Fiction Serial: Under The Middledip Mistletoe (Part 1)
Author Sue Moorcroft
WRITTEN BY BESTSELLING AUTHOR SUE MOORCROFT
Part 1: Ella is now Mrs Higham – so it’s a shock for her first love to find that his son is in her class…
“So the new pupil, Charlie Johnson, is joining us earlier than expected?” Ella asked Sophia as she hung a rainbow-coloured paperchain from corner to corner of her classroom.
Sophia Morrison, the head of Middledip Primary School, handed Ella another paper chain. Sophia was a little too rounded to enjoy getting up on steps but seemed happy to assist.
“Charlie’s been unsettled by his mother going abroad to work and the dad thinks joining in with the fun things Reception children do before Christmas will be easier for him than plunging into a new year in January.
“Mr Johnson was brought up in the village and has the opportunity of leaving his present job early to come back and be near his family. He’s a primary teacher himself,” she added.
Ella’s heart lurched. Johnson? A teacher? Used to live in the village? Sophia was continuing, “At one time he worked at – ”
“St Martin’s in Bettsbrough,” Ella finished for her faintly, her suspicions confirmed. Bettsbrough was the nearest town to Middledip village. She managed a smile. “It sounds like Billy Johnson. We were at St Martin’s together. I was newly qualified and new to the area but it was his third year on the staff. We worked together for a year.”
A year she’d never forgotten, a year of falling in love. The year she’d made the horrible discovery that sometimes love wasn’t enough – a relationship could be derailed by pressure from others and important decisions not shared.
She debated how much to tell Sophia. There was a clear case for letting sleeping dogs lie, especially when this particular dog had begun its nap so long ago, but teachers tended to be ultratransparent about certain things. What if Billy mentioned it? Sophia would wonder why Ella had not.
She held out her hand out for the next gaily-coloured paperchain and turned back to her task, casually letting drop,
“In fact, we were an item. We were both single but the head was exceedingly old-school and plainly expected one of us seek a new post. Billy moved schools and things were pretty much over.”
Very over, once she’d discovered Billy’s new school to be in west Wales, four-and-a-half hours from Cambridgeshire on a good journey. She still remembered the icy wave of shock swamping her as Billy broke the news, defensive, chestnut hair dangling over chocolate-brown eyes.
“It’s a good move for me,” he’d said. “A leadership role. You can –”
She hadn’t waited to hear what it was she could do. She’d congratulated him in one breath and accepted the inevitability of the end of the relationship in the next.
“I guess I’m not as important to you as I thought,” she said.
He’d blinked. “Ella, listen – !”
But she’d swept off home without listening, blinded by tears and blindsided by the way he’d gone after and accepted a job so far away.
First love had been painful, but she was all grown up now.
“Charlie won’t be in your class for long, will he?” Sophia’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
I’m not concerned about something that happened so long ago.
“Exactly. Shall we hang the next chain over the whiteboard?”
Ella acted as if paper chains were far more important than Billy Johnson breaking her naïve heart. A small part of her hoped Sophia wouldn’t trouble to mention to Billy that Mrs Higham, in charge of the youngest children in the school, used to be Ella Thorpe of St Martin’s Primary School.
Ella would quite like to see Billy shocked, the way she’d been shocked ten years ago when he’d moved on to a new life. Without her.
Don’t want to put them on,” Charlie wailed, glaring at his new school shoes as if they might kick him.
illy didn’t sigh or argue. He’d heard “don’t want to” from his tousle-haired little boy often enough recently.
“Just quickly,” he said soothingly, as if doing something quickly somehow negated the act of doing it, lifting Charlie’s robust little body onto his lap while he deftly popped the smart black shoes onto Charlie’s neat little feet. “I’m really looking forward to seeing how much the school has changed since I went there.”
As he did up the Velcro shoe straps he repeated the story he and his parents had already told Charlie several times.
Once upon a time, Nan had walked Daddy to the same school, the same classroom, when Daddy had been nearly five, just like Charlie. Now he and Charlie had literally moved from Wales to Middledip over the weekend and Billy had done all the formalities of registering Charlie over the
telephone. After all, he knew Middledip School of old.
Charlie had yet to seem impressed by his dad’s history with the school, however. Since Francesca had decided to follow her career goal, regardless of how it turned her child’s world upside down, Charlie had been easily upset.
Francesca had always left much of the parenting to Billy but Charlie was missing her. FaceTime conversations were proving a poor substitute for a mummy at home.
“Will Mummy come for Christmas?” Charlie asked suddenly. His eyes, when they rested on Billy, were apprehensive.
Billy was answering this question at least once a day.
“Yes. She’s not going to stay at Nan and Grandad’s, like you and me, because she’s going to stay in Bettsbrough in a hotel.” He didn’t lie and say that there wasn’t room for Francesca at Nan and Grandad’s house but added simply, “She’s going to take you out, and play with you and you’ll have a lovely time, won’t you?”
Charlie’s eyes brightened momentarily, as if satisfied the answer hadn’t changed.
“OK,” he said, as if agreeing he’d go to his new school in that case. He jumped up and wriggled into his coat.
Sarah, Billy’s mum and Charlie’s grandmother, smiled at them as they clattered downstairs.
Now, don’t you look nice, Charlie? Bet you’re going to wow your new teacher. Can you remember her name?
“Mrs Higham,” Charlie answered co-operatively, putting his face up for Sarah’s kiss.
Billy’s dad, Rod, folded up his paper and produced a cereal bar from his pocket. “Shall we put this in your lunch box? It’s the one with chocolate chips.”
“Thanks, Grandad.” Charlie nodded eagerly as the cereal bar was stowed in his blue box.
Billy took his hand and they began the walk to school in the centre of the village, their breath hanging in white clouds on the air. His parents had sold the big old home by The Cross where Billy had grown up. Their smaller house on an edge-of-the-village estate was newer and easier to keep.
Once Billy had got a new job and their old home in Wales was sold, he’d be looking for something just for Charlie and him. A secure base from which to build a new life.
“Let’s count the Christmas trees in the houses,” he suggested brightly.
Turning back towards the house they’d just left, Charlie pointed at the tree in the window, lights on because Sarah enjoyed the festivities and left the tree twinkling all day. “One!”
Billy laughed. “That was clever of you to think about the one at Nan and Grandad’s. There’s number two just across the street.”
They counted their way out of the Bankside Estate, spotting Christmas trees in gardens, on porches or glimpsed through house windows.
“There’s a tree at the window of the school, look,” Billy exclaimed when they approached the long, low red-brick Middledip school building. The tree had always glowed from the same window, so he’d known where to look. Paper snowflakes cut by little hands danced at other windows beside lanterns of coloured tissue paper and black card.
Charlie fell silent as they entered through the double doors that were painted blue now but had been salmon pink when Billy had been a pupil. He’d arranged to meet the head, Mrs Morrison, at her room fifteen minutes after school began to let other children settle. However, they arrived to find it was Mrs Morrison’s assistant, Miss Anderton, waiting for him.
“Mrs Morrison’s tied up on an important call,” she said apologetically. “But if you don’t mind signing in, she asked me to take you to meet Charlie’s teacher this term, Mrs Higham.” Then she beamed down at the little boy. “It’s great to meet you, Charlie. Are you pleased to be coming to
Middledip School?”
Charlie gave a “Not really” shrug, but followed Miss Anderton up the corridor.
Billy swung Charlie’s hand comfortingly and chatted to Miss Anderton as they passed bookcases edged with cotton wool snow.
When they reached the door to the same classroom that had been Billy’s first, more than thirty years earlier, Miss Anderton knocked and entered.
A battery of heads swivelled to regard them as they stood in the doorway, most of them belonging to children seated around square tables. Two belonged to adults. One was so young that Billy, with a practised eye, instantly put him down as a teaching assistant. And the other belonged to Ella Thorpe.
Billy almost gasped aloud. But wasn’t Charlie’s new teacher called Mrs Higham?
Ah – the obvious answer dawned on him. Of course. Ella was married.
Numbly, Billy listened as Miss Anderton introduced him and Charlie, and then left.
Ella looked to have changed little but her name. Her golden hair swung around her cheekbones instead of hanging down her back in a ponytail. Her expression was more self-possessed but the smile was the same.
“Hello,” she said as if they’d never been more than acquaintances. “I thought it must be you.” Then she began to talk to Charlie about how pleased she was that he was joining her class, showing him his peg ornamented with his name and a picture of a kite.
Billy knew the pictures helped pupils who couldn’t yet read their names.
Charlie could, and quite a bit besides, but Billy didn’t say so. Ella would have had Charlie’s file from his last school. Here Billy was a parent, not a teacher. Thoughts still whirling, he watched while Ella chattered to Charlie, gaining his confidence, showing him the chair waiting for him and getting the children on his table to tell him their names. The teaching assistant moved over to sit on the same table and open a book to show Charlie and, finally, Ella turned to Billy.
“So how are you?” he blurted out.
It felt surreal to see her here, in this classroom, bringing together the memories of his own first school with his first teaching job at a different school, where a pretty new teacher had walked in and rocked his world.
“I’m fine.” But her mind was obviously on her classroom today rather than the past. “We’re beginning with adding and subtracting worksheets this morning but soon we’ll be moving on to Christmas songs ready for the Nativity.”
Billy could do little but play his role. “That sounds great. I’ll say goodbye to Charlie and leave him to settle in. He had several weeks at his old school, so I hope he’ll soon get over the unfamiliarity.”
He hesitated.
Perhaps Mrs Morris explained that Charlie’s had changes to cope with?
“His mum’s working in Africa. I taught at a school near to his last one but its closure was announced suddenly and they wanted to shed a couple of teachers immediately. I
volunteered because it felt like time to come back to the village. Mum and Dad will help me with Charlie.”
Sympathy flitted into Ella’s amber eyes, though her gaze turned to a table the was growing noisy and she said in a firm voice, “Tristan, Troy, we don’t shout, do we?” Then she turned back to him. “I’ll look after Charlie, don’t worry.”
Billy found himself answering gravely, “I know you will.”
The school day passed quickly and at the end of it Ella felt pleasantly tired.
Charlie had challenged her a few times, talking too loudly, declaring he wouldn’t do various things and that he wouldn’t be returning tomorrow.
Twice he’d looked about to burst into tears but Ella had been ready with a distraction. He’d even smiled when he was cast as a sheep in the Nativity, a role that would make him feel included and important but with no learning of lines necessary. She could imagine how unsettling it was to a small child when one parent went to work in another country.
Her thoughts strayed to Billy. Was he missing his wife? He’d looked tired and strained and slightly too thin. His dark brown eyes had been the same though, when they’d rested on her with exactly the degree of shock she’d hoped for.
To her consternation the sight of them, though she’d been braced to meet him today, had made her heart leap. Shoving that thought aside, she supervised the children finding their coats, scarves and boots before rushing out to where the grown-ups waited.
As it was Charlie’s first day, it had been arranged that Billy Johnson would wait right outside the classroom.
“Daddy!” Charlie raced towards him, lunchbox flying open and crusts landing on the path outside.
Billy’s face creased into a massive smile as he swooped his son into the air.
Hey, Charlie!” Had a good day?
“No,” announced Charlie, “and I’ve got to come back tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes, we go to school every day, don’t we?” Billy grinned over Charlie’s head at Ella. “How did it go?”
She put on her professional smile.
“I think Charlie had quite a nice day. You played with Deepak and Sian at lunch, didn’t you, Charlie? And we all think you’re doing very well with your reading.” She switched her attention to Billy, so tall, arms linked protectively around his son. “He read all of a short book to Mr Hiro, our teaching assistant.”
“Good boy!” Billy dropped a kiss on Charlie’s chestnut hair so like his own, ruffled by the wind.
Remembering the days when Billy Johnson had hugged and kissed her, Ella said goodbye and turned briskly to tidy her room. Too late for those memories.
On Sunday evening, Ella was enjoying a glass of wine in the village pub, The Three Fishes. The bar area was festooned with multicoloured fairy lights, the mantel twisted with tinsel. Villagers clustered in groups, talking and laughing.
Ella was lost in her thoughts when a deep voice said, “Mind if I join you?”
Jerked from her reverie she looked up to see Billy hovering beside her table.
“Do,” she said politely, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “My friend Jodi was here but she’s just been called home because her little girl has earache so I’m just finishing my glass of wine before I go home.”
He dropped into the chair opposite.
“Charlie’s tucked up in bed. My parents were staying in tonight anyway, so they sent me out for an hour.” His eyes crinkled. “It’s a bit weird being under their roof again. How long have you lived in the village?”
“Less than a year. I didn’t realise your parents were still local.”
He took a long gulp of beer. “They downsized to a modern house in Bankside so they’re probably not in the centre of the village so much. Is your husband not here this evening?”
She hesitated but there was no point not telling him the truth. It wasn’t as if it would change anything.
“I’m divorced, hence my move out of Bettsbrough. My parents still live in Kent, where I grew up, but I’m settled in this part of the world.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes became sombre. “I’ll be divorced next year too. Francesca… has other priorities.”
Her heart tripped up.
“It’s painful when marriages end,” she managed.
“Depends on the marriage. Francesca’s an engineer. Ambitious. Charlie was a surprise baby and she found motherhood hard, even with me taking the lion’s share of the parenting.
He heaved a sigh.
I feel sorry for her – not just because she’s missing out on a wonderful kid, but because society gets a bit hateful with women who aren’t maternal.
Ella had no idea how to answer.
His smile twisted. “There’s still a way to go with selling the house in Wales but it’s a relief to be back. Everything happened so fast. It’s a bit short notice to find a job for January, but if I don’t get a post until Easter, I can cope. We’ll just stick with Mum and Dad a bit longer.”
Then a couple of men hailed him, demanding to know what he was doing back in Middledip. They took the vacant seats at the table and Ella, her wine glass empty now, declined the offer of another drink and prepared to leave.
Hunching her shoulders against the biting frost, she slipped and slithered on pavements that sparkled with frost, headed for the warmth of her little cottage in Ladies Lane.
A strange, jumpy feeling had taken possession of her, ratcheting up her breathing and making her palms tingle.
Was she unsettled because Billy Johnson had turned up in her life again?
She let herself into her little house and unwound her scarf. It had taken her ages to get over him. If she were truthful, she’d married Rob Higham because they got on well. The highs of her relationship with Billy had been absent, but there had been a quieter kind of relationship… until Rob had fallen for someone else like a ton of bricks.
Ella’s conscience hadn’t let her argue when he’d said that neither he nor Ella herself were totally committed to their marriage and he wanted it to end. In fact, it had been a bit of a relief.
She hoped it wasn’t because she’d never stopped thinking of Billy Johnson with his rumpled hair and soulful brown eyes.
As Christmas as approaches, can Ella maintain a professional relationship between Billy and herself? Find out on Oct 19 when we publish the second, and final part of the serial.
We’ve picked out some of our favourite Christmas fiction serials from the archive to share with you. Also enjoy A Truly Magical Christmas, a 4-part, warm-hearted Christmas tale.
