Chalk Dust & Broomsticks, Chapter 26

Jane uses an opportunity of Gerald being absent for the day to investigate the boiler room

The Secrets Beneath the Bench

Gerald’s wife Jane was enjoying a day to herself at home. The children were playing at their friends’ houses and the chores were done so she was able to indulge herself in the little things that gave her pleasure when no-one else was around: like sipping a cup of coffee without interruptions and reading her magazine without answering the phone every five minutes. The early September sunshine shone warmly through the window as she leaned back in her easy chair, resting her sore hip. Her eyes scanned the living room. Everything looked neat and tidy for once. She noticed the little owl shaped pepper pot on the mantelshelf. Today it appeared to wink at her. She picked it up and inside was the pretty gold necklace she had found in the boiler room, when she had wandered over there a few weeks ago. Fingering the necklace, she sat back down in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment. As she began to reminisce on how she came to find it, her teeth clenched and her heart rate increased.

flashback
The silence of Primrose Primary during the summer holidays was a heavy, physical thing. Without the thundering footsteps of children in the school next door and the shrill chime of the bells, the school felt like a museum of its own history. The air was thick with the scent of floor wax and sun-baked dust.

She stood in her kitchen, watching the clock. Gerald had left at dawn, his fishing gear clattering into the back of the van. He’d be on the riverbank until sunset, far away from the oppressive heat of the boiler room and the weight of the "tasks" Althea Gardner had set him.

Jane looked at the heavy ring of keys sitting on the sideboard. Gerald never left them behind, but today, in his haste to escape and enjoy some fresh air, he had forgotten them. She picked them up. They felt cold and heavy in her palm. Ordinarily, Jane cleaned the "bright" parts of the school, the classrooms, the staff room, the foyer. The boiler room was Gerald’s domain, a place of grease and iron where she was neither wanted nor needed, but with Althea in the hospital, reportedly unable to remember her own name, a strange curiosity had taken hold of Jane. She felt like a detective in her own home. The boiler room was attached to the main building but the entrance was from the outside. As Jane turned the large, skeletal key in the lock, the door gave a rhythmic, metallic groan.

Even with the school at rest, the massive boilers hummed with a low, predatory vibration. Jane flicked the light switch, illuminating a forest of copper pipes and soot-stained brick. It was a mess. Tools were scattered, and the floor was layered with a fine grit.

"I’ll just tidy a bit," she whispered to herself, her cleaning instincts kicking in to mask her nerves.

She began near the heavy wooden workbench Gerald used for repairs. She stooped down with a hand-brush, reaching into the dark, narrow space between the floor and the bottom of the bench. Her bristles hit something that didn't sound like wood or grit. There was a dull clink and a sharp thud.
Jane knelt on the cold concrete and reached into the shadows. Her fingers closed around a small, cold object first. She pulled it out into the light. It was a gold necklace, the chain tangled and delicate. On the end hung a cursive letter ‘A’, glinting stubbornly against the grime of the floor.

She caught her breath - A for Althea. What was Althea’s necklace doing in the boiler room where only Gerald went? Surely she and Gerald? No, that couldn’t be or could it? She reached back under the bench and found the second object. It was a mobile phone. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks, dark and silent. It felt heavy, like a piece of lead. She wondered who it belonged to? It wasn’t Gerald’s unless it was a second phone, but ordinary people didn’t have second phones. Perhaps it was Althea’s, but then if it was hers, she would miss it and need it. She wouldn’t just leave it there? Who else might have dropped it in here?

The heat in the room suddenly felt unbearable. she stood up, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't think about calling the police; her first instinct was the same one she’d used for thirty years of marriage: Protect the house. Hide the mess. She slipped the necklace and the phone into the deep pocket of her apron and locked the boiler room door behind her. She moved quickly through the silent school, back to the safety of her house, next to the school.

Once inside, she surveyed her lounge. She needed places where Gerald wouldn't look, places that were "hers." She climbed the stairs to the landing. The airing cupboard was warm and smelled of lavender and fresh linen. She reached behind a stack of thick winter blankets and tucked the cracked mobile phone into the very back corner, invisible to anyone just grabbing a towel. “I’ll look at that properly later,” she decided.

Then, she went back downstairs to the mantelpiece. Sitting amidst the family photos was a kitsch, owl-shaped pepper pot, a souvenir from a holiday years ago that Gerald hated. He never touched it. Jane unscrewed the base, tucked the gold ‘A’ necklace inside, and tightened it back up.
She placed the owl back on the mantelpiece. Its painted eyes seemed to watch her, wide and unblinking. It was prepared to guard her secret.
As she heard the distant sound of a car in the road, Jane smoothed her apron and began to peel potatoes for dinner. The evidence was safe. For now, the secrets of Primrose Primary were tucked away between the linens and the spices, waiting for a day when the amnesia would break and the police would finally come knocking.

Jane’s thoughts drifted back to the present. They lingered on the fact that Althea had been in the boiler room. How would she have got in there when Gerald was the only one with a key? She must have either gone into the room with Gerald or ‘borrowed’ his key to let herself in. It was a mystery and Jane determined to find out all about it. Perhaps Gerald would be in a good mood when he came in from his fishing trip. That would be a good time to tackle him.

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