Perfect Alibis by Jane Wenham-Jones

Author:Jane Wenham-Jones [Wenham-Jones, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Romance, General
ISBN: 9781905170852
Google: NG3HAAAACAAJ
Amazon: B008NX62UI
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2007-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

DEIRDRE WAS IN OVERDRIVE.

A small thin man called Alan, who was a new PTA member, press-ganged from the reception class, had held proceedings up by not only declining to agree the Minutes of the Last Meeting but actually producing a Matter-Arising as well. This had never happened before in the whole history of the St Mary’s Primary School Parent Teacher Association, which Deirdre had run with a rod of steel since time immemorial, and she was beginning to look rather red and flustered.

“I do not wish to be pedantic,” said Alan for the sixth time, squinting at Deirdre through his little metal-framed glasses. “I’m not one to split hairs…”

Deirdre glowered at him while Stephanie studied the rest of the agenda and tried not to catch Millie’s eye.

“Well don’t then, eh!” Jacqui smiled brightly across the table. “Some of us want to go home tonight. And, by the look of this lot…”

“Item three!” Deirdre rapped her biro smartly on the table and took a deep breath. “Summer Fair – Allocating Stalls!” She looked around the table, pen poised, while everyone shuffled their agendas. “Now we still need one more person for face-painting, two on the barbecue and someone for Name the Donkey.

“Surely,” put in Alan, “you mean Pin the Tail on the Donkey?”

“I know very well what I mean,” said Deirdre huffily. “We have been given a lovely soft toy by Mr Philpot and the children will guess its name.”

“It said ‘Name the Teddy’ on the list you gave me,” insisted Alan.

Deirdre ignored him. “What about you, Stephanie dear?”

Stephanie jumped. “Sorry?” She’d been miles away, mind still churning over the text Troy had sent her. Awful without u. miss u so much. ily xxx

Millie nudged her arm. “Name the Donkey” she said meaningfully.

“I’m Cakes!” said Stephanie feeling panic set in, visions of last summer dancing before her eyes. “You said I could be,” she pleaded. “At the last meeting,” she added. Jacqui snorted with laughter.

“Oh yes,” Deirdre made a series of ticking motions on her sheet and spoke frostily to Alan. “How about you Mr Brown?”

“Always willing to help out.” Alan noted something on his own piece of paper. “Will there be a list of names or shall I assume responsibility?”

Deirdre frowned as she considered this.

“Dobbin!” said Jacqui helpfully.

“Ned,” suggested Millie.

“Eeyore,” grunted Mrs Murphy from the corner, making everyone swing round in surprise because she never usually spoke.

“Thank you!” said Deirdre briskly, looking equally startled as Mrs Murphy resettled her enormous bulk in the biggest staffroom armchair and sank back into a stupor. “Mr Brown to do names, (tick). Got that Gillian? (tick).”

Gillian looked up anxiously from her minutes pad. “Is that with two Bs?” she asked, frantically scribbling.

Alan looked perplexed. “Of course not,” he said pushing his glasses back up his nose. B-R-O-W-N. Like the colour.”

Gillian turned pink. “I was still writing down the names…” she explained nervously. “What came after Dobbin?”

* * *

“Save us!” said Millie, stretching out her legs on the pub seat. “I thought that was never ever going to end.

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