“An interesting combination,” said Adam, his mouth turned up in the slightest of smiles.
Finally it was the turn of Jenna Murray, raw antagonism clearly written on her face. At five feet ten inches and with high heels she would be almost Adam’s height. Although in her mid-thirties, she still had the looks and flawless complexion that had attracted modelling agents when she was a schoolgirl. Slim and willowy, she’d been a photographic model for a short time, but soon realised that it wasn’t for her. Her controlling nature conflicted with having men tell her to smile, toss your hair, move this way, move that way. But some photographs still existed on the web and the girls were in awe of her. She wore her long fair hair swept up and away from her face and held back with a comb, a style that some of the girls tried to copy – mostly unsuccessfully. Her make-up was minimal, but always immaculate, and her perfume was clearly expensive. Jenna was one of those rare people who would look good in anything. She moved with a cat-like grace and the girls all wanted to emulate her, attending her after-school classes in posture and make-up hoping to make it so. Miss Edwards’ retirement should have seen Jenna a step closer to her own headship. If Eleanor Stannard had been promoted to head, then Jenna would have been next in line for deputy head and ultimately head when Eleanor retired in a few years.
Adam’s disarming smile was not going to thaw Jenna’s icy resolve. He had thwarted her plans and he would not easily be forgiven.
“I’m Ms Jenna Murray,” she said, emphasising the Mizz.
Adam waited for her to continue, but her prickly silence forced him to ask, “And your subjects are?”
“Science and computer science.”
“Then we have something in common. Computer science is also one of my subjects.”
Jenna met his challenging blue eyes with the expressionless face that models adopt when walking down the catwalk. It was a stand-off – a cat confronting a dog.
When it became embarrassingly clear that she wasn’t going to respond, Adam continued to address the staff. “I’ve been through the curriculum and will be leaving it as it is for the present. However, I would like to introduce life skills into all the subjects and I will be sitting in on the classes. For instance, Miss Taylor, perhaps we can introduce basic self-defence into your syllabus? I think it’s important that in today’s world the girls know how to defend themselves.”
“I think that will be possible,” she said.
“If you need any help, let me know,” he said. “I also taught sports and I’m familiar with self defence.”
He turned to Eleanor Stannard. “I’d like the emphasis to be on speech rather than drama. The girls should be taught confidence in public speaking and how to give a presentation. It will be more useful to them if they are going into the business environment.”
Barbara Crook had caught the look of alarm on Kate O’Brien’s face when Adam said he would be sitting in on some of the classes. “Will you be sitting in on sex education?” she asked.
“I think Mrs O’Brien and I can go over that syllabus in private,” he replied. “And I should also point out that I did relief teaching at a co-ed so I am not totally unfamiliar with teenage girls. I will be having a glass door installed in my office which will serve two purposes. I will be able to observe who is coming and going in the reception area, and my desk, and whoever is in my office, will always be visible. The inter-leading door to Mrs Ryan’s office will remain open, and she will sit in on any interviews I have with the girls.”
“You seem to have a lot of plans,” Jenna Murray said stonily. “Does this mean your appointment is more than temporary?”
“My contract is renewable after one year.”
“I see,” said Jenna. “Then are we permitted to ask about your teaching background?”
Adam leaned lazily back in his chair and tapping his pen on the table said with a slow smile, “What would you like to know, Mizz Murray?”
“To put it bluntly – why did they choose you for this job?”
There was a collective intake of breath from the staff, but they waited in expectant anticipation for the answer they all wanted to hear.
“I have a naval as well as a teaching background. The governing body felt the discipline would be good for the school.”
Jenna made a sound that was between a derisive snort and laughter. “This isn’t a Naval Academy. It’s an Academy for Girls,” she said. “What sort of discipline do you mean to mete out? Are you going to be forcing teenage girls to scrub the deck as punishment?”
He gave a slow smile. “Hardly. But I might make them sweep the playground, or weed the hockey field.”
Lisa put down her pen. “I’ve switched the urn on in the staff room,” she said hurriedly. “Mr Wild, will there be anything else?”
“No. I’m good,” he replied, snapping his folder shut.
“Then I’ll make the tea,” said Lisa.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” said Jenna. “Andy is waiting in the car. We’re going to a photographic exhibition.” She turned to Adam. “If that is acceptable to you, of course, Mr Wild.”
“You have my permission,” he replied.
Lisa went ahead to sort out the tea, leaving Adam to hold the door open for the rest of the staff to file through.
The staff room was across the passage from the assembly hall, sandwiched between the staff cloakroom and the First Aid room, which doubled as a clinic when the nurse and school counsellor were in attendance.
The staffroom was rectangular with high windows along one side that overlooked the tennis courts and, due to an overhanging roof, only caught the sun on rare occasions. To the side of the window stood a group of wooden pigeon-hole boxes, one for each teacher. Above it was a notice board with a neat but fading plea for staff not to leave dirty dishes over the weekend. Two cane couches rested along each wall their backs having left marks on the cream paintwork, their arms polished to a rich patina from years of use. Several matching chairs with fading floral cushions were grouped round an oblong oak coffee table its surface ringed with the careless placement of hot cups. An empty glass flower bowl stood in the centre waiting to be filled with fresh flowers when term began.
At the far end of the room were cupboards with sliding doors that housed an array of school material. On the right of them a door led to a small kitchen with a hatch and within there was a fridge, microwave oven, an urn, a sink, and a small dishwasher that had been bought by the staff after disputes about washing the dishes when the cleaning staff was not around. The slight musty smell of a room closed for several weeks hung in the air and Lisa had opened a window. She set the tea out on the coffee table with the sugar and milk and a plate of biscuits.
Some of the staff were helping themselves to coffee, while others were sitting waiting for the tea to brew.
Lisa put a herbal tea bag into a cup and was pouring water on it when Barbara Crook asked, “When did you start drinking herbal tea?” Before Lisa could reply Adam, who was standing behind them, said, “I think you’ll find that’s for me.” Barbara Crook spun round, surprise on her face.
“You don’t look like someone who would drink herbal tea.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” he replied, and taking the cup from Lisa he sat on the couch, spreading his long legs under the coffee table.
The staff exchanged sidelong glances. They’d expected him to sit in Miss Edwards’ empty chair at the end of the table. He was obviously unaware of the hierarchy of the staffroom and that each teacher had their ‘own’ chair in which they always sat, an unwritten rule that no one dared breach. But he was sitting in Annette Woolf’s place, and in some confusion she was left to sit beside him in Jenna Murray’s usual place. He was not sitting demurely as Jenna did, but with his legs spread apart and taking up far more space. She had to sit sideways to avoid the horror of their legs touching. She would not dare sit in Miss Edwards’ chair.
Lisa felt pressured to intervene and explain to Adam about the rule of the chairs, but
didn’t know how to do it diplomatically. Barbara Crook, however, had no such scruples. “Miss Edwards usually sat here,” she said, patting the chair next to hers.
“Oh. Why?” asked Adam.
They all at first seemed stumped for a reply. Until Eleanor Stannard eventually offered, “I expect it was because it was head of the table.”
“I don’t think we need to be that formal in here, do we, ladies?” he replied, smiling round at them. “Becoming possessive about a chair is something older people tend to do. Perhaps we should make it a habit to sit in different chairs.”
Lisa suppressed a grin, but worried that this was yet another change that might quietly rankle the staff.
Now, as she looked round the assembly hall as Adam introduced himself to the students, she’d already noticed a subtle change in some of the staff. They had taken more care with their choice of clothes, and make-up had been more diligently applied. Only Jenna Murray and Dee Taylor appeared unchanged by Adam’s presence.
“As you can tell from my accent, I’m from the US,” Adam was saying as he paced slowly back and forth across the stage, one hand in his pocket. “Hawaii, actually.” Girls were exchanging wide-eyed glances. He was becoming even more romantic. “And yes, I do know that a car has a boot and a bonnet, and not a trunk and a hood. And that colour is spelt with a U. And I don’t much like the rain and cold here, and yes, I do go home to Hawaii for the holidays.” He paused while the laughter subsided before continuing. “My father was in the US navy and I followed him into the service. I left the navy after he died and pursued my passion to become a teacher. That’s how I met my wife.” A few groans of disappointment.
He hesitated and looked down, and they waited expectantly. Looking up again he said in a quieter voice, “Five years ago she, and our eight-year-old daughter, Kirsty, and four-year-old son, Sean were killed in a motor accident by a driver high on drugs. Kirsty would have been your age now and probably at this school, following in her mother’s footsteps.” He glanced across at the large wooden plaques adorning the walls of the hall. “She was head girl. You can see her name, Michelle Roberts. Her younger sister, Nicole was also here. I think you’ll find her name on the honour roll.”
The effect of his words was electric. Oh, Adam, thought Lisa. Don’t you know you’ve just made all the girls fall in love with you? You’re a lamb to the slaughter.
His voice stronger now, he continued. “If anyone in this school is found with drugs it will mean instant suspension. There will be zero tolerance. If I have the slightest suspicion of drug-taking or dealing I won’t hesitate to bring in sniffer dogs. I will be sending letters to your parents informing them. Do I make myself clear?”
This time there was an immediate chorus of, “Yes, Sir.”
It seemed to Lisa that her Google search had unearthed some things that he wasn’t going to mention, like medals he’d been awarded when in the navy, and martial arts trophies. He’d also failed to tell them that most of the large payout he’d received on the death of his family had been put into a drug rehabilitation programme, and together with a large donation from his mother’s wealthy family they had opened a centre for addicts in Hawaii.
He dealt smoothly with the rest of the assembly, but it was during the closing hymn when his powerful male voice rang out that Lisa knew he’d made his presence well and truly felt.
The girls filed out noisily discussing this new development in their school life, and she followed Adam back to his office wondering what impact he would have on the rest of them.
He sat down at his desk and tilted his chair back. “So, how do you think they took to having a new headmaster instead of a headmistress?”
“I think they got the message that discipline will be stepped up,” she replied.
“I’d better get a quote for that glass door,” he said.
“And also get the sign changed to Head Teacher instead of Headmistress,” said Lisa, grinning. “Fred Smith should be able to organise it. He’s been caretaker for years and knows all the building suppliers. I think he’s past retirement age, but he loves his job.”
“And I’d better meet the kitchen staff and nutritionist,” said Adam. He glanced at his watch. “Now would probably be a good time. Let’s go.”
Lisa re-directed incoming landline calls to her phone and followed Adam out of the office.
CHAPTER THREE
Fred Smith’s workshop was at the end of one of the T sections of the building. Lisa took Adam along the main corridor past the cloakrooms and junior and senior girls’ toilets, the craft and art rooms, out of a side door and across a yard. Double wooden doors boasted a sign proclaiming ‘workshop’. Lisa tapped on the door, but the sound of an electric saw starting up drowned her knock and she turned the door handle and put her head round the door.
Fred was on the far side of the workshop guiding a chair leg through a band saw. He was wearing goggles and engrossed in his work. Lisa and Adam picked their way through the various bits of equipment neatly lined up awaiting his attention and stood back until he had switched off the machine before approaching him.
“Mr Smith,” said Lisa, “this is Adam Wild, the new Head Teacher.”
A tall, lean man, Fred took off his goggles and placed them carefully on his work bench before offering his strong workman’s hand to Adam. “I heard there was another chap joining the team. Pleased to meet you, Mr Wild.”
“News travels fast, Mr Smith.”
“Fred’s wife works in the kitchen,” Lisa explained.
“There’s not much gossip passes them by in the kitchen,” said Fred. “So, you’re not from around here then.”
Adam laughed and Lisa explained, “He’s from Hawaii.”
“Is that so? The wife’s always wanted to go to Hawaii ever since we saw that film in our teens. Blue Hawaii I think it was, with Elvis. Been her dream.”
“If you ever get there you can look up my family. We have a home in Honolulu,” said Adam. “So, your wife keeps her eye on you, does she?” he added, smiling.
“Aye, that she does,” said Fred, his eyes twinkling.
“I’ll have to rely on a glass door for that,” said Adam.
Fred Smith raised a knowing eyebrow. “The young lasses these days get up to all sorts,” he said, shaking his head.
“Mr Smith, Lisa tells me you know all the shop fitters and builders in the area. Would you get some quotes for a glass door for my office, preferably with a bar in the middle so no one can accidently walk into it?”
Fred Smith took a notebook and pencil out of his overall pocket and carefully jotted it all down.
“And could you put some priority into changing the sign outside my office from Headmistress to Head Teacher?”
“That I can do,” said Fred.
“Now that I know where you are, I’ll come back later and we can have a longer chat,” said Adam.
“I’ll look forward to that,” said Fred Smith. “Make a change having a man to talk to.”
Adam and Lisa retraced their steps across the yard and headed down the corridor towards the kitchen. They first had to pass through the girls’ dining room. It was set out with rectangular tables and benches that seated eight girls per table. There were plastic tablecloths and coloured plastic beakers on each table and a jug for water. The food was served through a hatch from the kitchen. In the corner of the room, set slightly apart, was a larger table for the teaching staff. It had a white cotton tablecloth and water glasses. There were comfortable chairs instead of benches, with one chair at the head of the table.
Adam indicated the table. “Am I expected to sit at the head of the dining table?” he asked Lisa.
“It might be advisable. There’s more room for you,” she said. And less chance of being pressed up against Barbara Crook, she thought.
Lunch preparation was underway, which was evident from the sounds coming from the kitchen, accompanied by laughter and shouted instructions. Adam opened the door for Lisa and as they walked in
whirring machines, banging metal bowls, and chopping knives were momentarily silenced as the kitchen staff became aware of Adam’s presence. They were mostly women in their fifties and early sixties who enjoyed working part-time and having the benefit of school holidays to be with their children and grandchildren.
Lisa knew most of them by name and as she began introducing them to Adam they quickly wiped their hands on their aprons before shaking his hand.
He focused the spotlight of his attention on each of them in turn, enquiring about their jobs and what they were preparing for lunch, his disarming smile making them feel as if they were organising a reception for the Queen.
Winnie Jones was mixing the chocolate pudding. “That smells good,” said Adam, “What do I have to do to get seconds?”
Winnie reddened and dissolved into schoolgirl giggles, unable to reply. But one of the other ladies whispered loudly to her colleague, “He could put his shoes under my bed any day – or night.” Her friend laughed and replied, “And I wouldn’t chuck him out of bed for eating crackers, either.”
Lisa saw Adam’s mouth twitch into an amused smile.
The kitchen staff was headed by the nutritionist, Sue Lawrence, whose office was in the centre of the kitchen with windows either side so she could keep an eye on both the girls’ and boys’ dining rooms. She was in earnest conversation with Brenda Smith, Fred’s wife, who had been at the school the longest and was considered second in charge and would have been manager if she’d had any formal qualifications and nutrition had still been called nourishing food.
Lisa introduced them to Adam. “So, you’re Fred’s wife,” he said, addressing Brenda Smith as she got up to leave. “The lady who wants to go to Hawaii.”
“Did he tell you that?” she said tut-tutting. “I think we’ve left it a bit late now.”
With the Headmaster's Approval Page 2