Nancy lay in bed the morning of the Christmas fair wondering if she could pretend it didn’t exist. Pretend Imogen and her cronies wouldn’t be there on a stall, hell, pretend even that none of the last few months had even happened. This thought scared her because it tapped into the nagging doubt that was poking its head above the surface of something she was burying deep: had she made a huge mistake in moving here?
She quickly jumped out of bed; she was not going to delve below the surface and examine the size of the iceberg she feared she had created. There was the fresh air, she reminded herself, the air that was saving Lara’s life. That was priceless.
Nancy opened the curtains and gasped with delight. Fat white flakes floated past the window and the garden was covered with a layer of fresh snow. Nancy ran out of her room and down the corridor to Lara’s. She went in and saw her daughter rousing.
‘Guess what?’ said Nancy excitedly.
Lara yawned. ‘What?’
‘Come and look out the window.’
Lara got up, her hair tousled, and stuck her head behind the curtains. ‘Snow!’ she squealed.
The hall was decorated for Christmas, adorned with tinsel and bunting that the children had made. A large tree stood in the corner, covered in baubles, and music was blaring on the speakers: the festive pop songs that were wheeled out each year. Imogen was at her usual stall with Erin; she refused to do it without her friend. Being with Erin made it more fun, they got to chat.
Imogen looked around. It was already busy. The fair was the biggest event of the PTA calendar and nearly all the kids and their families came. The teachers were in full attendance too, forming a rota on the refreshment stand, and usually there was a real festive feel about it all. She could see Nancy milling around, checking each stall in turn. At some point she would come to them on the bottle stall.
Sarah approached. Today she was wearing a tie-dye tunic and a Christmassy bandana. Appalling really.
‘Oh, go on, I’ll have a go,’ said Sarah and handed over ten pounds.
‘How many tickets?’ asked Imogen.
‘Whatever I get for that,’ said Sarah, pointing at the money. ‘It’s all for a good cause, isn’t it.’
Imogen gave the tombola a twist and opened the flap. ‘Pick ten,’ she said. Sarah pulled them out and one by one opened them up with excruciating slowness. And one by one they failed to produce a number with a five or a zero on the end.
‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Imogen.
‘Maybe God doesn’t reward the righteous after all,’ Erin whispered into her ear as Sarah wandered away and Imogen giggled.
‘I wonder if our girls are having more luck,’ said Imogen. ‘I’ve sent them to the raffle stall, with strict instructions to get the winning ticket for the day pass for two at the spa.’
‘Maybe we should run the raffle stall next year so we can rig it,’ said Erin.
Imogen laughed. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to be too busy to be on any PTA next year,’ she said. ‘I can only stay an hour today as it is.’
‘Oh yes. The incredibly successful restaurant.’
Imogen thought she detected the tiniest hint of envy in her friend’s voice. She looked at her.
‘I’m so pleased for you,’ added Erin quickly. Imogen nodded.
‘What’s Mr Whitman like as a business partner?’ Erin looked across the hall where the head teacher was standing talking to the local councillor, a pair of felt antlers on his head.
‘He lets me get on with it,’ said Imogen.
‘That’s good. Is he, you know, looking at investing in any other opportunities? Only I’m thinking of expanding my PR business.’
Imogen didn’t think her friend was serious, but it was best to shut this down straight away. She did not need any strain on her own investment during these crucial first few months of her restaurant. ‘He’s fully committed.’
‘Shame,’ said Erin. ‘How did you get him and Carol to come on board anyway?’
‘His wife?’ asked Imogen.
‘Yes. Surely she had a say in it?’
Imogen shook her head. ‘It was nothing to do with Carol.’
‘What was nothing to do with my mum?’ asked Lorna as she came up to them, clutching a fabric money bag and a large white envelope. Pepper was trailing behind her.
‘Imogen’s restaurant,’ said Erin. ‘Apparently, Imogen has special persuasive tactics when it comes to our head teacher.’
‘That’s not what I said,’ snapped Imogen.
Erin looked hurt. ‘I was only joking.’
‘My mum would’ve probably vetoed it,’ said Lorna lightly. ‘She’s not one for putting her hands deep into her pockets.’
‘Mum,’ said Pepper, tugging on her skirt, ‘can we go and see Father Christmas?’
‘It’s not her money,’ said Imogen curtly. ‘This is strictly between James and myself.’
Lorna looked at the tin on the stall. ‘I’m here to clear away any surplus cash,’ she said.
Imogen opened the tin and Lorna felt a surge of pleasure as she saw it was bursting with notes.
‘Mum, I want to see Father Christmas!’ repeated Pepper.
‘Not yet,’ said Lorna. She turned back to Imogen. ‘Give me what you don’t need,’ said Lorna, ‘and I’ll go and put it in the safe.’
Imogen handed her a thick wodge of money and Lorna stuffed it into her bag. She would go and count it in a minute but could tell there was already a couple of hundred pounds there – and that was just one stall and only forty-five minutes since the fair had opened. She closed the bag safely then took the envelope she’d tucked under her arm and held it up. ‘Erin, did you want to contribute to Miss Young’s Christmas present? Last day to put in.’
‘MUM!’ yelled Pepper.
‘Oh. Sure,’ said Erin. She got out her purse. ‘What’s the going rate?’
‘I put in a tenner,’ said Imogen.
‘A tenner? That seems a lot.’ Erin cast around, saw Nicole and Helen. ‘Hey, guys,’ she said, ‘how much did you put in for Miss Young’s Christmas collection?’
‘Ten pounds,’ said Nicole.
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Helen.
‘Right, well, I suppose I need to do the same then. That’s forty quid just with us here,’ said Erin, indicating their little group.
‘Only put in what you would like,’ said Lorna quickly. She didn’t like Erin’s calculations.
‘MUUUUUMMMMMM,’ said Pepper.
‘It’s fine,’ said Erin. She put a ten-pound note into the envelope and handed it back. ‘You will let us know how much you raise in the end, won’t you?’
Lorna smiled. ‘Course!’
‘Only then we can see if some of us have been Christmas scrooges,’ said Erin, laughing.
Lorna laughed with her but inside, her stomach was curdling. It was all getting a bit too specific for her liking. People focusing on exactly who was donating what. Adding it all up. Coming to a final figure. What if they started exchanging notes and compared how much had been raised to the amount actually given to Miss Young? Lorna felt a bead of sweat form on her upper lip. She’d already spent some of the money. The LED snowman in her front garden. She wanted to get away. Pepper was driving her mad, tapping her on her leg.
Lorna saw Nancy approaching and felt the animosity come off Imogen and Erin in waves. An idea sprang into her mind. Before she had really thought it through, she turned and smiled at Nancy. ‘You’ve done such an amazing job,’ she said, ‘the fair is running like clockwork.’
‘Thanks,’ said Nancy, and glanced at Imogen and Erin. ‘You have everything you need?’
‘Yes. Been doing this several years now,’ said Erin.
Even Lorna flinched – Erin could be so cutting! Imogen said nothing. Still, Lorna needed to grab Nancy before she moved on. ‘Could you possibly hang on to this for a minute?’ she said, thrusting the envelope for Miss Young into Nancy’s hand. ‘I want to take Pepper to see Father Christmas before the queue gets too long.’
‘Oh yes. Course,’ said Nancy.
‘It’s the collection for Miss Young,’ said Lorna, reverently patting the envelope, then she walked away.
That was better, thought Lorna as she held hands with a skipping Pepper beside her. They had both seen – Imogen and Erin. And now she wasn’t the only person who’d had sole charge of the Christmas present money. It probably wouldn’t be needed but it was good to have a bit of insurance.