by Kiki Archer
She nervously made her way down the long pale blue corridor past the IT and English rooms. She walked slowly, appreciating the relative calm and quiet. Tutor time, her little Year Seven’s were sat two blocks away troubled that their favourite Miss Spicer had been replaced by the bearded supply man so soon after all of those horrible rumours. She finally pushed open the heavy metal doors from B Block and was met with a gust of cold wind that had been gaining speed and losing temperature over the littered tennis courts.
David Haverley from Year Seven scurried towards her over the concrete, his register held tightly under his arm. ‘Hello Miss, you look nice today.’ He smiled kindly and rushed off determined to be the best register monitor that Mr Puller had ever seen.
Here goes, thought Kat as she entered the very warm, very grand, A Block, home to the Main Entrance - used only by visitors and staff, Main Hall - with its expansive stage and seating structure, used only on very special occasions, and Heads Office - used when firing a member of staff she thought.
Kat sat outside Mrs Spalding’s office listening to the soothing noise of the mini waterfall that ran the length of the plush waiting area. Very rarely did pupils enter A Block with its flowers, new carpets, soft background music and airy atmosphere, a million miles away from the clamour of the cramped paint chipped blue corridors of B Block. She felt like she was sat in a private medical centre watching the multi coloured fish moving peacefully with their serene composure in the purpose built two meter long aquarium tank. There was not a hint of a child anywhere to be seen, or heard. Register monitors were allowed to enter to collect and return their registers but apart from that you only got the privilege of entering A Block on Awards Evening, or Speeches Day, something that the more common of pupil didn’t seem to attend anyway; some didn’t even know that A Block existed. It was no longer a case of being sent to the Head’s Office when naughty; Kirsty had a Deputy Head in B Block for that.
The square light on the office door turned green. Kat was allowed to enter. She felt about twelve.
‘Sit down Katherine.’
Kat sat on the very expensive high backed white leather chair which squeaked as she adjusted her skirt. She felt incredibly uneasy.
‘Well you have done it Miss Spicer.’ Kirsty Spaulding was serious and monotone.
‘Look I had no other choice-’ She had prepared her speech in the waiting area whilst watching a slow John Dory swim through a front door and out of a chimney.
‘I am joking with you,’ roared Kirsty beaming from ear to ear. ‘Oh Kat, what a find, what a find! I knew you would be sensational when I hired you. That is one of my talents; I can spot a cracker when I see one!’ She was raving. ‘Sorry about making you wait, that was just my little bit of fun. I could see you the whole time on the camera!’ She tapped the screen sat on top of her expensive walnut desk and giggled.
The Kirsty Spaulding behind closed doors was not at all like the Kirsty Spaulding wheeled out on special occasions such as Ofsted assemblies. Most of the pupils could hardly recognise her. She was rarely seen in the corridors of B Block, especially at rush hour and she had herself almost forgotten which subject she was actually qualified to teach; it had been ages since she was properly inside a classroom. She had a sixty strong teaching team who dealt with the learning side of things; she dealt with the targets. She was a manager and proud of it. The school was performing as it should, according to the recent Fischer Family Trust Value Added Score; what mattered more though she realised, was its Ofsted report.
‘Can I get you a coffee? Or a tea? Or something stronger?’ She signalled to the fully stocked spirit cabinet complete with cut glass crystal tumblers. It was nine am.
‘A coffee please?’ said Kat raising her eyebrows not sure what on earth was going on.
The Head got up and walked to the expensive coffee machine in the far corner of her lavish office. She was wearing a smart blue V necked jumper, navy blue woollen pencil skirt, tan coloured tights and lamb’s wool slippers.
‘Excuse the slippers, but they are just so comfy.’
Kat watched her smile as she carefully made the coffee; she felt like she was looking at her for the first time. Mid fifties, slightly plump with rosy soft cheeks, mousey brown hair pulled into a wispy bun and glasses permanently lost on the top of her head. She wasn’t ordinary and plain as she had initially thought - her only real assessment having been from her staffroom chair during their morning briefings. The serious lady who spoke at the front when addressing her workforce was a million miles away from the lady that now stood in soft slippers waiting on her at the coffee machine. This lady had bright eyes that seemed to shine with a definite hint of mischief.
Kirsty handed her the coffee and sat on the desk. ‘Where do I start?’ she laughed lifting her arms and closing her eyes. ‘Well first of all welcome to Coldfield Comp, I don’t think we have officially met.’ She slid off the desk, walked back over to Kat and held out an eager hand.
Kat didn’t quite know what to do, she was finding it all very bizarre and fumbled with her coffee cup, eventually placing it on the floor, making sure it was steady so it wouldn’t fall and ruin a clearly expensive carpet. She managed to hold out her hand and offer a nervous ‘Hello,’ unsure of whether to stand or curtsy or what to do.
‘Clearly I wasn’t on your actual interview,’ said Kirsty making her way back to her perch. ‘But I inspected those CV’s with a fine tooth comb and wink, wink, nudge, nudge,’ she tapped the top of her monitor, ‘I knew you would be incredible. I like James to do the face to face interviewing, he has so much more to do with the staff, it makes sense, but never doubt that I am the all seeing eye, I have the final say on everything that goes on in this school.’ James Dapper was the second Deputy Head and Kirsty Spaulding was getting even more excitable with her tapping hand gestures.
‘Ok,’ was all she could manage, unsure of how to behave.
‘Look I will cut to the chase. Mr Bridges the lead inspector came to see me at the end of school yesterday to give me a day one round up. I believe he came to watch you Miss Spicer.’ She spoke with one eyebrow raised.
‘Yes my Year Thirteen yesterday afternoon.’
Kirsty jumped off the desk, ‘You got an Outstanding! He has already given our school an Outstanding in ECM all because of your one lesson!’ She was gushing. ECM was the Every Child Matters Policy, another one that rang a faint bell with Diane Pity, but not enough for her to actually remember what it was all about. ‘He thinks you would be a perfect candidate to head up the new PSHE team.’ Personal, Social and Health Education; nope, Diane Pity would not be able to place it.
‘Oh right,’ was all Kat could manage.
Kirsty pushed a wisp of mousy brown hair back behind her ear and rushed forwards to grab her wrists, ‘I mean, come on, he said you were sensational! He read your lesson plan so he knew what you were going to do, and he had looked at their work so he knew how they were performing, so he took the lesson as it came and he was blown away. His exact words were...’ she released her grip and searched for her glasses, locating a second pair in the walnut drawer. She paused and transformed into the person Kat recognised, suddenly speaking loudly and seriously, ‘“The lesson was outstanding in all areas. The teacher was able to adapt, to show initiative, illustrating a correct and measured response to the class’ demands. The atmosphere generated was one of learning, of understanding and of respect.”’ She lifted her glasses and her pitch raised two octaves. ‘I am thrilled Kat, because then further on it says - the serious voice returned- “Coldfield Comprehensive School caters for the needs of all of its pupils on a personal and emotional level and is successfully meeting the Every Child Matters Criteria.” We have done it! You have done it! Not even John Taylor’s managed to figure out the ECM Policy!’ Kirsty Spaulding was fit to burst.
Kat felt like she had been buffeted by a storm, now completely unsure of her whereabouts, ‘Ok great, thank you.’
‘Is that all you can manage? You should
be thrilled! ECM Policy! ECM Policy! We did it! What a coup!’ Kirsty did not seem to be enthusing her protégé so she calmed down and returned to her seat behind the lavish walnut desk. ‘Look if you’re worried about your lesbianism then don’t be.’
Kat tried not to laugh but failed.
‘Look I am being serious, ancient Maureen Taylor from cooking is a devilish old lesbo. Oh sorry I’m not meant to call it that anymore am I? I mean from food technology.’
Kat’s smile widened as she finally started to relax, gently reaching for her coffee that stood untouched on the deep wool carpet.
‘And pretty boy Jones in PE, he has been here three years and not yet owned up to living onsite with the caretaker. Poor Andy lives for that boy and can’t stand it when he sees him pretending to flirt with the Sixth Form girls.’ She signalled to the Oriental rug lying in front of her desk. ‘Andy does my rugs and likes to chat you know how they do.’
‘Any advice?’
‘Oh just do what you’re doing love. You don’t need tips from me.’
Kat kindly rejected Kirsty’s suggestion to loiter around A Block and let the bearded supply guy finish off her lesson. Instead she made her way back up to her classroom brimming with confidence on a mission to reclaim her class. Miss Spicer is here and she is here to stay she whispered to herself as she waltzed out of A Block knowing the chances of a child being around to hear were well below zero.
Kat and Ben leisurely walked the short distance to her apartment from school, both heavily relieved after action-packed days. Ben had received a Good during lesson two and his usual rugged look had slowly returned. Now at four pm he had a loose tie and open top button, his black sleeves were pushed up to his bulging biceps and his fitted shirt was hanging out. He ruffled his messy hair and scratched his chin which was already starting to sprout short, stubbly blonde hairs.
‘You’re barking up the wrong tree there Mr Puller,’ shouted a smiling Year Ten lad who zig zagged past on a small black BMX bike.
Kat recognised him as Davey Jakes, a lovable rogue who she taught in bottom set GCSE History. ‘In his dreams Davey, in his dreams!’ she shouted back.
‘Nice one Miss! See you tomorrow!’ and with that Davey Jakes sped off cutting into the road and the oncoming traffic.
‘Fair play!’ said Ben looking impressed.
‘Well that’s not really me but I just feel great. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I feel confident.’ She linked his strong arm, ‘Thanks for your support.’
‘Me? I haven’t done anything.’
‘Well I know Lucy will be thrilled to see you.’
His eyes twinkled excitedly, ‘I was desperate to come over but you know how it is, this had to come first.’
‘I’m glad it was only a two day inspection.’
‘Me too, but trust bloody Pity and Mews to get away without being watched.’
‘Well I am not going to waste my time thinking about those two alley cats.’
‘Touché Miss Spicer, Touché!’
Lucy lay on the sofa with her back to the apartment door and shouted, ‘What drama happened today Kat? Did your dress fall off in front of the class?’
‘Boo,’ whispered Ben in her ear bending over the black lounge sofa.
Lucy leapt up, wrapping her tight legs around his stomach. He dropped his bag and staggered towards her room checking the route in between loud, hard kisses.
Kat sat down in Lucy’s warm spot and heard the bedroom door slam shut followed by a wail of giggles. At least someone in this flat is trouble free she thought, questioning why she still considered herself troubled. She could not quite put her finger on it.
‘Hi Kat,’ said Jess returning from the bathroom and slumping into the sofa with a heavy thud.
Kat looked up at her full face which was usually glowing, so full of life; vivacious was how she would normally describe her, but now she saw tears and red eyes, even her bouncy auburn hair looked flat. She was sobbing.
‘Oh come here.’ Kat enveloped her with soft, warm arms.
The safe cocoon hug felt lovely and Jess inhaled Kat’s beautiful smell.
Kat could feel her weeping, ‘What can I do?’ she spoke quietly and lovingly stroked her curly auburn hair.
Jess reappeared, eyes red and cheeks burning, ‘I just don’t know what to do.’
The events had unfolded last night with the loud and clear message that Jess did not want this baby. ‘Have you told Gary yet?’
‘I can’t. I know I said I would, but I can’t. I don’t want a baby.’
‘What does Gary want?’ Kat asked softly in a way that only she could manage, probing without causing offence.
‘I don’t know do I, but I know he wants me, I want him, we are so happy. Everything is perfect exactly the way it is right now. I am twenty two for God’s sake. I can’t handle a baby at twenty two. Can you imagine a baby here?’ Jess looked pale and exasperated.
‘Well it wouldn’t be here would it? I would assume you would move into Gary’s?’
‘I don’t know.’ She thought about Gary’s flat, it was nice enough but would there really be enough room for a baby amongst all of his computers and sound systems and boys toys? ‘What am I even doing thinking about it? There is no need, it’s just not happening.’ She looked adamant.
‘For me Jess will you think about just one thing? I promise I will support whatever decision you make-’
‘I’ve made it.’
‘I know, but please just think about telling Gary. You know why.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Just think about it. You love him.’
She buried her head in her hands, ‘I can’t do this. I need to get it sorted. Will you help me?’
‘Oh Jess come here,’ Kat bundled her back into her arms.
Jess felt safe and warm but knew what was coming in Kat’s ever so soft and delicate manner.
‘Not unless he knows Jess.’
Chapter 8
‘I promise Bea, I must have had some sort of food poisoning from those oysters your dad made me try.’ Freya was whispering, trying to assure her that it honestly was a stomach upset that had kept her off school and not the topic of conversation from the previous evening. Freya really wasn’t used to the rich and expensive cuisine that Cal and his refined family took as standard.
‘Girls if you could remain in silence please,’ Kat spoke firmly.
It was the end of term informal but important History test. Both Freya and Bea were finished, checked and content with their work and had fifteen minutes to spare. From their seats at the back of the warm and friendly classroom they could time their whispers perfectly as Kat slowly paced back down the aisle. Big Tom shuffled noisily in his tiny plastic seat and Harley, who was sat right at the front, let out another exasperated puff checking the clock and continuing his frantic scribble.
Bea quietly reached for the rough piece of paper folded in the middle of the desk. ‘R u ok?’ she wrote.
Freya leaned in and disguised her pen with her left arm. ‘Fine Y?’
‘U no Y.’
‘It’s fine.’ She glanced up to check for movement.
‘Sure?’
‘Yes don’t worry.’ She wondered how many times she would have to reassure Bea.
‘Sorry if I freaked U out.’
‘You didn’t. It’s cool’.
‘Will things change?’ Bea passed the tatty note and let her little finger deliberately brush against Freya’s.
‘No.’
‘At all?’
‘No.’ She gently put her biro down.
The note came back. ‘Oh Ok.’
Freya really did not want to get caught playing pass the schoolgirl note, but had to reply. ‘In what way?’ She suddenly realised what Bea had meant.
‘Us.’
‘Not sure what you mean.’
‘I don’t expect anything but what do you think?’
‘?’
‘Don’t worr
y, ignore me.’ Bea passed the final note with a definite sharpness.
Freya felt the whoosh of cold air as Kat swooped in for the piece of paper. She shook her head screwing it up with one hand and walking briskly to the front of the classroom. She threw the note into the large dented metal bin, turned to the class and announced that time was up. Freya tried to catch her serious stare but failed. Kat deliberately avoided eye contact and walked around quickly collecting in the finished exam papers. When the bell finally rang signalling the end of the lesson Freya approached the large wooden desk at the front of the classroom and finally managed to connect with Kat’s striking blue eyes. Her excuse was poor. ‘Sorry, we had both finished; please don’t think we were cheating.’
‘I don’t. Have a good half term holiday.’ Kat spoke kindly and offered a smile.
The scraping noise of metal chair legs being shoved back under worn desks and the shuffle of people moving loudly out of the room and into the heaving pale blue corridor had no effect on Freya, she was in a muted bubble, ‘You too,’ lost in Kat’s eyes.
Harley squealed, ‘Ooo she will, she is out tonight, I heard her talking to Mr Puller, some tall bird called Vicky!’ He quipped and winked, sashaying out of the door, relieved to finally talk again.
‘Enjoy then,’ said Freya starting to blush.
‘Thanks.’ Kat felt awkward. The green questioning eyes were holding hers for far too long.
Kat relaxed on the heated balcony of the exclusive wine bar Lightbag and admired the wall hung lanterns that were illuminating the glimmering waters of the canal; Vicky was late. It was meant to be their first date since their chance encounter at Gail’s and Kat was not impressed, especially since it was not even her who had pursued the idea of ‘get to know you’ drinks. She had sent Vicky a text message fifteen minutes after their agreed meeting time - ‘Just arrived...’ she did not want to sound eager ‘... sat outside what can I get you to drink? x’ She had actually been early and was now starting to get restless. ‘Two ticks babe’ was all she received back.
