I hugged him and we did a happy jig right there in our hallway. He pulled back a little.
‘Now what do we do?’ It was as if he’d suddenly sobered up.
‘The same things we did when we bought this place, I suppose. Only this time we have the sale of our flat to arrange too.’
‘Oh, yes. Right.’
‘The survey might show up a few things given the age of the cottage.’
‘This is nuts, isn’t it?’ Jack said.
‘A bit, yes. But it feels right.’
‘I love you.’ He kissed me and we stood there in the hall for a minute, holding on to each other, unable to wipe the smiles off our faces.
*
The next day I couldn’t stop thinking about what we were about to do. My mind buzzed with excitement and memories of Arcadia Cottage. It was going to be ours.
The bell rang for lunchtime, and after the Year 8 class I was covering had filed out, I made my way down to the headteacher’s office. I knocked once, and Lewis answered the door swiftly.
‘Amelia,’ he said, ushering me into his office. ‘Thanks for coming.’
I took a seat at his desk, and he sat down opposite me. ‘Good to be here without having to bring a student, for once.’
‘Ha ha,’ Lewis said uneasily. ‘Yes. Paul Reilly shared his choice language with me the other day, but the prospect of two weeks’ worth of detentions seemed to quieten him down a bit.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Thanks for handling that. Any word from Trey Donoghue’s parents about his whereabouts, by the way?’
‘I’m afraid not. I spoke to his Head of Year this morning. We can’t get hold of his parents, and his social worker seems to think he’s living with his brother Sean at the moment, which isn’t great news,’ Lewis said, his tone one of weary resignation.
‘Are Social Services doing anything about it?’ I asked. ‘Trey’s only fifteen, he needs to be here in school – and Sean’s only just got out of prison.’
‘I understand your concern, but it’s up to Social Services at this stage.’
I pictured Trey, wide-eyed and handsome beneath his tough facade. I should have worked harder to keep him here, I thought.
‘Listen, Amelia. I wanted to have a word about something else today.’
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. This news could make such a difference to my life.
‘You know how much I value you as a teacher, and you’ve made some great progress with all of the classes you’ve been teaching this year.’
‘Thank you.’ I was grateful for the unexpected praise. I’d been focusing so much on getting through the days that it had been a while since I’d found the time to be proud of what I’d achieved.
Lewis shuffled papers on the desk into a tidier pile, not meeting my eyes.
‘There are going to be some changes at St Catherine’s – and when we return after the summer break some aspects of the school are going to be run slightly differently.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I guess we’ve all been expecting that.’
It wasn’t as though we could carry on the way we were. The details of the last OFSTED inspection still echoed in the halls of the school, and were embedded in all our minds. In spite of our hard work, our commitment, the talent of some of our pupils, there was a word that had reduced that to nothing – failing.
‘Thank you for your application for the role as Head of English.’
I could do it. I knew I could. I could help steer St Catherine’s back on course.
‘But I’m afraid we’ve decided to appoint an external candidate. Graham Kilfern has achieved some fantastic results over at William Greaves School,’ Lewis said, ‘and I think he could really turn things around here.’
‘Sorry?’ I croaked.
‘Graham Kilfern. He will be our new Head of English, starting from September.’
That was it. I hadn’t even had a look-in.
‘OK, right,’ I said, trying to swallow my hurt pride. ‘I look forward to meeting him.’
‘I know this is likely to be disappointing for you, Amelia,’ Lewis continued. ‘As I said, we really value everything you do here. But we felt that in order to show our commitment to changing the fortunes of St Catherine’s we needed to recruit externally in this case.’
My chest felt tight. I’d worked hard preparing for that interview – surely I was well enough qualified to at least have been worthy of serious consideration?
‘How will the new appointment affect me?’
Lewis closed the folder he’d barely looked at and moved it aside on his desk, leaning forward on his elbows. ‘There are a couple of things that will affect you and the other members of staff. As I said, we respect how you teach, and we want you to be able to continue doing that in the way you have been up till now. But there are certain classes, particularly those students heading for exams, where we have not yet seen the attainment we had hoped for – and Mr Kilfern has expressed a wish to take those over and teach them directly.’
‘My exam classes are going?’ I choked out.
‘No, no,’ Lewis said. ‘Your A-level class seem to be performing well, and we’re happy to leave things as they are. But I think we both know that there have been some issues with 10E, and a fresh approach could benefit all the students there. And all Mrs Humphries’ classes will naturally transfer to Mr Kilfern.’
I felt the breath go out of me. 10E, the class I’d nurtured since the day they arrived at the school – the chaotic group of teenagers I’d thought I might be able to bring in line over the next year. It was true that the results weren’t brilliant – but with fewer assistants for those with special needs, and only a handful of students who had English as a first language, I felt we were doing OK. They were improving.
‘But … I have plans for 10E. And I promised Isabel’s Year 12s I’d see them through.’
‘I’m sorry, Amelia. It’s not a decision I’ve made lightly. It’s for the good of the school as a whole. You’ll be taking on two of the new Year 7 classes instead.’
I sat there, mute and numb. I didn’t want to start again with Year 7s – I wanted to see my own classes through, and fulfil my commitment to Isabel’s class.
I’d done it before – walked out of this room with my tail between my legs only to get home, cry on Jack’s shoulder and realize what I should have said. Rerun the conversation with him and said all the right things. I took a deep breath, and opened my mouth to speak.
‘So if there’s nothing else, I think we’re finished for today,’ Lewis said. ‘There isn’t anything else, is there?’
I paused. ‘No. There’s nothing else.’
Ladies toilets. Now.
I texted Carly.
She arrived a couple of minutes later, as I was reapplying my lipstick.
‘Are you OK?’ she said, placing her hand on my arm. ‘Your hand is shaking.’
I saw it then – my right hand trembling as I held the tube of No.7 lip colour.
‘Not really,’ I said, putting it away in my handbag.
‘What’s up?’
I tidied my hair in the mirror and pressed my lips together to even out the colour. ‘It’s this place, Carls. You give and you give – and you get nothing back. Garrett just told me there’s a new Head of English starting.’
‘They didn’t … ?’ Carly said, leaning against the basin and looking at me straight on. ‘They wouldn’t … ?’
‘They wanted to get in someone external. But it’s not just that: they’re moving my exam classes over to this new guy – the ones that it’s most important I see through, anyway.’
‘That’s terrible,’ Carly said, shaking her head.
‘It’s crap. I feel really undermined.’
‘I’m not surprised. There comes a point where you need to put yourself first.’ She put her hand on my arm.
‘I don’t have any choice right now but to accept what Lewis is proposing – well, telling me,’ I corrected myself.
; ‘Don’t you?’ Carly said, tilting her head. ‘The last thing I want is for you to leave, but there are other schools around.’
‘I can’t resign.’ I shook my head. ‘Not now. I mean … we’re buying this cottage. I’m not sure we’d even get the mortgage approved without my job.’
‘You’re a great teacher, Amelia. You’d find something else. Hopefully somewhere they’d look after you a little better than here.’
I let the thought settle. ‘I can’t.’ I bit my lip. ‘I really can’t. But just in case I change my mind,’ I said, ‘the notice date – it’s the end of May, isn’t it?’
Carly nodded.
*
On Saturday morning Jack was babysitting his nephew Oscar round at his sister’s house, and I was emailing the surveyors to arrange for them to look at Arcadia Cottage. We would need to get going quickly if we wanted to keep things on track for our agreed completion date with our buyers – mid-August.
With the offer on our flat lower than we’d been hoping for, and with the costs of moving we’d worked out, Jack and I were going to need every penny we could get. I was going to have to call in my dad’s loan. I rang him on his landline, and Caitlin picked up again.
‘You’re in luck, love,’ she said warmly, but with that same hint of strain in her voice. ‘He’s just walked in through the door. Joe!’ she yelled. ‘It’s your daughter here on the phone for you. The well-behaved one.’
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ Dad said. His voice carried a faint Irish accent now, after years in Dublin.
‘How’s it going, Dad?’
‘Fine, thanks. Just been out in town, met a few friends for a drink. Needed one after the job I had this morning – really demanding customer, and the electrics he’d done himself were a mess. Pouring down out there though. I’m soaked. How are you doing?’
‘Good, thanks,’ I said. ‘Actually, I’ve got some exciting news. Jack and I have just had an offer accepted on a cottage – we’re moving to Kent.’
‘To the countryside, eh? That’s great, Amelia.’
‘We’re really looking forward to it. This cottage is perfect, Dad. You know how I always used to dream about living in the country, when I was into Anne of Green Gables and all that.’
‘Did you? Yes, rings a bell. That’s nice. Caitlin!’ he called. ‘Couldn’t make me a tea while you’re at it, could you? Chilled to the bone over here.’
‘Anyway, Dad.’ I paused, trying to find a good way to phrase it. ‘I was wondering if you might be able to repay some of the money we lent you. It’s just—’
‘Costs a fortune moving house, doesn’t it? Solicitors’ fees and all that. Yes, sure love. I’ll be right on it. You’ll see the cash within the month.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said, sighing with relief. That five grand meant we could finally stop losing sleep over paying the solicitors, and it would help towards the stamp duty.
‘No worries, sweetheart.’
‘How’s Mirabel doing?’
‘Don’t ask, Amelia. That girl. She’s refusing to go to sixth form, says she doesn’t care what results she gets. I mean, I know she’s seen her dad make a good living without much of an education, but I’m always telling her it’s not me, it’s your sister you should be looking at for a good example.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I said, laughing.
‘Seriously, though. Teaching college, a steady job for … what? Ten years is it now?’
‘Seven,’ I said, thinking back to the conversation I’d had with Lewis, how little that time had suddenly seemed to matter.
‘She could do with a good dose of your self-discipline, really. Nothing Caitlin and I say seems to be getting through to her at all. And this guy she’s going out with—’
‘Mirabel’s got a boyfriend?’
‘Boyfriend, girlfriend … I don’t know. With jeans that tight it’s hard to tell.’
‘Dad!’ I said, smiling.
‘Anyway, love, I’d better go. Kettle’s boiled and I’m gasping. Good to talk to you, though. Love you, sweetheart.’
‘Me too, Dad.’
I hung up and put my phone down on the bed.
I looked round at our bedroom – overflowing laundry basket, Saturday papers on the side table, my bra hooked over the end of the bed, and Jack’s stinking football boots up on the windowsill.
The place was in a complete state. I grabbed the laundry basket and tipped the contents into the washing machine. Pulling on marigolds and switching on the radio, I got to work doing the washing-up and then scrubbed the kitchen surfaces. While I was working, the prospect of school on Monday, and at some point having to tell my classes I wouldn’t be teaching them any more, seemed to fade slightly. Dexter watched me, his head following my movements as if I were a tennis ball at Wimbledon.
I mopped the floors, then cleaned the oven and the bathroom cabinets until they gleamed. The hours flew by, and it startled me when I saw Jack in the doorway, mid-afternoon.
‘Wow,’ he said, looking around the flat in disbelief. ‘What have you done to this place?’
‘Hi,’ I said, giving him a kiss. ‘Just thought it could do with a tidy-up.’
‘OK,’ he said. I knew he could see right through me. He’d known me long enough to see that periods of emotional upset tallied with spotless surfaces.
‘Thanks for doing it,’ he added. ‘How about we get out of here and go to the pub?’
‘Sure,’ I said. I grabbed my wallet and followed him back out of the front door and down the stairs.
We walked over the footbridge, crossing the canal. On the other side, cars passed with loud music blaring on the hot summer’s day.
In the Florence, Jack ordered a couple of pints at the bar.
‘Thanks,’ I said, taking a sip of the cool beer.
I noticed Jack had caught the sun a little bit: his forearms and face were tanned. ‘It’s nice to be out just the two of us, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. I’m so confused, Jack. On the one hand I’m really excited about the cottage, our new life together – and on the other I feel like my professional life has hit a real wall.’
Jack took my hands in his. ‘You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide to do.’
‘Thanks.’ It didn’t fix things, but it did make me feel stronger.
‘Have you thought about looking at the schools near the new cottage?’
‘Yes. I had a quick look online this morning, just to see what was there.’
‘And?’
‘They look nice,’ I said. ‘I mean, small and local – a different world from here.’
‘But maybe a change wouldn’t be such a bad thing?’ Jack ventured.
‘I guess so. I’ll do some more research next week. Now, let’s talk about you for once,’ I said. ‘How’s work at the moment?’
‘Really good, actually. The funders liked the storyboard we put together for LoveKatz. You know, the one I told you about? Cats meet robots, and battle to form a new world order?’
‘How could I forget? That’s fantastic.’
‘Hope we get it,’ he said, drinking more of his beer. ‘Morale is low at the studio, and we need a fresh project. It’ll probably mean some long hours, getting the full pitch ready – don’t know how that will be with the new commute, but maybe I’ll be able to do some stuff on the train first thing in the morning.’
Jack wasn’t exactly the earliest riser, or the brightest when he did get up. Seemed like we’d both be making a few changes in our lives.
‘You’ll manage.’ I said. ‘I know you will.’
‘In other news, it’s just two weeks,’ Jack said, a mischievous glint in his eye, ‘until the big—’
‘Don’t say it,’ I said, smiling and covering my ears and starting to hum loudly. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘Three-O,’ he mouthed.
‘Argh! I hate it that you are, and will always be, younger than me.’
‘It’s only six months. I can’t get too cocky real
ly. Now, what are we going to do to celebrate?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, wrinkling my nose. ‘Maybe have a few people here? Reserve a corner of the pub?’
‘Cool. Leave it with me.’ Jack winked. ‘I’ll make sure you have a great night.’
‘You sound a bit saucy when you say that, you know.’
‘Good,’ he said, leaning across the table to kiss me.
*
I took a day off school on Friday. OK, I took a sickie. In all my time teaching I’d never once done it – and while I felt guilty at first, by the time I’d driven to the outskirts of London that guilt was replaced by a feeling of liberation.
On Monday evening I’d sat down at our kitchen table with my iPad and scanned the TES online site for job ads. Then, finding nothing, I’d looked again at the schools close to Arcadia Cottage. There were no secondary schools in Chilham itself but a few nearby, including a couple in Canterbury. I browsed the pages and tried to picture myself working in one of them. They all looked so calm.
While I couldn’t see any vacancies advertised, I reasoned that perhaps they’d be open to me coming in in person to discuss opportunities. I took a note of the headteachers’ email addresses and drafted an email introducing myself and outlining my experience.
By Wednesday I’d received two replies inviting me in. Carly was right – there were other schools out there, and they might actually suit me better.
I couldn’t resist driving up to Chilham on my way over to the schools. The village was just as quaint as I’d remembered it, with a bustling local tea shop and Tudor buildings overlooking the central square. I felt a tingle of excitement – with any luck, this place could be our new home.
I drove on towards the first school, Woodlands Secondary, on the outskirts of Canterbury, and parked. The three-storey Victorian building was surrounded by green space, with a generous playground and a basketball court. Straightening my white blouse, I opened the school gate and walked through – there was no metal-detection arch here. As I passed through the corridor I could hear chatter and bustle in the classrooms, but it was calm and upbeat, with no shouting. I peeked through a window and enviously watched as a teacher spoke with two dozen pairs of eyes on her attentively, the students’ books open on their desk.
Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream Page 5
