Catching Katie. Sophie Weston
Читать онлайн книгу.
and don’t know.’
Haydon’s brows twitched together. The girl had been shaking with nerves at the start of the encounter. Now she was hell bent on war. It was amusing—and very odd. He knew that if he had not been so tired he would have got to the bottom of it. But those sleepless hours were catching up with him.
He said dismissively, ‘Then don’t behave like a fool.’ And turned away.
The girl stamped in temper. It was a hard stamp and it sent the easel rocking. Before Haydon knew what was happening, the thing had swung up in his hand and banged hard against the passenger door. There was a nasty silence as they all stared at the long, irregular scratch.
Viola let out a wail.
‘That’s torn it,’ said the frizzy-haired girl.
Furious with himself, Haydon cast the easel away from him. It fell squashily into the hedge.
‘If you have damaged my easel, you will replace it,’ announced the auburn-haired one. She was clearly on a roll.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Haydon. He was no longer amused.
She showed her teeth in a smile that was an open challenge.
‘Just trying to keep things civilised,’ she mocked.
Their eyes locked. Haydon did not trust himself to speak. He turned on his heel and stormed into the house. Behind him the girl laughed.
He was so irritated that he forgot that he had refused Viola entry. With one last angry glance at her maltreated car, she strode into the house after him. Then Mrs Bates appeared in the hallway. Haydon’s irritation reached new heights. He turned.
‘I told you, Viola. No coffee. No heart-to-heart. Just go away,’ he said with great firmness.
‘But—’
He held the front door open for her. ‘Goodbye, Viola.’
‘Wow,’ said Andrea as they stormed off. ‘You really told him. I’ve never seen you like that.’
Katie leaned against the lamppost. Not just her hands, her whole body was shaking.
‘Nor have I,’ she said uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
Andrea pursed her lips. ‘Don’t you?’
‘No.’ Katie was honestly puzzled. ‘Do you?’
‘I’d say your hormones just met a worthy opponent,’ Andrea said cheerfully.
‘What?’ Katie was horrified.
Andrea laughed aloud.
They took everything inside. Eventually a fair amount of it was stashed in the hall while Katie decided what to do with it, but at least it was not littering the pavement any more. Katie began a systematic search for instant coffee.
Andrea looked round the chromium and white kitchen and words failed her.
‘It’s more like a laboratory than a kitchen,’ said Katie gloomily. ‘What’s more, the machines all look alike. I tried to wash a blouse in the cooker last night.’
Andrea shook her head. ‘The size of it,’ she said at last. ‘It’s a football pitch.’
Katie looked over her shoulder from the third cupboard door she had opened. ‘I’ll get plenty of exercise racing from the fridge to the stove,’ she agreed with a grin.
Andrea was awed. ‘If this place doesn’t teach you to cook, nothing will.’
‘Nothing will,’ Katie said firmly. The cupboard was full of gold-edged china. She shut the door and moved on. ‘If God had meant us to cook he wouldn’t have invented takeaway pizza.’
‘I wish I thought you didn’t mean that.’
Andrea taught Home Economics at the same school as Katie taught art and spent her spare time writing what she claimed to be the ultimate cookbook. In theory, Katie was illustrating it. But it had rapidly emerged that Katie did not know a sauce Béarnaise from a rice pudding. From time to time Andrea invited her home and did her best to remedy her education. But, as they both acknowledged, it was an uphill struggle.
Now Katie said cheerfully, ‘While I can work the microwave, I shan’t need anything else.’
Andrea shuddered.
‘As long as I can tell it from the burglar alarm, that is.’
‘Burglar alarm!’ Andrea was startled. She looked round as if she expected one of the silent machines to bite. ‘Is this stuff gold-plated or something?’
Katie shook her head. ‘It’s the area. Oh, they’ve got some antique furniture and a couple of good pictures. But mainly it’s because this is the sort of road that professional burglars like. Well, you saw what those two were like out there. There’s even a millionaire next door.’
‘Really? How do you know?’
‘Mrs Harding told me. Ah!’ She emerged from the seventh cupboard with a jar in her hand. ‘Coffee at last. Unless you want to hold out for freshly ground beans? There are bound to be some somewhere.’
‘Black, no sugar,’ said Andrea. Hard-working schoolteachers could not afford to be coffee snobs. She leaned on the counter as Katie plugged in the kettle. ‘Do you suppose that was him just now?’
‘Who? The millionaire?’ Katie turned back, startled by this novel thought. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t think so. The millionaire is quite old, I think. And antisocial.’
Andrea nodded. She was disappointed, but she was a realist. ‘He might have come on like Napoleon but he certainly wasn’t old.’
‘Nor antisocial,’ said Katie with irony. ‘Not with a blonde like that in tow.’
Andrea sighed. ‘She was a knockout, wasn’t she?’ Her tone was wistful.
Katie gave her a sharp glance. She knew Andrea was sensitive about her lack of height and her untameable hair.
‘Probably got ingrowing toenails,’ she said briskly. ‘And a heart like Cruella De Vil.’
Andrea laughed suddenly. ‘And you,’ she said, ‘have got a heart like chocolate fudge.’
Katie opened her eyes wide, disconcerted. ‘Me?’
‘You. I wouldn’t know what to do if I was a knockout blonde. But it’s nice of you to comfort me. That kettle has boiled by the way.’
Katie found mugs and spooned coffee granules into them. Andrea leaned her elbows on the counter.
‘You know, it’s odd,’ she mused. ‘You’re so gorgeous yourself. And yet you seem to know exactly what it’s like to be plain and difficult. I think that must be why the kids like you so much.’
Katie’s hands did not falter. ‘The kids like me,’ she said without excitement, ‘because they get to make a filthy mess in my class and they can bop around to Lucifer’s Eleven at the same time. Teenage heaven.’
She poured boiling water on the granules. Andrea took her mug.
‘And who brought the tapes of Lucifer’s Eleven in to school in the first place?’
Katie relaxed. She gave her wicked grin. ‘I like them.’
‘Your eardrums are depraved. I’m surprised Douglas hasn’t confiscated them.’
Katie tensed imperceptibly. ‘My eardrums?’
‘The tapes. I suppose he’s too relieved there’s one afternoon a week when the escape committee have a truce.’
Katie nodded. They taught at a big school with a lot of children from deprived families. Truancy was a problem.
‘I