In a Class of His Own (3 page)

I shook my head, not
trusting myself to speak. He sat back down behind his desk and
stirred his coffee leisurely. The aroma stole over towards me and I
began to regret my decision not to have one. My stomach began to
rumble ominously. To cover its noise I said more sharply than
intended, “I’d appreciate it if you would say what you’ve got
to say, I’ve got a lot to do.”

He nodded and began
speaking. “Thank you for giving me your time,” he said, with only
a trace of amusement. I felt about six years old. “As you are now
aware Tony Sexton is no longer our Deputy Head.”

I snorted in reply, which
he ignored and carried on speaking. “He has chosen to take early
retirement after half term. After our discussion during his ... ahem
... performance management meeting he agreed to step down from his
position, which naturally has left a gap. I would like to offer you
the position of Acting Deputy Head, beginning with immediate effect.
Angus and I are in agreement that you are the ideal choice, with your
experience.”

“You’ve
given him the push!” I exclaimed.

It was well known that
Jack and Tony had argued repeatedly and vociferously and worse – in
public. Jack Thorpe gave a small smile, hardly a raising of the
corner of his mouth.

“You
know that can’t happen.”

“I
know you’ve made no attempt to get to know him.” That got
through. He flinched.

“And
you have I suppose? What do you know of him?”

“I
know he’s got a fantastic rapport with the children, that the kids
love him.”

Jack Thorpe rose
suddenly, knocking back his chair. “He lets the children do as they
want – that’s why they like him. He doesn’t push them or
challenge them. What have they learned this term? How to switch on a
computer! How’s that going to prepare them for life?”

“Probably
quite well!” I was on my feet as well at this point. We glared at
each other across his desk. There was a muscle going in his cheek and
his eyes were like Arctic ice. He sighed heavily, put a hand through
his hair, so that it fell disordered onto his forehead. It made him
look much younger. Rescuing his chair, he sat back down and loosened
his tie. He looked tired. I sat too, nearly ready to let go of the
anger. He leaned forward, resting on his elbows. He looked at me
intently.

“Tell
me Nicky, has he shared any planning with you? Has he chaired the
meetings with the teaching assistants? Has he organised the football
club? Has he sorted the stock list? Has he supported what we’re
trying to do here? In short, has he done anything you would expect
him to do as a Year Six teacher and my Deputy?”

I sighed, an echo of his
earlier one. “No.” I admitted.

“I’m
sorry I didn’t hear that.”

I looked up to see humour
warming his eyes.

“No,”
I admitted heavily. “He hasn’t. But Mr. Thorpe …”

“Jack
- please.” He leaned back in his chair once again, still watching
me with those light eyes. His face wore the neutral expression that I
was beginning to get to know well.

“Jack.”
I rolled his name experimentally around my mouth. It felt very
strange calling him that. “Jack – he’s great for morale. He
never takes sides, never bitches in the corner, he’s always telling
jokes. Everyone loves him.”

Jack
sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck in a weary gesture. “Oh
yes, everyone loves him because he doesn’t enforce anything
unpopular.” He gave me a grim look.
“You know there’s more to management than being popular!”

I acknowledged the truth
of this to myself. “I still think he’s got a role to play. You’re
not in the staff room much. He keeps everyone cheered up by his daft
jokes.”

Jack smiled thinly and
nodded. “He can still do that, while he’s still here. Meanwhile,
the rest of us have to get this school out of the mess he and the
previous head left it in.”

I stared at him. His
offer was beginning to sink in. The post of Acting Deputy in a large
school like this would be a good career move. But was I really up to
the challenge? And could I work so closely with this man? His
abrasive style of management wasn’t to my taste and wasn’t what I
was used to. The staff took it from him, resentfully. Surely, they
wouldn’t accept unpopular policy decisions from me? A woman and so
much younger than most of them?

He looked up from the
diary he’d been studying and stared back at me intensely. He had a
very unnerving way of looking at me. I’d noticed this before. It
always made me feel very self-conscious and I could feel my heart
beat a little faster. For some reason I couldn’t quite catch my
breath. We stared at one another for long seconds.

Then he cleared his
throat, turned away and said, “I’ve asked Ann to be our Assistant
Head. She’s bright and we need someone on our side in Key Stage
One.”

I nodded and wondered why
he suddenly seemed so nervous. It was most unlike him. A thought
trickled into my head; was it the mention of Ann Leigh’s name that
had caused this? Why, he was almost blushing! Certainly his usually
pale skin had taken on a warmer glow. Could it be that he had a thing
for Ann? Perhaps he had a heart after all.

“I
think Ann is an ideal choice,” I said, a little drily.

He nodded and, still not
looking at me, said, “And are you happy with my decision? Will you
accept the Acting Deputy’s position?”

“I’m
still not happy with what you felt you needed to do to Tony. I think
there could have been a better solution.”

He looked at me then,
with almost boyish expectation.

“But
it would be good experience for me if you think I can do it.”

Jack relaxed back into
his chair and grinned hugely. It made him look extremely attractive.
With difficulty, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

“I
warn you – I fight my corner when I have to!” I said, smiling in
response.

He shook his head and
laughed. “I know you will, Nicky. It’s one of the many things I
admire about you.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “Just
promise me one thing.”

“What?”
I couldn’t get over the change in him, he seemed so much younger
and approachable.

“That
you’ll keep our fights confined to the privacy of this office. We
need to show a united front.”

I nodded in agreement but
a secret thrill ran through me at the thought of spending so much
time closeted with the man in front of me. I banished the thought
entirely and concentrated on putting his suggested dates for Senior
Management Meetings into my notebook. I tried my hardest not to think
about him and Ann.

Hi Nicky,

Haven’t heard from
you in ages and then I get two emails in quick succession – typical
you! Congratulations on your promotion – how’s life in the
sticks?

How are you? Have you
licked that school into shape yet? I’m sure you’re doing a
wonderful job. Heard on the grapevine that your esteemed boss is a
tyrant but gets results. He doesn’t sound my cup of tea. However, I
seem to remember you go for the masterful type! Is there romance
budding over the policy guidelines yet? Keep me posted hon!

Everyone here is
missing you – try to come and see me at Half Term if you can.

Love,

Bev
.

I
looked out of the classroom window at
the gathering Autumnal gloom. My other job seemed so long ago and all
my friends seemed so far away. Still, I’d made my decision and
would have to live with the consequences. It didn’t make me feel
any less lonely though. In frustration, I snapped my laptop shut.

News of my promotion was
greeted by my parents with jubilation and by the staff of Longview
Primary with silence. It was going to take an awful lot to get them
working with me. Tony had, unsurprisingly, withdrawn all friendly
gestures and spoke to me on a strictly needs only basis. I was even
more isolated than before and now it was really getting to me. Only
Ann was cautiously sociable to me - and was blatantly sucking up to
Jack.

Our first few Senior
Management Meetings were, to put it mildly, interesting. My first
task was to try to get Jack to be a little more flexible with the
hours he was forcing on the staff. I was getting nowhere fast.

“Nicky,
the hours I’m expecting them to do are well within those expected
of them in their contract.” He said with an exasperated expression.

Ann groaned, the argument
had extended our meeting and I knew she was longing to go home.

“No,
they’re way above expectations,” I argued back. “And, in any
case, if we don’t actually force them to stay here until God knows
when, in my experience most teachers will do beyond those hours
anyway. And they won’t moan so much at meetings going over time. At
the moment some of Key Stage Two are working to rule, as a protest. I
think there’s space to be flexible here. What time do most of the
teachers get here in the mornings?”

Jack raised a sarcastic
eyebrow. “About eight forty-five from what I can see. They’re
hardly doing more than their statutory hours with that sort of
time-keeping.”

Ann suddenly piped up,
“Actually, in David’s time, most of the staff were here well
before eight.”

“There
you have it!” I exclaimed in triumph. “If we show ourselves to be
flexible on the odd occasion I think we’ll get more from the staff
– they’ll stay beyond their time and won’t mind. And I know a
lot of the Key Stage One teachers take stuff home to do as well, so
why make such an issue out of them having to stay in school until a
certain time? If the work gets done, does it matter where it’s
done?”

“As
long as the work
does
get done!” Jack snapped out. Then he saw the expression on my face
and relented. “I’ll think about it,” he growled. And I knew he
would, despite his tone.

“And
then there’s the suggestion of getting an ironing service organised
– and a sandwich delivery too!” I said to groans now from both of
them. “And perhaps we could think about having fortnightly staff
meetings instead of twice weekly, with a quick five minute briefing
in the mornings to replace them?”

“I’m
enforcing the guillotine on this meeting.” Jack interrupted and
looked at his watch. “It’s gone seven. Do you need a lift home
again tonight, Ann?”

I looked furtively from
one face to another as I was getting my papers together and saw her
face light with pleasure.

Jack turned to me
suddenly, “Look Nicky, I’m happy for you to investigate the
ironing service and the sandwich idea. I’m not saying no, I just
want costings. Oh – and get the staff’s opinion – they might
not want either.” He stood up and stretched, yawning.

I nodded, “I’ll sort
something out.”

“And
Nicky, go home at a reasonable hour tonight. Of anyone you do the
longest hours. Are you happy to lock up?”

I nodded again.

After
I’d seen them out and locked the door firmly
afterwards, I watched them walk, heads close together deep in
conversation, to the car park. I wondered again if there was anything
going on between them. I turned on my heel and went back to the
classroom. I hadn’t that much to do, to be honest but I wanted to
delay going home. It was getting increasingly uncomfortable there and
I had to admit to it just not working. But with Dad looking frailer
by the day and Mum behaving more and more erratically I couldn’t
see a solution. If only Andy were here to help. But there was no
chance of that I thought with a sigh. After the trouble at his school
he’d disappeared off to Spain. He was happy there, teaching English
and had settled down with his girl-friend Inez. I shuffled papers
around aimlessly and let my thoughts drift back to the awful time
when the scandal hit my family.

Andy
had always been popular in the secondary school in which he taught,
especially with the female pupils. He was young and even I could see,
from a sisterly point of view, that he was good-looking. Then the
bombshell
struck. A pupil had made allegations that Andy had been having a
relationship with her. The news hit the headlines with a vengeance,
in both our hometown and in the national press. Of course
investigations had been carried out. Andy was suspended from teaching
and was, to our relief, eventually cleared. But by then the rot had
set in. He’d become completely disillusioned with the education
system and made the decision to move abroad. He’d travelled for a
while and had finally settled in Spain. But the whole thing had
changed him. It changed everyone in the family. He was Mum’s
favourite and the scandal had all but destroyed her. She’d always
been overly concerned with what the neighbours thought. And, of
course, there had been the hate mail. It had poured through the
letterbox like the deluge of filth it was.

Eventually
my parents had sold up the old family home and had moved here, to
this quiet market town
in north Herefordshire. Neither of them had ever been quite the same
again. For me, what was even worse, was the sneaking suspicion that
Andy wasn’t the innocent he claimed to be. He had always been an
incorrigible flirt and far too friendly with his pupils –
especially the girls.

After
tidying fruitlessly for a little while longer, I admitted to myself
that I couldn’t delay the inevitable anymore; it was time to go
home. As I entered my parents’ bungalow, I could hear laughter
coming from the lounge. Curious, I poked my head around the door.

“Nicola!”
said Mum in a gin and tonic soaked voice, “You’re home at last.
We were getting so worried, it’s getting so late. Come and meet our
new neighbour.”

I went into the lounge.
Dad was standing by the coal-effect gas fire with a beaming smile on
his face. I wondered if he too had been at the gin. Mum and a woman
of ample proportions were sitting side by side on the sofa.