by Clare Revell
She nodded. “All on my own. If my sister Sue had helped it would have been magnolia or pale green.”
Fraser said grace. “So how did it go today?”
Paiton speared a chip and dunked it into the ketchup. “You mean with Mr. Ofsted Spy? Or to give him his correct name, ‘Mr. Alfred Fotherington-Smythe, that’s Smythe with a y not an I, but please call me Al because we’ll be such friends.’” She looked at Fraser over her fork, rolling her eyes in a cute fashion. “Yes, that’s how he introduced himself. And don’t call him Smith, because that isn’t his name.”
“Oh, wonderful.” He put on an affected accent. “Just what we need. He and my secretary would get on so well together.”
She snorted. “Funny you should say that. I interrupted quite the chat earlier. We need to watch her and him and the files. Maybe make sure you have the only key to them. Or that I have the spare.” She broke off a piece of fish and chewed slowly. “So I pointed out that first names were only ever used in the staff room, and only then when we knew each other a little better. He also kept on and on about needing to speak to you. I told him you were busy teaching all day but would be able to see him tomorrow, classes permitting.”
“How did that go?” He leaned his fork on the plate and picked up the glass of juice.
“Two words. Lead. Balloon.” She grinned, stabbing another chip. “But he’ll deal with it.”
They ate in silence for a while. Fraser was happy just to be there, enjoying her company. What would it be like to come home to this every night? Not just company but a home rather than a house. Someone to share his day with, share a meal with, maybe share his faith with.
“What other areas do we need to improve in? Other than discipline. ” Paiton swirled the juice around in the glass.
“Maths and science. I’ll speak to those departments tomorrow.”
“Not English, then?”
Fraser shook his head, mopping up the tartar sauce with the last piece of fish. “Liam runs a tight ship and keeps a close eye on grades. He holds additional classes for those students in danger of failing and has an almost one hundred percent pass rate. More than any other teacher in the school.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s mine?”
“Ninety-two. You’re second best. Dawn Tyler’s numbers in geography are also pretty good.”
“Then I suggest we put Mr. Smythe in those classes to start with. Before we let him anywhere near maths and science. I know he needs to go everywhere at some point.” She paused. “What?”
Fraser suddenly realised he was staring at her. But he’d never noticed the way the light made her hair change colour, or the green flecks in her beautiful hazel eyes. “How’s the arm?”
“Hurts. And sleeping upright is a pain. Literally. Never mind being virtually impossible.”
“Have you tried a V-shaped pillow?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I’ll lend you mine.”
“Thank you.” She pushed shakily to her feet. “Need the meds. Won’t be a second.”
Fraser glanced around as Paiton left. The room was light and airy, decidedly chintzy with floral sofas. But it was very her. He’d worked with hundreds of women over the years, yet none conjured up the feelings within him that Paiton did. He wanted to protect her. To be with her. To get to know her. He shoved aside the desire to kiss her the second it surfaced. She was his deputy head. They had to save the school, not see each other in any light other than a professional one.
His attention caught by a picture on the far wall, he rose and went to study it closely. He couldn’t work out if it was a print or a copy. Just the picture measured at least thirty by twenty inches and had a massive frame surrounding it. It must be a print, otherwise it would be worth a small fortune.
“It’s the Hope of the World.” Paiton spoke at his elbow. “It was a wedding present for my great-grandparents back in 1935.”
Fraser smiled. “Harold Copping. I have an illustrated Bible at home with his work in it.” He turned back to the huge painting. “It’s one huge painting.”
“Yes, and still in its original frame. It’s hung with two screws, a thick piece of string and a whole lot of faith.”
He chuckled. “Speaking of faith, which church do you attend? You mentioned being baptised—or not, as it turns out.”
“Headley Baptist. You?”
“I’ve been going to the little white one by the school, but it’s not really me.”
“Well, the church I go to has a website and all the sermons for the past several years are on it. You could download a couple and see what you think.” She set the empty plate to one side. “That was lovely. Thank you. Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”
He shook his head. “You can pay next time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”
He needed to backtrack fast. Yes, he wanted to have dinner with her again, but couldn’t allow his heart to rule the situation here. “It’s only fair.”
She held his gaze, probably not believing him for an instant.
Which was fair enough, because he didn’t believe it either. “Anyway, let me take these outside. Then we can look at the play and come up with some set ideas.” Fraser grabbed the empty plates. “What are you calling it?”
“Journey to Christmas.”
~*~
The next few hours flew by.
Paiton realised with a shock it was dark outside and she was now struggling to stay awake. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she realised why.
Fraser followed her gaze. “It’s late.”
She yawned. “Yup. Ten fifteen and past my bedtime on a school night. But we’ve accomplished a lot tonight.”
He began to gather the sheets of paper with scribbled designs and notes. “We have.”
Between them, they had organised the character list and sketched out the whole play, scene by scene, along with ideas for sets and props.
She glanced again at his drawings. The detail, even in sketch form, was incredible. “You never thought of becoming a professional artist?” she asked.
“I paint in my spare time.”
She laughed. “You have spare time?”
“A little.” He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “I would ask if you’d like to come over and see my paintings, but I don’t want to be accused of cliché.”
“As if.” Paiton studied him, trying not to grin. That sounded suggestive, but maybe she was reading too much into it. She did want to see them and did want to spend more time with him, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. She’d never been that sort of woman. “I’d like to see them.”
“OK. How about tomorrow after work? I’ll take you there and bring you home afterwards.”
“Sure. I’ll let Basil know I won’t need a lift.”
Fraser reached out and touched her hand for a brief instant.
Flashes of warmth shot through her.
“Actually, how about I pick you up and drive you home. You’re on my way and as we’re both going to the same place and normally arrive at the same time anyway, it makes sense. Rather than your brother-in-law going out of his way twice each day.”
Twenty minutes with him in a car each day, mere inches separating them…oh, be still my thumping heart. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
Once Fraser had left, Paiton wandered back into the lounge and picked up her phone. It may be gone half past ten, but she knew her sister would still be awake.
Sue answered on the second ring.
“What are you still doing up at this time on a school night?”
“Calling you. I’ve been working on the school play. I’m writing it this year, and we need to start allocating parts and rehearsals as soon as possible. Preferably by the end of next week. The reason I’m calling is I no longer need Basil to be my chauffeur. Fraser has offered to drive me back and forth instead.”
“And who is this Fraser, the knight in shining armour of whom yo
u speak?”
“We work together. He’s the head. Actually, he just left. We had dinner.”
“Ohhhh.” Sue’s tone immediately became more interested. “Tell me more.”
“A working dinner. He’s your typical head, bossy, overbearing. His idea of casual wear is to remove his tie and suit jacket. Never a hair out of place.”
“So you like him.”
“Hah!” Paiton snorted. “He thinks I’m a control freak.”
“And he likes you. This is good.” Sue paused. “Anyone who knows you will say you’re a control freak, and you know it. You need to lighten up a little.”
Paiton yawned. “What I need is to go to bed. Thank Basil for the lifts so far, but let him know I have other arrangements from tomorrow.”
After a few more chatty minutes, Paiton ended the call. She set the dishwasher going, closing her eyes as her arm caught on the counter top. Finally breathing through the pain, she locked the front door and headed upstairs.
She sat on the bed and attempted the now normal fight with her clothes. No one ever covered this part of the broken arm discussion. She’d been told to cover it with a plastic bag when she showered. Fine, but her older style house only had a bath, no shower. No one had told her how impossible the everyday chores would be. Like getting dressed. Or how she could no longer wear a bra. Or even basics like going to the loo. All simple tasks which were almost unmanageable one handed.
She could almost hear Fraser telling her that everyone needed help, and it was OK to ask. Well, she wasn’t asking. What she did need help with wasn’t happening. Too tired to fight her vest top anymore, Paiton sat against the headboard and sighed.
Her mind went back to the school play. If this fiftieth anniversary would be the school’s last, then it would be the best ever. They would go out on a high note.
7
An anticipatory buzz ran through the school.
Fraser could feel it as he strode the corridors at break time. Paiton was due to post the cast lists just before lunch. She’d managed to get the whole school excited. Even the teachers wanted to be involved. Attendance had gone up over the last couple of days. He wasn’t sure if the two things were connected, or whether it was his clampdown on truancy and the reward system he’d put in place. Either way, he was pleased.
Mr. Fotherington-Smythe approached him. “Mr. Quirke, are you busy? I need a word about the school play.”
Fraser’s heart sank. As the bell rang, he silently cheered. “Come and find me later. I have a class to prepare for next period.”
“I haven’t yet observed one of your classes. Perhaps now would be an opportune time. We could talk on the way.”
Fraser frowned. “Classes and staff are timetabled for a reason. Where are you meant to be?”
“Woodwork. But I’m sure Mr. Peacock—”
“Is expecting you.” Fraser spoke over the irritating man using his headmaster’s voice. “You don’t want to be late.” He raised his voice as a group of children whizzed around the corner. “Don’t run through the corridors!”
The kids automatically ground to a halt. “Sorry, sir.”
Fraser nodded as they walked away. He spotted one of the Year Sevens in the new uniform, which was too big for the boy’s small body. The puny kid sat on a bench by the coat rack. He had mud on his trousers, streaks of mud on his blazer…and was that a rip by the front pocket? Fraser headed straight over. “Is everything all right?”
The kid nodded, wiping a hand over his face. “I fell, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
“Eddie Hall,” the kid sniffled.
“How did you fall, Eddie?” Distracted slightly by a group of older boys watching from behind a pillar, Fraser frowned. “Get to class, now!”
The boys scampered.
“And don’t run!” Fraser lowered his voice. “I can remember falling once at school. Down a flight of stairs. Tore my brand new trousers. Mum was livid as we couldn’t afford new ones. So she darned them. In pink cotton for a few days until she got some black. Didn’t half get teased in class after that for several weeks. Which just made the whole situation a whole lot worse.”
Eddie looked at him, fingering the tear in his blazer. “Mum won’t be happy. This cost a fortune. She told me it had to last at least three years. It’s not even done two weeks.”
Fraser sat down on the bench beside him, hoping to appear less threatening that way. “So, what really happened?”
“I fell,” Eddie repeated, his head hung low.
“How did you fall? Did someone push you? You can just nod if you don’t want to say.”
Eddie nodded.
Fraser hated being right. “Someone in your class?”
“Older,” the boy whispered.
“You know their names?”
“No, but they were watching. You told them to go to class. They been picking on me for days.”
Fraser’s blood boiled, but he didn’t let it show. He glanced up at the footsteps, relief washing over him as Paiton filled his field of vision. Perhaps she could keep Eddie busy whilst he dealt with the boys in question. “Miss Underwood, do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
Her smile always bettered his day and made him feel like a giddy teenager. So long as he didn’t start acting like one.
Her gaze fell on Eddie, she took in the situation immediately, and then she looked at Fraser. “How can I help?”
“Can I leave Eddie in your very capable hands?” He paused and winked. “Well, hand.”
Eddie smiled faintly, which was what Fraser was hoping for.
Paiton smirked. “Actually, I was about to ring the bell for the prefect on duty, but I’m sure Eddie could help me instead.”
“Thank you. And I don’t suppose you know anyone really good at sewing? Eddie is worried his mother will be angry if he goes home like this.”
Paiton nodded. “As it happens I do. Mrs. Docherty has a class about now, and she is an excellent seamstress.” She smiled at Eddie. “So let’s go and give her your blazer, then you can help me until lunch.”
“What about Mr. Page? I have double English now.”
“I’ll let him know that you’re being Miss Underwood’s assistant this morning.” Fraser stood. “I shall go and deal with a few things.” He lightly touched Eddie’s shoulder. “If this ever happens again, I’d like you to come straight to me or Miss Underwood.”
Eddie sniffed again. “Yes, sir.”
Paiton handed the child a tissue. Then she glanced at Fraser. “See you at lunch.”
“You will.” Fraser strode down the corridor towards the office. His ability to put names to faces stood him in good stead. Besides which, those four boys were in his Year Nine art class. Bullying was something he didn’t tolerate.
Certain bad behaviour bypassed the three-strike system and led to an automatic suspension. Bullying was one of them.
~*~
Paiton put the finishing touches to the cast list. She and Fraser had exchanged several texts, both having had the same idea. She glanced over at Eddie who was stapling papers together for her. “You’re doing a great job.”
“Beats English, Miss. But don’t tell Mr. Page that. ’Cept when we’re reading a play because that’s fun.”
“What’s your favourite class?”
“Drama. I love acting because I can be someone other than me.”
“Not just saying that because I teach drama?”
Eddie shook his head. “No, Miss.”
Paiton smiled. She glanced at the door as someone knocked. “Come in.”
The door opened and Judith, one of the Year Tens, poked her head in. “Mrs. Docherty asked me to give you this, Miss. She said it’s as good as new.” She held out the blazer.
“Thank you, Judith. And thank her for me.” She took the jacket and handed it to Eddie. As Judith shut the door, Paiton studied Eddie. “You do know none of this is your fault.”
“Must be.”
“No. And as Mr. Quirke said, if this ever happens again, to you or someone else you know, come and find either of us at once, and we’ll deal with it. If we’re not here, the secretary will know where to find us.”
“I promise.”
She smiled. “Now, how would you like to pin this up on the main notice board for me?” She waved four sheets of paper at him.
“Is that the play cast list?” His eyes lit up.
Paiton nodded, giving him the sheets.
Fraser appeared in the doorway connecting his office with her own.
Eddie’s gaze ran over the lists, the anticipation and light dimming, then vanishing. His face fell.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t see my name. Not even in the chorus. I guess I’m moving chairs or handing out programmes.”
Fraser stepped to the desk. “I can see your name.” He pointed to the top of the first sheet.
Eddie gasped. “But…but that’s the lead role.”
Paiton chuckled at the sheer amazement and joy on the boy’s face. “We both think that you’re the best person for the job.”
“Wow. Thank you. I can’t wait to tell Mum.”
“Go and tack them on the main noticeboard outside the hall. Then as it’s almost lunch, go and see Mr. Page in case you have homework.”
Eddie scurried for the door, shrugging into his blazer as he ran.
Fraser beamed as he perched on the corner of Paiton’s desk. “That’s one happy kid.”
“He is now. Do those bullies still have heads on their shoulders?”
“Barely. Two weeks suspension with assignments to be completed at home before they return.” He held her gaze. “Bullying bypasses the new system. Unless you have an objection to that policy?”
“None whatsoever. I’d have done the same thing. And made the parents pay for a new blazer if this one wasn’t repairable.”
Fraser winked. “I like the way you think. Do you fancy escaping?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Fish and chips. By the lake. Just you and me.”
She didn’t need to think about it. “Oh, yes.”
