Instigations

by Kiki Archer

  “Honestly?”

  Kat pulled the collar up around her neck. September had arrived and the weather was dreary. “Yes of course honestly.”

  “Have you got time?” Freya looked at the oversized red clock hanging on the tiled kitchen wall. “Ben left ages ago.”

  “I know, not like him at all. I think maybe seeing his ex must have knocked him a bit.” She paused, “I will check how he is at school; and yes...” she sat back down, “...I have always got time for you.”

  Freya pushed some soggy Golden Grahams around her bowl. “When do you think that I should tell people?”

  “That you’re gay?” She looked at Freya’s pretty face and bright green eyes that were touched with slight anxiety.

  “Yes. We have an introductory lecture today and then it’s the Fresher’s Fair and then I think I get to find out my seminar group and meet my tutor. I just don’t know when I should tell people.”

  Kat perched back on the red breakfast stool. “Okay, you know what? This one always used to get me too. I would wrestle with - do I say Hi, I’m Kat and I’m gay - or do I wait until I’m found out - or do I ignore it completely?”

  “And what did you conclude?”

  “I personally think the best thing is to drop it into a conversation early on. For example, if you meet someone new and you are chatting about ... say music?”

  Freya nodded. Kat might be her old teacher but she would always love the way she taught.

  “Okay music ... well you just drop in a comment like, Yes, Adele is great isn’t she, I went with my girlfriend to see her live in concert last month.” Kat stood back up and reached for her black leather workbag. “Or if you’re talking about sport you can say, I enjoy tennis and my girlfriend and I play for the Coldfield club.” She smiled and hovered at the counter.

  “Yeah, that makes sense, now go!” She knew Kat would stay for as long as needed, even with her timekeeping clock screaming to make a move. “You were never late once to our lessons.”

  “Apart from duty days. Oh no! Duty days, I hope Kathy from Cover has been kind to me this year.” She leaned in for a meaningful kiss; it was their first official morning parting, both about to embark on the next stage of their careers. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Those uni girls will love you.”

  “I’m not ashamed, but you know what it’s like. It’s just a difficult one.”

  “Trust me, I know!” smiled Kat, finally reaching for the door. She paused. “I will miss you at school.”

  Freya grinned mischievously. “No you won’t. There will be some new hot chick in your A-Level history class to keep it all interesting.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” She opened the heavy apartment door. “Have I told you Chianne Granger is taking the course?”

  ****

  Kat smiled to herself as she walked quickly down the long blue corridor of B Block. It had been a very interesting Monday morning briefing. Kirsty Spaulding had commanded the troops from the front, outlining her ambitious aims for the school year ahead and highlighting the fantastic achievements of the school year just past. Kat’s name was mentioned several times as an example of excellent practice, causing a slightly embarrassed blush and reticent hand wave. Also mentioned were the names of the English department girls - Diane Pity and Fiona Mews. They had sunk down in their brown woven fabric chairs when highlighted as leaders of the worst performing department. It was in fact, Leery Old Lester, who was the actual Head of English, but he had not been allowed in front of an examination class in almost ten years. The three had subsequently been put on weekly observations, causing Kat’s current private smile.

  As much as she had tried to forgive their behaviour from last year, it was still quite difficult to forget, and even though she would never wish comeuppance for her adversaries, she was smiling at the fact Karma seemed to be on her side. She made a mental note to ring Jess, who was the queen of Karma and Tarots and Fate, after school and tell her.

  “How can you look so happy on the first day of term?” Ben was leaning in his classroom doorway, large mug of coffee in hand, looking impressively dishevelled for 8:45am.

  Kat swerved to the right and checked her watch; she had time. “I’m just smiling about Kirsty.” She looked up and down the corridor, still empty before the bell. “Is it a prerequisite of a Head Teacher to become more and more eccentric as the years go on?”

  Ben scratched his blonde stubble. “I wouldn’t complain if I was you.”

  “Embarrassing, wasn’t it?”

  He removed his foot from the wall and stood up straight. “Are you kidding? What you achieved last year with your classes was incredible and it’s about time some other teachers were told to up their games.”

  She sighed, “More reason for them to hate me.” Pausing she eyed the dark circles under his eyes. “I meant to ask ... is everything okay? It’s not like you to miss out on a film, or get an early night on a school night, or walk to school on your own.” Ben loved a good gossip and a whole variety of topics were usually covered during the short morning route.

  “Actually there is something.” He looked up, about to begin. “Hang on, speak of the devil-ess.” He blew the steam from his coffee and rolled his eyes.

  Kat heard the quick trotting first and inhaled the overpowering perfume second. “Oh great, here goes,” she whispered as the clipping heels pulled to an abrupt stop. “Diane, hi.” She always tried to be polite, fully aware that the response would be derogatory.

  “Good morning Kat. I like your blouse.”

  Ben sprayed the blue doorway with specks of brown coffee. He coughed and tried to compose himself.

  Not the dirty look and snidey remark she had been expecting. She glanced down at her white ruffled blouse. “Thanks,” she said, unable to avoid a comparison with Diane’s low cut red body top.

  Diane noticed the stare and pushed her fake chest out even further, tapping a stylized false nail between her ample cleavage; that ought to do it, she thought, batting her false eyelashes and trying to look coy. “I need you.”

  Kat felt uncomfortable, the breasts were coming closer and she was already standing against the wall.

  Diane could see it in her eyes, she wanted her. This should be easy. “I need you ... to give little old me ... a hand.”

  Ben returned from his desk with some extra large tissues, quickly cleaning the coffee from the door. There was no need for such a vigorous wipe, but the sight of Diane’s tits so close to Kat’s beautiful face was ashamedly arousing.

  “With what?” Kat always gave people the benefit of the doubt, allowing second and third chances, but she was not a fool and the way Diane and Fiona had treated her last year was still too hard to forget.

  Diane noted the tone and stepped back. How dare Super Spicer try and play hard to get? She was a lesbian wasn’t she? What lesbian ever got the chance to see a hot body like hers? She paused, realising she had no other option, so tried again. “I need your expertise Miss Spicer.” Purring, she reached for Kat’s arm.

  “Um, okay, with what?”

  Ben was back in the doorway, foot on the frame, enjoying the spectacle.

  Diane gently rubbed the cool fabric of the silk blouse. “Me and you ... period two? We could do a bit of brainstorming if you like?” She shook her bleach blonde hair and gave a seductive wink. That should do it.

  Kat removed the fingers from her blouse and stepped to the side. “Am I allowed to ask what you’re up to?”

  Diane snapped out of it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I’ve got an observation this afternoon and I need someone to show me the new lesson plan format.”

  Ben laughed. “What, the new format they brought in two years ago?”

  “Yes, that format, you fucked up fucker.” She spat the words, still not over the fact that his new girlfriend looked like a rugby playing Jessie J.

  Kat knew how she would handle it. “Period two it is then,” she smiled, tucking her register back under her arm. She told Ben they would catch
up later, and sashayed elegantly down the corridor.

  “I’m going to have to sleep with, her aren’t I?” gasped Diane opened mouthed. “I can’t, I just can’t.” She wiggled her long pink nails. “Can you imagine? Eugh!”

  “What planet are you on?” Ben gulped the last mouthful of coffee and wiped his stubble. “Kat would not touch you with a barge pole.”

  “No, it would be the prosthetic pole strapped to her crotch doing all of the touching.”

  “In your dreams, Pity.”

  “Nightmares, actually. Now piss off Mr Puller.” She stalked to leave, giving her bottom an extra good wiggle as she went.

  ****

  Kat stood at her classroom door, guiding her children out into the fast moving corridor. She was lucky enough to have kept her tutor group and her beloved Year Sevens of last year were now feeling much more confident having graduated into the prestigious world of Year Eight. No longer were they the tiny ones of the school, wandering around forever lost, swamped in their new blazers, trying to navigate the always unreadable school maps. Now they had knowledge, authority and fast developing personalities; testing the rules on uniform and jewellery, already aware of the teachers who meant business and those who did not.

  She used her morning tutor talk to instil a sense of responsibility for the year ahead, guiding them on appropriate, expected behaviour. Now looking down the bustling corridor at Tracy James, helping a tiny Year Seven boy back up to his feet, she felt a pang of pride. The herd of Year Tens charging the wrong way down the one way system must have knocked him. Tracy had stopped to help. Kat concluded the consensus was wrong. Year Eights were not the difficult year group - at least her Year Eights weren’t. Leery Old Lester and the English women had been moaning about them in the staffroom this morning, complaining about the bitchy girls and laughing about the monotone boys. Kat had silently sighed. Never would she be one of those cynical teachers, trudging through the school day with a bitter chip on her shoulder. No, she had confidence she would remain upbeat, forward thinking and optimistic, no matter what her career threw at her. She smiled to herself - even if that thing was Chianne Granger.

  “Ai Ai Miss!” came the loud bellow.

  Kat smiled and tried to ignore the inappropriate red basque and denim jegging combination, neither of which were doing Chianne’s huge figure any favours. “Good morning, please take a seat.”

  Chianne waltzed into the room and flung her micro handbag onto the front table. She ordered to her lackey, who coincidentally had the extreme opposite build to her; lanky and thin: “Mann, get the seats!”

  Chantelle Mann trotted in behind her idol and proceeded to pull the two front chairs out from under the desk.

  “Further than that!” barked Chianne, unable to squeeze into the allocated space.

  Chantelle quickly raced around to the desk behind and pulled it back to make more room. She wanted everything to be perfect; Chianne didn’t choose just anybody to be her second in command. “Spray?” she suggested.

  “Obviously!” snorted Chianne, sticking out her chin and tilting her head back slightly.

  Kat watched in disbelief as Chantelle Mann reached into the sequined handbag for the travel sized can of super strength hairspray, immediately spraying Chianne’s gravity defying black quiff. Kat took a controlled intake of breath and walked towards the front desk. The toxic smell caught in the back of her throat causing an impromptu cough.

  “Alright Miss! No need to exaggerate!” The top half of Chianne’s oversized body was resting on the desk and the red basque had started to gape. Chianne caught the glance. “I wore this for you, Miss Spicer.” She winked and tried to look seductive. “I love the fact that us Sixth Formers can where whatever we want. You can borrow some of my stuff if you want Miss.”

  “Mine too,” added Chantelle.

  “Chants, I ain’t being mean, but all of your gear is Tesco Two Stripe stuff. Miss Spicer ain’t gunna wear stuff from Tesco. You like my gear don’t cha Miss ... I got this top from that posh stall on Brownhills Market.”

  Kat crouched down in front of them both. The room had started to fill so she spoke quietly - the last thing she wanted was a confrontation during the year’s first lesson. She started with Chianne. “Welcome to A-Level history and thank you for your prompt arrival...”

  Chianne straightened up in her seat and added a slight nod of self congratulations.

  “...But can you please not enter the room so loudly and can you please refrain from using hairspray in here.”

  Chianne leaned forwards on the desk, causing her puppy fat to spill out of the suggestive top. She whispered her response, deliberately rolling her final R, “Anything for you, Miss Spicerrr.”

  Kat paused. “Right, okay, I’m glad we have cleared that up.” She turned her attentions to Chantelle. “I’m really sorry but this is A-Level history.”

  “I know Miss.” Chantelle smiled enthusiastically, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. “I’m on a conditional offer.”

  The school had a strict policy on Sixth Form entry which included at least five A*’s to C in GCSE grades and at least a C in their chosen A-Level subjects. Kat recalled that Chantelle Mann had achieved neither. She studied the piece of paper that had been signed off by Janet Louza. A Head of Department could waiver the entry rules for the odd student who showed extreme enthusiasm and desire to continue their education at Coldfield. Basically they would have begged to stay on at school. The said student would then be put on a conditional offer. A trial that could be terminated by the school at the first sign of trouble. She smiled kindly at Chantelle. “Are you sure this is the subject you want to take?”

  Chantelle looked nervously across at Chianne. “I had hoped to do the childcare course, but I think this might give me a ... a more bettered furthered education operations.”

  “Better further education options!” scowled Chianne.

  Chantelle nodded approvingly. “Yeah, so I chose this, English and Media Studies just like she did.” She thumbed across to her best mate.

  “And this is your choice?” asked Kat, delicately trying to guide Chianne’s loyal supporter in the right direction.

  “Yes Miss.”

  Kat nodded and tapped the table, standing back up. “Okay then, but please, if you begin to struggle, don’t suffer in silence. Let me know and we can have an open and honest conversation about whether or not this is the right course for you.”

  “Oh yes Miss, it definitely is.” She spoke eagerly. “I love learning about the pyramids and how they were built and that big fire thing that happened that one time in London and the plague and everything.”

  Kat crouched back down and tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. “Chantelle, this is modern day history. We are learning about Pitt, Lord Liverpool and Gladstone.”

  Chantelle stole a sideways glance, but Chianne had already lifted her podgy hand in reassurance. “Don’t worry Chants, Pitt was the youngest prime minister, Lord Liverpool was another PM during a recession in 1817...”

  “We’re in one of them now!” added Chantelle with proud knowledge.

  “Yeah, well done mate ... and Gladstone was the PM four times.”

  Kat raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  “So you see Chants, this course is for us.”

  What a double act thought Kat, suddenly aware of the room full of Sixth Form students. There were ten in last year’s class, but many more had opted for it this year when they heard Miss Spicer, their favourite all time teacher, would be teaching the course. Kat stepped back and took control of the room, beginning with her usual introduction. “Hello and good morning everybody. For those of you who have not met me yet, I am Miss Spicer and I will be your history teacher for the next two years.” She flicked her hair unintentionally.

  Chianne let out an approvingly low wolf whistle.

  “Thank you for that Chianne, you have brought me onto my next point. This is A-Level history. Where I will treat you like the young adults that
you are...” she turned to Chianne and nodded, “...as long as you behave like the young adults that you should be.”

  Chianne playfully tapped herself on the hand in punishment.

  Kat leaned back against her wooden desk and eyed the large group. “So ... can we go around the room and say a brief sentence about yourself and why you chose history?” She smiled and her genuine warmth and reassurance immediately put the nervous amongst the group at ease. “Okay, how about I start,” she paused, stood back up, flattened her white silk blouse and began. “My name is Miss Katherine Spicer, this is my second year teaching at Coldfield and I chose to become a history teacher so I could help to ensure that the generations of the future learn from the lessons of the past.”

  A couple of the group nodded in admiration. Chantelle started to panic, what was that rhyme about Henry the Eighth and his nine wives?

  “So let’s start at the front...”

  Chianne had already hauled herself up. She spun around to face the rest of her peers and began to sing in Nicki Minaj style, “My name’s Chianne, I bet you all know who I am...” The urban rap song was matched with a couple of attempted hip and shoulder pops, “...so listen to me, I’ll tell you why I chose history.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kat had quickly positioned herself next to the dance performance. “Chianne, I’m not quite sure where you think you are but this is an A-Level class,” she exhaled, annoyed by the show of immaturity. “Now please sit down. I don’t find that behaviour at all appropriate. Chantelle, your turn, stand up. Tell the class why you chose history.”

  Chantelle stood slowly and turned to face the group. “Well I love the poem about that King Henry who had all of those wives; divorced, beheaded, survived ... divorced, died, buried alive.”

  Kat sank back onto her desk. This was not at all what she had been expecting.

  Chapter Seven

  Freya took her time getting ready. It had been strange seeing Kat leave for school. She had pictured her entering her classroom and smiling at her classes, instantly putting them at ease. She knew from experience that the students would quickly warm to her kind and caring manner, hailing Kat as their new favourite teacher for the year. Her own time at Coldfield had been wonderful and her final year certainly one to remember. Now it was the next phase of her education and she wanted to get it right. She knew it was just an introductory lecture, but she wanted to look the part so she delved into Kat’s work wardrobe and selected a pair of black high waist trousers and a tight black shirt.