It won’t work, Grant.’
‘But we had a good marriage.’
‘We did, and I loved you,’ I said. ‘But when things got tough we didn’t fight, did we? In the end, we didn’t fight hard enough to stay together.’
Grant looked surprised, like he’d never thought of that before. ‘I’ve always thought if something’s right, you don’t need to fight,’ he said.
‘Sometimes the fight is part of the fun.’
There was a second while we both looked at each other and then he smiled again. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,’ he said.
I squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry too.’
‘Shall we get that beer then?’
‘Lead the way.’
As we made our way over to the temporary pub, I looked round for Danny, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.