by David Belbin
The group were talking about what they’d done over half-term. Paul Kelly, who taught French, had been to Paris, where it had rained. Most people had stayed home. A lot of DIY had been done.
“Did anyone see that Terry Wogan thing that was on the Friday we broke up?” Jan from PE asked. “Now that was really silly.”
“Why did you keep watching then?” Paul Kelly asked.
“Well, the boy who was supposed to be having an affair with his teacher was rather gorgeous.”
“That’s the trouble,” Paul Kelly said. “An eighteen-year- old boy dating an older woman is an acceptable fantasy. The hypocrisy comes when male teachers are condemned for dating teenage girls.”
“You’d know all about that, would you?” Sarah Poole interjected, getting a laugh. “Seriously,” she added, “everyone knows that it’s wrong for a teacher of any age to use his position to sleep with his - or her - students.”
“But what if they fall in love?” Jan asked. “It happens all the time - bosses and secretaries, university lecturers and students... You can make rules against it, but you can’t stop it going on. I knew this girl who ...”
“You can if the rules are backed up by strong sanctions,” Sarah interrupted. “People are always going on about love matches - pupil/teacher marriages that have lasted. But they’re the exception, not the rule. Those relationships are unequal in a lot of ways: power, money and experience. They’re wrong.”
Jan made a second attempt to start telling an anecdote, but Sarah kept going. “And think about it: what kind of man enjoys going out with an inexperienced girl years and years younger than him? I’ll tell you what sort - the sort of man whose main interest is sex. The sort who’s a show-off and too immature to relate to women his own age. And I’ll tell you what’s worse - nine times out of ten, he gets away with it and the girl has her life ruined.”
Sarah was known for getting on her hobby horse and riding the thing for all it was worth. Today, though, she was being taken seriously. Several people started talking at once. Phil looked uncomfortable, even though Mike was the only person there who knew that he was going out with an eighteen-year-old.
“If I could have your attention, ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs Perry commanded, and the conversation fell away. Sarah pulled out her Union diary and a pen. Something important must be coming up, if she was going to make notes. Mike, though, was so busy thinking about the conversation he’d just heard that, at first, he didn’t take in what Mrs Perry was saying.
“As you’re probably aware,” the Headteacher began, “this school, like all others, has to make big budget cuts in the next financial year. We’re short over a hundred thousand pounds. On the raw figures, we would have to lose at least seven full-time staff.”
There was a collective gasp before the Headteacher went on.
“The governors have been meeting over half-term to see how we can make up the gap. They’ve decided that every department will have to cope with bigger class sizes, fewer free periods and less money to spend on books and equipment.” There was a kind of rumbling noise as the Head continued. “But that still leaves us with a large shortfall.”
She paused. A deadly hush fell on the staffroom. Sarah scribbled frantically. Mrs Perry gave some financial figures, then spelt out the consequences. “We need to lose the equivalent of at least four full-time teachers. Inevitably, part-time staff will have their hours reduced and some contracts will not be renewed. There will also have to be redundancies.”
A kind of muttering broke out. Sarah Poole raised her hand but Mrs Perry ignored her.
“The governors are very anxious to avoid compulsory redundancies if at all possible. Today, I am issuing voluntary redundancy notices. Any teacher over the age of fifty taking early retirement will get full pension enhancement with index-linking from the age of fifty-five.”
Mike looked around. There were few teachers over the age of forty, never mind fifty. This was a young staff. More people started talking.
“My door will be open ...” Mrs Perry went on, but she was shouted down by Sarah Poole.
“Can you tell us at what stage compulsory redundancies will be decided?”
“The process has to be completed by May 31st,” the Head said, tersely.
“And can you explain why the staff haven’t been consulted before now, as they have been in other schools?”
“You are being consulted,” the Head said. “This week, departments are being asked to consider economies ...”
The bell went for morning school.
“That’s not what I meant,” Sarah said, then raised her voice still higher. “Emergency Union meeting at twelve-thirty in the drama studio. Please everyone, try and be there.”
Although school was meant to be starting, no one left in a hurry. Judith Howard charged over to Sarah. She had a fight scene rehearsal in the drama room that lunch hour, Mike knew. Tough. Mike would go to the meeting, even though what was happening made little difference to him. His temporary contract was no longer likely to be renewed, but so what? He’d already made up his mind to leave.
Not having a tutor group, Mike waited in the staffroom until lessons started. He watched Sarah put up a notice about the meeting.
“Well said,” he told her.
She thanked him. “If you want to talk to me about your position ...” she offered.
“Maybe later. Did you have a good half-term?”
“So-so. You?”
Mike shrugged, as if to imply that it hadn’t been all that interesting. “I’ve been meaning to call you,” he lied. “Arrange a drink.”
“Do that,” Sarah said. “But I’ve got a feeling the next few weeks are going to be very busy. There’s bound to be a strike ballot.”
Sarah started putting leaflets out on the staffroom tables. Mike had never been keen on politics, not even Union politics. He’d seen the way some people looked at Sarah when she was shouting at the Head - they wrote her off as a neurotic lefty. Mike didn’t share all her views, but, at the same time, he admired people who had worked out a position and were prepared to argue it.
Sarah, he thought, had some of the earnest idealism which Mike loved in Rachel. But Sarah’s kind of idealism insisted on polarizing arguments, like when she’d been talking about teacher/pupil relationships. Things weren’t as black and white as Sarah said, not with him and Rachel. Sarah made everything sleazy, corrupt. It didn’t feel that way at all.
In his year-eleven lesson that day, Mike collected in a bunch of assignments. Eight of the kids hadn’t finished theirs, and he kept them in over break for a lecture on the importance of keeping deadlines. Rachel, to his surprise, was one of the tardy ones. She didn’t meet his eye once during the telling off.
The rehearsals were up to three or four nights a week now, with frequent lunch-hour sessions too. Rachel had to attend about half of them. Mike found that Judith Howard did most of the big scenes as the play got nearer. Mike was rarely on his own with Nick and Rachel. He was reduced, instead, to doing a lot of running around. His head of department had a well worked-out technique, Mike realized, for making you feel involved, then turning you into her dogsbody.
Towards the end of that week, Mike had his regular mentor meeting with Judith. She had observed two of his lessons now. The first was a bit messy, the second a success. He was confident about the third, final one. However, when he suggested getting it over with soon, Judith dismissed the idea.
“It’s only a formality, but we’d better leave it until next term, when the play’s over and you’re bound to have flowered even more.”
Mike smiled gracefully, accepting the compliment.
Judith went on, “But I did want to talk to you about this redundancies business.”
Mike pretended interest. He mustn’t let her know he didn’t intend to stay.
“Now I know you’ll be feeling at risk,” Judith told him, “but I don’t want you to worry. We can’t afford to lose an English teacher. And if the Head tries to
get me to replace you with staff from other subjects who aren’t qualified to teach English, I won’t have it. So don’t start looking for another job just yet.”
“I won’t,” Mike said.
As he drove home, it occurred to him that next term he would be competing with a fresh crop of new teachers, who would be even cheaper to employ than he was. Despite what he’d told Judith, he needed to start applying for jobs soon.
“You look tense,” Rachel said, when she came round that night. She was meant to be at Becky’s. Mike told her about the Union meeting, the redundancies.
“You’d better not spread it round at school,” he added.
“What do you take me for?” Rachel replied, with a withering look. “I knew something was going on, anyway. My mum’s a governor, remember? She’s been having a lot of extra meetings recently. Is your job in danger?”
“Yes,” Mike told her. “But I don’t want to stay at Stonywood. I’d like to go somewhere better, with a sixth form.”
“Like older girls, do you?” Rachel teased him.
Mike gave her a playful punch. “Also,” he said, “when you’ve left, we need to be able to see each other, without it being secret. That might be difficult if I stay at Stonywood.”
Rachel hugged him. It was the first time he’d made this commitment. She seemed to want it, too.
“But I might have trouble getting another job,” Mike added.
“No, you won’t. You’re a great teacher. And if you can’t get a job in Nottingham, I’ll follow you anywhere. Try and stop me.”
Rachel’s eyes began to water. Mike held her close, feeling equally emotional. He wiped the tears from her eyes and kissed her. Then Rachel looked at her watch. “You’re going to have to take me home. After what happened on Sunday, Mum’s given me a midweek curfew. I’m to be home by ten.”
Mike drove her back. He’d arranged to meet Phil and Tracey for a drink around ten, and give Phil a lift home. Only after he’d dropped Rachel off did Mike realize that this was the first time they’d met indoors and not gone to bed. All they’d done was enjoy each other’s company. Didn’t that prove Sarah Poole wrong?
“Get lots of work done?” Phil asked, when Mike walked into the Grosvenor.
“So-so.”
Mike remembered that Rachel was supposed to have done her Romeo and Juliet essay tonight. It would be interesting to see what excuse she came up with tomorrow.
“We’ve got some news for you,” Tracey told him.
“Yeah?”
For a moment, Mike thought that they were going to get married. But it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.
“Trace and I are going on holiday together over Easter,” Phil told him. “Ten days in Corfu.”
Mike’s eyes lit up. He would have the house to himself.
“After that,” Phil went on, “if we can stand each other’s company day and night for that long, we’re going to move in together.”
Mike forced a smile. “Congratulations,” he said.
Tracey looked concerned. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “We won’t be kicking you out of your home.”
“Tracey’s flatmate’s got a new job starting in April,” Phil explained. “We figured I’d move in with her for a while and, if things work out, I’ll put the house on the market and we’ll look for somewhere bigger.”
“I can find somewhere else,” Mike offered. “It seems silly, moving to a rented flat when you own a house.”
Phil shook his head. “Trace doesn’t want to live in Radford: too rough.” He took a swig of beer, then added, in a more sober voice. “I might have to sell the house anyway, after the news this week. The maths department’s over-staffed.”
Every conversation that day seemed to come back to redundancies. Mike watched as Tracey squeezed Phil’s hand. There was no doubting how much they cared for each other. Would Sarah Poole say that they shouldn’t be together? Mike wished that he could have Rachel here, too, talking with them, that he could go on holiday with his girlfriend. But maybe, in a few months, he could.
Twelve
“Not seeing your friend tonight?” Mum asked, caustically, over dinner.
Rachel shook her head. “Got an English essay to do. Overdue.”
“I thought being in this play was meant to be helping you with your English?”
“It is ... only, it’s a silly assignment, that’s all.”
“You’re going off Mr Steadman, are you? He seemed to think highly of you at parents’ evening.”
Rachel pushed the remains of her food aside without answering the question. “I’ve had enough,” she said. “I’d better do some work.”
Since the episode when she’d lied to Mum about going to Carmen’s, things had been awkward between them. In the past, when Rachel rowed with Mum, they’d resolved things within a day or two. A late night heart-to-heart would bring them closer together. But this was different. Rachel couldn’t tell Mum the truth about what was going on and she didn’t want to lie to her. Therefore, whenever Mum tried to get through to Rachel, it only made matters worse.
Rachel was looking forward to staying at her father’s that weekend. He and Mum never talked, so Dad didn’t know what was going on. He wouldn’t quiz her about who she was or wasn’t seeing. At nine, Rachel slipped out of the house to call Mike. It was a waste of time. Phil Hansen picked up the phone. Rachel considered calling herself Cynthia again, but Mike had warned her not to. She hung up. Returning home, she opened the front door quietly.
“Rachel, is that you?” Mum called out. She didn’t ask where Rachel had been. “Your father phoned and I couldn’t find you. He has to cancel this weekend.”
Rachel groaned. “Why?”
“He didn’t say. Call him back if you like.”
“What’s the point?” Rachel said, and went up to her room. Now she was sure that Clarissa was having an affair. Maybe her stepmother was even on the verge of leaving Dad. Rachel wished that Dad would open up to her about it.
That weekend, she didn’t see Mike. Rachel bought herself an LP by Elastica, who she’d seen on Top of the Pops. When the play was over, she wanted to get her hair cut short like the singer, Justine. Rachel’s hair was pretty long now, and it irritated her. Rachel taped the LP for Mike, along with the free flexidisc which came with it. Hopefully, he would be impressed. Maybe he would offer to take her to see the group when they played Rock City at the end of the month.
But Rachel didn’t get an opportunity to give Mike the tape. The most contact she had with him over the next few days was when he returned her essay with a C-.
Meanwhile, rehearsals staggered on. Rachel felt like she’d hit a plateau. For a few weeks, she’d felt like she was improving in leaps and bounds, but she was no longer getting better. She had to put up with endless, boring fittings for her costumes: long, ridiculous things borrowed from the Lace Market theatre. They succeeded in making her feel like a thirteen-year-old virgin.
“You seem a bit down,” Nick told Rachel when they were walking home together after Thursday’s rehearsal. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “Nothing, really.”
“Any time you want to talk, about anything,” Nick said. “You can with me. You know that.”
“I know,” Rachel said, and touched his hand, gratefully.
“If you wanted to come round ...”
Rachel shook her head. “Please, Nick. Don’t try so hard.”
She’d meant it kindly, but Nick looked hurt. “I’ve given up trying in the way you mean. You’re out of my league. I know that. I still want to be your friend.”
“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” Rachel said, half-heartedly.
Nick turned off with his usual half wave, leaving Rachel feeling vaguely guilty. The nights were lighter now. There was no need for Nick to walk her all the way home, no excuse for Mike to give her a lift. She missed him. It was hard to concentrate on anything when it was days since she’d seen Mike properly.
<
br /> Rachel felt lonely. Recently, she’d seen little of Becky, and even less of Carmen. Both were working hard in the lead up to the exams. Neither could understand why Rachel cared so little about her studies. The only person who Rachel could really talk with was Mike. But their conversations were snatched things which, most of the time, took second place to sex. Rachel had to see Mike soon, if only for a walk in the park. She had to find a way to meet him.
There was no rehearsal after school on Friday. Rachel resolved to catch Mike at the end of the day. She made an excuse to get out of maths early. Mike had year seven last lesson of the day. The youngsters were always let out of last lesson a couple of minutes early. This was to avoid their being caught in the mad crush of big kids leaving the site and pushing their way on to buses.
The class was still in when Rachel got there. She didn’t want to be seen hanging around, so went to the girls’ toilets and adjusted her face. Then, hearing footsteps in the corridor, she slipped out again. Rachel slid into Mike’s classroom just as the last kid was leaving.
Mike sat behind his desk, head propped up by a fist, looking exhausted. He hadn’t noticed her come in. Rachel quickly pulled one of the curtains to so they couldn’t be seen from outside. Mike looked up.
“I missed you,” she said. “I couldn’t stay away.”
“But we agreed ...”
“Please, Mike, just tell me when we can meet.”
“Aren’t you at your father’s?”
“He cancelled again.”
Mike thought. “All right. Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up in the park at two. If Phil’s out we’ll go back to the house. If not ...”
He gave a tired shrug. Rachel wanted to hold, to cuddle him. Mike got up. All around them was the sound of chairs being put up, of children leaving the building. Rachel gave him the tape she’d made for him. Mike thanked her absent- mindedly and put it in his bag. Rachel mentioned the concert that was coming up.