Cross Stitch Read online

  Listening to the steady thump of his heart as she rested her head on his chest she had felt calmer, but still couldn’t help blurting, ‘But he’s dead now, along with Martha and little Elspeth and—’

  ‘You mustn’t do this, Sarah. It helps nobody. And I know that this is all tied up with what that bastard Neil did to you.’ He had lifted her head to look into her eyes. ‘One day in the not too distant future, hopefully you will be a mum again, my darling. And when you are, it will be for keeps.’

  John always knew exactly the right thing to say. She spat the toothpaste into the sink and sighed. Nothing happening so far though, was there? They hadn’t been using contraception for a few months now and, while not exactly ‘trying’ for a baby regarding ovulation charts and stuff, they were spending a lot of time between the sheets. She regarded her downcast reflection and mentally gave herself a talking to. For goodness sake a few months is nothing and you know it, Sarah. Now get your teacher’s head on and get going.

  In a flap, unable to find the keys to her car, Sarah had taken John’s truck and as she bumped and hurtled down the country roads on her way to the school on the outskirts of Sheffield, she hoped there was nothing important he needed for the market garden under the tarpaulin. Didn’t he say he’d bought a new hose pipe irrigator or something just before they’d got married? Damn it, she’d have to check and ring him if it was in the back. He could come and collect it in her car – if he could find the keys – and if he could fit it in her boot. Bloody hell, why couldn’t they have stayed in New York?

  Slamming the door and grabbing her school bag, Sarah pulled her hood up against the rain, dragged back the corner of the tarpaulin and peered inside. Veronica Ratchet’s pale and worried face peered back.

  Sarah’s legs turned to string and she had to grab the side of the truck. Her brain had a gag on her mouth. This was impossible! ‘Jeez! What are you doing here?’ she blurted eventually.

  ‘I hid in this lorry thing not thinking that you would drive it away. It has been one of many necessary hiding places over the past while that I—’

  ‘The past while? How long have you been back from 1939?’

  Veronica smiled triumphantly. ‘I never went back.’

  Sarah’s heart raced faster than Mo Farah heading for gold. ‘You never went back?’ she yelled, blowing a raindrop off the end of her nose. But that was, she reckoned in her head, what, over a week ago?

  ‘I’d thank you not to shout, Sarah. And no, I didn’t go back. I thought I’d be safer here, to be honest. Can we get inside the lorry; we’re both getting soaked.’ Sarah opened her mouth and then shut it again. The bloody cheek of the woman!

  Steaming like a couple of racehorses they sat in the cab staring at the wet bedraggled kids filing into school like animals into an Ark.

  ‘They look awfully big some of those children. Why aren’t they at work?’ Veronica asked absently, pulling at the hair on her mole.

  ‘The school leaving age is a lot higher than it was back in— Hang about.’ Sarah twisted in her seat and poked Veronica in the arm. ‘This is neither the time nor the place for idle prattle. What the hell are you still doing here, how did you manage to hide, and how have you survived while we were in America!’

  ‘It wasn’t hard, and refrain from poking me, please.’ Veronica narrowed her jet beads and rubbed at her arm. ‘I crept out of the wardrobe that day I was supposed to be dispatched home and hid in the spare room in that huge walk in wardrobe. While you were still in the house, I stayed there mostly and in the shed sometimes. It was pretty comfy in both places as I found some pillows and blankets in the airing cupboard. At night I would eat very well from your bountiful cupboards. You never missed anything, not even fresh bread.’ Veronica shook her head in bewilderment.

  Sarah rolled her eyes. She had noticed the bread disappearing faster than normal but she just assumed it was John being a pig. ‘But what did you eat when we were away?’

  Veronica tapped a finger at the side of her nose. ‘I am very clever, Sarah. I spied on you once when your husband was in the shower. I noticed that you took frozen things out of the tall cooler and put it on a plate overnight. The next day it was thawed and you cooked it. The things you do have in the twenty-first century.’ Veronica waggled her head in admiration. ‘The flat box, which I have learned is a television, is phenomenal – once I got it working, of course. Coronation Street is my favourite, though the language is a little coarse, and the music when the break is on and people are trying to sell us things is so loud.’

  ‘You’ve been watching telly? My God.’ Sarah put her hand to her mouth. What must this woman have seen of the future? Could she ever go back to her time now and be normal?

  ‘Hmm, though I’m not sure what’s happening most of the time and the news is so shocking. Even the selling bit is unreal, or perhaps a comedy, because why would people believe that you had to spend a month’s wages on fried chicken in some kind of a bucket?’

  Sarah’s brain creaked into action. She needed to get Veronica back to her house and ask John what to do, because she certainly had no clue. But how could she do that when she was due in school any minute? It would be too late to organise supply at this short notice and besides, she’d already waved cheerily through the window at the head teacher as she’d driven into the car park. Damn it, what should she do!

  The electronic buzzer sounded out for the start of tutor period. Her Year 7s would be taking the place apart if she didn’t get there in a minute.

  Veronica leaned forward and doubled up in her seat clamping her hands over her ears. What the hell was she doing now?

  ‘Veronica, what are you doing that for?’

  ‘That noise. I watched a film the other night where they had a nuclear war and that noise sounds like the warning siren that they had before they dropped the bomb!’ she shrieked.

  Bloody Norah, Veronica shouldn’t even know about those things. Damn it all, Hiroshima hadn’t happened in her time yet. Sarah put her head in her hands. What a terrible mess. Peeping through her fingers she noticed that Veronica was still trembling in her seat even though the buzzer had stopped.

  ‘It’s okay, Veronica, it isn’t a nuclear war, just a new fangled version of that damned bell you wore dangling from your belt the day I first met you.’

  ‘It is?’ Veronica looked up and attempted a smile. ‘How marvellous. Shall we go in then? I expect you’ll be late if we don’t go soon.’

  ‘We?’ Sarah looked at Veronica in disbelief. ‘I don’t think so, lady. You stay right here until break time and then I’ll make some excuse and we’ll go home and see John.’

  ‘And I don’t think so, lady,’ Veronica mimicked. ‘He’ll make me go back to 1939.’

  ‘But that’s where you belong!’ Sarah threw her hands up in exasperation and got out of the truck. ‘Right, I’ll come back in an hour or so before second lesson to check on you. Don’t touch anything; in fact do not move, okay?’

  Veronica did a half-shrug and looked away.

  Damn it, damn it all to hell, Sarah cursed as she hurried through the rain soaked car park.

  Tutor period safely executed, Sarah ran across the playground to the history block. Thankfully it had stopped raining and a rainbow arc promised a sunny spell or two. She shrugged off her damp jacket. Year 9 arrived in dribs and drabs and looked about as ready to start a written assessment on ‘Why did Hitler Rise to Power?’ as fly to the moon.

  The only real insect in the ointment this year was Wesley Baker. There was always at least one hideous child who could disrupt a class. He wasn’t as awful as Danny Jakes had been last year, but he could really try Sarah’s patience. And by the look on his nasty little face as he slouched into the classroom, Sarah guessed that today was going to be one of those trying days.

  While the class settled themselves, Sarah set up the Powerpoint and the title, ‘Hitler’s Rise to Power’, along with the animated lesson objectives, bounced across the whiteboard. ‘Right, you lot. Can
we get our books out and jot these down first, please?’

  There was general muttering, shuffling and sighing as each pupil prepared to do as she asked. Then on cue, Wesley stuck his hand up, a frown on his face deeper than the Grand Canyon.

  ‘Yes, Wesley?’

  ‘I ain’t got me book.’

  ‘So what happened to it this time? Dog chewed it again?’ Sarah asked with a sigh, handing him some paper.

  ‘No, it were me chameleon. He loves a bit of Nazi homework for his tea, miss.’

  There were a few giggles but most of the class were ignoring him. Sarah decided to do the same and sorted through some notes, until a heavy sigh from Wesley grabbed her attention and she looked up to find his hand up again.

  ‘What now, Wesley? Most of the class have written down the objectives for today and you haven’t even started.’

  ‘Well, duh, I can’t start, can I?’ Wesley’s face darkened and he hawked in his throat most unattractively. Sarah thought that he was probably on about twenty a day judging from his yellow fingers and the stench of nicotine hanging over him like a yellow cloud.

  ‘Why can’t you start, Wesley?’ she snapped.

  ‘Because you ain’t given me a pen, ’ave you?’ he said with a smirk as if he’d scored some kind of point and then he leaned back in his seat.

  ‘I think you’ll find that it is your responsibility to bring a pen, a book, a ruler and any equipment you might need for the day. But here, have one for now and crack on with the objectives.’ Sarah placed a pen by his hand. ‘In fact you will have to copy them from someone else as I want to get to the first slide now.’

  Wesley scrawled across his paper and said in a growly voice-over style, ‘Objective one: To be able to understand and explain at least three reasons for Hitler’s eyes to flower.’ This got more of a laugh than last time.

  ‘It doesn’t say that, as you well know. Now, be quiet and—’

  ‘Objective two: To decide which reason for Hitler’s eyes was most important,’ Wesley continued, grinning stupidly.

  ‘Okay, you have a verbal warning. Next time you will have your name on the board.’

  Sarah moved onto the first slide which was a picture of Hitler against a background of a huge swastika. ‘Right, can anyone tell me one of the reasons for Hitler’s rise to power that we learned last time?’ Sarah looked at the class. Good, Wesley features seemed to be getting on with it at last.

  There was a general air of bewilderment accompanied by nose picking, head scratching and out of the window gazing. Then Kylie Marsden put her hand up. Good, Kylie could always be relied upon to answer a question. Sarah nodded encouragingly.

  ‘Treaty of Versailles, miss. That was a long-term cause, not a trigger, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Excellent, Kylie! It was indeed.’

  Sarah clicked the remote control and the Treaty of Versailles in bold type bounced across Hitler’s face and came to rest against a rather fetching star bullet point. ‘Can anyone tell me a short term cause or a trigger?’

  ‘I can, miss.’ Wesley chuckled, tapping his pen against his table. Sarah doubted that very much but had to give him a shot.

  ‘Okay, go ahead.’

  ‘It was because he only had one ball. The other is in the Albert Hall apparently and—’

  ‘That’s enough, Wesley!’ Sarah said above the guffaws. ‘If you have nothing constructive to say, don’t say anything.’

  Wesley’s face rearranged itself into a hard done by expression. ‘But it’s true, miss. There’s a song about it and everything. He tried to get power ’cos he was well peed off about having a mono ball and—’

  This time it was the head teacher who cut Wesley off. Mr Lockyear opened the door and glared at the gigglers and Wesley in particular. Wesley turned puce and shrank to the size of an ant under Lockyear’s eagle eyes.

  ‘Everything all right, Mrs Needler?’

  ‘Fine thanks, Mr Lockyear. Apart from Wesley here who thinks he’s a comedy act on stage at the moment.’

  Sarah wanted the floor to open up. What a shitty morning she’d had so far. Back to reality with a bump from a wonderful time on honeymoon, late for school, getting soaked then finding bloody Veronica. And now to top it all, the head sees her struggling to control the class. It couldn’t get much worse.

  ‘Does he now?’ Lockyear growled at Wesley. ‘He can come and entertain me for an hour after school tomorrow if he carries on. Let me know if he doesn’t improve, won’t you?’

  ‘Oh, you can count on it, Mr Lockyear,’ Sarah said.

  ‘And here’s your lesson observer. She’s sorry she’s a bit late.’

  Lesson observer? Sarah puzzled. She wasn’t down to be observed.

  ‘Hope I don’t have to see you later, Wesley,’ Lockyear continued. He nodded at Sarah and held open the door for someone to enter the classroom. Then Veronica Ratchet walked in and things just got a whole lot worse.

  Thirty pairs of eyes followed Sarah’s as she gaped like a fish out of water at Veronica. Her brain went into free-fall and she snapped the pencil she was holding in a death grip. How the hell did Ratchet get in the school and past reception with the Rottweiler receptionists snapping at the leash?

  Veronica nodded a greeting. ‘Hello class, my name is Miss Ratchet,’ she boomed, and strode to the front of the class to join Sarah.

  Every fibre of Sarah’s being was shouting No, stop! Turn around and get out but her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth and immobile with shock, she felt as if in a dream, or nightmare more like.

  From the front of the class, snatches of whispered conversation met her ears – the darlings of the class were concerned as to why miss looked so ‘out of it’. And from two of the more fashion conscious girls, whispers and giggles about moles and the need for a good hair conditioner.

  Veronica’s eyes sparkled with mischief, her thin lips creased into a smile and she pushed the unruly mop of hair behind her ears. Sarah noticed that she had on a pair of her good earrings and bloody hell, yes, her blue flowery blouse under Ratchet’s jumper and black trousers too – the cheek of her! The lovely conch brooch was still in pride of place though, seemed as if it was very special to the old trout. She’d not really taken much notice of what Veronica had been wearing in the truck, being preoccupied with picking her jaw up from the floor where it had dropped upon seeing the damned woman again. Still, Sarah guessed it was better than her turning up in her 1930s garb. That really would have set the kids’ tongues wagging.

  Talking of wagging tongues, at that moment hers thankfully became free. ‘Miss Ratchet,’ she began in a voice that sounded like a mouse on helium. ‘I wasn’t expecting you just now. I wonder if you could please wait in reception until the lesson has ended.’

  ‘Oh, really? Judging by the subject matter of this lesson,’ Ratchet nodded at the whiteboard, ‘I think my expert help will be invaluable, don’t you?’

  A few of the kids nudged each other and pulled faces in response to Veronica’s old-fashioned clipped BBC radio voice.

  ‘Perhaps, but the students need to find things out for themselves, and because you are,’ Sarah gritted her teeth and tried to smile, ‘an expert they might be tempted to quiz you and—’

  ‘I think you’ll find I know how to answer inquisitive pupils, miss.’ Veronica flashed a shark grin at Sarah and turned to the class. ‘Right everyone, look at me and listen. Who can give me the correct answer for why this horrid man has risen to power?’

  There were more giggles at her voice and patronising tone. Veronica held up a finger and looked sternly at the gigglers.

  Sarah’s heart sank and with it her confidence in being able to retrieve her class from a head on collision with Ratchet. She could see Wesley already warming up for a fight, rocking back on his chair, his piggy eyes narrowing, bottom lip stuck out.

  Kylie’s hand went up. ‘I thought there was more than one reason, miss. That’s what the assessment we’re writing is all about.’

  ‘No, child,
there is only one reason and do not shout out before I select you to speak.’

  Sarah swallowed and leaned against the desk. She must do something, but what?

  ‘So what’s the one reason then?’ Wesley growled. ‘I’m guessing it had to do with Hitler’s trouser department.’

  Veronica scowled and tutted loudly. ‘Young man, please do not shout out and show your ignorance. Mr Hitler does not even own a trouser department.’

  The whole class erupted in guffaws again and Wesley shouted above the din, ‘Told you he only had one – seems like he had none now!’

  As if by magic Sarah’s training kicked in and she banged on the desk. ‘Be quiet, right now or you all stay in at break!’

  The din subsided and Kylie muttered to her friend loud enough for Sarah to hear. ‘That’s not fair, I never did anything wrong and that woman is talking about Hitler as if he’s still alive.’

  Veronica obviously heard too. She shot Sarah a guilty glance and went to look out of the window.

  Ignoring Kylie’s comment Sarah, still on auto-pilot, clicked the remote control and the other bullet points were revealed in full. ‘Okay, I was going to test your understanding by having a Q&A session, but we’re falling behind today because of our,’ she glanced over at Veronica’s ramrod straight back, ‘interruptions. So jot down these reasons for Hitler’s rise, order them in terms of importance and give explanations for your choices. Discuss quietly with a partner if you need to. Ten minutes – go!’

  The class having the threat of break time detention hanging over them settled quickly to the task and Sarah went over to Veronica.

  ‘How the hell did you get into the school?’ she hissed.

  ‘I said I was an observer from The Ridings School. I read your school diary while you were away and you had an observer booked for tomorrow. I just told the ladies on the desk that it had been moved forward.’

  Bloody hell, she was smart. ‘Did you, now? Well, you can just go and tell them that you have been urgently called away and let me get back to teaching this class. You have already made Kylie suspicious.’