In a Class of His Own

by Georgia Hill

The school was gradually changing. The children, due to constant nagging from us, seemed to come into school more smartly dressed and took much more pride in their achievements. Jack was harsh and unyielding about punishment but he was equally determined to reward those children who did well. They respected and feared their new headmaster in equal measure. The staff too were gradually coming around to some of his ideas but, for some reason, he seemed unwilling to acknowledge their successes. This was something I tried hard to do. It was gaining me no little measure of respect. The ironing service and sandwich supplies had been unanimously welcomed and were proving popular and successful. I was pleased. I’d eventually persuaded Jack that weekly staff meetings weren’t necessary. As long as he or I did a five-minute bulletin in the staff room at the beginning of each day, we found we could get away with fortnightly more formal meetings. This freed the teachers up to meet and share planning. This was going down well too. Rupert was a very vocal supporter of all my suggestions and Janice, more surprisingly, had become a firm ally as well. I really felt I was getting somewhere and I was enjoying every minute of it.

  I’d found time to pop round to see Tony and had been given a cool reception. He and his wife had grudgingly made me a cup of tea. I’d handed over the Christmas cards written by the staff and children and, after ten more minutes of desperate small talk, had fled. A thought did occur to me though, that as we always had trouble finding supply teachers, whether Tony would welcome some work. I decided to save suggesting it to Jack until after Christmas however, when things were a little less hectic. Something told me I would be in for another battle.

  The Christmas gala was scheduled for the evening of the last day of term. As usual, after the long Autumn slog, everyone was on their knees with exhaustion. Over the last few days though, we had all been re-energised, at least to some extent, by the excitement felt by the children. Christmas in a primary school is always a magical time and the children had excelled themselves in their various Christmas celebrations.

  As I watched the youngest children take part in the Nativity play I felt the inevitable lump rise in my throat. The very youngest children were dressed in black from top to toe, with tiny silver scraps of tinsel sewn onto their costumes. These, complete with tinsel tiaras, had transformed even the most snotty nosed infant into twinkling stars as they danced stumblingly across the stage. It was very moving and made me remember what had drawn me to teaching in the first place. It was a privilege at a time like this. And, when the whole of school joined together to sing ‘Silent Night’, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

  As I left the hall, in the wake of children, teachers and parents the words still echoed in my head. Then I came back down to earth and chuckled as I heard Thomas Butcher in Year One ask in a puzzled voice, “I know who the Baby Jesus is and Mary and Joseph. But Mummy, who’s Round John?”

  Then it was the turn of the adults. There had been a certain amount of competition about costumes for the Victorian fancy dress gala and teachers were being unusually secretive about what they were wearing. Dad was dropping off my dress on the night of the party and I was going to get changed in school.

  When the last day of term finally came, Ann and I met in my classroom. Hurriedly we closed the blinds and began to get ready. It soon became abundantly clear that she had taken the task of finding a Victorian style dress far more seriously than I. I did up the back of her shell pink dress and then stood back to admire the effect.

  “Well, what do you think?” she asked me excitedly.

  She looked lovely. Ann was tall and graceful and her choice of costume suited her. Like my dress, hers was tight waisted and full skirted but there the resemblance ended. Ann’s shoulders were bare but her arms were encased in tightly fitting silk. Pink roses ran in a line down each sleeve and were echoed in the decoration around the swooping neckline. Her bodice fitted her slim figure perfectly and the skirt ballooned out into a bell shape. It even appeared to have what looked like a small bustle.

  On me, the effect would have been matronly but it gave Ann voluptuous curves. Several more rows of silk flowers edged the hem and she had even bought fresh roses to wear in her hair.

  “You look beautiful Ann, you really do.” It was the truth and I wasn’t one to lie, even if I was harbouring the idea that the motive for all her finery was a certain tall, dark headmaster. I swallowed my sudden pang of jealousy. After all, she had worked really hard on organising this evening. She deserved the praise.

  Ann swished her skirt from side to side in satisfaction and giggled. “I’m so pleased it works. It’s been at the dressmaker’s for ages. I wanted it to fit like a glove. It was my sister’s wedding dress and she was a bit reluctant to lend it to me.” She laughed again, although his time it sounded more like a snigger. “Perhaps a certain person will get ideas if I drop hints that this is a wedding dress! Oh, I know I haven’t known him for very long but what do you think Nicky? Do you think I’m in with a chance?” She turned to me, eyes aglow. Without waiting for an answer she went on, “Janice thinks there’s someone else he’s interested in. Still, all’s fair in love and war isn’t it!”

  The pang of jealousy burned more fiercely. I gulped and thought frantically of what I could say. As I still didn’t answer, Ann looked at her watch and frowned.

  “Ooh, look at the time, come on Nicky, hurry up. Is this your dress? Oh it’s sweet and such a pretty colour!” She struggled to pull the back of my dress together and began to fasten the hooks and eyes. “God, it’s going to be a bit tight. Have you put on some weight?”

  We entered the hall together but Ann soon spotted someone she wanted to talk to and disappeared. The hall was crowded and hot; it looked as if most people were there already. It was all looking really festive. On the previous evening a team of us had worked long into the night in order to decorate it. In an effort to disguise the wall-bars we had wound red, green and white paper chains around them. I’d added lengths of ivy at the last moment and thankfully it still looked fresh. Along one side of the hall Mona had set up the trestle tables and had covered them with pristine white cloth. They were groaning with food and drink and were prettily edged with holly and mistletoe.

  As the band struck up a lively rendition of ‘Oh Christmas Tree’ I began to relax a little. There were times when I’d thought the end of this term would never come. With a shudder I thought back to the horrendous training day back in September. I remembered the hostility I’d encountered from some of the staff and a warm glow enveloped me as I realised how accepted I now was. And with Mum and Dad expecting Andy and Inez over for the holidays, life was good.

  Mostly.

  Jack stood by the stairs talking to Ann. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his expression but they looked to be having an animated conversation. In common with many here tonight, my opinion of him had changed radically. He had won us over with determination, sheer hard work and his unique brand of abrupt charm. And I’d certainly seen him in a different light recently. A roller coaster travelled up and down my spine as I remembered how jaw-droppingly gorgeous he’d looked coming out of the wet room. I sighed lustily. But, as I saw Ann take Jack’s arm and lead him onto the dance floor, the lust was quashed. I frowned. I couldn’t figure out what he felt for me at all. Sometimes I felt the flash of his attraction but at other times he seemed to be deliberately backing off from having any contact with me. Had I really misunderstood the signs; those longing looks and the heated silences which flared between us so often? Or was it Ann he was truly interested in after all? Her comments earlier had stunned me and I resented feeling so jealous. I was beginning to accept just how attracted I was to him but I couldn’t bear to make the first move. What if I did? He was my boss – and my landlord now after all. I closed my eyes briefly in horror as I contemplated the potential awkwardness and embarrassment. It didn’t bear thinking about if I had read the situation wrongly.

  I shook my head to clear it a little and distracted myself by studying my dress. While it was
n’t as elaborate as Ann’s I was still pleased with it. Mum had tried really hard to adapt it and she had done a skilled job. In the end she hadn’t found enough material to add a frill as well as put something around the low neckline so had concentrated on adding length. Like Ann I swished my petticoats experimentally. I hardly ever wore a skirt, let alone a long one like this and I felt newly feminine. I did however, have some concerns about the neckline. I tugged self-consciously at the plain bodice. It was excruciatingly tight and very low cut and I was worried that it was far too revealing. Oh well, I giggled, I would just have to remember not to eat anything. Or bend over!

  “Nicky!” called a voice. “Nicky, you’re looking gorgeous tonight!” It was Rupert. He was grinning hugely. He took my arms, held them out wide and looked me up and down, giving a soft wolf-whistle under his breath. “My oh my.” He was openly staring at my cleavage. He swallowed and then recovered himself. “I have to say, those Victorians knew a thing or two when it came to fashion!”

  Rupert was looking pretty good himself, so I returned the compliment. He was dressed in a dark frock coat which reached to his knees. Under it he wore a gold brocade waistcoat and a high-necked shirt. A cream cravat completed the outfit. It suited his long hair and good looks and made him look rakishly attractive.

  “Like to dance?” he asked with an infectious grin.

  “Love to,” I beamed.

  An hour later I was leaning against a trestle table desperately trying to ignore the enticing smells coming from the buffet. I took a long draught of wine instead. I didn’t dare eat anything as I didn’t want to risk bursting out of my dress. Not, I thought, a very Victorian thing to do. I took another gulp of wine. I was hot and the bones of my bodice were digging in painfully. I’d danced with Rupert until I’d begged him to give me a break. Dad had tried his hardest to teach me some basic steps and I thought Rupert and I had made quite a dashing pair on the floor. I’d certainly enjoyed myself. I liked him enormously, there was something about his easy charm which reminded me of Andy.

  “Nicola!” Mona swept majestically into view. “What a splendid evening this has proved to be! May I top up your glass?”

  I accepted gratefully and fanned myself with a holly decorated paper serviette. Then I did a double take as I took in her appearance. “Mona, you look incredible! Where did you get that dress from?”

  Mona did indeed look wonderful. Her low cut and tight fitting black dress was studded all over with tiny droplets of jet. In her hair she wore a great plume of glossy black feathers, again decorated with jet beads. Every time she moved her dress caught the light so that she shimmered exotically. There was something of the black cat about her tonight. Sleek and knowing.

  “Do you like it? It’s one of my favourites.” She smoothed a complacent hand over the skirt. “I wore it when we did ‘My Fair Lady’ this year. It is rather gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  I choked on my wine. “Are you a member of The Players?” I looked at her in astonishment. The Players were a local amateur dramatic group, famous in the county and beyond for their high standards. It was almost impossible to join. They’d even raised funds to build their own theatre in the town. I couldn’t imagine the starchy, reserved Mona being a member. First yoga, then amateur dramatics. The woman was full of surprises.

  “Oh yes Nicola,” she said, with barely concealed pride. “I’ve been a member since 1983. We’re doing ‘Six Characters in Search of an Author’ next year. You must come along.”

  She smiled at my expression. She knew exactly what was going through my mind and was enjoying it a little too much. A black cat I thought again. And I’d been right about the knowing air.

  “Mona, you’re amazing, you really are.” I began to laugh and then trailed off as I saw Ann dancing yet again with Jack. A stab of jealousy joined the pain caused by my bodice.

  Mona’s eyes followed mine. My face must, as usual, have revealed my feelings. She put a lace-gloved hand on my arm.

  “I don’t think you have any concerns there, my dear.” She lowered her voice and added, “I think her attentions are directed towards someone else.”

  Startled, I looked at Mona and saw her nod in Rupert’s direction. He was standing near the orchestra, chatting to Janice. He saw us staring at him, grinned and lifted his glass in a salute.

  “You mean?” I couldn’t get my head around this. I thought back to what Ann had said when we were getting changed. Could it have applied as equally to Rupert as to Jack? And if so, how on earth did she feel about me dancing with him all night?

  “But Mona, when did this all happen?” As the new information clicked into place the music stopped and Mona hushed me. Thoughtfully, I took another mouthful of wine.

  Jack got up onto the stage. I remembered now that I had suggested it might be an idea to make a short speech at some point in the proceedings. As he began to speak I looked at him anew. He too, was wearing a frock coat but on him it gave the effect of immense power and of a man at the height of his virility. He made Rupert look like a dissolute youth; a mere boy. The dark jacket fitted snugly over Jack’s shoulders, emphasising their breadth and his legs looked endless in the narrow black trousers. His waistcoat, glimpsed under the tightly buttoned coat was a deep maroon, embroidered with gold thread. The matching cravat, with the pallor of his skin and the rich darkness of his hair was an irresistible combination.

  It was hopeless, I couldn’t deny my feelings for the man any longer. He was unlike anyone I had ever met before. It was simple; I loved him.

  I came back to reality when Mona poked me quite fiercely in the ribs and hissed: “Nicola pay attention, Mr. Thorpe wants you.”

  People were laughing and smiling at me and, as I looked around, I could see that they were gesturing for me to join Jack onstage. I wasn’t aware of how I got there but I found myself next to my headmaster. Master of the school and now of my heart.

  “As I’ve just said there are many people to thank tonight,” he began, in that glorious voice, as dark and creamy as Guinness. “And, as I’ve finally been joined by one of my management team, I’d like to start by thanking my Deputy. Nicola Hathaway took over at very short notice and has - ”

  I had to ask someone later what Jack had said that night because the next thing I knew he was putting an enormous bouquet of yellow roses into my arms.

  He smiled down at me. “This is just a small token to thank you for all your hard work this term.” Then he came closer and amongst the applause he whispered in my ear, in a voice so throaty it made my heart stir and my lips tremble, “Happy Christmas Nicky my love.”

  More thank yous followed. To my relief Mona and Ann both received bouquets of equal size, they certainly deserved them. After all the speeches were over I leaned against the wall-bars and watched as Jack made his way, through the crowds, to me. It took time as firstly he stopped and shook hands with Angus Fairweather with whom he then had a lengthy conversation. Then Mrs. Butcher looked daggers as Meryl Homer gave Jack an enormous kiss and held onto his arm for a totally unnecessary amount of time. Eventually he fought them off and made his way over to where I was standing.

  “I haven’t had a moment to talk to you all evening,” he smiled, with a rueful expression on his face. “Let alone ask you to dance.” He grinned more widely and shook his head in disbelief. “That dress Nicky - ”

  Self-consciously I put my hands over my cleavage. Whoever coined the phrase ‘heaving bosoms’ was right – mine were heaving so much they threatened to pop right out.

  “Don’t do that,” Jack whispered. “You look so-” but the rest of his words were lost as Ann, Helen and Janice crowded up to us. Janice had an enormous bunch of mistletoe in her hand.

  “Kiss her Jack,” she shrieked, waving it at us in a vaguely threatening manner. “Go on, it’s Christmas. Go on,” she urged again, as neither of us complied. “It’s unlucky not to!”

  The rest of the group echoed the words: “Kiss her, kiss her!” The other party guests looked over with
interest to where we were standing. When they saw what was happening some of them joined in with the chant.

  Jack looked utterly mortified. He looked around nervously and a muscle began to pulse in his cheek. Then, after an apologetic shrug, he lowered his head towards mine.

  I can’t do this I thought, as panic assailed me. Our first proper kiss and it’s being witnessed by two hundred people. In desperation I turned my head away, so that his mouth knocked against my ear. I felt heat flood my face with colour.

  The crowd around us booed good-naturedly. Someone said, “That’s no good, you’ve got to kiss her on the lips. Pucker up, Nicky!” If that was Janice again, she was a dead woman.

  Rupert appeared magically at my side. “That’s enough folks. Show’s over.” He smiled at Jack thinly. “I don’t think the lady wants to play.”

  Jack straightened his shoulders in a decisive gesture. He gave Rupert a wolf like sneer, took my arms in a painfully firm grip and kissed me on the mouth. I heard the crowd around us cheer loudly and then all sound melted away as I was aware only of his hard mouth pressed against mine. But there was no tenderness there, only possession. It ended as soon as it had begun. Tears of humiliation prickled in my throat. Jack, with a cursory glance at Rupert and myself, turned on his heel and strode away. A very willing Meryl Homer jumped forward and took him onto the dance floor.

  “Are you all right Nicky?” Rupert peered at me anxiously. “You look done in.” He folded my arm into his and began to lead me away. “Come on, old girl, I’ll get us another drink.”

  I knew I was drunk when I began to flirt with Angus Fairweather. He looked astonished to be the object of my advances.

  “You look really really really handsome tonight,” I slurred. “You know.” I stumbled a little against him and fingered the lapel of his velvet smoking jacket. “You know there’s a lot to be said for the older man.”

  Angus cleared his throat and I heard his wife say, “Well, really!”