by Georgia Hill
However hard I tried, though, the other teachers remained suspicious of me. Rumour had got round, as rumour always does, that I’d been put into the school, along with Jack Thorpe, to shake things up. The fact that this was entirely untrue had been clouded by that fateful meeting on the training day. I had been right – Jack Thorpe had put me in a very difficult position.
Things came to a head one morning break time when I was on playground duty. I was trying to deal with a boy who had been banned from having a football. I’d caught him annoying a group of Year Three pupils by kicking the ball repeatedly into their group.
“Spencer, give me the ball please.” I called out, over the noise of the playground bustle. He ignored me. “Spencer, I said give me the ball. Now.” I edged my voice with as much firmness and authority as I could muster. Spencer was in my class and was proving a quietly undermining presence. I went up to him and held out my hand for the ball. I felt if I lost this minor battle of wills, I’d lose the entire war. “Spencer, you have a choice, you can either give me the ball or you can go to see Mr. Sexton to explain your behaviour.” I kept my voice low and calm. Spencer had a notoriously volatile temper.
“Mr. Sexton said I could have it back,” he said at last, not looking at me, a mulish expression on his face and insolence in his voice.
“Spencer, you know the ball was taken off you because you kicked it at the window last week and broke it.”
He looked at me then. He was a tall boy for his age and solidly built. A future rugby player, no doubt. I held my ground, quietly praying to myself. “Give me the ball now.”
“Is there a problem Spencer?” A deep voice sounded behind me. “Miss Hathaway has asked you to give her the ball. I suggest you choose to give it to her or you can come and talk to me about it.” Jack Thorpe waited, giving the boy time to decide.
He stood there, a tall and implacable presence. I became aware that the other pupils were watching this battle of wills. I was right. This was an important one to win. To my relief, after what seemed an agonising wait, Spencer handed me the damned ball.
“Now I suggest you apologise to Miss Hathaway and then you can continue your break-time,” Jack Thorpe said in a casual voice, as if suggesting nothing more important than a choice between a Kit-Kat and a Mars Bar.
Spencer scuffed his feet. Again Jack Thorpe waited but didn’t repeat his command. Eventually the answer came.
“Sorry.” Spencer mumbled almost inaudibly and certainly without sincerity.
“Sorry Miss Hathaway.” Jack Thorpe said in that quiet, determined voice.
“Sorry Miss Hathaway,” the boy repeated.
“Good lad. Well done for making the right choice. Now off you go.” Jack Thorpe turned to me and, once Spencer was safely out of hearing said, “A difficult boy that one. I hope you didn’t feel I undermined your authority?”
I looked up at him, tall though I was, I was still a good six inches or so shorter. I decided to be honest. “No – thank you, I appreciated the help.”
He gave one of his curt nods. “Did Tony give him back the ball?”
I said nothing.
“I thought so. Come and see me after school today. I need to discuss something with you.” He must have seen the look on my face because he gave a shadow of a smile and added, “Don’t worry, you haven’t done anything wrong. Quite the opposite in fact.” And with that he strode away, deftly avoiding a flying netball and a gaggle of Year Fours playing Tag.
At the end of the day, after I’d seen the pupils out, I returned to the classroom to pick up my notebook in preparation for my meeting with Jack Thorpe. Unusually Tony popped his head around the door just as I was shuffling paper on my desk in an attempt to tidy it.
“Going to see the big man?”
I looked up, alarmed at his sarcastic tone. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know then, I’m surprised. I thought you and he lived in one another’s pockets.”
I ignored the cheap jibe. “If you’ve got something to say Tony, say it. I’m late for the meeting.”
“Oh yes, the meeting,” he said with a sneer. “The one where you’ll be told you’ve got my job. How does it feel to step into my shoes two minutes after you’ve got here?”
I was taken back at his vehemence. Lazy and sloppy though he was, he’d always been fairly affable with me – until now. He blocked my exit from my classroom. Furious at how he was treating me, I refused to feel intimidated. “Let me pass, Tony.” I said in an icy tone.
He smiled and gestured in mock solicitude to let me through.
I knocked on Mr. Thorpe’s door, with blood pounding through my head. What the hell was he playing at? At the sound of his deep voice saying “Come in” I swept into the room. He looked up from where he was sitting behind his desk and raised his eyebrows at my obvious anger.
“Tony says you’ve released him from being Deputy Head. What’s going on?” I demanded.
Jack Thorpe leant back on his chair and held his fountain pen between two hands. He stared at it for a moment, and then raised his eyes to meet mine. I became suddenly aware of my none too clean T-shirt – we’d done art that afternoon and I
always got more paint on me than any of the children did
“Please sit down Nicky and I’ll explain.”
“You most certainly will!”
Mr. Thorpe raised one expressive eyebrow at my tone and thinned his lips. I sat down and folded my hands into my lap – damn – why did they always shake so when I was angry?
I waited.
Infuriatingly, he did not seem at all discomfited by my anger. He rose and poured a coffee from the machine perking in the corner.
“Would you like one?”
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 s
hared 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.
Chapter Three
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 wan
t 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.