by Clare Revell
Paiton sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t have time before Friday.”
“Just pick a story and write it panto style. Or we could take a Christmas song and write the story behind it. Why Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer or Frosty the Snowman goes on holiday or something. You can use anything for the auditions. Doesn’t have to be the actual script.”
Hmmm. That idea might just work. Paiton pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll think about it. Read quietly until the bell goes.” She pushed back in the chair. She needed painkillers and coffee and not necessarily in that order.
Darius came back into the classroom, carrying a mug. “Mr. Quirke said to give you this, Miss.”
She inhaled sharply. The delicious aroma of coffee, hot, glorious coffee assailed her senses. How had the man known she’d be craving caffeine about now?
Darius set the mug on the desk. “He also said to tell you no more climbing on anything and to take it easy.”
She chuckled. “In that case, perhaps you’d better climb up and heave those boxes back on the top shelf of the cupboard for me.” She picked up the coffee. “And thank you.” Three grand sips later, Paiton reached for her bag and tugged out the bottle of painkillers. After several failed attempts to open the pesky plastic container, she gritted her teeth and glared at it.
Darius grinned. “It’s a Miss Underwood-proof bottle.” He took it and unscrewed the lid.
“Thank you.” Paiton shook out two pills and swallowed them with the coffee. The bell rang. “OK. Off you go. Have fun and be good.” She sighed as the door shut. She had a free first period, which she’d need if she was to write this play/musical/production to end all play/musical/productions before the end of the week.
~*~
Fraser closed his office door as Paiton sat down. “Thank you for coming, Miss Underwood.”
“It’s Paiton—with an A I rather than an E Y. Dad couldn’t spell and lost the piece of paper Mum had written it down on when he went to register me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with an unusual name.”
“Apart from the fact I was the only kid who could never find her name on anything in the shops.”
He chuckled. “There is that. I called you because there are a couple of things I wanted to tell you before the police arrive.” He broke off at a sharp knock on the door. “Come.”
The school secretary, Miss Please-call-me-Jackie-with-fluttering-eyelashes Mills poked her head around the door. “Sorry to bother you, but the police are here.”
“Thank you, Miss Mills. Please send them in.” He wouldn’t apologise for keeping things formal between them. If he ever did fall in love, it would be with someone like Paiton Underwood, someone not quite so obvious, but with a quiet beauty.
And where in the world had that thought come from? Didn’t he have enough on his plate right now as it was without love coming into the equation?
He stood as two plain clothes officers entered the room. “I’m Fraser Quirke, the headmaster.”
The male officer held out his ID. “I’m DS David Painter. This is my partner, DS Sara Raines. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”
Fraser held out his hand. “Thank you for coming. This is Paiton Underwood, the teacher in question.”
Introductions over, and a tray of tea and chocolate biscuits brought in, the two officers turned to Paiton.
She twisted the scarf around her neck. “I feel as if I’m wasting your time, because I honestly don’t know with any degree of certainty what happened yesterday. The lads behind me were being noisy, and I could hear scuffling. I turned, or started to turn around, to tell them to behave, and the next thing I know I’m on the floor at the foot of the stage.”
DS Painter looked up from his notebook. “Two of the three boys involved, Samuel Brooks and Jack O’Conner, have admitted responsibility for starting the fight. The third, Matthew Aqualina, agrees that he joined in, but he didn’t want you to get hurt. I understand that Samuel and Jack had been arguing in the corridor beforehand?”
Paiton cradled her arm. “Yes. I’d dealt with the disagreement and had given Samuel detention. When he re-joined the class, the others laughed and teased him, so it became a class detention, which should have been tonight. I didn’t get a chance to send home letters about it, so it will have to be another night. Although I honestly think they’ve learned the lesson far more effectively because of this.” She lightly tapped the cast.
Fraser looked at her. “If you said detention, that’s what the class gets. I’ll have them all at lunchtime today.”
DS Painter nodded. “We tested the drugs found in Samuel’s pockets and Jack’s locker.”
Shock cross Paiton’s face. “Drugs?” she asked, sitting bolt upright. “They had drugs on them?” She looked at Fraser accusingly.
“I was about to tell you,” he said. “That’s what the fight was over in the first place. And from what they told me certain high up members of staff were aware and turning a blind eye.”
“Oh…” Paiton leaned back in her chair. The woman looked devastated.
“It was cannabis, as you first thought,” DS Painter continued. “That’s why we’re handling this rather than the uniformed officers who came out yesterday.”
Fraser sighed. Now he’d have to expel them. A shame as the boys were in their final year, but he couldn’t have drugs in the school and let the boys concerned get away with it. “I’ll do the expulsion paperwork this morning. You will have my full co-operation in the investigation. Anyone you need to talk to, feel free to use the office next door.”
“Thank you. We’ll need to speak to the whole form and any of their friends as well as all their other classes and teachers.” He turned to Paiton. “Do you wish to press assault charges?”
“You think it was deliberate?” A frown crossed Paiton’s pretty face. “I assume they’ll be charged in regards to the drugs?”
“Yes. With possession and intent to supply.”
“Then they’re being punished enough.”
Fraser coughed. “Miss Underwood…”
She stared at him. “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone. I’m not convinced I was hurt intentionally, and I think it’s also a safe bet that we all messed around in class before now.” She turned back to the detective. “Just have your custody sergeant read them the riot act as far as my being pushed off the stage goes.”
DS Painter smiled. “We can do that.”
After the officers left, Fraser studied Paiton, trying to figure the woman out. “Before you go to your next class, I need to talk to you. Would you like some coffee?”
She sat back in her chair. “Yes, we got interrupted and never finished the conversation. Coffee would be wonderful. Thank you. And thank you for the cup you sent me earlier. It came at precisely the right moment.”
Fraser stood and crossed to the coffee pot on the side. “I thought it might.” He poured two cups and added cream. Her file had stated she was firm, but fair. Exactly the type of person he’d need beside him if he was to extricate the school from the mess it was in. He turned and carried the cups back to the desk. “Here you go.” He held out a cup.
Paiton’s fingers closed around it. “Thank you. How can I help?”
Fraser sat. “I’ve been reading the staff files. Aside from Tom Jenkins, you’ve been here the longest.”
“Since I graduated from teaching school. I did a degree in drama and theatre arts, with a secondary in English, then my PGCE.”
“And you’ve never gone for promotion?” He studied the cup.
Paiton sipped the coffee. “Thank you. No. I love it here. I’m head of year for the second year running as well as head of drama. Why would I want to go anywhere else?”
He sucked in a deep breath and held it, studying her. He needed an ally in this fight, and she was the one God seemed to be leading him towards. After all, she’d literally fallen into his arms, and it seemed only right to do this with her. The fact she was attractive, easy to ta
lk to, and spoke her mind despite who he was, only served to draw him to her more. “I need your help,” he said quietly, sliding a folder over to her.
Her face creased at first in consternation and then anger as she read the letter. “They can’t do this.”
“I’m afraid they can. And this drugs issue will only seal the lid on the coffin further. I have until the end of term to turn things around or the school closes. For good.”
Her jaw dropped, and she gazed down at her hands for a long moment. Her good arm cradled the purple cast. “Betty said nothing when she rang last night.”
“Betty?”
“Mrs. Welsh, she teaches French.”
“Ah, yes, well, I haven’t told any of the others yet. Just you. And I want it kept that way.” He watched her face carefully. She obviously wanted to ask more questions but had the wisdom to remain quiet. Either that or she really was dumbfounded. “We do have a serious problem in this school. And the drug issue will only make things so much worse for us. I’m hoping and praying it’s merely the two of those boys and not a wider network. Obviously, Tom Jenkins will have to leave immediately as this was happening under his jurisdiction and with his knowledge. That is my next call to make.”
Paiton managed a nod. “Yes. Can I be frank?”
“Sure.”
“Things haven’t been right here for a while. The previous head and deputy head left under a cloud. It wasn’t widely known, but one of the teachers, Dawn Tyler, was being stalked. She’d reported seeing the man on school grounds several times and nothing was done about it. What reason will you give for Tom leaving before the end of term? We can’t just admit the real reason. Not if we want the chance to keep the school open.”
“I’m not lying for him. I’ll simply say he’s retiring as of today rather than the end of term. But quietly and without a fuss, which, of course, leaves me with an immediate opening for a deputy head.”
She pursed her lips. “Liam would be good.”
Fraser shook his head, waiting until he had her full attention. His eyes searched hers. “I want you in the job.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to protest. “Let me finish. I believe your play will bring the whole school together. It’ll show the council and Ofsted that we can improve things, that we can heal this school and move on together. What do you say?”
She wound her scarf around her right hand. “Acting deputy head.”
“Until Christmas. Then, if we’re still open as a school, I would like to make it permanent. Assuming you want the position then.” He slanted his head. “You get an office, a share of the school secretary.”
“Can I still teach?”
“Of course. For now, you’ll remain head of Year Eleven and head of drama, assuming you feel you can cope well with all the roles.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Actually, Liam would make an exceptional head of year. His form is Year Eleven as well, so that won’t be an issue.”
“I’ll speak to him later. And I’ll get a name plate done for your office. The other thing I wanted to discuss was the production.”
Paiton shook her head. “For the auditions, I figured we’d get them to read a scene from A Christmas Carol in pairs and sing a verse from Silent Night.”
“Do you have anything I can read yet?”
“Not on paper. But you’ll have something possibly by the end of the day, but definitely Thursday.”
4
By Thursday morning, however, Paiton still had nothing. Apart from an extremely high stress level and the beginnings of a headache. Mr. Quirke had arranged for some of her classes to be taken by other teachers to free her up for admin work so she could settle into her new role.
Sitting in her first period class, she tapped her pencil on the desk. She had 7ET for this lesson, and they were reading through A Midsummer Night’s Dream. As the class read aloud, her mind wandered to how unfair it was the school would be closing because one man, well three men, had driven it into the ground.
Twelve weeks give or take to save the school. Twelve weeks until Christmas. Twelve—
The fire bell rang. Loud. Insistent.
Startled, she stood. “OK, everyone. Put the books down and stand. Leave everything where it is, move to the door, and line up. Quickly please.” She mentally counted. Everyone was there. Good.
The corridors were full. Classes emptying, children panicking.
Paiton sighed. This was a disaster waiting to happen. But then she didn’t remember the last fire practice they’d had. They exited the building and headed onto the field.
Mr. Quirke stood outside with a stopwatch in his hand. A frown marked his stern features.
Oh, this really wasn’t going well at all. As usual, all the Year Elevens congregated on the same part of the field and soon divided into form groups. Once Mr. Thomas came to stand with his form, Paiton made her way over to her students. She called the register, which Darius held for her. Being one handed meant she couldn’t do it herself. She glanced over the form, and then frowned. “Mary, why have you got your bag?”
“It’s new, Miss, and if it burns, my mother will kill me. It cost a fortune ’cos it’s…”
“I don’t care if the bag is a designer or came from the local Saturday market. The rules state you bring nothing from the classroom.”
Mary scowled but had the sense not to answer back. Just as well because Paiton was in no mood to talk gently around any of the students.
The whistle blew, and Mr. Quirke gave the signal for them all to return to the classrooMs
Paiton headed back and sat awaiting the return of the students. As 7ET settled in and picked up their books to continue the lesson, she shook her head. “It’s brainstorm time.”
The class groaned.
Paiton rolled her eyes and adjusted the sling on her arm. Once more, she was grateful she’d broken her right arm and not her left. Most of the time being left handed was a nuisance. Now, it was a blessing. “You’ll gain credits if I use your idea in the school production.” The dangled carrot had the desired effect, and she had the undivided attention of the entire class. “So, we need ideas for the play.”
“How about the twelve days of Christmas but use school items instead?” Rashid suggested, bursting into song. “Seven Miss Underwoods falling, six PE lessons, five school dinners…”
Peter took over. “Four football clubs, three maths lessons, two detentions, and a whole school assembly.”
Everyone laughed.
“That’s brilliant.” Paiton grinned. “Tell you what, I’ll write that into the play and all of you can perform it. But I refuse to fall off the stage seven times.”
“Can it just be ours, Miss? Don’t tell anyone about it?”
She nodded. “Don’t see why not. Get into three groups and come up with more ideas. We’ll pool them all next lesson and turn it into a proper song. I’ll even sort out props for you all, or speak with your art teacher and maybe you can make them in art lessons this term. Just talk quietly.”
Someone tapped at the door.
The headmaster beckoned to her from the doorway.
Wishing her heart would stop thumping each time he appeared, Paiton rose and walked across the room. “Mr. Quirke.”
“May I have a quick word?”
“Sure.” Paiton glanced at the children. “I’ll be right outside. Don’t be noisy.” She closed the door behind her. “If you wanted those sheets, I…”
He shook his head. “No. We can do the auditions as we’d already planned. I just got off the phone with Ofsted. They want to do an inspection. Tomorrow. They told me as a courtesy.” He paused, holding her gaze. “And yes, they know about the…” he lowered his voice, “…you-know-what.”
“Are you telling the rest of the staff?”
“About the inspection, yes. And the real reason Tom left so abruptly. Not that we’re in danger of…” He tilted his head slightly, obviously not wanting to speak the words aloud in case someone overheard him.
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. It does, however, mean they’ll be here for the auditions. How many have signed up?”
Paiton sighed. “Ten. Tell you what. Call an assembly for after break. The whole school, just for fifteen minutes or so. Let me talk to the kids. I have an idea.”
~*~
Fraser briefed the staff, deliberately leaving out the strong possibility the school might close at the end of term. There would be time enough to tell them after tomorrow’s visit. He also informed them about the drugs and the reasons behind the boy’s expulsion. He drew in a deep breath. “As a result, there will be an immediate clamp down on discipline. Things have been lax around here for too long.” He glanced around. “I know a couple of you,” he let his gaze linger on Liam Page and Dawn Tyler, “have a reputation for being strict and that’s good. I want to see more of that. The kids need to know they can trust us, but at the same time know which lines cannot be crossed without repercussions and consequences. I intend to introduce a three-strike policy aside from detention. As always, that is up to the teacher’s discretion. The strike system is to be used for continual bad behaviour when the threat of detention doesn’t work. But that’s not just for one class. I want you all to communicate with each other. If a child has one strike, the teacher of his or her next class must be informed and so on.”
“What happens after strike three?” Dawn asked.
“My office and a two-day suspension. We have to regain control before we end up with any more accidents. Or something worse. I also intend to hold regular fire drills. At least once a week for the time being. The practice this morning was dreadful. A full fifteen minutes to evacuate the whole school isn’t acceptable. In a real fire, we’d have a huge death toll. We need to get it down to three minutes or less.” The bell rang. “Oh, one more thing. I need the whole school in the hall for a quick assembly for the next half hour or so. I’ll tell everyone about the staffing changes and a couple of other things.”
Five minutes later, clad in gown and mortar board hat, he stood on the stage in the main hall, gazing out over the assembled children. His children. Most of the teachers sat along the sides of the room, the remaining ones stood at the back. On the stage behind him sat Paiton and Liam.