My Friend/His Sister Ch. 01

"Well," she growled, "you'd think they'd support me in what I wanted to do, wouldn't you... WOULDN'T YOU!" I put a hand up again and ushered her out into the empty corridor.

"Sorry Claire," I said, "but we don't do temper around the babies."

"Temper?" she snarled, "TEMPER!?"

"Claire?!" I growled back and saw that the other nursery school lady in the glasses was at the window and looking at us both.

"Ooooooh!" she hissed, "they're only bloody kids! They'll survive! You should hear the sh..." she stopped herself at my raised eyebrows, "The stuff their parents talk about in the hall and the car park at our place."

"I can imagine," I said, "so where do you work Claire?"

"I teach at the Mountebanks Nursery in Park View Road," she said proudly.

"Cool," I said, both of us moving to look out of the window into the playground her charges were enjoying, "bet that costs a few quid?"

"Yeah; Angela there got 'Good' from Ofsted and put her prices up by 5% last year!"

I was to learn that 'Angela' was the nursery owner and the cross-looking lady with the glasses, and thanks to the area she'd set up shop, and being in the catchment for OUR school, was making a killing.

"Sweet," I said pushing open the door, "right, back on duty Claire," I said as we stepped out to the playground.

After the tinies had a bit of play it was my turn and I walked them through to the school hall that we used for assemblies and doubled as a dining room and gym. Then it was through to the rest of the school and classrooms and the main entrance and their slow walk back to Mountebanks.

"See you LAURA!" said Claire at the top of her voice, so all her charges could hear my first name.

"See you Claire," I said with a tone. Sue came and stood next to me as we watched the small group walk back down the road.

"What a COW!" said Sue.

"Yeah, we were friends at secondary school and college..." I paused, "At least I THINK we were friends?"

Sue looked at me with narrowed eyes,

"You're not sure?"

"Nah," I said, "She's a bit of a psycho-bitch-queen-from-hell if you try to shut her up."

"I could see that, when you shut her up!"

"Believe it or not, I actually felt sorry for her," I said thinking about it, "She told such sad stories about her parents, her half-brother and sister, and how horrible everyone was to her; but as the years went on, I found out that people were only horrible to her because she was so horrible to them."

"I can see that," said Sue, stepping back into the shade of the school entrance, "Best of luck with that one Laura."

"First time I've seen her since I took my A level exams, won't be rushing to see her again."

"Good move," she whispered, and we went back to our teaching. Over lunch I switched on my phone and looked her up.

Claire Anita Goodall.

Her photograph was one of those 'not meant to look like a selfie but obviously was' photographs of her looking out into a sunset, her hair held back by sunglasses, taken to show her small cleavage to its best advantage.

"T'choh!" she would scoff, "big tits, hardly rocket science, at least I can run."

Even though she never did...

Mind you she only said that because she didn't have them, and if she was anything like her mother, that would only be until she could afford to buy some bigger ones.

The attached comments were, 'looking hot Bae', 'wowsers' and even a 'bet he's sorry he dumped you, hot bird!' I looked through to see who exactly who 'he' was, but even in the previous seven months there were quite a few candidates.

If I'd written a title for her, I couldn't have done is as well she had.

"I'm a WYSIWYG girl -- if you don't like it move along, I really don't have time for your negativity; but cross me and you may live to regret it."

As much of a drama queen as she was when she was thirteen.

Beneath it were mentioned the various places she'd worked, including the creche and the ski complex, a small fashion outlet, a modelling agency, then finally, there was 'nursery assistant - at Mountebanks Nursery'.

In the education section was the local further education college we went to, with her A levels and the 'certificate in nursery care' she'd obviously gained there more recently.

I switched off and carried on setting up for the afternoon, chances are I wouldn't see the mad bitch until this time next year when she brought her next clutch of tinies to walk around my classroom.

My lesson was all the better for knowing I wouldn't have to put up with her. School finished for the day, and I saw all my year ones into the care of their parents.

Sat in my classroom and getting things prepared for the next day, I flicked on my phone and saw that I'd had a couple of missed 'messenger' calls. I switched my phone off during the day of course, my parents and close family had the school number if there was an emergency after all.

They were, of course, from Claire.

Me not answering had led to about a dozen or more messages, all in Claire's crazy shorthand, and following her slightly baffling thought processes; her life, why I couldn't answer the phone, how much she hated her parents, now cross because I still hadn't answered the phone-surely I had a coffee break, how shit our schooling had been, that crappy college that had probably 'ruined her life', how me not answering the phone was getting her down, and how she wanted to go out on the razz with me.

Oh shit.

I knew that Messenger gave a little indication to say the messages had been read, so I flicked out of it altogether, and back to Facebook, heading to her page.

I hadn't closed Claire's FB page obviously, as the App took me straight there again, I hadn't bothered looking at much of it after her details and wasn't surprised to see it full of the same shit it always had been.

And there, on the title page, a change.

'Schoolteacher (Nursery)' - at Mountebanks Nursery.

The cheek of the bitch; fucking schoolteacher?

SCHOOLTEACHER!?!

For the very first time I felt some personal and professional rage at the effrontery of that woman. Fucking SCHOOLTEACHER?

Did she teach in a SCHOOL?

Had she spent four years at university, had she spent months on induction, filling in a fucking logbook to convince the world that she could have the words 'newly qualified' taken off her job description?

No, she fucking hadn't; she'd gone to a college and probably spent one evening a week for twelve weeks learning basic first aid, 'safeguarding' and not to swear in front of her charges to get a level one certificate; it was about the same as a third of a GCSE.

Bitch...

I decided not to respond to any of the messages and would insist if challenged that I didn't have the App on my phone and my Mum might have picked it up because I occasionally borrowed her laptop and looked at it.

I didn't live with my Mum, I shared a house a short motorbike ride from the school, with room to park my Kawasaki Z650 on the shared front drive.

I tried to forget about her, and her grumpy influence on the rest of the world.

I rode home, that is back to my Mum and Dad's place, as it was Wednesday and home-cooked dinners for me and my brother Steve and his very steady girlfriend.

My eldest brother John, the environmental scientist trying to monitor and maintain the bio-diversity of the rivers and waterways of our great nation, is married and living two towns over with his wife and their very new baby. I'd been a bridesmaid to Karen my new sister-in-law and asked to be godmother to tiny Peter, my very new nephew.

Mum was very welcoming but noticed my distraction, in that way that your Mum always can.

"Do you remember Claire Goodall?"

"Oh God, yes!" Mum all but spat, "that's YEARS ago, what's she done now?"

I explained about her working at nursery and between lunchtime and teatime, having suddenly become a 'schoolteacher' from 'nursery assistant' a few hours before.

"Yeah, but this is Claire Anita we are talking about Darling," said Mum, "you really should be pleased that once she found out you were a schoolteacher, that she didn't promote herself to headmaster!"

I giggled.

Steve my brother picked up on it.

"That mad bitch Claire? Kev Goodall's sister?"

"Yes," said Mum, "Getting ideas above her station."

"Oh Honey," said Steve to his partner Holly, "psycho-bitch-queen-from-hell!"

"And you fancied her of course," said Holly with a grin. Holly was lovely, and I got on really well with her, and S-i-L Karen.

"God no!" he spat out, "she had a bit of a crush on me, never been so embarrassed."

"Oh, I remember that!" said Mum, "She used to flirt like crazy around you."

"Yeah, she wouldn't take my 'Claire, I have a steady girlfriend' response on board, so I ignored her, then went off to University, worked out well in the end."

"You found me!" said Holly hugging him, and placing a big loud kiss on his cheek, "I won't flirt with you Stevie," she purred, looking across to a giggling me, "not unless you ask me, really nicely!" she actually licked his cheek, and we all laughed.

"Shit, what a bloody sister-in-law she would have been!" I said, rubbing a hand across my forehead.

"Thank me later Babes," said Holly winking at me, still with her arms around my brother's neck. I blew her a kiss back. I'd never had a sister, but Holly was everything I would have wanted in one.

"She was horrible to everyone, but her half-brother Kev," said Steve, "Jesus Lauz, if you'd spoken to me like she spoke to him, you'd never have survived to your teenage years."

"I know, she complained about him when he was there, she complained about him when he wasn't there, the cow was horrible to him about his stammer." I paused with the recollection, "She said his body hair made her feel physically sick, used to tell him to fuck off and live with his Grandma, and take his Bigfoot body with him!"

"Kev Goodall was a bit woolly but, err..." Steve paused, "I think it was just an excess of testosterone, he was well-provided for in other ways."

"Reeeeeally?" said Holly with a laugh, "Our Kev Goodall? Paramedic Kev Goodall; Stevie, you never told me that before?!"

"Later Baby," he said, "Later!" He looked at me with a suggestive grin, "You'd like him Lauz..." Steve had always shortened 'Laura' to that, "he's a car and motorbike paramedic these days, Holl's and I meet him in A&E quite regularly!" Holly looked back at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, then back at me.

I grinned. I had a licence for both motorbike and a car, but the bike was cheaper, easier to park, and quicker getting in and out of places; Steve's suggestion that there was a bloke I might have something in common with was nothing new, and yet another opportunity in Holly's 'lets find a nice bloke for Laura' campaign.

Kev Goodall had been tall and very dark haired, something Mum said he'd got from his mum, or 'HER' as Claire's Mum Linda had it, or 'that ape's MOTHER!' from Claire.

And my brother Steve had been in the same class as him at school and later at college, and he had been an occasional visitor to our house, as Claire would be later.

I'd never really gotten to know him, seeing as he would leave any room Claire was in, generally with her shouting some kind of abuse, and her hateful 'K...K...Kevan' after him.

"He's such a nice bloke," said Steve, "He was going out with a really nice girl in our year, but her parents moved up north for work, really broke him up. Of course, that evil cow just laughed at him, and told him they'd probably just moved to get away from the sasquatch."

Mum growled,

"I was good friends with his birth mother Katie, such a lovely girl, killed by a drunk driver." Mum looked sad for a moment, "She died as they were trying to cut her out of her car, while the drunk climbed out of his stolen one without a scratch, bastard."

"Didn't Kev's Grandpa go to prison for assaulting him?" said Steve.

"Oh God, don't remind me," said Mum with closed eyes, "the drunk driver had been celebrating being out on bail for some other crime he'd been up to and decided to steal a car and drive home. He ended up killing Katie; he was prosecuted for causing a death while drunk driving, he actually got longer on his sentence for possession of the drugs and stolen property he'd originally been bailed for.

Katie's Dad screamed across the courtroom that it was a travesty. The judge said he'd hold him in contempt; his reply was that he'd probably got longer inside than his daughter's murderer did."

"I remember!" said Steve, "the bastard was released for time served with added good behaviour about a year later," he looked across at Holly, "Steve's Grandpa worked out when, and the pub the bloke would go to as soon as he got out of prison for the drugs possession and causing death by driving while intoxicated. He waited for him to come out pissed and attacked him with a pickaxe handle. It was only a screaming passer-by that got the landlord out, who dropped him with a bar stool."

"Christ," said Holly, "Poor Kevan."

Mum looked very sad again,

"Katie's Dad Jim was sent down for grievous bodily harm and did end up with a longer sentence than the man that killed his daughter. He was sent to a pretty tough prison to let the world know that taking the law into your own hands never ended well, but as the short, funny, over-fifty-year-old Welsh farmer that had hospitalised the unrepentant, scummy drug dealer that killed his daughter, he was the prison hero and very well looked after considering.

The Mail, the Express and a couple of other dailies got on his case, and the Home Office did what they normally do and put it at the bottom of the pile and sent him to an open prison with a bunch of white-collar criminals that wouldn't be quite so enthralled by the 'have-a-go-hero'.

By the time it came to the court of appeal, it only took another six weeks and he was released as half of his two years, eight months had passed."

"Tough start for a five-year-old," I said.

"Yeah, and no one talked about it afterwards," said Mum, showing the sadness she could remember at the local tragedy, "His grandparents lived in Wales and used to run a farm, with a small caravan park, and a restaurant."

"She used to shout at him about that, 'eff off back to your pikey, gypsy family K...K...Kevan!" I snarled; what a cow!

Mum closed her eyes and remembered those days, looking down at our kitchen table.

"Hearing her boasting about how she played her Mum off against her Dad, even after they split up," she snapped, "I'm sure that evil little bitch setting one of against the other was half the reason they broke up." Mum looked out at the garden, "Although Linda was a bit of a flirt, it might not have been that. I think her Mum remarried, not sure about her Dad."

"Kev's step-mother was quite the head-turner Mum," said Steve with his usual cheeky grin.

"If by that you mean she used to flash her false tits and fat arse off to a secondary school full of impressionable young boys, then yeah," Mum sniffed in minor contempt, "she turned heads, sick bitch."

"We never complained Mum!" said Steve.

"Yeah, but think of poor Kev," said Holly, "having your evil step-mum turning up at school with it all on display. Did he get bullied because of it?"

"Kinda," said Steve, "he had a bit of a stammer, but it was more some of the lads telling him what they'd like to do to his step-mum." Steve closed his eyes, "BUT, come the end, he just told them that as far as he was concerned, they were welcome to try, and he said he hoped she would be nicer to them than she was to him."

"Yeah, and as I remember she wasn't that nice to him, poor sod," I added, thinking back to teas and study dates at their big posh house, "while she didn't appear to be as mean to him as her daughter, she was hardly the loving, caring and compassionate new woman in his Dad's life either, and I bet neither of them had another child afterwards."

Steve and Mum both nodded; they both would have been a bit older, but the real reason would have been Claire's nose being put out of joint by a few thousand light years.

"Well," said Mum, "let's hope you DON'T have to see that evil little bitch until next year!" She grinned just as there was a tap on the kitchen door.

Mum went to open it; it was quite a regular thing for people 'in the know' to use the side door, not the front door.

"Hello Mrs Hardy!" said a familiar voice.

Oh Fuck...

Mum stared for a moment, dumbstruck.

"It's me Mrs Hardy, Claire Goodall," she pointed above the café net curtains, "used to go to school with Laura there!"

Mum caught up quickly, and deprived of the opportunity to deny knowledge of my whereabouts, not to say my existence, she invited her in.

"Claire," I said, standing up, "was just telling everyone I'd met you today."

"All good I hope," she said.

She spotted Steve and straightened up, pushing out her small bust.

Both of my brothers had always been 'lookers', and I was very proud of them and the attention they drew from my girlfriends, or more often their older sisters.

"Is that Stevie!?" she said stepping towards him, he stood up, taking Holly with him.

"Claire," he said, "long time, no see;" he even managed a pretty convincing smile, "Holly, this is Laura's old friend Claire; Claire, this is my wife Holly."

"Hi Claire!" said Holly without any reaction to their sudden marriage, with a similar level of forced conviviality as her new husband. They shook hands, with Steve staying back in case there was any cheek-kissing or hugs to be dealt out.

Mum and I both managed to not respond to Steve's lie that he and Holly were married either. They'd been going out for almost five years and lived together, so they might as well have been. Holly followed Claire's look at her left hand,

"Just entering the second trimester," said the town's prettiest emergency Maxillofacial surgeon sounding like she was a midwife, "hands have swollen, took the rings off before they had to cut them off."

Mum's face was a picture, and I'm sure that was as much about the idea or her being a grandma for a second time as it was at Holly's bare-faced lie. Steve grinned stupidly as well.

I managed to not laugh.

"Well," said Holly looking at her watch, "guess we'll have to be on our way darling, the Babysitter will demand extra for looking after little David!"

"Nice to see you again Claire," said Mum, taking Holly by the arm, "I must see these two out, and on their way! You must say goodbye to your father as well Steve," said Mum.

My Dad, the actual David Hardy, was in the front room resting his leg after a knee operation.

"Nice to see you again, Mrs Hardy, You too Stevie!" Claire said with a definite lift to her voice and her body language, ignoring the gorgeous woman that had been introduced as Steve's 'wife'. All three stepped out and into the hallway, and Mum pushed the door closed.

"So Laura!" said Claire with some hint of satisfaction, "you still live at home!"

"No," I said pointing across the kitchen to my wax cotton Belstaff jacket on the back of my chair, "I just popped in for dinner..." I stopped myself from saying 'regular Wednesday night dinner', "invite from Mum seeing as Steve and Holly were here."

"I saw that big truck on the drive, what does he do?" she said with knitted eyebrows.

"They're both dentists," I said, which wasn't a thousand miles from the truth. They were both Oral and Maxillofacial Surgeons and worked out of the nearby hospital where they straightened or rebuilt misshaped or busted jaws and fitted whole dental supports rather than fillings, crowns and caps, and Holly was one step from being a consultant.

"Where's their practice?" said Claire, with 'that look' I hadn't seen in many years.

"London," I said, "trust me, you CAN'T afford them!"

"Private?"