Free So Long At the Fair by Jess Foley

patient with other people’s children. And there I was – a young man with no ties. One of the few single men in the village who could read and write. I suppose she thought that together we – we’d amount to something.’ He smiled, shaking his head. ‘But it didn’t happen like that. We had children. And as a result she felt trapped. Oh, I knew long before she went that she didn’t love me. I’d got used to living with that idea.’
    Into the silence that fell in the room Abbie said, ‘Sometimes I almost hate her.’
    ‘No,’ he said, ‘you don’t mean that. Some women are just not cut out to be mothers. Motherhood comes naturally to most of them – but not to all’ He got up from his chair and put his empty cup on the table. Then, stepping to her side, he gently touched a hand to her hair. ‘Don’t be too quick to judge her, Abbie. It’s like I said – I was probably equally to blame. And I was luckier – I didn’t have to run away to find what I wanted. I had it here – in my children. I didn’t need anything else.’

Chapter Six
    Abbie stood back from the glass and looked at her reflection, while Jane, at her side, studied her equally judiciously. Jane had recently arrived back in Flaxdown for her annual summer leave. From now on it would be more difficult for her to visit, for once she returned to her post – she was now situated in Trowbridge – she would be accompanying her employers to London where they were to take up permanent residence. So she and Abbie were making the most of their time together, going off on jaunts to the market, taking leisurely walks, or on occasion, when the weather was fine enough, swimming in the river or the old clay pit. Swimming was one of their favourite means of relaxation on warm days, and whenever the rare opportunity arose they took it.
    Today, however, was not a day for relaxation. Today was the day of Abbie’s interview with the Board of School Governors, and Jane had come to give her moral support and help her get ready.
    To her brown voile dress Abbie had attached a beautifully wrought lace collar lent to her by Jane’s mother. It was a perfect foil for the plainness of her dress and she now looked almost elegant. Her hair, dressed by Jane, had been carefully fashioned into a chignon.
    When she had put on her bonnet and cape – and gloves borrowed from Jane – she was ready to leave. Jane walked with her to the vicarage, wished her good luck and left her. Abbie watched until Jane had gone out of sight beyond the privet hedge, then walked up the drive to the front door and rang the bell. The door was opened by a maid who took her cape and showed her into the front parlour.
    After a few minutes the Revd Hilldew came in. ‘Ah, Miss Abigail.’ He came towards her and she got to her feet and briefly took the soft handshake he offered. A short man in his late forties, he had a stocky build that gave no indication of frugality or self-denial. Abbie had always found him pleasant enough, however, notwithstanding that his sermons were overlong and inclined to ramble. ‘The other members of the Board are here,’ the vicar said. ‘We have just one or two other matters of business to get through, then I’ll call you in. We’ll try not to keep you waiting too long.’
    Twenty minutes later Abbie was ushered into the dining room where she found herself faced by the five members of the Board. They were seated around an oval dining table which was covered with a green velvet cloth. She sat down and the Revd Hilldew introduced her to the men, who in turn murmured brief, formal words of greeting. She knew all the faces there, including that of Mr Carstairs, the school inspector. He sat on the left, a short, thin man with spectacles. She could well remember from when she was at school the fear he had instilled into the hearts of students and teacher alike when he came into the classroom to carry out his annual inspections. Seeing him now, with his cold eyes and