Page 31 of The Do-Over

‘Bedlam,’ she tells me. ‘There’s one couple that must have been round five times, and I’ve had to bribe Rollo with biscuits to stop him trying to “help”. At one point, I caught him telling someone that they could only buy the house if they kept his room exactly as it is now.’

I laugh. ‘I guess seven-year-olds have different views of how to sell a house.’

‘Rollo certainly does. Anyway, we’ve got a decent pile of envelopes building up despite that. You?’

‘Yeah, looking good.’

‘I’ve been doing the maths,’ Rebecca tells me the following Friday as the three of us head towards Maidstone in her SUV. ‘Assuming the sale goes through in Oily Pete’s predicted twomonths, and nothing comes up in the survey to make the buyer try to force the price down, I’m going to walk away with just over £300,000 once I’ve paid Alice back. That’s even better than I’d hoped.’

‘What are you paying Alice back for?’ I ask her.

‘She’s covering the mortgage on condition that I repay her when I sell the house.’

‘Blimey. For someone who seemed so nice, she sure knows how to play hardball.’

‘Comes of being married to John all those years, I expect. It’s fine. I’m still getting a third of a million quid out of the deal so I don’t really have anything to complain about. Anyway, tell me about this school of yours.’

‘There’s not much to tell. I doubt that any of the people who taught me are still there. It’s a good school, or at least it was. They were really supportive of Saffy and me when Dad left. The head did a whole assembly on how children weren’t to blame for their parents’ mistakes, and I think we actually ended up with more friends than we’d had before. If I had to criticise them for anything, it would be that they were perhaps a little heavy on the religion stuff.’

‘I did wonder why the head teacher asked me if Rollo had been baptised. She said it wasn’t an entry criterion, but they did strongly encourage it. She also wanted to know about Rollo’s father.’

‘What did you tell her?’

She glances in the rearview mirror to check that Rollo isn’t listening in before lowering her voice conspiratorially. ‘I led her to believe that I was a widow.’

‘You what?’

‘It’s not a complete lie. John’s dead, after all. She assumed that I was married to him and I didn’t see any reason to correcther. It’s not as if he’s going to be coming to any parents’ evenings and contradicting me, is it?’

‘And what about the baptism thing?’

‘I fudged that. I told her that I’d always been keen but Rollo’s father wasn’t a believer.’

‘Nice.’

‘I thought so. Ah, here we are. Rollo, darling, best behaviour for Mummy, OK? If this goes well, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s for lunch.’

That seems to have the desired effect, as Rollo is all smiles as he climbs down from the back seat. The receptionist informs us that the head teacher is in an overrunning call, but will be with us as soon as she’s finished.

‘It still smells the same,’ I murmur to Rebecca after a few moments. ‘Sweaty feet and cabbage. How is that possible?’

She doesn’t get a chance to answer, as we’re joined at that moment by a formidable-looking woman who I’d guess is in her mid-fifties.

‘I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting,’ she begins. ‘I’m Margaret Steadman, the head teacher of St Justin’s. Which one of you is Mrs Kennet?’

‘That’s me,’ Rebecca replies.

‘Lovely. And this must be Rollo. Pleased to meet you, young man.’ She looks at me quizzically. ‘And you are?’

‘Thea Rogers,’ I tell her.

‘And I gather you’re moving down from London?’ she asks, turning her attention back to Rebecca.

‘That’s right. We’re moving in with Thea’s parents to start with, until we find a property of our own.’

‘I see.’ She glances at me again uncertainly. ‘Well, we might not be as, aah,modernas some of the London schools, but I’m sure Rollo will thrive with us nonetheless. Let’s start the tour with the hall.’

I follow mutely as Mrs Steadman walks us round the school, showing us classrooms full of happy-looking boys and girls engaged in various tasks, while making sure we’re in no doubt as to the school’s outstanding OFSTED results. It’s familiar, yet different. The institutional green paint of the main corridor has been replaced with a much cheerier pale yellow, and the classrooms all sport an impressive array of technology, although I note that imposing crucifixes still dominate every one. The playground, which I remember as being huge, seems comparatively small to my adult eyes, which automatically seek out the corner where Reuben and I shared a French kiss in year five. We did it for a dare, and it wasn’t very pleasant, but I remember feeling terribly grown-up afterwards.

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