by Georgia Hill
The next day at work was frantic. I welcomed the new member of staff, Rupert Lawrence, into his classroom and planned on showing him around at break time. It was my management day and Jack was at a heads’ meeting at the local authority so I had my hands full.
Rupert seemed to be doing well with his new class. I walked past his classroom a little later to discreetly check on things. It’s never easy take over someone else’s class, especially part way through the term but they seemed, so far, to be responding well to him. As he was partly through his year as a newly qualified teacher – an NQT, I was to be his mentor. I was looking forward to it as it was something I hadn’t done before. Rupert was a little younger than me and had changed career from banking into, to use his words, “something a little more stimulating.” Well he’d certainly be stimulated by his Year Six class; they were a handful. He was a good-looking man I thought, with his longish blonde hair and soulful brown eyes. He’d come across as confident and enthusiastic at the interview and had a keen interest in sport so would be taking over the football club, to Jack’s relief. I wondered how many staff that would disappoint. No more sightings of Jack in his snug tracksuit. Poor Janice, but perhaps her hormones might return to normal now.
A movement down the corridor caught my attention. Helen in Year Four was waving at me frantically from the doorway of her classroom.
“Nicky, Nicky, have you got a minute? It’s urgent!” she hissed dramatically.
As I went towards her I noticed she was holding a hamster cage. My heart sank. Missing rodents were not my speciality, especially after spending two hours after school one day looking for a missing gerbil which, when found, then proceeded to bite me viciously on the finger in gratitude.
Helen’s lips trembled; she was not a teacher who made light of life’s problems. “It’s Fluffy. Sadie Morris brought her in for ‘Show and Tell’ and she’s … dead!”
My heart stopped. I looked at her in alarm, for a second I thought she meant Sadie. Then sense prevailed and I realised she meant the unfortunate pet. I was at a loss as to what to say.
“What am I going to tell Sadie? She’s in assembly at the moment but she wants to do ‘Show and Tell’ this afternoon. What are we going to do? I didn’t do anything to it, honestly. I just think all the noise of the children coming in to class this morning frightened it to death.” Helen was close to hysteria. “It’s the last time I ever have anything alive in the classroom, it’s just not worth the stress. What am I going to tell her, Nicky? She only had it for her birthday last month!”
I held up my hands against the barrage of words. I needed some quiet to think. “Look, I’ll take it into the office. Tell Sadie … tell her that’s it a quieter place to keep pets and I’ll come up with something!”
I made my way back to Jack’s office which I was using as my own for that day. Mona came in, immaculate as ever, with a sheaf of papers and thinned her lips in disapproval when she saw the cage.
“Well really Miss Hathaway, I don’t think that ought to be kept in Mr. Thorpe’s office!”
I ignored the comment, I was poring over the cage. It didn’t smell too pleasant. “Mona, I’ve got a Fluffy crisis on my hands. How the hell do you give mouth to mouth to a dead hamster?” I looked up at her in appeal. “And for that matter, is it physically possible to give mouth to mouth to a hamster?” I gave the creature a tentative poke to check it really was dead.
When I caught her eye again I saw her lips twitch and prepared myself for the inevitable sarcastic comment. It didn’t come. Instead, she went to close the office door and when she turned back to me was holding a hand to her mouth to stop laughter escaping.
We both collapsed onto chairs laughing uproariously. In between giggles I attempted to explain what had happened. When finally the hysteria had abated we sobered up and began to think.
“What are we going to do?” I asked hopelessly, wiping tears of mirth away. “Poor Sadie Morris. And poor Helen, she feels really guilty!”
Mona went over to peer into the cage. “Oh dear,” she sighed, hiccoughing a little. “Well, I’ve got to go into town at lunchtime. I suppose I could try the pet shop to see if they’ve got anything we could pass off as little Fluffy.”
We began to laugh yet again but then Mona stopped abruptly and looked at me, as if something had occurred to her. “You say it belonged to Sadie Morris?” Mona tutted, more sympathetic now. “Oh dear,” she said again. “The child will be distraught. Her parents got divorced last year and the child took it very badly.” Mona shook her head sadly, “She was so close to her father.” She went to leave but then turned and said, “Leave it with me Miss Hathaway, I’ll see what I can do.”
I thanked her profusely. As Jack was out of school all day I was in charge of the school and had to stay on the premises; I wasn’t allowed out myself. I took a deep breath and then regretted it, the smell really was unpleasant. I threw a cloth over the cage as I couldn’t bear to look at the stiffening little corpse and prayed that Mona might come up trumps at the pet shop. I managed to get into the staff room at morning break to introduce Rupert to everyone and whispered a quick message to a relieved looking Helen.
The remainder of the morning was hectic. I dealt with three boys brought to me for fighting in the playground and then answered a phone call from an irate parent who wanted to know why her child was on his third teacher in his vital Year Six year. I chased up several parents who hadn’t filled in holiday forms and then attempted to wade my way through yet another government pack of training materials. In between more phone calls I sketched out a vague agenda for next term’s staff meetings and looked through Ann’s plans for the Christmas celebrations. I then realised it was some time into the afternoon and Mona should have been back ages ago. And that I’d missed lunch.
At the knock on the door I looked up hopefully.
“I’m afraid I haven’t had any luck Miss Hathaway.” Mona came in looking genuinely concerned. “The pet shop had no hamsters of any kind and even the garden centre had nothing to offer.”
I was impressed at her effort, the garden centre was at least fifteen miles away. I looked at her and came to my decision. “Well there’s nothing for it but to tell the child the truth. I’ll go and get her.” I sighed, I hated breaking this kind of news to young children. There was no anticipating their reaction - or those of their parents.
“Shall I ring Mrs. Morris?” Mona offered. “I know the family well and I can explain that there was nothing we could do. Perhaps she’d like to pick up Sadie early if she can.”
I nodded gratefully and then made my way reluctantly to Year Four to collect the little girl. On the way I rehearsed what I had to say.
As she sat down Sadie looked wide-eyed around the office. Only rarely did children get into this hallowed space and even then it was usually because of some serious misdemeanour. She was an attractive child, with a mass of curly red hair and endearing freckles. She pleated her grey school skirt between nervous fingers.
I sat on the chair beside her. “Sadie, you’re not in trouble.” I reassured her. “I’ve asked you in here because I’ve something to tell you.” I took a breath. “It’s something sad I’m afraid.”
The child’s eyes widened even further and she began to look tearful. I hurried on. “Everyone at home is absolutely fine.” I kept my voice low and calm. “They’re all safe and well.” I paused momentarily. This was proving to be much harder than I thought. “But little Fluffy, well she …” I stopped. I took another deep breath and reached for a tissue, although I wasn’t sure for whom. The familiar insistent beat of a headache was beginning, just behind my eyes.
“You see Sadie, sometimes when animals as little as Fluffy come into school they find it very noisy and frightening.”
Sadie nodded her head vigorously, her curls bouncing. “I did when I started with Miss Leigh. When I was little.”
I nodded too, in response. “Exactly,” I smiled gently. “Well Fluffy found it so frightening and noisy in school today that
I’m afraid she’s died.”
Sadie sat absolutely still, staring at me with enormous blue eyes. I waited for the floods of tears but none came and I was impressed by her self-control.
“Do you understand Sadie, that Fluffy is dead?” I repeated, feeling thoroughly cruel but needing to make sure that the girl understood what had happened. The stress headache increased its intensity.
Eventually, after what seemed an age, Sadie spoke again. “Does that mean I can’t do ‘Show and Tell’?” Now she pouted a little and her lower lip began to tremble.
“Well, perhaps you can do it another time.” I frowned and thought rapidly. “Have you got another hobby you’d like to talk about?” I suggested, as gently as I could.
“I want to do ‘Show and Tell’.” Sadie stamped her little foot and scowled angrily, her lower lip jutting out at a furious angle. “Mrs. Cartwright promised I could.”
“But wouldn’t you like to prepare another talk about something else?” I offered slightly desperately.
“I want to do ‘Show and Tell’ today - about Fluffy!” Sadie’s foot again made contact with the carpet with a decided thump. “Miss promised.”
The trembling lips drooped and Sadie’s eyes began to fill with tears. She gave an enormous sniff. Was this what was upsetting the child, the fact that she could no longer do her ‘Show and Tell’ and not the death of her pet?
I came to my decision. “Very well.” I nodded slowly and suppressed a grin.
Thankfully the offending rodent had been boxed up out of sight but its cage was still in the office. With a twist of my lips as to what Helen was going to say about there being a ‘Show and Tell’ about a deceased hamster, I gathered up its cage and led Sadie back to the class. She seemed much happier now she was allowed to do her talk.
“We get Golden Points if we do ‘Show and Tell’. And then we get ‘Choosing’ if we get enough. I want to do ‘Choosing’ so I can go on the computer with Nina.” She chatted happily up at me, her curls bouncing wildly.
After a hurried explanation to a stunned Helen, I left them to it. As I walked back down the corridor I could see Sadie proudly displaying the empty cage and heard the words, “My hamster’s just died…”
At the end of the school day Sadie came rushing up to me in the playground to announce that her step-dad had promised to buy her two pet rats for Christmas and that she couldn’t wait and that they were much more interesting than hamsters any day ...
I collapsed in the staff room with a cup of tea and an aspirin and tried not to think about the mountain of work I still hadn’t done. Jack came in, closely followed by Mona.
“Nicky, do you know anything about that strange smell in my office? Have they been spraying the fields again?” He wrinkled his arrogant profile in a grimace. “God, it’s really strong this time. What on Earth do these farmers use?” He went to fill the kettle and then turned to me, management smart in his tailored suit. “Mona says you’ve had a quiet day. No problems then?”
I looked up to catch Mona winking at me behind Jack’s back and grinning.
“No problems, Jack,” I replied blithely. “Everything has been fine!”
Chapter Eight
The first Friday evening in the flat found me lounging sluttishly against the sofa, watching rubbish on TV and eating ice cream out of the carton. It was sheer bliss.
A sharp knock sounded on the front door. When I opened it a fraction, a small cuddly toy was squeezed through the gap and Jack’s voice growled, “Tell me the hamster story or Fluffy gets it!”
I let him in, laughing as I did so. He waved a bottle of wine at me and gestured to the take away he’d placed on the step. “Do you fancy a curry? I always order far too much for just one person.” He beamed the most relaxed smile I’d seen from him so far.
I stood, transfixed by his loveliness. And then panicked. Once again he’d caught me at a disadvantage. I’d just washed my hair and it hung wet and limp around my face. Relaxing after a long shower, I was wearing old pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt emblazoned with the words: ‘Sex is like snow. You never know how much you’re gonna get or how long it’s gonna last!’ It had been another example of my brother’s twisted humour. Jack in contrast, was looking coolly preppy in cream chinos, a navy sweater and an expensive looking suede jacket.
I paused for a long moment, wondering where I could hide my pals Ben and Jerry and if I had time to go and put on something a fraction more alluring.
Misinterpreting my hesitation, Jack’s face fell and he shrugged. “Oh have you got plans? I should have thought. Not to worry I’ll just stuff myself silly.” Abruptly, he turned to go.
“No no, come in please.” I put out my hand to the butter soft suede sleeve. “It’s a really nice thought.”
I went to find plates and glasses and to hide the carton of ice-cream back in the freezer. Behind me the TV blared out the theme to ‘Come Dine With Me’. I winced and wished wholeheartedly that Jack had caught me watching the documentary on Virginia Woolf on BBC2, a cool glass of wine in my hand and wearing something casually elegant. But it was not to be. One day, I vowed silently to myself, I will be dressed in something fitting for the occasion. I seemed doomed to be scruffily attired in his company.
Jack, unaffected by any introspection, was waving the wine bottle at me again. “I thought this could be a house warming. A welcome to the neighbourhood and also – and I promise this is the last time I mention school tonight – a thank you for all your hard work this term.” As he slid his jacket off, I tried not to stare. The sweater accentuated all his lovely muscles. He really was a beautiful man.
“You’ve been a real addition to the management team,” he continued. “Right, pompous stuff over, let’s get the corkscrew out.” He grinned boyishly and any self-consciousness I felt melted away in the warmth from his smile.
We didn’t bother turning off the TV. Jack, rather surprisingly, turned out to be a huge fan of ‘Coronation Street’, so we sat glued to a double episode. We sat companionably side by side on the sofa, although Jack took up rather a large amount of it and ate the take away and drank his wine. After a while, I examined the toy hamster he’d brought and laughingly recounted the story of little Sadie and Fluffy, the deceased hamster.
Jack settled a little more comfortably, lay his head back onto the cushions and gave a groan of contentment. His endless legs were stretched out in front and a navy clad arm rested along the back of the sofa. I had a sudden urge to turn my face so that it burrowed into the soft cashmere of his sleeve. If only I had the courage. I blinked myself back to reality as I realised Jack was speaking.
“I remember once I had a great long letter asking me to be sensitive to a boy in the class who had suffered a bereavement in his family.” He was speaking quietly, in that magical voice he had. He smiled and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it untidy. “The letter went on and on, it must have been about five pages long.” He laughed and turned to me, shaking his head. “It eventually mentioned who, or rather what, had died in the family…”
I sat, hypnotised by the glimpse of blue-green under thick, dark lashes.
“Turned out to be the pet budgie! I was the butt of jokes for the rest of the term!”
We laughed, fuelled no doubt by the excellent red wine he’d brought. But suddenly the laughter died and we found ourselves gazing at one another. My throat constricted and I could feel my heart beat a little dance of joy, all of its own.
“I love …” he murmured, colour rising in his pale cheeks.
I waited and the dance of joy skipped into a tango.
He frowned, which lent his face a fierce, stern expression.
“I love …” he began again. “What you’ve done with the flat,” he finished lamely and looked away, concentrating ferociously on the bespectacled lovely reading the news.
I breathed again, ridiculously disappointed by what he’d uttered and shocked at my expectation of what he might have said.
“Tha-thank you,”
I stammered in response. I gestured with my hand, nearly knocking wine over my landlord’s pristine cream carpet. “I like to have my things around me.” When he still didn’t respond I added, “It looks a bit cluttered though.”
“No, it looks like a home. More than my place will ever be.” He said it angrily. The moment was most definitely spoiled.
Jack suddenly shifted irritably. He looked at his watch and grimaced. “Look, I’ve got to go, it’s getting late.” He rose from the sofa in one swift, decisive move. “I’ve got an early start in the morning. I’m going to see Jenny and Colin.” He muttered this to himself and with an underlying violence that was almost shocking.
I saw him to the door, although there was hardly any need, as it was about two of his long paces across the room. I suddenly felt very awkward.
At the door he paused and then quickly turned back to me. “Goodnight my …” He frowned again, “Goodnight Nicky.” He looked down at me, his proud nose casting a dramatic shadow over his face.
“Goodnight Jack,” I replied, puzzled by his mercurial change in mood. “Thank you for the wine and the take away and a lovely evening.”
He took my hand in his and studied it as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. Then he rubbed a cool thumb gently over my knuckles and seemed to be on the brink of saying something.
I thought for an infinitesimal second that he was going to kiss me goodnight. I closed my eyes in anticipation and at the jolt of sexual electricity his touch was creating. I sensed him lean in towards me. But instead of lip meeting lip his mouth barely grazed my cheek in a mere suggestion of a touch. I felt his breath stir my hair and his beard growth rasp at the tender skin on my face. When I reopened my eyes he simply gave one of his curt nods and walked down the steps, taking them in rapid strides, disappearing into the darkness.
I closed the door behind him and leaned my hot head against the cool wood. I was breathing rapidly and my heart pounded. I was on fire.
I too wanted to be up early the next morning but disaster intervened. As I went into the bathroom my bare feet encountered a cold slippery floor. Water appeared to be leaking out of the cistern and had pooled in a great lake on the tiles. Frantically I stuffed towels around where I thought the water was coming from but it was clear that it could only be a temporary solution. What had Dad advised me to do in such an emergency? I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and thought hard. Stopcock, that was it, I needed to turn the water supply off – and quickly. One glance at the now sodden towels told me I had to act immediately. As I had no idea where the stopcock was, I dragged my wrap around me, took one look at the hard frost outside and unbolted the adjoining door to find my landlord.
