Happily Never After_A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

by Emma Robinson

  Rory pretended to think for a moment. ‘It all depends on your definition of fun.’

  ‘That means no.’ Harry snuck a hand into his pocket and another Dorito into his mouth.

  ‘We’re actually going to plan some extended writing. That’s going to be your assessment at the end of this half term and we need to practise.’ There was a collective groan. ‘I knew you’d be excited.’

  ‘I ‘ate writing,’ a stringy boy at the front of the class moaned. ‘Can’t you read us that book again?’

  There was nothing Rory would like better than to open her copy of A Monster Calls and read the next chapter. But even an hour of English every day wasn’t enough to cajole some of these kids into writing more than a couple of paragraphs, and the book was far more effective as a bargaining tool. ‘If we get forty minutes of preparation done now, and you work hard, I can read you another chapter at the end of the lesson. Does anyone know where Charlie is?’

  Every time Charlie was late, Rory worried. His mum was a lovely woman, but her Crohn’s Disease was debilitating at times. Some days Charlie had a lot to do before he came to school in the morning.

  Just then the classroom door opened and Charlie hurried in. ‘Sorry I’m late, Miss.’

  ‘Good to see you, Charlie. Just sit yourself down and you can tell me why you were late in a minute. Harry, can you give the books out?’

  Lacey jumped up and wriggled to pull the bottom of her skirt down just far enough for decency. ‘I’ll do it, Miss. If we wait for Harry, it’ll be break time before we start.’ She had a point; Harry looked like he’d just realised someone had called his name.

  ‘Thanks. The rest of you, I want you to try and think of someone who is really important to you. It can be anyone. A family member, a sporting hero, a best friend, but it needs to be someone who is special to you in a personal way.’

  A smile spread across Harry’s face. ‘Kylie Jenner.’

  Tactically ignoring him, Rory continued to explain. ‘Our assessment this half term is going to be to write that person a letter. Today we are going to plan the three main sections, so to begin with, I am going to give you three strips of paper and I want you to write down the three most important things you would like to say to that person.’

  Lacey has sat down and was now chewing the end of her pen. ‘Can it be anyone?’

  Rory nodded. ‘Anyone you like.’

  Lacey clearly had someone specific in mind. ‘Can it be someone in this class?’

  At the predictable reaction of ‘Ooohs’, Lacey stuck her middle finger up. Rory pretended not to notice. Don’t sweat the small stuff. ‘Yes, it can. But only if it’s a positive letter: no hate mail.’

  Charlie started to raise his hand as if he was going to ask her something, and then thought better of it. Rory had a pretty good idea who he was going to write to and it made her heart hurt.

  Then she brought out her secret weapon: the strips of coloured paper. Non-teachers wouldn’t believe how even the most reluctant writer was happy to write on coloured paper. That was something you wouldn’t find on a stupid annotated seating plan.

  When they had been working for a while, there was a sharp knock on the door and Nathan Finch came in. Rory could tell from the pupils’ reactions that some of them had encountered him already and were none too keen. ‘Sit up!’ he barked at Harry. Then he took one look at Lacey and sent her down to the head of year room to remove her nail polish. ‘And you can unroll the top of your skirt whilst you’re down there.’

  Rory sighed. They had just begun to get into the task. If she’d started attacking them for every misdemeanour, they’d still be on the opening paragraph at Christmas.

  Nathan then turned his attention to Rory, changing his tone. ‘Good afternoon, Ms Wilson. I was wondering if I could have a quick word with you outside.’

  Giving her class a ‘get on with it’ look, Rory followed him through the classroom door.

  When they were in the corridor, he gave her that car salesman smile again. ‘Sorry to interrupt your teaching, but I wanted to ask why you haven’t entered any data yet this half term? Mr Brown informs me that the deadline was last Friday.’ He looked at her expectantly.

  Rory tried her most surprised face. ‘Oh, was it last Friday? Sorry, I thought it was this Friday. I’ll get onto it straight away.’ She resisted the urge to make a mock salute. Nathan Finch didn’t strike her as a man with a particularly developed sense of humour. She also needed to get back to her class before Harry started selling his surplus snacks.

  Nathan didn’t look convinced. ‘I understand that data collection has not had a strong profile at St Anthony’s hitherto.’ He paused for emphasis. ‘You must understand that, unless I – I mean we – can get a clear picture of our pupils’ current levels, we will not be able to put in place the interventions they need to make their expected, and above expected, levels of progress.’ He stopped and smiled, as if he had just explained how he was going to solve world hunger.

  Rory could have told him the current level of every pupil in her class right there and then – it was called knowing your students. Plus, they were more likely to make progress if she spent her time planning good lessons rather than entering numbers into a spreadsheet. ‘Of course.’

  Nathan leaned in towards her. He smelled of expensive aftershave. Rory hadn’t had a man this close to her face in a while. It was disconcerting. ‘I know change can be difficult, Ms Wilson. But I am determined to make this an outstanding school, and accurate data is a very large step in the right direction. I don’t expect everybody will want to go on that journey with me – us’ – he paused – ‘but that is what needs to be done.’

  When she got back into the classroom, Charlie looked concerned. ‘Are you in trouble, Miss?’

  ‘Of course not, Charlie. Whatever gave you that idea?’

  Harry was nodding sagely. ‘Cos Finchy only ever talks to people when they’re in trouble.’

  ‘Nope, all fine.’ It wasn’t their fault that she’d be sitting here until late tonight, inputting irrelevant data on each of her classes. But the prospect meant she wasn’t in the mood for cheerleading them through their writing planning either, particularly as a sulky-looking Lacey had just rejoined them, looking more like she was ready to wield a knife than a pen. ‘Shall we leave it there until tomorrow, and read a chapter?’

  Harry moved out of his seat for the first time that day and gave out the copies of the book. As Rory read to them, they transformed before her eyes into a group of young children, spellbound by a story. You couldn’t input that onto a spreadsheet.

  By five o’clock, she wasn’t even halfway through stabbing at her computer keyboard with her finger. She hadn’t begun to plan tomorrow’s lessons and a large pile of books glared menacingly from the corner of her desk; they would be her date for tonight. Just for a moment, she lay her head down on the desk and took a deep breath.

  ‘All getting a bit too much, chick?’

  Rory raised her head. Susie walked in and perched on the edge of her desk. ‘You doing data too?’

  Rory nodded. ‘What is the point of all this? I spend longer on doing the assessments and marking the assessments and entering the data on the assessments than I do on actually teaching. It’s bonkers.’

  ‘It’s not quite as bad for me in IT, but you’re right.’ Susie raised her hands and did a mock bow. ‘Data is king.’

  ‘It’s got worse now that bloody man has started. I think he might have threatened me this afternoon.’

  ‘You’re not the only one. He’s been paying quite a few visits this afternoon. Penny was almost in tears when I saw her earlier.’

  ‘Penny?’ Rory sat up straight. She and Susie could take it, but Penny was a sensitive soul. ‘He’d better not start on her.’

  Susie clapped her hands together. ‘I think we all need a night off this business already – and the term has just started. How about I grab Pen and we come over to you tonight for a takeaway and a bottle of wine?�
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  ‘I can’t do tonight, I’ve got someone coming…’ Rory glanced at her watch. ‘Damn! Is that the time? I have to go.’ She logged out of the computer – she’d have to come in early again tomorrow to finish the data – and scooped up the pile of books.

  ‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’ Susie’s heels click-clacked after her down the corridor.

  ‘I’ve got someone coming to fix the sink.’

  The click-clack got quicker. ‘The Prince man from B&Q? Is he good-looking? Can I come?’

  ‘Susie, I’ve really got to go. I’ll see you in the morning.’ Rory pushed open the front door with the pile of books and picked up her pace towards the car park.

  ‘Tomorrow night, then,’ Susie stood in the doorway and shouted after her. ‘No excuses!’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Crikey, that’s a lot of books.’ John helped her from the car with some of them after she’d apologised profusely for being late. The pile looked smaller when he held them.

  ‘Yep, one of the many joys of a teaching career. I’ve got a hot date with a red pen tonight.’ Rory opened the front door the only way that seemed to work: key in the lock, turn it, throw yourself against the door.

  ‘Hey, you’re going to hurt yourself.’ John ran his fingers around the door frame. ‘You’ve got some nasty swelling there. I’ll get a plane out of the van and sort that out for you before I go.’

  Rory dropped her pile of exercise books onto the table and John placed the ones he’d taken neatly beside them.

  ‘Thanks for coming. I really didn’t expect you to come and look at it. I thought you could just tell me what to do over the phone.’ The thought of digging around in the muck below the plug hole made her retch. It had been bad enough using a saucepan to scoop up the cold and dirty water in the sink and chuck it on the garden. She would have done it though. Eventually.

  ‘It’s no problem, I knew I’d be on my way back from a job anyway and I didn’t have plans tonight.’ He moved his head slowly to take in the rest of the sitting room. ‘This house will be beautiful when you’ve done it up.’

  At last, someone else could see it. ‘I think so. Paint, new tiles – you won’t recognise the place.’

  John turned to look at her. He rubbed his face, which made a scratchy noise. ‘It’ll take more than a bit of paint.’

  Here came the hard sell. ‘I know, it needs everything doing to it, but I’m not afraid of hard work.’

  John pressed his lips together. ‘It’ll take a very long time if you do it all yourself.’

  ‘I won’t be doing it all myself. Belle is helping me.’ Rory should have used past tense. Belle had helped in the last two weeks of the summer but wasn’t keen to carry on now she’d started college.

  John was looking up at the ornate coving. It had a few chips out of it, but Rory thought it would look better once it was painted white. John’s expression suggested otherwise. ‘Look, why don’t you let me help you?’

  Rory stiffened. Either he believed she wasn’t capable of doing it, or he thought that he could make some easy money out of her. She wasn’t stupid. ‘Thanks. But I’m fine.’

  Now John was crouched on the floor, running his finger along the skirting board. ‘There are so many original features. You need to make a good job of this.’

  Rory tried not to stare at his hands. ‘I intend to.’

  John rested back on his haunches. He had noticeably muscular thighs. ‘I grew up in a house just like this. I’d enjoy working on this place. Restoring it to its former glory.’

  Did she need to tell him again that she hadn’t asked him to? And why was he looking up at her like that? Was he appraising her for restoration, too? ‘I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. However long it takes.’

  ‘Look.’ He stood up and did that scratchy face rub again. ‘I’ve got a mate who wants to make me a website. And I need some photos of my work. Kind of a before and after type thing.’

  Rory could see where this was leading. ‘Okay.’

  ‘And. Let’s face it, you won’t find many more extreme before photos than this place.’ John grinned, then stopped, coughed and frowned up at the coving again. Clearly, it was very interesting. ‘So, if I can take some pictures for my website, I’ll give you a big discount on the work.’

  Rory could almost hear her mother telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth. But she wanted to do this herself. And who was this man, anyway? Anyone could drive a white van and give out business cards in B&Q. ‘I’m not sure. This was supposed to be my project.’

  John dragged his eyes away from the interesting coving and held up his hands. ‘It will be your project – I’ll just be the hired hands. I’ll do the bits you don’t want to.’

  If he’d said the bits you can’t do, Rory would have refused on the spot. But the enormity of the task she had taken on was beginning to dawn on her. Maybe some help would be a good thing.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  John gave a short nod and pointed to the kitchen door. ‘Shall I go and get on with it?’

  ‘Thanks. I’m just going to run upstairs and get changed.’

  It felt slightly odd to have a man in the house. Especially when she was taking her clothes off. Obviously he was only there as a handyman, and would not be bursting into her bedroom, but it was still weird.

  It wasn’t that she hadn’t dated since Scott. They’d split up over fifteen years ago and, whatever Susie believed, Rory hadn’t been a nun since then. But there had been no one special. She hadn’t wanted anyone special. Sex was sex, but her real life was her and Belle, and she didn’t want anyone else to spoil it.

  That was a point: she should warn Belle that there was a man in the house, just in case she’d done her usual and changed into her PJs the minute she got home. She knocked on Belle’s bedroom door. There was no answer. Rory peeked inside. Where was she?

  She paused for a moment on the threshold. The walls of Belle’s bedroom were like an insight into her teenage mind. Oddly, the pictures of princesses – which Rory had always hated – now made her feel nostalgic for that time when they weren’t fighting for wall space with Justin Bieber. Since Belle had turned sixteen and started sixth form there had been a definite change in her. Of course, Rory had always wanted to raise an independent, strong-minded woman – and she’d fought a long-standing battle against the role models of Snow White, Rapunzel and their chums – but now the memories of a toothy little girl in a Cinderella costume tweaked her heart a little. Be careful what you wish for.

  Hearing the front door open, she went downstairs to find her daughter hanging up her coat.

  ‘Hi, Mum, sorry I’m late. I was at Fiona’s house and we were talking and I just forgot the time.’

  Rory kissed Belle’s cool cheek, which smelled of the outdoors, and pushed her fringe out of her eyes. Eyeshadow? ‘That’s okay, I’ve only just got in myself. Listen, I have a stack of marking to do, so how do you feel about pizza again tonight?’

  ‘Pizza? That sounds good,’ John walked into the hallway. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He held out his hand. Belle shook it a little self-consciously, shaking her fringe back out from behind her ear, and then looked at her mother.

  ‘John is here to sort out the sink for us. I couldn’t get it unblocked.’

  ‘And now you’re joining us for pizza, too. Great!’ Belle gave her mum an enquiring and expectant look.

  John’s eyes widened. ‘No! I wasn’t inviting myself. Er… there’s nothing in the trap. I need to… uh… go out the back and check the drains.’ He backed out of the hallway into the sitting room. Practically ran.

  Rory flushed. She blamed her mother for Belle’s desire to fix her up with any man who crossed their path.

  ‘I did wonder what that big white van was doing here.’ Belle nudged Rory. ‘John seems really nice, Mum.’

  Rory pointed a finger at her daughter. ‘Don’t you even start with that. I assumed you’d learned your lesson a long time ago, after trying to
fix me up with your primary school teacher. Your married primary school teacher.’

  ‘You need to start thinking about it, Mum. Gran and I were talking about this the other day. It’s about time you fell in love.’

  Rory was about to start on her usual rant about the illusion of romantic love, when John popped his head around the door. ‘It is the drains. I’m just going to dredge them. Might stink a bit.’ He disappeared again.

  Rory lowered her voice to a stage whisper. ‘Life is not a fairy tale, Belle.’ She swiped at her daughter’s legs as Belle mouthed the words along with her. ‘And don’t mimic your mother.’

  ‘Gran says you make your own life story.’ Belle had her hands on her hips. ‘And mine is definitely going to be a fairy tale.’ She dropped her hands and looked at Rory: more seriously now.

  Rory needed to tread carefully. ‘What is it?’

  Belle looked down at the black and white tiles on the hallway floor, and then back up again. She lowered her voice a little. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.’ She paused. ‘I’ve started seeing someone from college. A boy, I mean.’

  Rory motioned with her head that they should go into the sitting room and sit down. Finally, Belle was going to tell her about the boyfriend. She should be pleased. She should be relieved. But the mention of a boyfriend made her feel strange. ‘Is he nice?’

  Belle blushed and nodded. ‘Really nice, Mum. But I don’t want to talk about him too much yet. I might jinx it.’

  But Rory needed a bit more information. What was his name? Was he kind? Was he careful? What was his family like? Could she trust him? Did he know how lucky he was? Okay, she wanted a lot of information. But then John came back in and he was holding a… Was that a frog?

  He was beaming. John. Not the frog. ‘Look at this little fella!’

  Belle ran to him: she had always loved any kind of animal, that girl. Rory was less keen. Particularly with regard to amphibians. ‘What is that doing in my house?’