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FORTY-NINE
HEATHER
I’m in the school hall nattering to teachers I’ve never spoken to before and parents I barely know as I finish up taking brownies out of the large Tupperware box I borrowed from Charlotte and display them on paper plates on the tables. The school has gone to a lot of trouble. There are floral and lacy table cloths. They’re horribly mismatched and a bit gaudy but they’re a vast improvement on the bare desks that are doubling up as display tables. There are balloons and banners, and there is music playing. Colourful art is splashed all over the walls, along with pictures of runners, trophies and medals, scattered across the brickwork like a rainbow collage.
‘There you are,’ Miss Hanlon says, startling me as she appears suddenly behind me. She laughs. ‘Oops. Did I give you a fright?’
I blush.
‘Is Kayla here, too?’ she asks, craning her neck to look all around.
‘Yes, somewhere,’ I say. ‘Still outside, I think.’
‘Oh right.’ Miss Hanlon sounds surprised and my concern that Kayla playing outside is a bad idea is compounded.
‘No doubt she’s found her way to the basketball court if I know Kayla,’ Miss Hanlon adds. ‘We’re hoping to get the awards ceremony started in the next few minutes so will I go out and call her?’
‘The awards…’ I say blankly.
‘We have something very special for you both. And the hall can get pretty uncomfortably packed when all the parents and kids start coming in. It would be good to get Kayla in first, and seated so she’s comfortable.’
Oh God,I think, instantly uncomfortable. I wasn’t expecting any fuss. This is all a bit awkward. I hope they haven’t bought some sort of a gift. Especially not if they’ve taken the money from the parents-association fund. I’ll never hear the end of it from the bitchy yummy mummies who moan about absolutely everything and never actually help with the fundraising.
‘Gosh, these look lovely,’ a women says, crossing the hall to point at my brownies. ‘I didn’t know we were supposed to bake. I’d have made my favourite red-velvet queen cake.’
‘No need, Mrs Kelly,’ Miss Hanlon says. ‘Heather has taken care of all our baking needs today. Thank you.’
‘Well, I must say they look delicious.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, doubting it’s a real compliment by the snotty tone of her voice.
‘May I have one, please?’ She picks up a brownie before waiting for an answer.
‘Certainly,’ Miss Hanlon says. ‘The brownies are two euros each.’
‘You have to buy them?’
‘Well, yes.’ Miss Hanlon tilts her head to one side and eyes the woman with disgust. ‘That’s the whole idea of a fundraiser.’
‘But the kids already brought in two euros this morning for the fundraiser,’ she says.
‘That was two euros to wear no uniform.’
‘So the children are expected to pay again for something to eat.’
‘They don’t have to. Just if they want to – all the cakes and treats are priced at two euros each. And like I said, Mrs Kelly, it really is all for a very good cause.’
‘This school gets more expensive by the day. My God.’ She places the brownie that she’s held disgustingly close to her lips back on the plate and walks away.
Miss Hanlon rolls her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘There’s always one, isn’t there?’
‘I didn’t know we’d be selling the buns,’ I say, picking up the brownie the rude woman breathed all over and tossing it into the bin next to my ankles.
‘Didn’t you?’ Miss Hanlon asks.
I make a face. ‘I don’t mind. I mean, actually, I think it’s a great idea. It’s just I didn’t realise. If I’d known the school were trying to raise funds I’d have baked more.’
‘What you have here is fantastic. You’ve so much on your plate, Heather. I don’t know how you found the time to make all these. And they smell amazing. My mouth is watering.’
