The Cornish Village School – Breaking the Rules Page 6

  ‘Hmmm.’ Matt attempted a quizzical expression so daft that Rosy couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from her lips. ‘I don’t think I can believe you. I know just around this corner is the most picturesque scene imaginable – you are not going to convince me that there’s a hive of wife-swapping and cannibalism going on behind these postcard perfect doors.’

  ‘Well, maybe not cannibalism. Come on, you are far from practised in this accent yet. I don’t want you to embarrass yourself once we get to the pub.’ Rosy rounded the corner and Matt darted to keep up with her, Scramble just outpacing him.

  ‘Hang on, are we only going to the village pub? Is it not a bit of a coincidence that it happens to be the best in Cornwall? Where are the rooftop terraces, the sea views? If we’re staying in the village shouldn’t we go to the restaurant on the beach? What’s your game, Miss… um… I don’t know your surname. Miss Rosy?’

  ‘The restaurant shuts down in January and the first couple of weeks of February so you’d be waiting a while for food. Besides which, I thought you wanted in on the local secrets.’

  ‘Apart from the cannibalism.’

  ‘Yes, apart from the cannibalism. Now stop talking and concentrate. Yes, we’re going to the village pub. It’s your induction and trust me, it will be an education. Now, to address a woman you can use “maid”. Go on.’

  ‘How’s it to, me maid.’

  ‘Hmm, better.’

  ‘Does “maid” not imply an age thing? Will I not get arrested?’

  ‘Yes, you will if you keep interrupting. Now, if you want to know where something is, you say “where’s it to?” And if you want to know what’s happening, it’s “wosson?” Got it?’

  ‘No, it’s a whole bloody new language.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to be local? Try harder.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ He winked.

  ‘And don’t be insolent or you won’t get any lunch.’

  ‘Ooh, I think I am enjoying this.’ They passed the butcher’s and the village shop, the higgledy-piggledy houses in their array of colours watching them from the hillside as they approached the pub.

  ‘You’re incorrigible. We’re here now.’ Rosy leant forward and placed her hand on the big blue door to the pub. Matt quickly glanced at the outside of the building.

  ‘Umm, are you sure?’ He looked like he thought he was going to get food poisoning merely by stepping inside. She tutted, loudly. She was enjoying this schoolmistress thing. It almost gave her leave to be as abrasive and rude as she liked; it was a bit of a novelty, and he really didn’t seem to mind.

  She tried looking at the pub with fresh eyes. Admittedly it was a bit rough-looking. It wasn’t just that the paint was faded and flaking, that the hanging baskets were well and truly hung (in a gallows kind of way, not in a flamboyant rioting colour kind of way) and one of the window sills was so rotten it was actually hanging off, attached by no more than a whisper and a splinter. It made her smile; she loved this place. Then she saw him catch a glance of the path by the side of the door and into the pub garden. Scramble followed his gaze and began to bark frantically.

  ‘Rosy, there’s a horse in the garden.’

  ‘Uh-huh. Are you coming in?’ This was proving more amusing than she had thought. She was so used to the pub that she forgot its ability to make a standout first impression. Matt picked the dog up to calm him.

  ‘Bloody hell, is that a cow next to it? Is dinner really that fresh?’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Rosy pushed on the door and headed inside.

  ‘It’s called The Smuggler’s Curse, for God’s sake! What are you doing? Is this some kind of trap?’

  ‘See you later then, I’ll be out after I’ve eaten,’ Rosy called over her shoulder.

  ‘It’s got an actual gravestone on its board and you’re eating here?’ Matt addressed the shut door.

  Rosy popped it open from the other side. ‘I can still hear you. Man or mouse?’

  ‘Are those the menu choices? OK, OK, I’m coming!’

  * * *

  A man stood behind the bar. Wiry with ill-fitting clothes, he reminded Matt immediately of Bean, the gaunt and terrifyingly mean, cider-loving farmer from Fantastic Mr Fox. As he got closer he realized he smelt rather like it as well. It didn’t seem to bother Rosy one iota as she leaned forward over the bar and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  ‘Alreet, me luvver, you in for the usual?’ Matt dreaded to think what ‘the usual’ was. Although, to be fair, the bar, glasses and bottles behind it seemed cleaner than its external appearance would have you believe. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And they didn’t seem to bat an eye at him bringing Scramble in.

  ‘Yes, but for the two of us please. Let me introduce Matt – he’s just moved into Mary’s old house, so I thought I’d best bring him in for lunch.’

  ‘Ar.’ The barman gave Matt a cursory look up and down, ignored his outstretched hand and turned his attention back to Rosy. ‘From up country is ‘ee?’

  ‘Yes. Play nice. I’ll have a gin… and Matt?’

  ‘I’ll have a pint of…’ Matt scanned the pumps and decided to play politics and plump for something local, ‘Tribute, please.’ Pseudo-Bean’s face didn’t change as he handed Matt the pint wordlessly, although his eyes could have narrowed a little bit; it was hard to tell. Rosy looked as if she were fighting the urge to laugh. And he couldn’t help but smile at her. It would all pan out fine; the locals would eventually accept his family, in seven generations’ time.

  ‘Right, we’re heading into the other room. Ta, Roger.’

  ‘See ‘m in a minute, bird.’

  ‘Yep. Two the same, mind you!’ Rosy delivered these last words rather firmly. He really did quite like this schoolteacher voice she kept putting on. He had friends who were married to teachers who constantly complained that their partners spoke to them as if they were six years old. But Rosy managed to make her teacher’s voice sound quite dirty. Or maybe it wasn’t Rosy, maybe it was him? Maybe he had a whole side to him that he hadn’t realized existed? Maybe he should explore this more.

  ‘Um… are you coming?’ Rosy called to the accompaniment of Pseudo-Bean-now-called-Roger’s sniggering. ‘You’re in for a treat.’

  ‘Yep, right behind you.’ Rosy pushed open yet another door, one that resembled a fire door in a village hall or run-down hotel. Not one that you would place in the middle of a country pub. It led into a big old room with tables and chairs, straight out of an eighties B&B dining room, complete with dark green paper napkins and floral place mats. He thought Cornwall was all mismatched chandeliers, pale blue and slate these days. Not in The Smuggler’s Curse, it would appear.

  But the decor only took a one-second glance before dismissal; there were far more interesting things in the room. There were the people, for a start. It was busy, far more so than Matt would have ever imagined from the outside. And the customers themselves were a real hodgepodge of people. They appeared to have very little in common, other than, as Matt quickly glanced at their plates, a bloody lovely-looking roast dinner. Yum. Maybe Rosy knew what she was doing after all.

  As they weaved through the tables, the smells and sights of Sunday lunch were becoming more and more appealing; he hadn’t realized how ravenous he was. At this rate he’d have to wipe the dribble from his chin before he even got to sit down. Always such an appealing look for the ladies. For God’s sake, man! This was a neighbourly outing, nothing more. Rosy had Mr-Mystery-Saturday-Night and he had commitment issues and a glittering career to build.

  ‘Here OK for you?’ His neighbour interrupted his train of thought.

  ‘Commitment issues and a career,’ was the answer that fell out of his mouth. Honestly, he was such a fool. It had always got him into trouble when he was younger; his thoughts would often just pop out of his mouth when asked a question with absolutely no bearing or relevance to what was being asked. This was not the time for this to start again. God knows what could come out. Perhaps he should just gaffer tape
his mouth up. No, no, please don’t say gaffer tape next, he begged his brain. It was going to get him locked up at this rate.

  ‘Yup, we all have those but they won’t get us lunch, so is this table OK for you?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I’m an idiot. Of course, although they’re reserved.’ Matt concentrated really hard and thankfully made sense this time. He drew the chair in front of Rosy out for her to sit, and felt his tummy flip as she smiled up a thank you and carried on talking.

  ‘God, yes. You have to reserve the tables otherwise you don’t have a hope in hell’s chance on a Sunday. I rang ahead when you left, but I come in most Sundays anyway. I usually squeeze in with some of the regulars, but I didn’t want to throw you in at the deep end.’

  ‘Roger McDodger wasn’t the deep end?’

  ‘Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet. Tell you what, we’ll eat and then I’ll introduce you to some of the locals.’

  ‘OK, sounds like a plan. At least if I die it will be on a full stomach.’

  ‘Oh, don’t make such a fuss, they’re not a murderous horde.’ Rosy paused and looked at him and then, disconcertingly, laughed. ‘Well, not most of them.’

  Matt slid into his own chair, looping Scramble’s lead around it. ‘Great, now I am terrified. But I shall combat my fear if you tell me a bit more about this place. It’s such a weird setup.’

  Rosy’s eyes narrowed, bearing a scary similarity to Roger’s from earlier – maybe it was a Cornish thing. ‘Weird, how?’

  ‘Oh, no, not in a bad way but, well, for example, that drum kit and small stage.’ Matt pointed to the items at the end of the room. ‘Those are unusual things to have in a dining area, don’t you agree? Most restaurants don’t have a drum kit in them. Or a harp!’

  Rosy broke into a huge smile that reached not just both ears but maybe the tips of her eyes too. ‘Well, you might find out later. Unless they’ve killed you first.’

  ‘If ‘ee gonna do that can ‘ee take it off the premises, please,’ came Roger’s voice over Matt’s shoulder. ‘Last murder took months to shift. Blood’s a bugger, you know.’ He placed two plates of steamingly hot heaven in front of them and smiled, first at Rosy and then at Matt. ‘Now, ‘twas the badger you both ordered, weren’t it?’

  Chapter Eight

  Matt rocked back on his seat. It turned out that the first bite of badger was delicious, remarkably like roast beef and served with horseradish so he was willing to gamble and eat the rest. Not that he was going to let Rosy know this; she was going to get a hard time for pretending he was eating roadkill. Teasing her was so much fun. She flared up a little every time, just until she would see him grin and then she would back down again, occasionally kicking his shins as she did so and then wincing in case she had hit Scramble instead. He chose not to assure her that Scramble was far too quick to be caught out by a foot, and was especially alert when there was a chance of food.

  Rosy was easy company; they seemed to spend the whole time giggling at something or other. Lunch was only just starting but he didn’t want this afternoon to end for a while yet. He wasn’t sure what the rest of the day would bring but he knew he was going to enjoy it. He couldn’t remember a time he had felt this relaxed. He knew there must have been one, but right now was perfect. Content silence.

  ‘Make way! Make way!’ brayed a voice from across the room, causing Matt’s content silence to be punctured and his head to spin around. Not before he noticed Rosy’s smirk as she carried on eating.

  The door burst open and a gaggle of people, six it seemed, piled through, all in fancy dress and carrying instruments. There were breeches and capes, gowns and headdresses. With them were instruments; some were stringed, one looked like a banjo, and another carried an old-fashioned-looking drum. They whooshed through the dining room like minor celebrities, heading to pop their instruments on the stage at the far end, but stopping and talking to people on the way. They worked the room, nodding, greeting, kissing and occasionally twanging their instruments as they went.

  ‘Aye, aye, my fair maiden, I hope you’re behaving as behoves a lady of such grace.’ The leader of the group paused at their table, eyeing up Matt, who with a forkful of food to his mouth put it back on his plate and smiled in welcome.

  ‘Don’t be daft!’ responded Rosy as she leapt to her feet and was enveloped in a whirl of velvet and mwah-y kisses.

  ‘Well, recent evidence suggests you have been playful of late.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, shut up and meet Matt. He’s moved into Mary’s house so I thought I’d come and introduce him to the village.’

  ‘Well, in that case, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sire.’

  Matt didn’t know whether he should answer in medieval, Cornish or just tug a forelock. All of the options seemed a bit ridiculous. Oh, bloody hell, he hated fancy dress. And now it felt like the whole room was watching him, as if there were some subtext he was unaware of. Bloody villages! He shook the man’s hand and muttered some pleasantries, as innocuous as he could make them, and breathed a sigh of relief as Rosy sat back down and his new acquaintance continued around the room preening and peacocking at the attention.

  ‘Are they in every Sunday?’

  ‘No, it’s every other Sunday. Don’t mind Dave, he talks nonsense – you wait, you’ll see.’

  Matt was not sure he wanted to. Could it have been Dave that Rosy had had in her house earlier? What was all that behaving and behoving nonsense? For goodness’ sake, who on earth in the world paraded around dressed as a medieval musician without having serious issues? He bet Dave sat at home in sweatpants spending far too much time on the Internet when he wasn’t playing dress-up. What an idiot. Sire! Bloody ridiculous.

  Woah! Where had his aggression come from? Was this jealousy? Right, that wasn’t happening! Firstly, he was not the jealous type – it was small-minded and ineffective – and secondly, there was no way Rosy would be sleeping with a medieval troubadour, surely not. And if she was, which she wasn’t, it was none of his business anyway. He had enough to contend with, concentrating wholly on his career, the gardens and nothing else.

  He stopped his internal rant and watched Rosy pull Scramble out from under the table. The dog jumped straight onto her lap and she fed him titbits of fat dipped in gravy from her plate.

  ‘You made my friend Lynne’s day yesterday.’ Rosy carried on fussing his dog, not looking him in the eye as she spoke.

  ‘I did? Slightly scary. How?’

  ‘Well, OK, not you specifically, sorry. But she was making a great fuss about Angelina being in the village. I think she’s a bit of a super-fan.’

  ‘Ah, yeah, she seems to have that effect on people. Slightly beyond me, I must admit. She’s a bit of a monster once you get to know her.’

  ‘Oh, I had heard she had therapy and was lovely now.’ Rosy gasped a millisecond after she spoke, clearly embarrassed for implying Ange could be anything but a joy.

  ‘I wouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers. As much as I love her, Angelina is very much Angelina, and I can’t see her ever changing.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’ The mood had suddenly shifted to awkward and he wasn’t sure why. Something to do with his sister, presumably, but he was determined not to let conversation, and the ease with which they spoke to each other, peter out and die now – not when things had been going so well. He cast around in his mind to find a conversational topic that would relax Rosy again.

  ‘So, you said on the way over you were a headteacher. That’s pretty awesome. Are you secretly fifty and just have mad make-up skills or were you some super-smart child prodigy that raced her way up the career ladder really young?’

  ‘Ha. Neither. Just really lucky, I guess.’

  ‘Hmm, I suspect there’s more to it than luck. Go on, tell all. Don’t hold back.’

  ‘There really isn’t that much to tell. I graduated from university and went straight into teaching and worked in a couple of schools around the country before I came down here; ri
ght down the other end though, Penzance way. There I was really lucky to be mentored by the most amazing head, Mrs Lindfield. She was remarkable, I love her and owe her such a debt of gratitude. Anyway, she pushed me and pushed me and with her help I became an AST…’

  ‘AST? Astounding Space Tractor? Alarmingly Savage Turtle? Oh, I’ve got it! Astonishing Super Teacher?’

  ‘Fool. Advanced Skills Teacher. My specialism was in early years.’

  Bless her, she blushed again, just a little, as if she were embarrassed of her achievement. It was too cute and so at odds with the Cornish lessons and bossy Rosy from earlier.

  ‘Anyway, before I knew it she was pushing me into the position of deputy head when it opened up and made me take my NPQH – that’s the exams you need to do to become a head. I did that and then when this position came up I applied. I’d always wanted to work in a village school so I couldn’t believe my luck when I got it, and here I am.’

  ‘Oh wow, so you’re the head in this village?’

  ‘Yup. Oh, will you excuse me a minute? I promise I won’t be more than a second or two.’ She jumped up hurriedly and wandered off.

  So, she was headteacher here in Penmenna; that explained so much. All through lunch they had been constantly interrupted by friends and acquaintances of Rosy’s. A stream of people all paying testament to how popular and downright lovely she was. Matt could not disagree. She met everyone with a smile and a personalized comment or anecdote and didn’t seem in the least perturbed with the interruptions. He had been introduced so many times that he had lost count and was beginning to fear she might be some kind of cult leader. But now it fell into place. She was obviously widely respected within the community and presumably had impacted all of these people, or their children, in a positive way.

  He watched as she wended her way through the room, stopping to kneel at a table occupied by a family group who were clearly getting ready to leave. She was speaking to the young woman, who was pale and with startling red hair, fatigue writ clear on her face even at a distance. And he watched as the whole table lit up as Rosy spoke, the three adults laughing at whatever she had said and the small boy with them nodding frantically. She stopped but a minute or two and then headed back to Matt, who was unable to tear his eyes away as she got closer and closer.