Studs and Stilettos

Lesson 21 - never come between a man, his ex-wife and their lottery ticket.

Miss Moon is sitting in the prep room next to a rather attractive but anorexic female with long curling auburn hair, hazel eyes and a smattering of freckles.

Heads close together they are having a cosy cup of tea and a gossip.

'Sorry. Am I disturbing you? Just collecting the contraceptive kit for my next lesson with Year 8. You said you would give me a demo. We can always do it another time.'

Miss Moon looks up sharply, obviously she's forgotten.

'Oh yes. Sit down Cammie and have a cup of tea. I'll get the stuff and you can have a rummage: you're not doing it until next week are you?'

'No...but I need to practice.'

'Don't we all' the auburn bint sneers. 'Pity men don't!'

'Camilla – have you met Layla?'

'No. Hello.'

'Layla is Derek's wife...Mrs Bicks.'

'Ex wife!' Layla spits.

'Ah...well...sorry...'

What else can I say. I don't know bloody Derek. Didn't know he had dumped his wife but I suppose if he's got Anneliese in tow...

'Layla worked here once. Until last year. Then she went to work in the girls school St Almas.'

'Thank goodness I did leave.'

'I'll just go and get the condoms – and stuff.'

Moonie hefts herself out of the chair, lifting it off the ground as it has nestled round her over larded buttocks and waddles off to another room.

Layla and I look at each other.

'So...what do you teach Layla?' I ask chummily filling the kettle and checking out the least fungal encrusted mug.

'Art.'

'Art... that's interesting. I always wanted to be artistic. Must be great to be able to express yourself in different media.'

'It's a job and as my bum of a husband has left me in the lurch, I will need to carry on working until I'm 80.'

'Oh. Sorry. I never met Mr Bicks. I just know he left....and....I ...replaced him.' I'm picking my way here carefully because I know I will put my red patent pump in it if I don't.

'So you haven't heard the rumours? Derek the druggie? How he left under a cloud. How he was sacked without any pay and all pension rights have been withdrawn?'

'Er...well...no...'

'Derek has left me in deep doodoo. He buggered off after he was asked to leave and emptied our bank account. I am having to sell our house and move into a bedsit because he's fleeced me so. My parents are forking out for my food and have had to buy me a car. Pah! What an idiot.'

'Has he had to sell his Mercedes then?'

'As if. What Mercedes? Derek bought a Porsche at one time but it was an old banger – cost a fortune to insure and the tyres could have paid for several Mediterranean cruises: but he had to impress the boys. Thought he was a really big cheese.'

Miss Moon kicks the door open, her face hidden behind a large cardboard box with 'NO BABIES KIT' scrawled in black marker pen and dumps it on the table.

'This looks as if it needs a good clear out,' she picks up a dried out tube of KY Jelly and a flaccid condom. 'We better buy some new supplies otherwise the boys will think you can re-use these things.'

'Well maybe it isn't all bad.' I add absently mindedly in Layla's direction as I delve in the box and extract a clear plastic moulding, turning it over and over in an attempt at identification. 'Perhaps that was a winning lottery ticket that Anneliese found for him. What is this thing Miss Moon? Is it a drinking vessel or a piece of Damien Hurst art work?'

'Its a uterus....'

'Ahhhhhhhh!!!'

Layla has grabbed me by the throat. The plastic uterus flies across the room as I struggle to breathe.'

'Lottery ticket? What do you know about that and what's Anneliese got to do with this?'

Miss Moon rips Layla's hands off my neck, picks her up and throws her back in the chair as if she were some little ragdoll.

'Calm down dear. I'm sure Camilla knows nothing about this. She's only been here a few weeks.'

'She seems to know about the ticket!' Layla spits. 'And Mrs Bloody Mc Flirty, Mc Marriage-wrecking McCloudy. Who told you about that ticket? Is she some sort of friend of yours?'

Moonie is standing between us arms stretched out in case she needs to hold us apart.

Anneliese is obviously not on this woman's Christmas card list but she isn't on mine either, so, the question is, shall I fill her in on bits and bobs, without incriminating myself more than I have to.

Information is power though.

'Is that a special lottery ticket by any chance?' I ask hesitantly. 'I mean, some of them pay out at least £10.00... if you're lucky.'

Layla is trembling.

'The reason Derek left me,' she says the words slowly and clearly as if carefully selecting each from her brain dictionary, ' was because I allegedly LOST that ticket. We knew it was a winner because we checked it out when we were on holiday in France. Couldn't quite believe our luck, got ratted every night celebrating and discussing how we would spend the money. When we got back, it wasn't where I had put it. Derek said I'd lost it. Me! I'm the one who finds his mobile phone next to the bath, his mark book down the side of the chair, the cheese in the fridge right in front of his bloody face! We had a huge row....you have no idea how bad. He said we'd lost 2 million quid through my carelessness! Can you believe it! Told me that was the end...packed his bag, drove off in his ancient Porsche and never came back. Next thing I know is a solicitors letter informing me of the divorce proceedings and the mounting debts and...' Layla's rage is making her vibrate, 'I am responsible for them because the bloody weasel scrotum has managed to get himself sacked!'

Miss Moon pulls up a chair so that I don't slump onto the floor.

'Two million pounds...' my voice is barely a whisper.

'Exactly. And now you come to mention this lottery ticket, I am just wondering how 'lost' it really is?'

'Did you actually buy it or did Derek?' The mind-numbing figure of two million pounds is starting to work it's way into my realisation. 'Isn't there some sort of receipt?'

'Yes of course there's a sodding receipt. It was with the ticket and yes, I bought it....but I have no proof of it – do I?'

'Well dear. I think the next step is to confront Derek and have it out with him.' Moonie has made more dark brown sewage coloured liquid in rather dubious mugs which probably house a culture of E.coli and which none of us notice. 'Perhaps you should consult a solicitor on this one – I am sure you have grounds you know.'

'Derek will have disappeared off the planet.' Layla sneers. 'I have no idea where he is and as he has the winning ticket, I very much doubt that I will lay eyes on his living body again.'

She turns her garden pea coloured eyes onto me, the narrow jaw set tight like a pit bull. 'Tell me what you know about that ticket! NOW!'

So, all things considered, what with Anneliese and I having had a little tiff and her not being my new best friend: I do.

Layla paces one way and Moonie the other.

'It must be that ticket.'

'Cant be any other.'

'How long ago did this happen?'

'Anyone know where Anneliese Antifreeze is?'

The bell goes and jolts us out of our musing.

'What we need guys, is a cunning plan. We cant let those bastards get away with all this.'

'And quickly!' Moonie adds, rolling her bulgy eyes. 'Before Derek exits the country!'