Season's Meetings

by Amy Dunne

  “Should I help set up?” Catherine asked. She was eager to get started.

  Rose walked over to her. In a whispered voice she said, “I was hoping maybe you could do some one-to-one work today?”

  Catherine nodded. “Of course. Who with?”

  “Dominic,” Rose said, lowering her voice so it was barely audible. “He’s upset today but won’t talk to anyone. He’s hiding under the table in the far corner.”

  Catherine had noted Dominic was missing when she’d first glanced around the room, and looking again, found she still couldn’t see him. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

  Rose thanked her before asking the children to pick up their homework folders and come sit at a table.

  Catherine walked over to the deserted corner of the room where two rectangle tables had been placed together. The furniture in the room came in two different sizes. Half of the chairs and tables were smaller in stature, perfect for the younger children. The rest were average-sized. Catherine pulled out one of the miniature chairs and blew out a breath, wishing she’d had the foresight to carry a decent-sized chair over with her. She always felt uncomfortable when using the tiny furniture.

  She lowered herself into a sitting position, hoping the chair would hold her weight. Her muscles and back immediately complained in protest. Managing to perch half of one bottom cheek on the seat, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and reluctantly accepted her knees were going to remain up to her chin.

  She knocked on the tabletop.

  “Go away. I’m not talking to nobody,” a tiny voice said.

  We’re off to a great start!

  “We don’t have to talk, but I was here first so I’m not going anywhere,” Catherine said. She was trying to unbutton her coat and simultaneously prevent herself from falling off the chair.

  “You wasn’t. I’ve been here for ages.”

  “Not as long as I have, I’m afraid,” Catherine said. The chair legs groaned beneath her weight.

  “You just got here. I’ve been under here forever.”

  “I thought you weren’t talking to anyone?” Catherine asked good-naturedly. Her coat was going to have to stay on for the foreseeable future. After a few moments of silence, she got a reply.

  “You tricked me.”

  Catherine smiled. “Maybe I did. Is it okay if I sit here for a bit? I’ve had a horrible day.”

  After some shuffling, Dominic looked up at her from beneath the table. His handsome face showcased well-chiselled features, unblemished brown skin, and vibrant hazel eyes that sparkled with innocent curiosity. His forehead was creased with a deep frown and his eyebrows were narrowed.

  “You had a bad day?” he asked, his voice quiet and expression solemn.

  Catherine nodded. “Yes. I had to tell some people off at work and they didn’t like it.”

  Dominic chewed on his bottom lip and then shifted from kneeling to sitting down crossed-legged. “Were they naughty?”

  “No, not naughty. They need to try a bit harder before Christmas.”

  Dominic nodded and then seemed to think hard about something. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I had a bad day, too.”

  Catherine leaned forward. “You did?” she whispered. He nodded dramatically. “What happened?”

  His tiny shoulders shrugged. “We had to read our lines out loud for the Christmas play. I’m the head shepherd.” A flicker of pride transformed his face before quickly disappearing. “But I didn’t do it good. I kept messing it up.”

  Catherine felt her throat tighten. “Maybe it wasn’t that bad—”

  “It took me ages to read them and I got loads of words wrong. Everybody was laughing at me, and I got really mad and ran away. Mrs. Baxtor shouted at me and writ a note in my diary for my mum. I’m so stupid,” Dominic said. He folded his arms.

  “No, you’re not. You’re clever,” Catherine said. Anger swelled in her chest. Dominic struggled with reading and writing, and there was a strong possibility he was going to be diagnosed with dyslexia. They were waiting on further tests to confirm it. Both his self-esteem and confidence had suffered because of his struggle and he attended Homework Club for additional support with his literacy. His teacher should’ve done something to help him instead of letting him go through such an embarrassing ordeal.

  She remembered the embarrassment and humiliation from her own past. An involuntary shudder swept through her body. It all felt a little bit too familiar. Memories and emotions she’d kept hidden deep inside were awakened. Clenching her jaws and grinding her teeth, she forced herself to swallow the bitter memories down.

  She took a shaky deep breath and then said, “In fact, you’re one of the most intelligent seven-year-olds I know.” With each word she felt her heart race and her stomach lurch. Thankfully, she hadn’t stuttered.

  “Really?” Dominic asked. He perked up a little.

  “Yes,” Catherine said in a matter-of-fact tone. Her legs and lower back were aching from being perilously perched on the chair. Accepting defeat, she got off the chair and sat on the worn green carpet instead. “Did I ever tell you about my stutter?”

  Dominic’s eyes widened. He wriggled closer and shook his head.

  “Do you know what a stutter is?” Catherine asked.

  Dominic nodded. “My friend at school called Oscar has a stutter. He can’t talk right sometimes, but I don’t mind ’cause I can tell what he means. He’s a sheep in the Christmas play. He has no lines.”

  Catherine gave a weak smile and wrapped her arms around herself, warding off a chill. “Well, when I was a child I had a stutter like your friend Oscar. I struggled to get my words out. It always made me sad because I couldn’t say what I wanted to. I hated having to speak or read out loud in front of people because I felt silly and stupid. It got so bad I used to keep quiet and only speak when I had to.”

  “I hate having to read out loud as well,” Dominic said. His expression looked thoughtful. “Why don’t you stutter no more?”

  “My granny could see how much it was upsetting me. She told me to be proud of myself and to not let other people bother me. Every night she’d help me practice reading out loud, and with time I got better at it. When I got a little bit older than you are, I started having classes after school to help me.”

  “Like I come here after school and practice my reading and writing?” Dominic smiled brightly, showing his cute dimples.

  “Exactly,” Catherine said and then lowered her voice. “But it wasn’t easy. It took a lot of hard work and sometimes on rare occasions I still stutter a little bit, but it’s okay.”

  “Maybe if I work hard I won’t mess up my lines no more.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Catherine said. “How about you read your lines to me and we practice them lots and lots so they stick in your brain so you remember them? Then you won’t have to read them out again because you’ll know them by heart.”

  Dominic sat up and jiggled excitedly on the spot. “Okay.” He scampered off to bring back his homework folder. Catherine took the opportunity to stand and shake off the pins and needles prickling up her left foot.

  Rose appeared carrying an average-sized chair, which she placed in front of Catherine. “Great job, Catherine. Here you go. This might make life a bit more comfortable.”

  Catherine opened her mouth to say thanks, but Dominic appeared beside her in a flash brandishing some ruffled sheets of paper. Rose shot her a wink before leaving.

  “Right, let’s get started,” Catherine said. She sat, scooting her chair closer to the table. While she was scanning the lines of text for the head shepherd’s lines, Dominic pulled up a chair next to hers. He sat and splayed his arms across the table.

  “Miss Birch? I’m a bit scared.”

  Catherine dropped the sheets and turned to face him. He looked so small and vulnerable it made her heart ache. “Of reading out loud?”

  Dominic shook his head. “I’ll be okay when I learn my lines by heart. I’m scared ’cause�
��” His bottom lip began to quiver slightly and tears threatened to puddle in his eyes.

  “Because of what?” Catherine whispered. She gently tapped the back of one of his hands.

  “My mum’s gonna be so mad at me about running off, and Mrs. Baxtor says she knows Santa and tells him when we’re good or bad. She’s gonna tell him about me being bad and I’m gonna get no toys on Christmas Day.”

  Catherine watched helplessly as tears began to roll down his cheeks and snotty sniffles were quieted by the disgustingly grubby sleeve of his jumper.

  “Your mum might be a little bit angry, but only because she loves you. Running away from the teacher isn’t something you should do because it could be very dangerous. You know that, don’t you?”

  Dominic nodded. His head bowed in shame as more quiet sobs escaped. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You have to tell her you’re sorry and explain why you felt you had to run away. But you must also promise to never do it again, Dominic.”

  “I promise,” he said. His bottom lip pouted and tears continued to fall. “I didn’t mean to. And I didn’t wanna upset my mum or make her mad at me.”

  “I suppose I could have a word with your mum when she comes to pick you up. Tell her how good you’ve been this evening and our plan about getting you to learn the lines, if you want?”

  His head shot up. “Yes, please, that would be good,” he said, wiping his tear-stained face with both hands. “What should I do about Santa Claus?”

  Catherine took a breath and tried to think of her response. She was already seriously out of her depth in the uncharted seas of children’s imagination, hopes, and dreams.

  “Erm, well, let’s see.” She tapped her fingers on the table while desperately trying to think. “Am I correct in thinking Santa has a list?” Dominic nodded vigorously. “Excellent. So if you’re good, I mean the best behaved little boy in the whole wide world, he’d see that, wouldn’t he?”

  Dominic broke out into a grin, revealing his white teeth and the gap at the front from a missing tooth. “Yeah, he’d see I was good and I’d be on the nice list again.”

  Catherine sat back in the chair. “Well, it seems to me everything’s sorted. If you’re incredibly well-behaved, polite, work hard at school, learn all of these lines, and never run away from Mrs. Baxtor or any other teacher again, you should be fine.”

  “Thank you, Miss Birch,” Dominic said. He suddenly leapt forward, taking Catherine by surprise as he wrapped his arms around her neck, giving her a big hug. After getting over the initial shock, Catherine gave him a gentle pat on his back.

  “Right, we’d better get started on these lines so we can show your mum,” she said. Dominic released her from his embrace. He sat back down and looked up at her, his eyes sparkling and his lips curved in a big smile. His chest was notably puffed out with pride, his legs swung back and forth beneath the chair, and the rest of his body seemed to be surging with energy.

  Reading through the lines of text, she said, “So you’re shepherd number—”

  “I’m the head shepherd.”

  “Of course you are,” Catherine said. She found the correct lines for Shepherd Number One. “Do you think you can handle the responsibility of being head shepherd?”

  Dominic’s expression turned serious. “Yeah. I’m gonna be the bestest head shepherd there ever was.”

  Catherine gave a curt nod and placed the page between them. “I have no doubt you will be. This is your first line,” she said underlining the sentence with a green pencil. “Take it nice and slow. Only I can hear you, and if you get stuck I’ll help.”

  For the next half an hour, Dominic practiced all eight of his lines, and by the end of it he could reel them off confidently. Catherine congratulated him but also reminded him, although he knew them now, he had to keep practicing so he didn’t forget them.

  When his mum arrived Catherine had a quick chat with her. She explained why he’d been so upset, mentioned the note from Mrs. Baxtor, and praised his hard work this evening. As she watched them leave the library she couldn’t help but smile. The warm fuzzy feeling stayed with her for the remainder of the night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Catherine mustered her evilest look and aimed it at the back of Jonathon Bowler-Hays’s bulbous head. She wished there was something hard and heavy at hand to throw at it. He’d left her office seconds ago, and now she watched as he playfully joked and high-fived some of the men and flirted with some of the women while making his way to the elevators.

  “Bastard.” She massaged her temples. Everything was going to shit, and once again, she was expected to be the bearer of bad news. She picked up her receiver and asked Eve to come into the office.

  “It’s such good news about the figures,” Eve said. She closed the door behind her. “But you don’t look happy. What’s happened?”

  Catherine let out a growl through clenched teeth. “Knob-head there—”

  Eve let out a loud tut as she sat in the chair.

  “Well, he is,” Catherine said angrily. Eve must have sensed this wasn’t the time to argue because she remained uncharacteristically quiet, allowing for Catherine to continue. “Jonathon was happy to tell everyone about the figures and take all the credit as usual. But what he didn’t tell them is they’ve now got to complete all of their reports before they break up for the holidays. The deadline is tomorrow at midday.”

  “What on earth?” Eve’s hand shot to her mouth. “He can’t seriously expect that? They all break up today and the Christmas party is this evening.”

  “Apparently, it’s what the great and powerful board of directors have ordered. He hasn’t got the balls to tell everyone himself, so once again he’s left it to me to do. He’s probably known for days, if not weeks, and didn’t mention it.”

  Eve continued to shake her head. “Oh, Catherine. What are you going to do?”

  Catherine looked out at the staff communal office area. Her team buzzed happily. They’d achieved their targets and were clearly excited about the Christmas party and breaking up. How could she tell them their hard work wasn’t over? That although they’d done exactly as she’d asked of them, the goalposts had been moved farther away? It wasn’t fair. She might be the office bitch, but there was no way she was going to reward their hard work by demanding they try to meet unachievable targets—especially not today, of all days. Her stomach twisted with fiery anger. Her jaws bunched and her fists clenched tightly. She turned back to Eve and said, “I’m going to do them myself.”

  Eve’s eyes widened. “It takes each of them hours to do their own. Doing them all by yourself isn’t possible—”

  “It has to be. There’s no other way.”

  “Your flight is this evening.”

  Catherine bit her bottom lip and nodded. “I know. I’ll have to try my hardest to get through them as quickly as possible. Can you arrange for the taxi to pick me up here instead of at the venue?”

  “Of course. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Don’t let me be disturbed, under any circumstances,” Catherine said. She rolled her shoulders, tilted her head from side to side, and cracked her knuckles. She focused on the screen and opened up the first report.

  *

  Catherine heard the distinct knock on her door, but ignored it. Her attention remained focused on the current report even when the door opened and the soft tread of footsteps made their way across the carpeted floor.

  “Catherine, you need to stop for a while,” Eve said, her concern palpable.

  Catherine gave a quick shake of her head but didn’t look away from the screen.

  “With the upmost respect, if you don’t stop and have a break right this minute, you’ll give me no choice but to intervene.”

  “I asked not to be disturbed,” Catherine said. The last thing she needed was Eve on some kind of mission. She wanted to power on through these reports until they were done.

  “And up to now you haven’t been disturbed, but if you do
n’t stop I’ll be forced to physically remove you from that desk of yours,” Eve said, steel determination lacing her tone. “You’ve worked solidly for almost eight hours and it’s not healthy.”

  From her peripheral vision Catherine watched as Eve took a determined step toward her. She pushed her chair back from the desk and glanced at her clock. Eve was correct in her estimation. She’d been sat at her desk working for over eight hours straight. No wonder her body was stiff, her eyes grainy, and brain sore.

  Wincing, she stood and stretched out her arms, back, and shoulders. Pins and needles erupted up through her right leg, making her avoid putting her foot back down. After a few quick blinks, she finally took in her surroundings and noted the communal offices were deserted. Only Eve and she remained. The situation fully dawned on her. One thought in particular was a jolt.

  Shit! The flight.

  “I’m only halfway through. There’s no way I’m going to make the flight and—”

  “I cancelled both the taxi and the flight. I also spoke to Beth and told her what’s going on, but I’ll tell you about it in a little while.”

  Catherine rubbed her face. She did feel crappy, in body and mind. Her next thought was significantly less stressful but still unpleasant. The Christmas party. She’d had no desire whatsoever to attend it, but it seemed unfair Eve had missed out, too.

  “Eve, why aren’t you at the party? It started over two hours ago.” Catherine looked directly at her, noticing how tired she looked. Her face was drawn and heavy bags hung beneath her eyes.

  “I’m sixty-eight years of age. I’ve no interest in going to a party full of young ’uns who choose to parade around wearing practically nothing, hell-bent on getting drunk. I also can’t abide the rubbish they listen to these days. It gets on my very last nerve.”