In a Class of His Own (8 page)

“What
am I going to tell Sadie? She’s in assembly at the moment but she
wants to do ‘Show and Tell’ this afternoon. What are we going to
do? I didn’t do anything to it, honestly. I just think all the
noise of the children coming in to class this morning frightened it
to death.” Helen was close to hysteria. “It’s the last time I
ever have anything alive in the classroom, it’s just not worth the
stress. What am I going to tell her, Nicky? She only had it for her
birthday last month!”

I held up my hands
against the barrage of words. I needed some quiet to think. “Look,
I’ll take it into the office. Tell Sadie … tell her that’s it a
quieter place to keep pets and I’ll come up with something!”

I made
my way back to Jack’s office which I was using as my own for that
day. Mona
came in, immaculate as ever, with a sheaf of papers and thinned her
lips in disapproval when she saw the cage.

“Well
really Miss Hathaway, I don’t think that ought to be kept in Mr.
Thorpe’s office!”

I
ignored the comment, I was poring over the cage. It didn’t smell
too pleasant. “Mona,
I’ve got a Fluffy crisis on my hands. How the hell do you give
mouth to mouth to a dead hamster?” I looked up at her in appeal.
“And for that matter, is it physically possible to give mouth to
mouth to a hamster?” I gave the creature a tentative poke to check
it really was dead.

When I
caught her eye again I saw her lips twitch and prepared myself for
the inevitable sarcastic comment. It didn’t come. Instead, she went
to close the office door and when she
turned back to me was holding a hand to her mouth to stop laughter
escaping.

We both collapsed onto
chairs laughing uproariously. In between giggles I attempted to
explain what had happened. When finally the hysteria had abated we
sobered up and began to think.

“What
are we going to do?” I asked hopelessly, wiping tears of mirth
away. “Poor Sadie Morris. And poor Helen, she feels really guilty!”

Mona
went over to peer into the cage. “Oh dear,” she sighed,
hiccoughing a little. “Well, I’ve got to go into town at
lunchtime. I suppose I could try the pet shop to see if they’ve got
anything we could pass off as little Fluffy.”

We
began to laugh yet again but then Mona
stopped abruptly and looked at me, as if something had occurred to
her. “You say it belonged to Sadie Morris?” Mona tutted, more
sympathetic now. “Oh dear,” she said again. “The child will be
distraught. Her parents got divorced last year and the child took it
very badly.” Mona shook her head sadly, “She was so close to her
father.” She went to leave but then turned and said, “Leave it
with me Miss Hathaway, I’ll see what I can do.”

I
thanked her profusely. As Jack was out of school all day I
was in charge of the school and had to stay on the premises; I wasn’t
allowed out myself. I took a deep breath and then regretted it, the
smell really was unpleasant. I threw a cloth over the cage as I
couldn’t bear to look at the stiffening little corpse and prayed
that Mona might come up trumps at the pet shop. I managed to get into
the staff room at morning break to introduce Rupert to everyone and
whispered a quick message to a relieved looking Helen.

The
remainder of the morning was hectic. I dealt with three boys brought
to me for fighting in the playground and then answered a phone call
from an irate parent who wanted to know why her child was on his
third teacher in his vital Year Six
year. I chased up several parents who hadn’t filled in holiday
forms and then attempted to wade my way through yet another
government pack of training materials. In between more phone calls I
sketched out a vague agenda for next term’s staff meetings and
looked through Ann’s plans for the Christmas celebrations. I then
realised it was some time into the afternoon and Mona should have
been back ages ago. And that I’d missed lunch.

At the knock on the door
I looked up hopefully.

“I’m
afraid I haven’t had any luck Miss Hathaway.” Mona came in
looking genuinely concerned. “The pet shop had no hamsters of any
kind and even the garden centre had nothing to offer.”

I was
impressed at her effort, the garden centre was at least fifteen
miles away. I looked at her and came to my decision. “Well there’s
nothing for it but to tell the child the truth. I’ll go and get
her.” I sighed, I hated breaking this kind of news to young
children. There was no anticipating their reaction - or those of
their parents.

“Shall
I ring Mrs. Morris?” Mona offered. “I know the family well and I
can explain that there was nothing we could do. Perhaps she’d like
to pick up Sadie early if she can.”

I
nodded gratefully and then made my way reluctantly to Year Four
to collect the little girl. On the way I rehearsed what I had to say.

As she
sat down Sadie looked wide-eyed
around the office. Only rarely did children get into this hallowed
space and even then it was usually because of some serious
misdemeanour. She was an attractive child, with a mass of curly red
hair and endearing freckles. She pleated her grey school skirt
between nervous fingers.

I sat
on the chair beside her. “Sadie, you’re not in trouble.” I
reassured her. “I’ve
asked you in here because I’ve something to tell you.” I took a
breath. “It’s something sad I’m afraid.”

The
child’s eyes widened even further and she began to look tearful. I
hurried on.
“Everyone at home is absolutely fine.” I kept my voice low and
calm. “They’re all safe and well.” I paused momentarily. This
was proving to be much harder than I thought. “But little Fluffy,
well she …” I stopped. I took another deep breath and reached for
a tissue, although I wasn’t sure for whom. The familiar insistent
beat of a headache was beginning, just behind my eyes.

“You
see Sadie, sometimes when animals as little as Fluffy come into
school they find it very noisy and frightening.”

Sadie nodded her head
vigorously, her curls bouncing. “I did when I started with Miss
Leigh. When I was little.”

I nodded too, in
response. “Exactly,” I smiled gently. “Well Fluffy found it so
frightening and noisy in school today that I’m afraid she’s
died.”

Sadie sat absolutely
still, staring at me with enormous blue eyes. I waited for the floods
of tears but none came and I was impressed by her self-control.

“Do
you understand Sadie, that Fluffy is dead?” I repeated, feeling
thoroughly cruel but needing to make sure that the girl understood
what had happened. The stress headache increased its intensity.

Eventually,
after what seemed an age, Sadie spoke again. “Does that mean I
can’t do ‘Show and Tell’?”
Now she pouted a little and her lower lip began to tremble.

“Well,
perhaps you can do it another time.” I frowned and thought rapidly.
“Have you got another hobby you’d like to talk about?” I
suggested, as gently as I could.

“I
want to do ‘Show and Tell’.” Sadie stamped her little foot and
scowled angrily, her lower lip jutting out at a furious angle. “Mrs.
Cartwright promised I could.”

“But
wouldn’t you like to prepare another talk about something else?”
I offered slightly desperately.

“I
want to do ‘Show and Tell’ today - about Fluffy!” Sadie’s
foot again made contact with the carpet with a decided thump. “Miss
promised.”

The trembling lips
drooped and Sadie’s eyes began to fill with tears. She gave an
enormous sniff. Was this what was upsetting the child, the fact that
she could no longer do her ‘Show and Tell’ and not the death of
her pet?

I came
to my decision. “Very well.” I nodded slowly and suppressed
a grin.

Thankfully the offending
rodent had been boxed up out of sight but its cage was still in the
office. With a twist of my lips as to what Helen was going to say
about there being a ‘Show and Tell’ about a deceased hamster, I
gathered up its cage and led Sadie back to the class. She seemed much
happier now she was allowed to do her talk.

“We
get Golden Points if we do ‘Show and Tell’. And then we get
‘Choosing’ if we get enough. I want to do ‘Choosing’ so I can
go on the computer with Nina.” She chatted happily up at me, her
curls bouncing wildly.

After a hurried
explanation to a stunned Helen, I left them to it. As I walked back
down the corridor I could see Sadie proudly displaying the empty cage
and heard the words, “My hamster’s just died…”

At the end of the school
day Sadie came rushing up to me in the playground to announce that
her step-dad had promised to buy her two pet rats for Christmas and
that she couldn’t wait and that they were much more interesting
than hamsters any day ...

I
collapsed in the staff room with a cup of tea and an aspirin and
tried not to think about the mountain of work I still hadn’t done.
Jack came in, closely followed by Mona.

“Nicky,
do you know anything about that strange smell in my office? Have they
been spraying the fields again?” He wrinkled his arrogant profile
in a grimace. “God, it’s really strong this time. What on Earth
do these farmers use?” He went to fill the kettle and then turned
to me, management smart in his tailored suit. “Mona says you’ve
had a quiet day. No problems then?”

I
looked up to catch Mona
winking at me behind Jack’s back and grinning.

“No
problems, Jack,” I replied blithely. “Everything has been fine!”

The
first Friday evening in the flat found me lounging sluttishly against
the sofa, watching rubbish on TV and eating ice
cream out of the carton. It was sheer bliss.

A
sharp knock sounded on the front door. When I opened
it a fraction, a small cuddly toy was squeezed through the gap and
Jack’s voice growled, “Tell me the hamster story or Fluffy gets
it!”

I let him in, laughing as
I did so. He waved a bottle of wine at me and gestured to the take
away he’d placed on the step. “Do you fancy a curry? I always
order far too much for just one person.” He beamed the most relaxed
smile I’d seen from him so far.

I stood, transfixed by
his loveliness. And then panicked. Once again he’d caught me at a
disadvantage. I’d just washed my hair and it hung wet and limp
around my face. Relaxing after a long shower, I was wearing old
pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt emblazoned with the words: ‘Sex
is like snow. You never know how much you’re gonna get or how long
it’s gonna last!’ It had been another example of my brother’s
twisted humour. Jack in contrast, was looking coolly preppy in cream
chinos, a navy sweater and an expensive looking suede jacket.

I
paused
for a long moment, wondering where I could hide my pals Ben and Jerry
and if I had time to go and put on something a fraction more
alluring.

Misinterpreting my
hesitation, Jack’s face fell and he shrugged. “Oh have you got
plans? I should have thought. Not to worry I’ll just stuff myself
silly.” Abruptly, he turned to go.

“No
no, come in please.” I put out my hand to the butter soft suede
sleeve. “It’s a really nice thought.”

I went
to find plates and glasses and to hide the carton of ice-cream back
in the freezer. Behind me the TV blared out
the theme to ‘Come Dine With Me’. I winced and wished
wholeheartedly that Jack had caught me watching the documentary on
Virginia Woolf on BBC2, a cool glass of wine in my hand and wearing
something casually elegant. But it was not to be. One day, I vowed
silently to myself, I will be dressed in something fitting for the
occasion. I seemed doomed to be scruffily attired in his company.

Jack, unaffected by any
introspection, was waving the wine bottle at me again. “I thought
this could be a house warming. A welcome to the neighbourhood and
also – and I promise this is the last time I mention school tonight
– a thank you for all your hard work this term.” As he slid his
jacket off, I tried not to stare. The sweater accentuated all his
lovely muscles. He really was a beautiful man.

“You’ve
been a real addition to the management team,” he continued. “Right,
pompous stuff over, let’s get the corkscrew out.” He grinned
boyishly and any self-consciousness I felt melted away in the warmth
from his smile.

We
didn’t bother turning off the TV. Jack, rather surprisingly, turned
out to be a huge fan of ‘Coronation Street’, so we sat glued to a
double episode. We sat companionably side by side on the sofa,
although Jack took up rather a large amount of it and ate the take
away and drank his wine. After a while, I examined the toy hamster
he’d brought and laughingly recounted the story of little Sadie and
Fluffy, the deceased hamster.

Jack
settled
a little more comfortably, lay his head back onto the cushions and
gave a groan of contentment. His endless legs were stretched out in
front and a navy clad arm rested along the back of the sofa. I had a
sudden urge to turn my face so that it burrowed into the soft
cashmere of his sleeve. If only I had the courage. I blinked myself
back to reality as I realised Jack was speaking.

“I
remember once I had a great long letter asking me to be sensitive to
a boy in the class who had suffered a bereavement in his family.”
He was speaking quietly, in that magical voice he had. He smiled and
ran a hand through his hair, leaving it untidy. “The letter went on
and on, it must have been about five pages long.” He laughed and
turned to me, shaking his head. “It eventually mentioned who, or
rather what, had died in the family…”

I sat, hypnotised by the
glimpse of blue-green under thick, dark lashes.

“Turned
out to be the pet budgie! I was the butt of jokes for the rest of the
term!”

We laughed, fuelled no
doubt by the excellent red wine he’d brought. But suddenly the
laughter died and we found ourselves gazing at one another. My throat
constricted and I could feel my heart beat a little dance of joy, all
of its own.