“It’s never too late to follow your dreams,” Adam replied with an encouraging smile.
He shook hands with Sue Lawrence and then sat in the chair that Brenda Smith had vacated.
“Mr Wild, I think I’d better get back to the office,” Lisa said. “Do you think you can find your own way back, or will you need a GPS?”
“If I get lost I’m sure someone will show me the way,” he said with a grin.
Sue Lawrence wore a white coat and resembled a lab technician rather than a chef or cook. Cookery books were stacked like a protective wall on both sides of her desk, and sample bottles and packets of various ingredients left by hopeful reps were lined up neatly in the front giving the impression of a mini fort. Her efforts to bring more variety into the school meals were thwarted by budget constraints, and her attempts to offer healthier options were met with resistance from the pupils, especially the boys who preferred a basic diet of carbohydrates and sugar. However, she had developed devious methods of incorporating vegetables into the food by mixing lentils with mince in the cottage pies, and carrots into the chocolate pudding. She was busy on the computer planning the menu for the following week.
“Would you like to see the menu?” she asked, turning the screen so Adam could see it.
“I see you have vegetarian options,” he said.
“Do you prefer vegetarian?”
“I’ve almost been converted. Nicole, my sister-in-law, is studying veterinary science. She won’t eat anything with a face and her frowning disapproval forced her parents and me to make changes. But since she’s been away we’ve sneaked in a few non-vegetarian dishes, so I’m willing to be tempted.”
“You’ll be staying for lunch then? You can have it in the dining room. The senior girls take it in turn to wait on the staff. It teaches them several skills, and gives them greater appreciation of the thankless job of a waitress. Or we can take it to the staff room for you,” she said. “Or you could have your lunch with the staff from the boys’ school,” she added as a balding man in a faded suit tapped on the door and entered.
“Mr Shaw, this is Mr Wild, the new Head of the girls’ school,” she said on his approach.
“Don Shaw, Head of boys’,” he said, shaking Adam’s hand. “Mrs Ryan said you’d be here. Pleased to meet you. You’ve got quite a challenge ahead of you.”
“I hope I’m up to it,” replied Adam.”
“If you find yourself in need of a bit of male company you’re welcome to join us for lunch at any time.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
But Sue Lawrence got the distinct impression that Adam Wild was very much at home in female company.
When Adam returned to his office he called Lisa in. “I need you to schedule a weekly staff meeting. I see that school closes half an hour early on a Friday and I think that would be a good time. We’ll make the meeting an hour long. I’m sure the staff won’t mind.” It was a statement, not a question. Lisa wasn’t sure how they would take it; especially those who appreciated the extra half hour to avoid the peak Friday traffic, and those who liked to do their weekly shopping on a Friday after school. You couldn’t expect a man to understand about shopping.
CHAPTER FOUR
The bell sounded for morning break and the teachers made their way to the staffroom. The vase on the coffee table was now filled with Michaelmas Daisies thanks to Eleanor Stannard whose hobby was gardening.
Jenna, unaware of what had gone on regarding the seating arrangements was sitting in her usual place on the couch. Annette Woolf, afraid of an accidental encounter with Adam’s knee, had made sure to sit in one of the chairs. Barbara Crook had parked herself in what had been Miss Edward’s seat. There was an empty chair beside her on which she’d placed her handbag. They were catching up on their holiday news, but when Adam and Lisa walked in they suddenly fell silent.
“I’ll get your tea,” Lisa said to Adam, leaving him to choose between the two remaining seats; on the chair beside Barbara Crook, from which she’d hastily removed her handbag, or on the couch beside Jenna Murray. Much to Barbara Crook’s chagrin, he chose to sit next to Jenna Murray, who frowned and edged over to make room for him.
Lisa placed Adam’s tea on the coffee table and was about to sit down when her phone rang. It was a diverted call from her office. She listened and then turned to Jenna. “Is your phone off?” she asked. “Andy’s been trying to get hold of you. Something about a plumber.”
“Sorry. Thanks,” she said, taking the phone from Lisa and stepping over Adam’s legs as she left the room to answer it.
“So, Mr Wild. Have you found somewhere to live in the area?” asked Barbara Crook, who dared to ask the questions everyone wanted answers to, but were too timid or too polite to voice themselves.
“Actually, I live with my in-laws,” Adam replied with a smile, much to everyone’s surprise.
“Oh. So you won’t be getting a place of your own?”
“No. Not in the foreseeable future.”
“That must cramp his style,” muttered Barbara Crook under her breath.
But Lisa knew it wasn’t entirely true that Adam lived with his in-laws. She remembered when she and Neil had picked him up to take him to the sailing club and he’d shown them round the property. He lived in a cottage in the grounds of his in-law’s home that overlooked a tidal estuary. The two-bedroom cottage had been used by Adam and Michelle and the children during the school holidays. It had a garage where Adam now kept his Jeep, and a separate entrance into Manor Farm Lane.
There were extensive views across the estuary to the hills beyond, and when the tide was in the sound of the lapping waves filtered through the open windows, together with the cawing of the gulls as they wheeled on the air currents rising from the sea.
At the side of the cottage was a vegetable garden tended by Jack, now retired. At the rear of the main house were the remains of small cages where Nicole, Michelle’s younger sister, had invested much of her childhood rehabilitating her menagerie of injured birds and other wildlife.
Beyond the perimeter of the property the land sloped down to the cliff and shoreline, accessible only to the nimble as the old mud pathway had eroded and was dangerously slippery after a rainfall, but was used by Adam to take Romper, a miniature Yorkshire terrier that had been Kirsty’s dog, for a morning run. Now too old to jump on Adam’s bed, the dog slept in a basket beside it. Polly, Adam’s mother-in-law, had the dog tucked under her arm, and Lisa had noticed how young and attractive she still was and wondered if Michelle had looked anything like her mother.
Where Manor Farm Lane turned in from the road there had once been a public access path to the shore, but the rudimentary steps had long since washed away and having been declared dangerous by Health and Safety regulations had been cordoned off with concrete barriers. Only trysting teenagers now used it.
The road leading down to Manor Farm Lane was bordered by fields of grazing cows and where the locals went mushrooming. Michelle and Nicole had often walked the mile to the main road to catch their school bus. There were only a few families living in Manor Farm Lane and they looked out for each other. There was no chance of anyone calling on the pretext of ‘just passing’ – Adam was safe from the Barbara Crooks of the world, which brought Lisa back to Barbara Crook’s question, and Adam’s reply, which had appeared to silence her.
When Jenna had finished talking to Andy she returned to the staffroom and Adam addressed them. “If you’ve no objections I propose we have a weekly staff meeting in the assembly hall on Fridays at three forty-five.” His tone suggested that objections would not be welcome, and they nodded their reluctant agreement.
Adam spent the rest of the week checking on the various lessons, often flustering the teachers and distracting the girls as he strolled between their desks, his hands in his pockets, stopping now and again to look over their shoulders and read their notes.
Annette Woolf was writing on the blackboard with her back to the class whe
n she was startled by Adam bursting in and striding over to Glenda McKenzie’s desk. Engrossed in writing a text message she did not realise he had seen her through the corridor window and it wasn’t until his hand closed over hers that she was conscious of his presence. He took her phone and slipped it into his pocket. “You can collect it from me at four fifteen,” he said, leaving the class in a stunned silence, and Annette Woolf having forgotten where she was in the lesson as he excused himself and left the room.
Jenna Murray was conducting an experiment on photosynthesis in her science class. The girls were standing beside benches equipped with Bunsen burners as she explained how they were going to compare leaves kept in sunlight with leaves kept in the dark. The leaves were first to be immersed in half a beaker of boiling water to kill the leaf membrane. Adam walked in as she was handing out elastic bands to the girls with long hair who used them to tie it back. “Please carry on,” he said as the girls stopped what they were doing to turn their attention to him.
He watched as they lit their Bunsen burners. “Do you always tie back your hair before lighting the Bunsen burner?” he asked an untidy-looking girl who was struggling to get wayward wisps of hair into the elastic band.
“Yes, Sir,’ she replied earnestly, “Miss Murray said that when she was a student she set her hair on fire and she had to put her head under a tap and all one side was burnt and she had to cut it really short and it took ages to grow again,” she finished in a rush, and wondered why Mr Wild smiled and covered his mouth with his hand and turned away, and why Miss Murray was scowling at her.
“A sensible precaution, Miss Murray,” he said, moving towards the door.
“I’m glad you approve,” she replied, glaring at his retreating back.
Dee Taylor had begun researching her programme of self-defence and was outlining it to a class of juniors who were sitting cross-legged on mats in the gym staring up at her with as much interest as they paid to the TV weatherman, when the door swung open and Adam walked in. Outdoor shoes were not allowed on the sprung wooden floor so he stepped onto the mat where she was addressing the class.
“Do you mind if I ask the girls how much they know about self-defence?” he asked.
“Please do,” she replied, stepping aside and standing at ease, as if she were on a parade ground.
He took her place in front of the class and the girls’ interest immediately perked up. Hooking his thumb in his trouser pocket he shifted his weight on to one leg and waited until he had their full attention before asking; “What is the biggest advantage an assailant will have over you, no matter how well prepared, or how well armed you are to defend yourself?”
“He’d be bigger,” suggested one girl.
“He’d be stronger,” suggested another.
“He might have a knife,” added a third
“Three good answers that would be true if the assailant were attacking you. But what if the assailant were attacking me? What advantage would he have even if I had a gun or a knife?”
The girls were mystified. He was tall, he was strong and Miss Taylor had told them he did martial arts.
“Imagine if a gunman burst in here now? How would you all feel?” he asked.
“Surprised,” said Dee Taylor.
Adam turned to her. “Exactly. An assailant will always have the advantage of surprise. He’ll have a plan of action that he can probably carry out before you’re even aware of what is happening.” He paused to give them time to think about it. “So, what can you do to minimise it?”
“Be alert,” suggested a girl in the front row.
“Yes,” he replied, and she turned to her neighbour with a satisfied smirk.
“Be aware of your surroundings and any potential threats at all times. It’s your first line of defence. Don’t walk down the road chatting to your friends on your phone. Someone riding, or running by, could snatch it. And don’t wear or carry anything that you might have to risk your life for. If someone threatens you and asks for your phone or purse, throw it away and run. The chances are that the thief will go after the purse rather than you,” he said, and then turned the class over to Dee Taylor once more.
Hayley Price had instructed the girls to make their own name badges and had given them a standard badge-size piece of card. They were permitted to decorate them however they liked, as long as their name was legible. If Mr Wild approved, then the badges would be laminated.
Some of the more artistic girls had painted flowers round the edge; others had concentrated on an intricate font, which Hayley Price feared Adam would not be able to decipher. The wits had dashed off a silly cartoon next to their names. A few girls, who would have preferred to make the badges on their computer, had just written their names, some in large print and some in small. When Adam had looked them over, and after her usual lengthy pause, Hayley Price said, “I think the badges will tell you as much about the girls’ personalities as their names.”
“You may be right. At least I can see who the jokers are,” he replied with a raised eyebrow.
Eleanor Stannard usually set a term project for her geography class. Each pupil had to research a country, state or county and then give a presentation to the class at the end of term. They were having difficulty making their selection as most of them had not unexpectedly decided on Hawaii. Rarely had any of the classes shown such enthusiasm for this particular project, but when Adam walked in it gave her an idea.
“Mr Wild, most of the girls have asked to do Hawaii as their term project. If I pair them off so there are not too many to listen to, would you be prepared to judge them and pick a winner at the end of term?”
Adam grinned. “As long as they don’t expect the prize to be a trip to Hawaii,” he said.
Barbara Crook was teaching her class biscuit making. The baking times were critical and it only took a minute or two to change a perfectly baked biscuit into a charred ruin. As Adam walked into the classroom a buzzer rang on one of the ovens and she invited him to assist in checking the timing of the ginger nuts. She was about to open the oven door when Lisa walked in with a message from the electrician to say he was going to be late to look at the faulty stove.
Lisa waited to deliver the message until Barbara Crook had attended to the more urgent matter of the biscuits. Her blouses and tops had always been low-cut, but since Adam’s arrival a further blouse button had been left undone and when she bent down to open the oven door everyone who was gathered round to inspect the progress of the biscuits, including Adam, were in no doubt as to the style and colour of her bra. Lisa noticed that only the most conscientious of the girls were watching the ginger nuts, the rest were nudging each other and watching Adam’s reaction, especially where his eyes were focused. “Another thirty seconds or more,” declared Barbara Crook, closing the oven door, and everyone was obliged to wait, but Adam took the opportunity to move away before she opened the door for a second time.
Lauren Mathews had taken him at his word that lessons should be linked to life experiences. Her maths lessons were now based on the economic advantages and disadvantages of renting or buying a house, and the tax advantages of couples co-habiting or marrying. When Adam joined the class she looked at him defiantly as she explained to the girls how women should prepare themselves financially before marriage in the case of possible divorce.
The following day Jenna Murray was teaching her computer science class. When Adam strode in she was explaining a computer programming problem to a junior girl. Each girl had her own computer and was allowed to work at her own pace. Jenna reluctantly got up to greet him, but he indicated for her to remain seated. “Please carry on,” he said, glancing at the computer screens as he slowly made his way to the back of the class. Two girls were sharing one computer and there was one not in use at the next desk. “Is something wrong with this?” he asked.
“It’s making a funny noise, Sir,” one of the girls replied.
Adam switched it on and it made a whirring clunking noise and he switched it off
again.
“I’ve notified the technician,” Jenna said, annoyed that he seemed to be checking up on her.
Adam sat down and took out what looked like a pen from his pocket. He pulled off the top to reveal a set of tiny screwdrivers.
“I suppose that’s your twenty-first century equivalent of a Boy Scout knife,” said Jenna with a hint of sarcasm.
“It may not get stones out of horses’ hooves, but it does open the car remote key so I can put in a new battery at midnight when I otherwise would have been stranded.”
“So you carry spare batteries as well? Be Prepared. Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout?”
“Pretty much,” he said, using one of the screwdrivers to remove the screws from the computer casing and sliding it off. He then took out the screws holding the fan in place and eased it out of the housing. “Have you got a cloth or a brush, or maybe a cotton swab?” he asked Jenna. She instructed one of the girls to get a tissue out of the box she kept on her desk and Adam used it to wipe the dust off the fan. “It needs a bit of rubbing alcohol to do the job properly. Do you have any in the science lab?”
“Yes, but it’s locked away.”
“I don’t suppose you have any cans of compressed air?”
“No. We leave the maintenance to the computer technician,” she said, pointedly.
Adam started screwing the fan back in place. “It might be an idea to teach the girls basic maintenance,” he said, and turning to look up at her he added with an arched smile, “Isn’t it better for them to be self-reliant than have to rely on a technician?”
“Do you really want the girls messing about inside an expensive computer?”
“No. I’m sure we can find an old one they can practise on.”
“I’ll add it to the list of changes you’d like to introduce,” she replied tight-lipped as Adam switched on the computer. When it powered up silently he put the casing back on.
“There you are, ladies,” he said to the girls. “You don’t have to share anymore.”
With the Headmaster's Approval Page 3