Free Bed of Roses by Daisy Waugh Page B

coffee table, chuckling over a copy of Private Eye . It is only half past eight. School doesn’t start for a quarter of an hour, and Fanny has once again been up for hours. (It’s a new habit, and slightly disconcerting to her. She continues to work harder than ever before and yetrecently she’s been literally springing out of bed.) So she’s already taken herself and Brute for a run, and put in a couple of hours’ work on the increasingly damp stack of papers under the kitchen sink. Now she is relaxing. Beside her Linda Tardy the teacher’s assistant is munching prematurely on her lunch-time sandwich, as usual, and staring blankly into space. Mrs Haywood the glass-eyed secretary is making herself coffee. Contentment reigns.
    ‘Hell-o!’ says Robert warmly. ‘Morning all! Good morning, Fanny!’
    They look up, mildly surprised. It’s rare for Robert to come in at all. It’s exceptionally rare for him to come in sounding excited.
    ‘Morning, Robert,’ they say. ‘Welcome back. Good journey in?’
    Robert lives in a village almost ten miles from Fiddleford, and he usually has a little observation to make about the traffic, or the inconsiderate behaviour of his fellow drivers. Today, most unusually, he says the journey was ‘very good indeed’.
    Mrs Haywood offers to make him coffee.
    ‘Oh, that would be splendid!’ he cries, rubbing his hands together. ‘What a splendid idea, Mrs Haywood. Yes, please. Much obliged.’
    ‘Glad to see you’re feeling so much better,’ Fanny says drily. Among all the other problems spinning around her head this week, the problem of Robert’s absenteeism has not been forgotten. On the contrary, with every day he has failed to appear she has grown more resentful. She discussed it over the weekend with Louis, who was no help at all. On Friday night, after she reeled back to the limbo, she even found herself discussing it with old General Maxwell McDonald.
    ‘Our real obstacle is Dr Curry,’ General MaxwellMcDonald had shouted over the calypso music. ‘Robert White’s sister is Dr Curry’s wife, of course. Excellent doctor, but weak-minded. That’s the problem. He knows perfectly well his brother-in-law is a good-for-nothing layabout. I’ve spoken to him about it. But then Robert White turns up in the surgery, snivelling like a girl and asking for a “sick note”.’ The General shuddered at the words. ‘Curry won’t tell the man he’s an idle bugger and pack him off back to work. I should, certainly. But then again,’ he chortled, ‘I’m not married to Dr Curry’s wife…’ At which the General had tapped his nose and added, incomprehensibly, ‘Silent but deadly, see? Courageous work with Mrs Guppy, by the way. Thought you looked marvellous! Great success. Well done!’
    Fanny smiles to herself, remembering the General’s kind words, and Robert, hovering beside Mrs Haywood for his coffee, feels a squirt of glee. Fanny Flynn is looking very relaxed, he notes. She clearly hasn’t seen the paper yet. Which means he can be the one to show it to her.
    So. He looks thoughtfully at Fanny. With an effort, he suppresses the smirk he’s been wearing all the way in to work – ever since the Western Weekly Gazette first plopped on to his doormat this morning – and pads, with his coffee, across the room to sit beside her. Meticulously, silently, he unfolds the newspaper and lays it out on the coffee table at her feet. Fanny ignores him, irritated by his proximity. She continues to stare at her magazine in the hope that he might move away, which he does not.
    Silence. The gentle tinkle of Mrs Haywood stirring coffee. The passing of air through Robert’s agitated nostrils. The squelching of tuna and watercress between Linda Tardy’s teeth.
    It is Linda Tardy who notices the article first.
    ‘Oh, my gracious Lord!’ she screams, making Mrs Haywood jump. ‘Fanny! Mrs Haywood! Robert! Everyone!Fanny, you’re famous! We’re all famous! LOOK AT THIS! This was—Oh,