A Week in Winter(85)

‘Please calm yourself, Irene. You are being hysterical. I have just discovered two extraordinary things about you. You were always showing me photographs of Kenny, and said he was your nephew.’

‘I thought it more discreet since I was not a married woman.’

‘But this Nasey will make you respectable, is that it?’

Irene wondered how she could have worked for this woman for twenty years, not to mention made excuses for her that it was just her manner. Miss Howe had no heart, no warmth.

‘I always considered myself respectable, always. And everyone who knows me thinks I am too. But then you don’t know me at all, Miss Howe, and never have.’

‘You will presumably want to continue working here after I am gone and after this . . . er . . . marriage?’ Miss Howe’s eyes were full of anger.

‘Certainly I do. I love this school, the staff and the pupils.’

‘Then you would want to watch your tone, Irene, if I am to write you a good reference. My successor would not necessarily like the legacy of someone who is secretive and has a bad attitude.’

‘Write what you like, Miss Howe. You will anyway.’

‘You are being very short-sighted over all this, Irene.’

‘Thank you, Miss Howe. I’ll get back to my work, while I still have a job.’ And Irene walked out without looking back.

She sat at her desk, shaking, and had barely the strength to answer her mobile phone.

It was her mother, with wonderful news. Nasey had been around to the house at lunchtime and had shown her how to go online and look at outfits for Mother of the Bride. She was going to choose a navy and white dress and jacket. Would that suit Irene’s plans?

Soon the goodwill and excitement began to seep back. The toxic, cold loneliness of Miss Howe beyond the door in her prison-like office was ebbing away.

The new Principal had already been chosen. She was a Mrs Williams, a widow who had run a large girls’ school in England but who now wanted to return to her family in Ireland. Apparently she was bringing her own furniture to the Principal’s office, and was happy to keep the present level of administration. Irene would work for July and part of August helping her to get installed. She had been informed that Irene would then be on holiday for three weeks but back in the office for the first day of term.

The school assembled to say goodbye to Miss Howe. She stood on the raised dais of the school hall as she did every morning. Still wearing her black gown, her hair held by the same slide. Her face was still totally impassive.

Various teachers read out their words recognising Miss Howe’s achievements; the head girl made her speech and the chairman of the parents’ committee expressed gratitude on behalf of all the girls who had succeeded so well at Wood Park, thanks to Miss Howe. There was no mention of a well-deserved rest, or assurance that her real life was just beginning. Finally the envelope was handed over as a token of everyone’s appreciation. It was a voucher for a holiday in the opening week of Stone House, a new hotel in the West of Ireland. Miss Howe made no attempt to thank anyone, and her face registered nothing when the gift was announced. But no one really expected any other reaction.

Mrs Williams had been invited to the farewell ceremony for Miss Howe but had refused. She did not want to be a distraction, she said. This was Miss Howe’s day.

In fact, people would have been glad of Mrs Williams’ presence. She would have helped the torturous ceremony and the endless wine-and-cheese event that followed. People looked at their watches begging for it to be an acceptable time to leave. Had time ever moved so slowly? Was there ever such a joyless speech deploring modern trends in education, stressing the need for discipline in schools and learning by rote, pleas that so-called creativity never take the place of good old-fashioned basics?

The audience of teachers who had done their best to make the curriculum interesting as well as draconian; the parents who were guiltily relieved that their daughters got good points and university places; the pupils who couldn’t wait for the school holidays . . . everyone was praying for it to be over.

Irene went back to her office to collect her things. She was dying to get home and tell Nasey about the wedding gift which had been arranged for them by the teaching staff at Wood Park. It was not only one of those fabulous gas-fired barbecues, but also a garden firm were going to lay a little patio for them and build a special wall to enclose the area. All they needed now was a lifetime of good summers to enjoy eating out of doors!

To her surprise, she heard a sound from Miss Howe’s office. She knocked on the door. Miss Howe stood there alone behind her desk, which was empty apart from her car keys. Behind her the window, framed with the heavy dark brown curtains, looked out on the empty school yard.

‘I just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t an intruder.’ Irene started to back out again.

‘Stay for a moment, Irene. I want to give you a wedding present.’

This was certainly not something she had foreseen.

‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Howe. Very kind indeed.’

Miss Howe handed her a fancy bag with a lot of glitter on it. Not at all the kind of thing you would have expected from Miss Howe. Irene was at a loss for words.

Her immediate response was guilt. She had paid not one euro towards the going-away voucher for Miss Howe; she had signed no card and given no good wishes. Now she was ashamed.

‘Not at all. Just a little something to remind you of me.’