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The kettle boiled and Hope was glad of an excuse to turn around so that she could roll her eyes without Alice seeing. “Go and get your cardigan please,” she said as patiently as possible.
“But why?”
“Because I said so. Because it’s part of your uniform. And because you don’t know what the weather will be like later. It might get colder.”
Alice trotted off back up the stairs to get her cardigan and Hope shook her head.
“Why do you hate her so much?” Caz said, putting down her cereal spoon.
“Hate who?”
“Ava Stanford,” said Caz, picking her spoon up again. “You know, you get the same look on your face when Alice talks about her as you do when Noah’s name gets mentioned.”
“I do not,” protested Hope.
“Looking at your own face now, are we?”
Hope took her coffee to the kitchen table. “I don’t hate her. I just… She’s annoying. She was annoying the first time I met her complaining about Rosie and she’s annoying now. It’s annoying that she can’t do her job properly, it’s annoying that someone else, namely me, has to clear up after her, and it’s annoying that she’s here at all.”
“That’s a lot of annoyances,” agreed Caz. “In fact, some might say it’s protesting just a little too much. That maybe you’re not as annoyed as you’re making out. Maybe Ava Stanford is getting under your skin for other reasons.”
“Like what, mum?” Hope asked, daring her mother to say what she feared she was going to.
“Look, like it or not you have to work with the woman,” said Caz, ignoring Hope’s provocation. “And to be fair, this new job is only temporary and it got you a nice raise. So maybe you should try to play a little more nicely with your new friend.”
“Mum’s got a new friend?” asked Alice coming back into the kitchen with her cardigan on inside out.
“No,” said Hope.
“But she will have,” Caz said.
“Mum, stop interfering.”
“You know I’m right,” said Caz. “Spend a little time being less annoyed and trying a bit harder. It can’t be easy on her. She’s all alone here, after all, isn’t she? What’s the story there?”
“I’ve got no idea,” said Hope suddenly realizing that actually she knew nothing about Ava at all. She didn’t even know where she came from in the States.
“What’s the story where?” Alice asked, tucking into her cereal.
“Little pitchers have big ears,” Hope said to Caz.
“I do not have big ears,” said Alice, which made them both laugh.
THE SCHOOL WAS uncharacteristically quiet. Mostly because the inspectors liked to see children playing outside at lunchtime, rather than finishing projects or running in and out as was more usual.
Hope had rushed her sandwich in the staff room and come back to the classroom in order to get the art materials ready for the first part of the afternoon. When she walked in, Ava was standing at the window, watching the kids playing.
“It’s going alright,” Hope said, remembering that she was supposed to be playing nice.
“Only because the inspectors haven’t been in here yet,” said Ava, obviously stressed. Her hands shook a little as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Oh, please,” Hope said. “We’ve all told you it’s going to be fine.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
For once, Hope found that she couldn’t be irritated. The blunt admission on Ava’s behalf made her understand that the woman truly was worried.
“I’d have thought you were brimming with confidence,” Hope said, pulling pots of paints out of the art cupboard.
