The Secretary

by Zoe Lea

  We both looked at it, the ridiculous red feathers.

  ‘If Miss Gleason finds you with it,’ I added, ‘tell her you found it on the floor.’

  He was quiet. Then after a moment, he hid it in his pocket. I leaned over and gave him a cuddle.

  ‘You can do it,’ I told him, as we got out of the car. ‘And once everyone realises what Toby is like, they’ll do something and it will all get better. Promise.’

  So there I was, dealing with the queue of parents, taking in money, residential slips and letters, all the while my heart pounding should Janine or Ashley walk in. Should Lisa march in brandishing her red pen.

  They didn’t.

  Despite me being ready for battle, nothing happened apart from the usual barrage of parents and grandparents. John hid in his office, teachers came and went, and the morning ran along with nothing unexpected happening. It passed like any other.

  I avoided the staffroom at lunchtime; I didn’t want another episode like yesterday. Later, I was trying to find out who my union rep would be, if I was even in the union. I was trying to work out how to contact Eve, Ryan’s mum, and see if her offer of being a witness still held, when there was the sharp ping of the bell.

  ‘Bloody hell, that must annoy you.’

  I looked up.

  ‘Glen Harrow,’ he said, and held out his hand, ‘supply.’

  His hand was large, it engulfed my small one. ‘I’m taking over Mrs Kirkold’s class, year five,’ he smiled. He had dimples. A grown man with dimples. For a moment I was at a loss.

  ‘I’m not due in till tomorrow,’ he went on, ‘but I like to prepare. Thought I’d see how much planning there is to do. The agency said a couple of TAs have been holding the fort?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, it coming back to me in a rush. I’d booked a teacher with the temp agency yesterday afternoon, when I was still reeling from the events of the morning. ‘I just didn’t think you’d be … ’

  I was still holding his hand.

  ‘Right,’ I said rather too brightly, ‘there’s a few forms, some admin stuff to go over. Then you can see the class if you like? Pop down there and have a chat with the teaching assistants. They can tell you where they’re up to.’

  I went to the filing cabinet, collecting together the pack of forms that was needed, aware of him watching me. It was unusual to have a man in the office that wasn’t John or Gary; I felt ridiculously self-conscious. I noticed I was doing this strange thing with my hair, tucking it behind my ear and smoothing it around my forehead and I found myself blushing.

  He started to whistle, a low tune I didn’t recognise, and he emitted an air of composure that you rarely saw in a primary school. Most of the people in education were all nervous energy, always hurtling themselves against some deadline. It was the same with the parents; the clock-watching was infectious in a primary school. I saw it when they came in for a visit – be it an assembly or parents’ evening, they couldn’t help but watch the time. All the clocks and bells forced you into it, but Glen Harrow had time.

  He was totally at ease and I got the impression it had nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t have a class to teach that afternoon. I got the feeling that Glen Harrow was easy-going.

  And as I passed him the school policy forms and explained about the fire procedure and the alarm system, I found myself watching him unashamedly. There was something fascinating about how he handled himself after all the drama and hysterics I’d been dealing with.

  ‘So, what happened there?’

  I was still wearing the large plaster. I’d figured reminding John that I was the victim would work in my favour and had reapplied Teresa’s dressing. He reached up and briefly touched the back of my neck. A completely innocent gesture but it took me a second before I could reply.

  ‘Yesterday –’ I let my fingers touch where he just had ‘– there was a … ’ I paused ‘ … bit of something with one of the parents.’

  He raised his eyebrows and no, I wasn’t imagining it. There was a current in the air between us. ‘One of the parents here –’ I shook my head ‘– it was a minor thing.’

  ‘Doesn’t look minor,’ he said, suddenly amused. ‘With one of the parents?’ He smiled. ‘What happened?’

  I took a deep breath, shook my head. ‘I think you’ve got everything now, when you arrive tomorrow—’ I began, but he interrupted.

  ‘Oh no. No, no, no.’ He put his hand to his chest in a mock horror pose. ‘I didn’t think this was the bad end of Carlisle, but now, parents attacking the staff at the primary school? Should I be afraid to work here?’

  There was something so playful about him, so unguarded. I found myself smiling back, found myself talking about the last thing I wanted to. I was even recalling it as an anecdote, my words hiding a slight laugh.

  ‘It was my fault –’ I heard myself saying ‘– a misunderstanding. And I don’t think I’m allowed to talk about it. There’s an investigation ongoing, but basically, one of the parents took something I said out of context and there was a small incident. Nothing at all to worry about, it’ll all blow over soon I’m sure.’

  Glen narrowed his eyes as I spoke. ‘You’re not talking about Janine Walker, are you?’ he asked, and all humour disappeared from me.

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘I know something happened with her, it was on Facebook—’

  ‘Facebook!’

  ‘Didn’t mention that she’d attacked someone though.’

  ‘You’re friends with her?’

  He let out a huff. ‘Hardly. I’m on that group she runs. Top Marks? I keep meaning to leave the page, or unlike it, or whatever you have to do, but I forget. Someone left a post up asking if she was OK after the incident with her husband at school.’ He looked at me. ‘Sounded juicy. I thought it was a bump in her car but I guess not, I guess they were talking about you. You’re the incident.’

  ‘It’s on Facebook,’ I said quietly. I was gossip on- and offline.

  We stared at each other for a moment before he let out a raucous laugh.

  ‘You’re famous!’ He smiled at me and then, when he saw I was no longer sharing the joke, put his hand out. I was suddenly in danger of crying. ‘You OK?’ he asked, and I nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I went to say how I was fine and then realised he was the first person to ask. The first person to care about me in this whole sorry situation.

  ‘So she has a Facebook group for her tutoring page,’ I said, ‘and I’m being discussed on there?’ I looked up at him. ‘And you work for her along with everyone else around here?’

  He grimaced. ‘Hardly. I’ve done the odd stint for her, that’s all.’ He shrugged. ‘Not ideal, but it’s easy money.’

  ‘What are they saying?’ I asked. ‘Can you tell me?’

  ‘They just referred to an “incident”.’ He smiled. ‘So, you going to tell me what the incident is?’

  ‘It happened months ago,’ I said. ‘I had no idea who he was until I saw him outside school. He lied to me, back then. It was one night and he told me he was single.’

  Glen was grinning now. ‘I take it you’re talking about Mr Walker? Janine’s husband?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And you told her about it?’

  ‘No. I just apologised.’ I was shaky, had no idea why we were having this conversation. What was making me confide in him?

  ‘Therefore, admitting your part,’ he said, nodding, ‘and then she did that.’

  ‘She threw her phone at me.’

  We stared at each other for a moment before he let out another loud laugh. ‘Her face must have been a picture. Was he there? That rugby idiot husband of hers? You still seeing him?’

  ‘No!’ I checked the door, my voice had been louder than I intended. ‘I didn’t even like him. I was drunk. I didn’t see him again until he was dropping his kids off the other morning and it was such a shock. He was gone by the time Janine worked it out. I feel awful about it, but now she’s … ’


  I covered my face with my hands. I was hot, my heart beating. I knew my face was red, could feel the sweat on my brow.

  ‘Was bound to happen sooner or later,’ he said, ‘because I’m guessing you’re not the first person he’s done this with.’

  I looked up.

  ‘You were probably just the first person to admit it to his wife.’

  My throat was tight. I swallowed, shaking my head and then went to my computer. I brought up the spreadsheets I was working on for the upcoming residential, suddenly desperate to be busy, to have something else to focus my attention on.

  ‘I shouldn’t have told you any of that,’ I said, not looking at him. ‘There’s an investigation pending and—’

  ‘But if Janine is discussing it on Facebook,’ he interrupted, ‘then you can discuss it as well.’

  I stopped for a second and looked at him.

  ‘She shouldn’t be discussing it on Facebook.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘She shouldn’t.’

  We stared at each other a moment. It was mid-afternoon, the bell would be ringing for break at any second.

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ he said gently. ‘She needed to know. He was playing away and you told her. You did the right thing.’

  I felt my chest tighten, his kindness was too much. I was in danger of crying.

  ‘I expect it’ll all blow over,’ I said, busying myself with the paperwork on my desk. ‘What is it they say? Today’s news is tomorrows’ chip shop wrappers? Everyone will have forgotten about it this time next week.’ I looked up and gave what I hoped was a bright smile.

  ‘What?’ I asked as I saw his face. ‘You don’t think they will?’

  ‘I’m sorry you got hurt –’ he smiled ‘– but I know her type. Everyone thinks she’s this pillar of the community, but I know how relentless she can be with selling her tutoring, and I read how she responded on that Facebook post, so I’m guessing she’s reacted a little bit more than what you’re telling me.’

  I swallowed, thinking of the letter that Ashley sent in. Someone came from her office, all suited up, didn’t even come to my window, just went straight to John’s door.

  ‘You made a fool of her and she’s retaliated. I don’t think Janine is the type to forgive and forget.’ He smiled suddenly and the air of naughtiness was back, the buzz between us. ‘Not that you’d care about her forgiveness. You shone a light on her husband’s fidelity, but she hurt you. Don’t let her do anything else.’

  His words lingered long after he’d left.

  They were on repeat in my head. Like the earworm of a well-known song. She had everyone in her pocket, everyone on her side and my job was hanging in the balance because of her husband and his lies. I’d done nothing wrong, apart from apologise. And then there was Will and his phone call. His threat. And Sam, his needs being pushed aside because of Lisa and her cash-in-hand jobs over the summer.

  Don’t let her do anything else.

  Hadn’t it been what I was telling my son to do about Toby? Janine might be a lovely person outside of this situation, but wasn’t she bullying me now? Wasn’t trying to get me fired and gossiping about me on Facebook going a bit far?

  After Glen had left I brought up the Facebook page. It was private – a closed group, invitation only. But there she was, and there it was. Top Marks, private tutoring. Janine Walker. I studied the profile picture. It was a head shot of her, big teeth smiling out, pen in hand, like she’s just been caught teaching a student herself, and something inside me snapped.

  I went hot at the thought of what they were all saying about me on there. After the way they’d treated me in the staffroom. I could only imagine what Glen Harrow had read about me. It was beyond embarrassing. I couldn’t wait for this to blow over – like he’d said, my job was hanging in the balance. Shit, my life was hanging in the balance. It was just after afternoon break when I got the idea.

  I took out the file.

  Sally Walker. Orla Walker.

  Home address, mobile and home telephone numbers. There he was, Rob Walker, and there she was, Janine Walker. Contact in case of emergency. It was confidential information, but I tapped the numbers into my phone.

  I’m not sure what made me choose him instead of her. I suppose because it was his fault. He was the one who lied, who started this whole mess, and there was a part of me that believed Janine was a decent woman. That if we’d met under different circumstances, we might have even liked each other. If I’d been clever, I would’ve hidden my number before sending the text. But it didn’t even occur to me and I didn’t know how to do it. My text was only a few words.

  I’m in contact with the police. They’re advising I press charges.

  I angled the phone around to the back of my head and took a photo of the large plaster I’d reapplied that morning.

  Six months in prison for common assault. I have witnesses to the attack. Drop the complaint now or I will send her to jail.

  My fingers trembled after I’d sent the message. I stared at my phone, unsure of what I’d just done.

  ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ I whispered as my heart beat rapidly.

  My phone’s screen went dark and I couldn’t stop looking at it, staring at it, waiting for a response. Within an hour and a half, I had one, but it was the longest hour and a half I’d had in a while.

  Just before the end of the school day, John came into my office. He smelt of the coffee I’d made him throughout the day.

  ‘The complaint has been withdrawn,’ he said, and took off his glasses. His face was bloated. It had been another warm day and the humidity of the school had made him swell. ‘So. There is no longer a pending investigation, you are no longer in danger of suspension. Ashley Simmons is no longer acting as Janine’s solicitor in regard to this whole ordeal.’

  I was holding my breath.

  ‘Janine Walker has retracted her complaint. So –’ he thumped his side with his fist ‘– all accusations dropped.’

  I let out a sigh of relief and he nodded, allowed his shoulders to relax, rubbed his eye as he did so.

  ‘But,’ he said, after a moment, ‘this has been bloody hard work, Ruth.’ He put on his glasses, straightened himself. ‘And I’m not sure I can ignore what took place. You were on school property, in your role as school secretary. There won’t be a full investigation, but I will have to do something.’ He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Parents are concerned, staff are concerned, we’ll discuss exactly what in the morning.’

  ‘It won’t happen again,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t thinking and I explained why … ’

  He held up his hand to stop me. ‘Ruth. It’s been a long couple of days and I’ve phone calls to make. Go home.’

  The phone in his office rang and he went to answer it. I took a moment. He’d probably give me a written warning, I assumed. That was to be expected. I understood that John had to look as if he were taking action. It would stay on my file for a few months and then everything would be forgotten. Will would never have to know that I almost lost my job again, the staff would go back to treating me civilly and Janine and her friends would go back to being women I didn’t know or care about.

  TEN

  After school that day, we feasted on fast food. Double cheese burger, fries and large milkshake. A celebratory dinner of junk.

  Sam was only slightly overweight but it was enough for the cruel to notice. As a result, I found I was ever watchful of what Sam ate, making sure that he had all the calories he needed, but without the sugar or fat. It was a constant battle, especially as I was often baking. I would try out a new recipe and have to keep it away from him, telling him it tasted bad, he couldn’t lick the bowl, couldn’t have anything I made. It felt as if I were punishing him, denying him one of the only pleasures he had. But not that night. That night was the first time in a long time that Sam had had a good day at school and all bets were off. That night, I didn’t want to nag and deny him. He could eat whatever he liked. He actually let ou
t a scream of delight when I went to the drive-through on the way home.

  I passed him the ketchup, noting how his hair could do with a trim and debating whether I could do it again and avoid a trip to the hairdressers. He grinned happily at me, squirting a large dollop onto his plate and pushing a handful of fries in with his fingers.

  If you were a stranger, you’d look at us and think everything was absolutely fine. Sam was happy, his body relaxed, munching on his burger and dipping his fries into the sauce. There was the background noise of his cartoons from the living room, and outside someone was mowing a lawn. It was most probably from the terrace to the side of us, a holiday let that had been host to never-ending groups of families over the summer, who were cheerful if the weather was nice and stroppy and sullen if it was not. It would now be let out to the walkers, the hikers who came with their walking poles and Ordnance Survey maps in term time, who were always up at the crack of dawn and returned when it was dark. They were the best kinds of neighbours.

  Most of the terraces in our row were holiday lets. It was a sad fact, but as they backed onto open countryside and enabled tourists to explore the Lake District as well as South West Scotland, it was too good an opportunity for the owners to pass up. The only reason I’d been lucky enough to get one of the houses to rent long term was because the man who owned it had known my dad and had taken pity on me when he heard what Will had done. It was a little desolate, and it was a good twenty-minute drive to the school and away from my mother’s, but it had a great kitchen, a cosy living room and was pretty much perfect for the two of us.

  I’d had enough of the gossip and constant monitoring from when I lived on the estate, back when I was married. You couldn’t do anything there without the whole neighbourhood knowing and asking you about it. I never wanted to live on an estate again.

  ‘So,’ I asked Sam, as he finished the last of the fries, ‘how did it go today? Did it work, with the pen?’