‘Exactly,’ said Laura, glad the dimness of the car would mean he wouldn’t see how very near the truth he’d got. ‘I wouldn’t throw away my virginity on a one-night stand with a drunken Irishman, now would I? I mean, if I was a virgin, I wouldn’t do that!’ She paused, digging herself deeper. ‘Or even if I wasn’t! Oh, shut up and drive, Grant.’

Her friend glanced at her but didn’t speak. Laura knew Grant wouldn’t let the subject drop completely. He was just biding his time. But she was grateful to him for not mentioning it again as they made up the sofa for him and she crept up to her own bed. As she pulled the duvet round her she smiled. On the whole she was very lucky with her friends.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Laura sat in her car outside the school shaking with nerves. In a moment, when the minute hand landed at twenty past two, she would go in. She was about to tell a school full of children about the short-story competition. She had her notes; she had practised to herself in the mirror and had told herself it didn’t really matter if the children all ran off screaming. Yet she was still terrified and she didn’t think imagining her audience in their vests and knickers would help either.

After this, she was visiting the offices of the local paper, to talk to them about the festival. That would seem like a jolly social occasion after trial-by-small-children. Then, later, came the reward: her weekly chat with Dermot, ostensibly to discuss the entries for the writing course. In practice they talked about all sorts of things. It was Dermot’s notes she had in her hand now, vibrating gently.

It was early afternoon and a beautiful spring day. The air shimmered with the promise of the summer ahead and the small, country primary school was of the type described in books by Laurie Lee and other such rural writers. It was picturesque, probably extremely inconvenient and the first of a few she would make similar visits to. The idea was to go to as many local schools as possible to foster interest in the festival in general and the writing competition in particular. Once she’d done it the first time, she knew she’d be fine and even enjoy it. After all, she used to do storytimes in the shop and had loved them. But although her confidence had grown so much over the last couple of months, her old shyness would occasionally reappear, as now. To say she was nervous didn’t quite cover it.

A last peek in the driving mirror told her she looked OK, if about ten years old, and then she got out. An attractive middle-aged woman had obviously been on the lookout for her, and appeared the moment Laura set foot on school property.