about you? How has life been with you?’
Callista smiled. ‘Me? Oh, I’m fine. We’ve been doing a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream this year and our school has been selected for funding from Europe to improve the drama facilities, which is re ally exciting. We’ve put a bid in for a drama studio and—’
‘That isn’t what I meant and you know it,’ he said, cutting her short. ‘Didn’t you ever miss me?’ It was obvious from the tone he was hoping that she had pined for him just a little.
Callista stared at him. How could she possibly tell him that she hadn’t thought about him for years? ‘You re ally did love me, didn’t you?’ she said in a low, even voice.
George nodded.
Callista set her hand down over his, wondering what on earth she could say. ‘George, I am re ally sorry. If I’d known I might have been more determined to get you, made more of a fuss, fought a little harder, but I thought that you were just toying with me, that I was just a game. I thought maybe—maybe it was something you made a habit of. You know, new female teacher, straight out of college. Easy pickings.’
He winced.
Callista sighed. ‘Then again, if I’d known how you felt it would have been far more painful for both of us, wouldn’t it? After I left Belvedere I went up to North Yorkshire, to a lovely school. I married a solicitor called Laurence—I was made head of department five years ago. We’ve got two daughters, Emma and Charlotte, they’re fifteen and seventeen. We’ve got a nice house, a dog—a little summer place in France. We’re very happy. I’m very happy.’ She paused, seeing the pain on George’s face. ‘Oh, George, I thought that it was just an affair.’
He pursed his lips, quite obviously struggling to keep his emotions under control. ‘You were the love of my life, Callista,’ he murmured. ‘I have never forgotten you. Never a day goes past when I don’t think about you and how it might have been if I had been brave enough, strong enough, to walk away from my marriage, from Judy.’ His bottom lip had started to tremble furiously. ‘Oh, Callista, I’m so terribly sorry,’ he sniffled.
‘George, please don’t. How is Judy?’
‘Oh, she’s well. Well, I assume she is well; we barely speak at all these days. She has her friends, her interests, the choir and the reading group, and I have mine.’ He paused. ‘It’s been a lot trickier since I retired.’
The former Miss Callista Haze stared at George Bearman and wondered what on earth life might have been like if they had ended up together. How odd it was that she had had no idea how George felt about her, or was it that over the years she had become a fantasy that he had clung to, to keep him going inside a failing marriage? A magic might-have-been that had only just slipped through his fingers and helped him to sleep at nights.
‘So,’ he said with forced joviality, ‘as you say, all water under the bridge now. Why don’t you tell me all about this Laurence chap and your girls?’
Callista took a deep breath wondering how much she could tell George without breaking his already battered heart, when a woman walking past the table caught her eye and as recognition dawned she stopped and turned.
‘Miss Haze?’
‘Yes,’ said Callista, grateful for the interruption.
Carol grinned as she realised that Mr Bearman was there too, tucked up alongside Miss Haze, cradling a pint of bitter and the remains of a late lunch.
The two of them were sitting at a quiet table at the back of the Master’s Arms, apparently deep in conversation. Miss Haze had a copy of Macbeth open in front of her. Even from where she was standing, Carol could see that the margins and every available glimmer of white space had been filled with tiny pencilled annotations around the main script; some appeared to have been overwritten.
‘How very nice to see you,’ said Miss Haze, sounding very slightly uncertain who she was talking to.
‘Carol Hastings—well, at least I used to be Carol Hastings.’ Carol held out a hand in greeting. ‘I’m here for the reunion as well.’
‘Oh, of course,’ said Miss Haze. ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t recognise you, Carol, but sometimes these days the names just vanish into the ether. I was trying very hard not to call you Lady Macbeth.’ She smiled, her handshake strong and warm and confident. ‘You know I often thought that you could have gone on to a career on the stage if you had wanted to.’
Carol grinned. ‘That’s very nice of you to say so, but if I’m honest I think I prefer to eat,’ Carol said.
‘Well, there is that,’ Miss Haze laughed, while Mr Bearman, a little stiffly, added, ‘How very pragmatic.’ His handshake was cool and dry, his skin like old vellum.
Carol smiled. ‘You’re early too.’ She couldn’t help wondering if they had turned up together. Maybe they were a couple, married now; maybe they had got together after all.
Miss Haze nodded. ‘Actually I haven’t been here very long. The woman in reception at Burbeck House suggested I come down here. Apparently their kitchen doesn’t open until later.’ Her smiled broadened. ‘I did wonder whether she might be on commission.’ Miss Haze glanced down at her watch. ‘Actually, I was just about to head back when—’ she glanced towards Mr Bearman—‘when George here showed up.’
Carol smiled; it seemed odd to think of Mr Bearman as having a first name but it had solved the couple question.
Mr Bearman beamed warmly in Miss Haze’s direction. ‘Just like the good old days, back on the road again, eh, Callista?’ And catching hold of her hand he lifted it and pressed it to his lips. Miss Haze blushed scarlet.
Diplomatically Carol looked away and said hastily, ‘There are a few of us in the front bar, if you would like to come and join us?’
Even after all these years it felt very odd talking to the teachers as if they were humans. Carol, who had been on her way to the loo when she spotted the pair of them, made a concerted effort to quell the little ripples of anxiety, which included the almost overwhelming feeling that she had forgotten to hand in a vital piece of homework and that by standing so close to them in a social setting she had broken an invisible inviolable rule about the relationship between teachers and pupils.
Across the table Mr Bearman smiled. ‘Thank you, Carol, that’s very kind, but I think we’ll probably stay here and catch up, won’t we? We haven’t seen each other in…how long is it exactly, Callista?’
‘Rather more years than I care to remember,’ she said casually. Carol noticed that Miss Haze had extricated her hand from his. ‘And besides, I’m sure we’d only cramp your style. You can be a lot more raucous without us there. And, as I said, I’m just going to finish my drink and then be off up.’
Mr Bearman nodded. ‘Excellent idea.’
Callista Haze smiled coolly.
‘It is re ally nice to see you both again. Diana’s up there meeting and greeting people—presumably she’s asked you to direct the read through?’ asked Carol, pointing at Miss Haze’s script open on the table.
‘Not exactly, although we were invited to. Mind you, Diana did add that we weren’t to feel under any pressure,’ said Mr Bearman.
Miss Haze laughed. ‘I think what George is trying to say is, try stopping us.’
Mr Bearman swung round and beamed at her. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’
Alongside him Callista looked heavenwards.
‘God, you’ll never guess who I’ve just seen,’ said Carol, slipping back into her seat. Everyone looked up expectantly from the table, which was now covered with the fallout from their long late lunch. During the course of the meal there had been other people filing into the pub, saying hello and grinning madly as recognition dawned and friendships rekindled; the whole place