by Clare Revell
A smile brightened his lips and made her heart beat even faster. “And yes, this is a date. No more pretend work dinners.”
“I was wondering.” Her breath caught in her throat.
“Unless…” His gaze landed on her arm, still clad in the purple cast. “Maybe we should eat in and walk around the lake afterwards.”
She laughed and tapped the offending item with her left hand. “It might be easier. I shall be very glad to get rid of this.”
The bell rang and Fraser winked. “Quick. Grab your bag, and let’s go before anyone notices.”
She giggled. “That sounds wicked. Are you afraid the headmaster will catch us? Doesn’t he approve of interschool relationships or something?” She retrieved her bag from the bottom drawer of her desk.
“I’ve heard he’s a right stickler.”
“Proper tyrant is what I heard.” She slipped the bag over her head. “He’s been here three weeks and already suspended over half a dozen kids.”
Fraser held open the door for her. “Really? That’s shocking. No wonder the kids are scared of him.”
“Not just the kids.” She followed him to the main door and then swiped her badge over the electronic entry system. That not only unlocked the door, it would log them in and out of the building.
“Do I want to know?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.
She shook her head. “But he’s done wonders for the school already.” She glanced around the car park. The trees were beginning to change colour. Before long the leaves would fall and winter would set in.
“Would you like to eat in the precinct or the park café?”
“Park,” she said. “It’s closer to the lake.”
“In that case, I’d better drive.”
8
Fraser carried the tray over to where Paiton sat at a table. She’d insisted on paying, and he’d tried arguing, but she’d threatened to stamp her feet and scream in a manner worthy of a two-year-old. When that didn’t work, she’d reminded him it was her turn to pay and he’d caved. Although it would have been amusing to see her throw a hissy fit.
“That smells good,” she said, moving the cutlery out of the way.
“It does.” He set the plates and drinks on the table and then leaned the tray against the wall. He sat and tucked his chair in. “Your change.” He put the coins into her hand and closed his over it firmly. “I’ll say grace.” He prayed and then let go of her hand reluctantly. The glow in her cheeks matched the burning in his fingers. He had no idea why he’d done that, except he’d given into the urge he’d had all morning. Needing to do something, he grabbed his serviette and shook it over his lap. Then he sprinkled salt and pepper over his food.
“Did you really suspend those boys?” Paiton asked.
“Yes. Without hesitation. The parents totally agreed with me. Mrs. Gale even went as far as saying that she and her husband totally approved of the changes I was making. Even putting the CCTV on the playgrounds and gates.”
“Good. We need to keep all the children in our care safe.”
He nodded, cutting into his fish. “I shall cover bullying in Friday’s assembly, as well as the Year Nine one tomorrow.” He raised his gaze to her as she was slicing the fish one handed with a fork. “Would you like me to cut that up for you?”
Paiton glanced up. “I’m tempted to refuse as I’m not four, but yes please.” She pushed her plate towards him. “It’s another thing they didn’t cover in broken arms one-oh-one.”
“Another thing?” He took her knife and fork and divvied up the fish into manageable pieces.
“Getting dressed and undressed. Getting in and out of the bath.” She shrugged. “You know, basic stuff.”
Fraser grinned. “Ankles are so much easier. That’s just standing.” He paused. “Mind you, that brings its own set of problems…” He broke off. “Oops. I was meant to be meeting with our erstwhile new teaching assistant at lunch.”
Paiton laughed. “So that’s why the sudden urge to date now. Feel free to abandon me.”
He pushed her plate back to her and stretched out his foot, deliberately touching hers. “I’d rather be with you.”
Her cheeks took on a delicious rosy hue again. “Well, you can’t exactly play footsie with him.”
He chuckled. “He’d close us down on the spot if I tried.”
“Why the sudden urge to shut our doors permanently?”
“The reason they gave is the drugs and falling standards and problems with staff behaviour.”
“Well, with expulsion of those boys, the fall in truancy, and our latest test scores, we seem to be turning that around.” Paiton studied him. “And the staff issues can be solved easily enough. You’ve seen to that already.” She stabbed the fork into her food and ate a mouthful, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. She swallowed. “To change the subject, I did want to discuss with you doing something special for Black History Month. It’s in October this year.”
“What do you have in mind?” Fraser asked.
“We could do a huge display in the main corridor. Teach the kids a little about Martin Luther King. Do his ‘I Have a Dream’ speech.” She tilted her head. “The display is one for the art department I think. There’s that huge mural in town if you need inspiration. Don’t know if you’ve seen it. Maybe the Year Eights could learn the speech in drama and perform it at the whole school assembly before we break up for half term.”
“Oh, you’re clever.”
“I try my best.” She ate a little more and then picked up her glass and swirled it. “So, changing the subject again: how excited do you reckon the school is right now over the cast lists?”
“Very. I can hear the joyful screams from here.”
Paiton laughed. “Honestly, I can’t wait for December. I love Christmas. We usually have a huge carol service in one of the local churches.”
“Which one?”
“Headley Baptist—mainly because that’s the church several of us teachers attend, so we have a good connection there. We walk the whole school to the church after lunch and any parents who wish to attend are welcome. Usually the Friday before we break up for the holidays. One of the church pastors gives a short Christmas talk. The headmaster gives the welcome, and then Pastor takes over. The kids do the readings, one from each year.” She finished her meal and set the fork down. “The school gets decorated from December first. Nothing before then, although we start making things the week before. Each form has a party at some point in the last week. And the last day is spent in form playing board games and tidying up.” She tilted her head. “Yes, that’s more an infant school thing, but we don’t have any complaints.”
He chuckled. “I bet you don’t. What about a tree?”
“Two. One in main reception and one in the school hall. Most teachers put a small one in their classrooms as well. So there is a lot of prep the last week in November.”
He held her gaze. “Sounds as if there’s a lot of fun involved. Let’s just pray this isn’t the last Christmas the school has.”
She reached over and grabbed his hand in hers. “Please. Do it now.”
Fraser glanced around the busy café. Had he misunderstood her? “Here?”
She nodded. “Why not?”
He smiled. “Why not, indeed?”
~*~
Paiton strolled across the car park back to the car, Fraser next to her. At some point, his hand had slid into hers once again. It seemed right and natural. Just as praying with him had. Although maybe the café wasn’t the best place, but she hadn’t wanted to delay the idea. That meant they didn’t have their walk, but there’d be time for hundreds of walks. At least she hoped so. Her mind drifted back to Christmas and how different this one would be. The mere thought of Christmas always filled her with joy and peace. There was something almost magical about it. Although Pastor Jack would disapprove of the word magical.
“What are you thinking?” Fraser squeezed her hand softly.
“Chr
istmas. How lovely it is with its crisp, cold mornings, even the rain is cold. That excited feeling Christmas morning when you put the turkey in the oven and go to church. There’s nothing else like it. Watching the kids open their presents after the Queen’s speech. We have this tradition. We all go to my parents. I do the turkey, Mum does the veg, Sue makes her own Christmas pudding and the men do all the dishes.”
“What do the kids do?”
“They lay the table. Make the name cards, decide who sits where, the lot. It’s fun.”
“Sounds it. So different from mine. Since I left home, my parents always go away somewhere hot, usually on a cruise. I have a microwave meal in front of the TV.”
“That doesn’t sound fun at all.” Paiton decided, there and then, to invite him for Christmas, whether they were still dating by then or not.
He unlocked the car and held the door open for her. “It isn’t. But at least I don’t have to fight over the TV remote.”
“That’s a good thing.” She climbed in and let him fasten her seat belt.
“But lonely. Last year I volunteered at the homeless shelter. Dished up over a hundred dinners—best Christmas I’d had in years.” He shut the door and rounded the car quickly, climbing into the driver’s side. “Do we have a school Christmas dinner for the kids at all?”
“No.”
“Then this year, we do. The usual roast will be turkey with all the trimmings and free, so everyone can have it. We’ll do a staff dinner the following day.” He grinned. “In fact, we’ll get the staff to serve the meal to the kids.”
She grinned. “Wonderful. Can we wear hats?”
His lips twitched. “Even better. I’ll dress as Santa and all the staff can come as elves. Apart from you. You get to be Mrs. Claus.”
The short drive back to the school had her mind in a tizzy. She couldn’t get the image of herself in a short red, white-trimmed dress out of her mind. She’d bought one the previous year and worn it Christmas day over leggings. Perhaps she could reuse it this year.
Fraser parked in his space in the school car park and helped her out of the car. His hand held hers firmly. “Paiton, I—”
Two kids ran past. “You’ll be late, sir.”
Paiton tugged her hand free, ignoring the shaft of grief at doing so, and glanced at her watch. “He’s right. We have five minutes. Don’t want that ogre of a headmaster putting us on report or in detention.”
He pulled a face. “Not really. How about we finish this conversation tonight? After work.”
“I’d like that. Fancy coffee at mine when you drop me home?”
“Miss Underwood, are you asking me out?”
“Technically it’s in, but yes, Mr. Quirke, I am.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Then I accept.” He turned and headed inside, leaving Paiton rooted to the spot, cheeks scorching, not sure if she’d imagined the kiss or not.
9
Paiton had to admit that Black History Month had been an unqualified success. Even Mr. Fotherington-Smythe seemed impressed with the display and the Year Eight performance of Martin Luther King’s speech.
Half term passed. Fraser had attended the hospital with her, and had taken her out to a celebratory dinner after the cast removal. Actually, she didn’t remember a night where they hadn’t either had coffee or dinner together. Even though she could now drive herself to work, he was still insisting on being her chauffeur. Of course, she had no objection to that whatsoever.
November began with rehearsals commencing for Journey to Christmas. Paiton found herself directing and organising. The rehearsals took up all the drama and music classes, with the exception of the exam classes, where the students worked on curriculum projects during the day and production rehearsals after school.
The weekly fire practices continued apace. The time was slowly improving, but nowhere near what it ought to be.
Mid rehearsal, a familiar woodsy scent enveloped her as Fraser eased into the chair beside her. She had no idea what aftershave he used, but it was gorgeous. “How’s it going?” he asked.
“Same old. Not sure at this point we’ll ever be ready.”
“Sure we will. I hear we have a new version of the Twelve Days of Christmas.”
She grinned. “One of the kids in 7ET suggested it. The rest of the class jumped on the idea. The whole thing was written in fifteen minutes flat.”
“Any chance I can see the words? Just to make sure it’s not rude or wildly inappropriate.”
She shook her head. “Nope. This one is being vetted by me. Class 7ET have it well and truly under wraps. They want it kept quiet until the dress rehearsal. We won’t need props or sets as the kids are making them.”
Fraser didn’t look happy, but even if he argued the point, he wouldn’t win. “I see. How many performances are you planning?”
“Six. All during the first week in December. Monday is the dress rehearsals. One in the afternoon and one in the evening. Tuesday through Friday are the actual performances, starting at seven in the evening. We sell tickets and all the money raised goes to charity. The kids chose one each year from the list we provide.”
“Not to the school fund?” He raised an eyebrow. She would say quirked, but that just seemed wrong to play on his name. “After all, we could use it in so many ways.”
“It’s Christmas. Spread the joy.”
He smirked. “What is Christmas without Christ?”
“Mas,” she shot back. “Old joke, heard it a dozen times.”
He chuckled, swinging on the chair. “So who comes to the dress rehearsals?”
“The local primary schools attend the one in the afternoon. Usually the Year Sixes, to give them an idea of what a secondary school production is like. The evening one is for invited guests. The mayor, Ofsted, and the residents of the local old people’s home. The kids go carolling there each year, so they like to come to the plays we do. I also tend to invite the local Member of Parliament, Sheila Austin, as well. Not that she’s ever attended.”
Fraser smirked. “Would that be the same Sheila Austin who just happens to be the newly voted in Prime Minister? I dare you to invite her this year.”
“Ohhhh, mister, you don’t dare me to do anything because I will do it.” She straightened her right arm, once more loving the lightness of it now that the cast had been removed.
Fraser pointed to her arm. “How’s it feeling?”
“Good.” She flexed her fingers and turned her attention to the stage. “Matt, you are meant to gallop across the stage on that horse.”
“It’s a hobby horse, and I might fall off like you did, Miss.”
“One, I wasn’t riding a horse. And two…I will never live that down, will I?”
Matthew laughed. “No, Miss. I just wish it was caught on camera. It’d go viral, and you’d be famous.”
“Oh, I’m already famous,” she smirked. “I have my photo on the wall in reception. Now get a move on and act like a horse.”
Matthew tilted his head. “Miss, my uncle works on the radio. He wants to know if he can call you and do a piece on the play.”
“Sure. Tell him to call the school, and I’ll speak to him. Stop stalling and gallop.”
Fraser leaned towards her. “Sounds intriguing.”
“If anything comes of it.”
“I need to get on. Are you doing anything later?”
“I’m meeting my sister for coffee after work.”
His face fell. “Oh, I was hoping…”
She grinned. “Well, since you’re still taking me home, depending on what time you finish I could end coffee early.”
“I have some shopping to do, so I’ll meet you.”
Paiton nodded. “I’ll text you and let you know where we are.” She turned her attention to the stage and sighed. “No, not like that. Let me show you.”
~*~
Paiton returned the stare Sue gave her. “What?” she asked innocently.
“I want to know what he’s like
. This mystery man of yours.” If she knew Sue at all, her sister wouldn’t let the subject drop, no matter how much deflection Paiton tried.
Paiton picked up her coffee and blew across the top gently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a rubbish liar, Paiton. You always have been.” Sue sipped the coffee. “Mrs. Simons was telling me at the senior’s lunch about—”
Paiton interrupted her. “Hold on. What were you doing at the senior’s lunch? I thought you had to be over sixty and retired for that?”
“I was cooking and serving. The same as always. The point I’m making is, Mrs. Simons told me she’d seen you and the same bloke sitting upstairs in church several weeks on the trot now. She thinks you make a lovely couple. You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone. Or even come and introduce him or say hello. We had wondered where you were. I wanted to ask, but Basil told me not to interfere. He said your arm probably prevented you from showing up and you streamed the service instead.”
Paiton sucked in a deep breath. She’d forgotten how good the church’s gossip network was. “We’re trying to keep things quiet for now. Fraser’s been coming with me as he’s my chauffeur. It makes sense to both attend the same one. He likes our church.”
“Just your chauffeur?”
Paiton’s cheeks heated. “More than that, but as I said, we’re not going public just yet.”
“Then you need to stop flaunting him in church. Can’t get more public than that. When do I get to meet him?”
“Maybe later, if you’re good.” Paiton set the cup down on the saucer, grateful Sue seemed to have forgotten who Fraser was. She knew full well she’d told her sister before that Fraser was actually the headmaster. “How are the kids?”
“Josh says he wants to go to your school next year. So we’ve put it top of the application form.”
Paiton raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought his exact words were, I wouldn’t be seen dead in Auntie Paiton’s school.”
“I know, but if that’s what he wants. Not even you being deputy head has changed his mind.” Sue paused. “You know how parents talk at the gates?”
