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‘That was great, Sophie. Like, really great.’
Sophie stood back to admire the display.
When she didn’t reply, Kate said, ‘I actually came to apologise before I left for the evening.’ She lifted her bag to signal that she was on her way home. ‘I’m sorry about before. Me and Tom, we both are.’
‘It’s fine,’ Sophie said. She relented, put down her staple gun and walked over to where Kate was standing.
‘Do you want to talk about what happened?’ Kate asked, signalling the book corner, where they could sit and chat if Sophie wanted to.
Sophie looked at the book corner and considered having the conversation. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet.
‘I’m fine,’ Sophie said. ‘It’s just been a busy week. You guys touched a nerve, and I got stroppy about it. It was my fault really. I’m OK.’
‘As long as you’re sure,’ Kate said, giving her one last opportunity to share.
‘I am.’ She turned to fuss with more of her laminated resources and heard Kate go to leave.
‘You know,’ Kate said, turning back to her. ‘You honestly should think about auditioning for the solo at choir next week.’
Sophie scrunched up her face. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘No, really. What I just heard was awesome. You should think about it.’
‘Bye, Kate.’
Chapter Eight
Five weeks until Christmas
‘How is this week so hideous?’ complained Sophie as she walked with Kate to the hall for parents’ evening. ‘I’m over it. Please let it be the weekend soon!’
‘It’s Monday,’ Kate said dryly. ‘And you only feel like that because you’re dreading this.’
She was right. Sophie’s weekend had been full of Christmas concert stuff: emailing sponsors, planning the playlist, formatting the programme. But despite how busy she’d been, she’d felt on edge about parents’ evening the whole time. Last night was the worst night’s sleep she’d had in a long time.
The hall was set up with desks that had been moved from adjacent classrooms. Each one had a chair for the teacher and three more for the families who would meet with them. None of the chairs were adult-sized. It was going to be an uncomfortable evening. Sophie sat down at her allotted table and plonked her head down on the desk.
‘Good evening, Mr Hawthorn,’ Kate said, louder than necessary to get Sophie’s attention. Sophie sat up suddenly and pushed her hair back from her face, a rogue Post-it note stuck to her forehead. She fumbled to pull it off, scrunched it up and put it back down on her desk.
‘Good evening, Mr Hawthorn.’ She echoed Kate’s words, attempting to assimilate a sense of calm. Inside, however, her heart was beating far too quickly. It was making her feel nauseous.
‘Miss Lawson,’ he replied, without emotion, and sat in the chair opposite her.
‘Hello, Cassie,’ Sophie added, as Cassie sat down next to her father. There was a moment of silence as Sophie waited for someone to speak before she realised it should be her.
‘Well, let’s start with you, Cassie. How do you feel about school at the moment?’ She and Liam looked at Cassie. Cassie’s face went from pale to bright red in an instant, or at least from what they could see of it underneath her long hair. ‘It’s OK. You can be honest. Are you happy?’ Sophie prompted.
‘It’s all right, I guess,’ she said after what seemed like an awfully long moment.
And realising that she wasn’t going to get much more out of Cassie, Sophie started talking about the important bits before their twenty-minute slot ran out.
‘Well, Mr Hawthorn, I’ve got lots of lovely things to say about Cassie.’ Liam looked at his daughter and smiled. ‘She has been working hard in all of her lessons and has been doing particularly well in her writing. She’s a wonderful writer. Have you seen the Christmas story she’s been working on?’
Liam shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t.’
Sophie pulled Cassie’s book from the pile, opened it and turned it round to show her father. He pulled it across the table to have a closer look. His hand brushed lightly against Sophie’s hand as he did so. She gave him a moment to read, and herself a moment to recover from the slightly odd feeling his touch had left her with.
What was going on? He was divorced, had a child, and from what she’d seen over the last week or so, seemed to be angry most of the time. And the balloons. Balloons, for crying out loud! Nothing good could come from a man who brought balloons to a date. Especially a man who had been nothing but rude to her since then.
