Page 26 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

“How are you feeling now, poorly person?” she wrote. “I’ve done a flower-arranging shift in return for some fundraising advice from the vicar x”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Oh, good morning, Miss Anderson. So sorry I missed you earlier this week,” said Dottie’s mum. Chrissie was letting the children in and tried not to let a pained expression reveal her sinking heart at hearing the woman’s voice.

“Good morning, how are you?” replied Chrissie, using the professional voice she’d developed for just these conversations, where she needed to be friendly, but not overly encouraging of long conversation. Nisha still wasn’t back, so she couldn’t hang around at the door for long.

“Good thanks, but you don’t need to know about that,” said Philippa. “I just wanted to say that I’ve heard about your proposal to take the class to Paris.”

“Um, you have?” said Chrissie, surprised. They hadn’t mentioned it to the children, because they didn’t know if they’d be able to pull it off yet.

“Yes, Dottie told me she heard you talking about it,” replied her mother. Chrissie was feeling the similarity between the two busy-bodies. “And anyway, I wanted to say that if you need any help, or support, please do let me know.”

“Right,” said Chrissie. “Well, thank you. Actually, we were wondering if you might be willing to talk about helping us out with the trip itself,” she continued, remembering the conversation with Dan. “Perhaps we could have a conversation about it at a different time?”

“Absolutely, please do,” said Philippa. “I won’t keep you, I know you have the children to deal with. But in the meantime, take my card.”

“Thanks, Philippa,” said Chrissie, dropping the card into the pocket of her skirt. It was one of her favourites, precisely because it was a rare one that actually had pockets. Philippa gave a wave and darted off. Chrissie walked to the front of the class, hoping she was doing the right thing by involving Dottie’s mum.

“Excuse me, class, this is supposed to be a school, not a Taylor Swift concert. Can you all please take of your coats, hang them up and sit down at your tables?” she said.

“What’s your favourite Taylor Swift song, Miss,” came a small voice. Chrissie looked down. It was, of course, Dottie, who had taken off her coat in double quick time. Like mother, like daughter.

“It’s a toss-up betweenBlank SpaceandHigh Infidelity, I think,” said Chrissie, having learnt more about the American singer in the last year than she ever thought possible, thanks to the children she supported.

“Good choice,” said Dottie. “Mine is any song off TTPD.”

“Excellent,” replied Chrissie. “Now, please go and sit down.” Dottie sloped off to join the other children.

It wasn’t until later in the day that she looked at the card Philippa had given her.

Philippa Samfire

Founding Partner

Chase, Wilson and Samfire LLP

Founding partner of one of the city’s biggest law firms? Chrissie had known the woman worked in a law firm, but she hadn’t realised she was a founding partner. An idea began to form in Chrissie’s head and immediately she texted Nisha: “How are you? Well enough for visitors? I have news. x”

Nisha responded immediately, indicating she was bored beyond words and needed company. Chrissie’s heart gave a leap, before she reminded herself that this was strictly work, and perhaps a little bit of looking out for her friend.

“I’ll bring your tea over after school x” texted Chrissie.

Chrissie swung by the local supermarket on her way to Nisha’s place. She’d not been in Nisha’s space before, and was curious to see what it was like. She grabbed some fresh bread rolls and a carton of organic chicken soup. That was what poorly people needed, right?

She arrived at a modern-looking apartment block that had sprung up a few years before not far from Kings Heath High Street, and pressed the button for Nisha.

“Come on up,” came a distant voice through the crackly intercom system.

Chrissie made her way up to the second floor to find the door to Nisha’s flat was already open for her. Nisha was in the doorway, looking slightly pale, but smiling, wearing grey joggers and a blue hoodie.

“Hey,” said Nisha.

Chrissie felt suddenly shy. She hadn’t seen Nisha since ‘the kiss’, and her own body felt suddenly alien to her, as if she needed to think through every move very carefully. “Hey, how are you? Are you feeling any better?” she asked, trying to walk in and take off her coat like a normal person. She wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded.

“Oh, I’m getting there. I reckon I’ll be back at school by the end of the week. Sorry in advance for the mess, though,” said Nisha, a sheepish smile on her face.

The modern apartment was strewn with blankets and cushions and empty glasses, cereal bowls and boxes of tissues. “Oh, it could be so much worse,” said Chrissie, feeling for her friend.

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