Page 59 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

“Sure,” said Chrissie. “Of course, sorry.”

“No,” said Nisha, reaching out to touch Chrissie’s cheek, “don’t be sorry. Honestly, there’s really nothing I’d rather do. I just need to go and sort something this evening.”

“Sure,” repeated Chrissie, her voice flat. Her heart felt flat, too. Like Nisha was slipping away. “I might have a quick one before I go home,” she said, deciding that whether or not she had an after-work drink wasn’t down to Nisha.

“You do that,” said Nisha, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “See you bright and early tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” said Chrissie, trying hard to smile, and failing.

Ten minutes later she sat down in the bar, feeling like she stuck out a little on her own. She pulled out her phone and messaged Rae to ask if they wanted a cheeky snifter. Her friend was online and replied swiftly. “Sorry, Chrissie, I’ve got something on this eve. Maybe at the weekend?”

Chrissie sighed. No doubt Rae was with Clodagh. Lucky them. It would just be her this evening. Well, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She needed to trust herself, to plough her own furrow – another expression of her dad’s. She ordered herself a glass of Rioja and sat down in the quiet upstairs section. She thought about Don and what he might have said to her, if he’d been here.

Chrissie smiled to herself. To start with, her Brummie father would have ordered himself a pint of bitter and complained about her drinking something as refined as wine.

One thing she knew, though, was he’d have given her the same advice as he had all those years ago: that she needed to do the right thing for her. He would have told her that if it was meant to work out, it would. She needed to have faith that somehow, she would find her way through.

“You look very deep in thought, bab,” came the rasping voice of the parish vicar.

“Oh, hi, Rebecca, sorry. I was miles away,” said Chrissie.

“No need to be sorry, bab, you do you. Fancy company?” Rebecca was wearing a big black puffer jacket, and looked a little like a gangster. “Do say ‘no’ if you’d rather be alone.”

“Company would be lovely,” said Chrissie. “Really, please do join me.”

“Excellent. I’ll be back shortly,” said Rebecca, returning a few minutes later with a double vodka tonic.

“How did you know you wanted to be a vicar?” asked Chrissie.

“Goodness, this is like being interviewed by the diocese all over again,” Rebecca chuckled.

“Sorry, I…” started Chrissie, but Rebecca waved her hand.

“Honestly, I suppose no one knows what they want to do for sure, or what the right path is. To me, it just felt right. I knew I needed to follow my faith, and I knew I needed to serve other people. Becoming a vicar was the best way to do that,” said the older woman, before taking a slug of her drink. “I needed that. One of the volunteers engaged me in a long conversation about flower arranging earlier, and after a long day, I could have done without that.” She looked up. “May God forgive me, although I suspect even He would have grown bored after twenty minutes of it.”

Chrissie laughed. “I guess whatever you choose, there’s always something that gets on your nerves.”

“Indeed. So, tell me about what’s been going on at the school, then. You’ve been super busy these last few weeks, and I’ve heard whispers of an inspection.”

“Oh heavens, yes. Do they do that in churches?” asked Chrissie.

“Sort of, although I tend to work on the basis that really the only person who can inspect me is God, and He doesn’t tend to send reports to anyone about what He thinks, thank goodness,” said Rebecca.

They both laughed, and Chrissie updated her friend on the latest developments.

Chapter Fifty-Six

“Right-oh everyone,” said Mrs Hemingway, with all the confidence of a Naval Commander. “We all know what we need to do. Just go out there and do your best.”

The staff team set their faces into grim smiles and left the staff room. The inspectors had already arrived, and had set up base in an empty classroom on the other side of the school. They now had the right to pop up in any class at any time, and inspect the quality of the teaching and talk to the children.

Nisha and Chrissie made their way to their classroom, which had been cleaned to within an inch of its life, courtesy of the school’s loyal cleaners who had become part of the team ready to respond to the inspection.

“We just need to do our thing,” said Nisha. “Mrs H is right.”

“Yep,” agreed Chrissie, walking over to the external classroom door where pupils were clamouring to be let in. “Now then, children,” she said as she opened the door. “Today, we are going to be our absolute best selves.”

“Why, miss?” asked Hardev.

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