Free Jigsaw by Anthea Fraser

I’d been hoping to start with education. It’s not straightforward histories of the schools I’m after, so much as interesting sidelights – an eccentric headmaster, famous former pupils, and so on. It’ll have to be condensed into one article, since that’s all I can spare on any one subject, but I hope to give each school a mention.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I suppose there aren’t any scandals you can regale me with?’
    â€˜Not without consulting my lawyer! Seriously, though, I can give you their addresses and suggest whom you should contact.’
    â€˜That would be great. How many schools are there?’
    â€˜Let’s see; there’s a private kindergarten, a Roman Catholic primary, St Stephen’s, of course, two secondary schools and a sixth-form college, though that’s relatively recent. And, of course, the estimable Buckford College. I’m pretty sure the names I have are up to date; I keep in touch with friends up there, and I’d have heard if there’d been any changes. If you think it would help, you could mention my name.’
    Immediately after the call, Rona rang her father.
    â€˜I’ve just been speaking to Mrs Bishop, and she was great,’ she reported. ‘She’s given me a string of names and addresses so I can arrange appointments at the schools.’
    â€˜I’m glad she could help,’ Tom said. ‘She’s a fan of yours, by the way; she’s read several of your books. I’ll be interested to hear in due course what you think of her.’
    â€˜Thanks so much for putting in a word for me, Pops. I do appreciate it.’
    â€˜It was a pleasure,’ Tom replied. Which, in every sense, was true.
    Friday evening was warm and sunny, and Max had elected to have a barbecue.
    â€˜I don’t think we’ve been in summer before,’ Dinah said, looking approvingly round the patio garden. ‘How very attractive you’ve made this, with all the pots and statues.’
    â€˜It’s not much more than a backyard really,’ Rona answered deprecatingly. ‘Nothing like your glorious garden.’
    â€˜But a lot less trouble, I’ll bet!’ Barnie put in feelingly.
    â€˜I particularly like the way you’ve contrasted shapes and colours,’ Dinah continued. ‘And scent! Just smell those stocks! I’ve always wanted a walled garden.’
    â€˜Now she tells me!’ Barnie said humorously.
    They all laughed, but Rona was acutely aware of the tension just below the surface. ‘How’s Mel?’ she asked quietly.
    The Trents exchanged glances.
    â€˜Not good,’ Barnie admitted. ‘Dinah’s considering flying out there.’
    â€˜We were going anyway when the baby’s born,’ Dinah added, ‘but I’m wondering if I’d be more use now. She’s having to take a lot of bed rest, and poor little Sam doesn’t understand why she can’t play with him.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘It’s very difficult, being so far away.’
    Rona murmured understanding. She’d never seen Dinah so subdued. A small, dynamic woman with wiry black hair and a surprisingly deep voice, she was usually a whirlwind of energy, sweeping everyone along with her enthusiasm. The Trents were a good ten years older than Max and herself, but Barnie, renowned at
Chiltern Life
for his short fuse, had been kind to her when she first joined the magazine, and after she met Dinah at an office party, a deep friendship had developed which, before her marriage, had involved frequent invitations to supper at their home. She still went over occasionally when Max was working, and Gus had a longstanding truce with the couple’s Siamese cats.
    Max had lit the barbecue and Barnie was helping him carry trays of prepared meat, fish and vegetables out to the waiting table.
    â€˜Barnie tells me you’re about to visit my home town,’ Dinah