The Girl in the Scrapbook Carolyn Ruffles (read an ebook week txt) 📖

exclaimed in her broad Suffolk accent after Jennifer had explained she was free to go to the race night after all. ‘We’re still one short on our table so that’s perfect. Just come along to the community centre for seven o’clock and you can pay for your ticket on the night.’

‘Wonderful. I’ll see you then.’

Jennifer put her phone down with a sense of satisfaction. She'd made a start.

◆◆◆

It was a dry night so Jennifer had decided to walk the mile down to the hub of the village where the community centre was situated. If David Brewer was on her table, she would probably need a glass of wine, she thought.

Jill was hovering near the doorway,  looking out for her, and greeted her with a hug. ‘I’m so pleased you could make it after all. This is my husband, Jeff.’ She gestured towards a large, portly man with a bald head and twinkling grey eyes.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Jennifer said formally, extending her hand.

Jeff ignored it and enveloped her instead in a generous hug, kissing her loudly on her right cheek. ‘You don’t stand on ceremony with me,’ he grinned. ‘Now, let me get you something to drink.’

He headed towards the crowded bar while Jill led her across the room to a round table where five other guests were already seated. One of them was David Brewer, smartened up for the evening in a brown jacket and white open-necked shirt which suited his dark colouring. He immediately leapt from his seat and also, rather disconcertingly, greeted her with a hug and a kiss.

‘You didn’t bring your friend then,’ he said.

‘No. She couldn’t make it after all.’ Jennifer surveyed the other people round the table who were introduced to her as Sheila and Mike Blake, Jeremy Willis and Pandora Pardew. She took her seat next to Jeremy who, she quickly discovered, was a retired bank manager in his early seventies whose wife had died six years ago. He  liked talking about himself and completely monopolised her attention for the next half hour. Fortunately, at that point, food was served and he focused his attention on his lamb curry, leaving Jennifer able to speak to the others around the table.

Sheila and Mike were a grey-haired couple in their fifties wearing almost matching blue jumpers and black trousers. In response to her enquiry, they told her that they had run the village post office for the last thirty years and had two children, both married, and five grandchildren. They had a habit of finishing each other’s sentences and then bickering good naturedly about what they were actually going to say.

Pandora was obviously David’s date, judging by the proprietary hand she kept on his arm and the way she kept calling him ‘darling’ in cut glass tones. She was an attractive, expensively dressed brunette, probably in her late forties although she looked younger, with flawless skin and glossy, red lips, curved in a flirtatious pout. David was clearly enjoying her company, although perhaps, Jennifer thought cattily, the view down her low-cut, silk blouse had something to do with it.

‘Do tell us about yourself, Jennifer,’ Mike Blake prompted politely across the table.

‘And what brings you to Great Chalkham?’ his wife, Sheila added.

‘I fell in love with Horseshoes Cottage and decided it was just what I was looking for. I’m planning on using the two spare bedrooms for bed and breakfast or holiday lets,’ Jennifer replied.

‘Oh. Have you always done that sort of thing?’ Jeff Riddleston joined in the conversation.

‘Not at all but it’s always been a dream of mine. In my previous life, I was a primary headteacher in Norfolk.’

‘Heavens, that’s a bit of a career change! Well, I wish you luck with it,’ Pandora said dismissively. ‘Jeff, this lamb curry is divine. You must give me the recipe.’

‘Jeff’s the chef at the pub,’ Jeremy explained to Jennifer, ‘and they’ve provided the food for this evening.’

‘Well, I have to say I agree with Pandora,’ Jennifer said. ‘It’s absolutely delicious.’

Jeff beamed. ‘That’s good. I’m glad you’re all enjoying it.’

‘I really admire anyone who can teach young children.’ Jill directed the conversation back to Jennifer. ‘I know I wouldn’t have the patience and nowadays it’s such a tough job. There isn’t the respect for teachers that there used to be and so many children behave so badly. We see lots in the pub, running around and annoying other customers, and their parents just seem to ignore them.’

‘I bet they didn’t misbehave in your school, did they Jen?’ David winked at her. ‘I bet you ran a tight ship and the kids didn’t dare put a foot out of place.’

‘They had their moments,’ Jennifer replied drily. ‘In any school, there will be difficult children but that’s all part of the challenge. It’s a very rewarding career and I loved my job.’

‘So why the change?’ Mike Blake asked. ‘You seem much too young to retire to a quiet life in the country.’

Jennifer smiled warmly at him. ‘Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘In answer to your question, it just seemed the right time. I’d been in teaching for thirty years and I was ready for something new.’

‘Wasn’t it awful about that child that died! That was a school in Norfolk wasn’t it?’ Sheila Blake said suddenly.

Jennifer felt her blood go cold. She carried on eating although her food had lost all its flavour.

‘Yes, it was terrible. Poor little devil! He fell, didn’t he, when he and his class were on some trip?’ Jill added. ‘Shocking to think that something like that could happen this day and age, what with all the health and safety regulations there are now.’

There was a moment of silence in which Jennifer willed someone to change the conversation. Instead, Pandora laid down her knife and fork and, observing Jennifer’s sudden pallor, said, ‘Did you know the school, Jennifer? Did you know the people involved?’

‘I did.’ Jennifer laid down her own cutlery and rose, unsteadily to her feet. ‘Please excuse me