Page 273 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Oh, that’s weird!”
“What? What is it? Did he get in?” I’ve twisted the bottle enough for the pressure of the cork to be fighting against my hand, but I hold it and my breath waiting for her to explain.
“Not exactly. He’s on the wait list.”
“What?” The cork pops the final distance, and since I’ve let the bottle top go, it flies across the room. Snatching the letter from Mary I scan the contents, before I slam it down on the counter in disgust. “What the actual fuck? The wait list. I didn’t know there was a wait list.”
“Neither did I.” Mary looks more puzzled than shocked. “I mean, I know later in the term they place names in reserve, but this is the first round. It’s either a yes or no at this stage. That’s what they said at the taster day. Maybe they’re making an exception because they want him but don’t have enough…” Her explanation dies in her mouth with its own absurdity. Silence fills the room until Mary takes the bottle from my hand and replaces it with a full glass of champagne.
“Drink,” she says, clinking the edge of my glass with hers. A sharp discord rings in my ears. I down the contents and place the flute back on the counter, empty. Mary takes hers and sips delicately.
“Another?” She’s already refilling when I reply.
“Yeah.” I gulp down the second glass like it didn’t touch the sides.
“Sam, are you okay?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Yes, I can see that, only you look like you’re going to snap the neck of the glass.” She takes the flute from me. The tension in my hand eases; the tension forming in my neck and setting like concrete all the way to my temples? Not so much.
“Not the glass, but this has Stephanie written all over it.” I mutter, as the recent interactions and cryptic comments start to slip in to place.
“Stephanie? The wife of the chairman of the PTA? That Stephanie? What do you think she has to do with it?”
“It didn’t click at the time, but the other day, at the school gate, I overheard her say something along the lines of how much sway she has over the board’s decision.”
“Oh… But what’s that got to do with you? You’ve hardly ever said two words to her. Oh, maybe that’s it. She’s upset… Sorry, I’m an idiot.” Mary’s thoughts seem to tumble into her head and straight out her mouth. She snickers at her last suggestion, shaking her head at the nonsense. “Stephanie doesn’t get upset; she gets even.” She takes a longer pull on her champagne, and I have to wonder if the bubbles have gotten to her already. “I don’t like the woman, Sam. Don’t get me wrong, she wields her wicked power over the PTA and her minions like a broomstick; still, her comment wasn’t directed specifically at you. Was it?”
“Yes, I believe it was, definitely. I remember now. She finished by saying, ‘only suitable candidates from good families’.”
“That’s hardly damning evidence, Sam. I think you’re just really upset.” Mary places her hand on my arm and squeezes. Her eyes are glazed with tears.
“She said those words while giving me ‘the look’.” The emphasis isn’t necessary, but I give my best impression all the same. Mary reels; her jaw drops and then snaps shut, her expression the picture of shock.
“Oh, no! Oh, shit!” She falls silent; we both do. I tip the bottle up to give our glasses a final refill and contemplate whether opening a second bottle is a good idea when Mary breaks the thoughtful silence.
“But why you? You’re amazing and lovely. What have you ever done to her?” Her sweet puzzled expression makes my stomach drop. Drawing in a long, slow, deep breath, I decidea second bottle is a must if I’m going to share the information needed to answer that question.
“Mary, I’m going to tell you something. I used to work very closely with people, and I can read them. I’m never wrong. Stephanie has a bug so far up her arse when it comes to me, that she’d need a team of Chilean miners to get it out.”
“She’s not very friendly toward you, that’s true. There’s an arctic chill in the air whenever she’s had to speak to you. Even so, she’d have to have a damn good reason, and as for persuading the board, I’m not sure her sway really stretches that far.”
“Oh, trust me, if a woman like that wants something, she has all the sway she needs.”
“I’m not so sure. I mean, I get she could put a spanner in the works because she’s a class A bully and kisses the head teacher’s butt every moment she can. She volunteers more than the Red Cross, but as for swaying her husband, I’m not sure how, she’s an ice queen in the sheets.”
“And you’d know that because?” Mary drops her gaze, and this conversation just flipped one eighty from me spilling my dark and dirty secrets to Mary telling hers. She seems reluctant until I push a fresh glass of bubbly her way and offer an encouraging, conspiratorial smile. “Do tell.”
“Fine. We went to college together. Marcus was friends with her husband, and we hung out.”
“Like besties?” I’m only teasing; nevertheless, she cringes at the inference.
“Never like besties; we just hung out in a group…a lot.”
“You never said.”
“It’s a part of my life I’m trying to forget. Not the early years bit; they were good, although she was always a bit of a cow. Still, I’d rather completely erase it all, especially the whole Marcus-is-a-cunt bit.” Her deadpan delivery of the ‘c’ word has me spittingchampagne across the island and on to the floor. It takes a good few seconds to regain my composure and stop choking.
