Imogen stuffed her hands in her pockets. It was cold. She heard the church clock strike half past six, two mournful bongs, and her heart lifted. She only had to endure another fifteen minutes out here, then another fifteen to gather everyone to go home, and parents were picking up at seven. Thank God. It had been fun but she was ready to go back now and have a glass of wine on the sofa.
Seeing the girls come out of another driveway, she called over to them: ‘Just to the end of the street, girls, then come back and meet me here and we’ll head home.’ They chorused a protest but she knew to smile and ignore it and they’d do as she asked.
She perched herself on the edge of a wall as she checked her phone. There was a message from James, asking if she was free the next day for a run. She messaged back saying she’d meet him as usual. She idly wondered if he was watching the football at home but knew he wasn’t. He was probably at a concert with Carol or out to dinner somewhere. As much as she loved Dylan – and she did – sometimes she wished he was a little more into the finer things in life. She’d loved his earthy simplicity when they’d first met, his quiet intelligence and his strong sense of right and wrong. She’d even respected the way he liked to fight for the underdog, but it had got wearing recently. Still, her husband could be working in a new school soon, a whole new environment. She must remember to tell James that Dylan had an interview and see if there was anything she should know about that she could subtly pass on to improve his chances.
The clock bell rang again; three bongs, indicating it was a quarter to seven. Imogen stood up quickly, grateful to be able to go home. She looked around for Rosie and the other kids; they must be further down the road, she thought. But she couldn’t see them as she walked along – not on the other side of the street either. There were still a few other kids about, but in twos or threes, not her big group. Imogen frowned, annoyed by the fact they hadn’t followed her instructions. Of all the nights . . . She was cold and wanted to go home. There was nothing for it but to go and look for them.