by Clare Revell
Warily, Paiton picked up her cup. “Yeah.”
“Well, one of the kids in Josh’s class has an older sister in Year Nine. Not mentioning her name, but her mum says this new head teacher has really shaken things up.”
“In a good way?”
Sue scrunched up her nose. “Well, apparently he likes suspending the kids.”
“We’re cracking down on discipline.” Paiton’s defences, and hackles, went up sharply. “We have a three-strike system in place and suspension is the last resort. Unless you’re caught bullying. That comes with a zero-tolerance policy and is an automatic suspension. You can tell this parent that is what those three Year Nines were caught doing.” Paiton set her cup down and changed the subject. “I’m writing the school play this year. Did I tell you?”
Sue shook her head. “No, you didn’t. Do we get to go?”
“I’ll get you tickets. Josh will see it with his school.”
“What’s it about?”
“Called Journey to Christmas, it’s about a kid who discovers the real meaning of Christmas underneath all the trappings of tinsel, presents, and shopping. We have songs, lots of carols, audience participation, and so on. It should be good.” Her phone beeped, and she tugged it from her pocket. “Need to take this.”
Fraser’s name showed on the screen.
Paiton opened the text.
FINISHED SHOPPING. WHERE ARE YOU?
IN THE 3-16. DON’T BE LONG.
She put the phone away. “Sorry.”
“You will be if you try that at mealtime on a Sunday. Mum is clamping down on it. Speaking of Sunday, we miss you. You should come and bring Mr. Mystery Man.”
Paiton rolled her eyes. “It’s a little early to inflict that on him. We’re still testing the water as far as dating goes…” Her voice trailed off as the door opened and a tall, endearing figure entered the café.
A blue gaze caressed the room until it settled on her and the familiar smile lit his eyes.
Her whole body trembled. Wow. Was this love? The sense of incompleteness when he wasn’t there shocked her. And the way her heart pounded and breath caught in her throat the instant he entered a room…
“Are you all right?” Sue asked. She turned, following Paiton’s line of sight. “Is that him?”
Paiton nodded.
“Wow…” For once Sue didn’t finish her sentence.
Fraser crossed the tiled floor towards them. “Ladies.”
Sue scrambled to her feet and held out a hand. “Hi, you must be Paiton’s mystery man she won’t tell me anything about. I’m her sister, Sue.”
Fraser shook her hand. “I’m Fraser.”
“I’ll get you a coffee. Please, join us.” Sue tugged the bags from his hands and set them on the floor by the empty chair.
Paiton sighed as Sue rushed to the counter. “Sorry. Hurricane Sue is currently at a category four and rising in her quest for information.”
“It’s fine.” Fraser sat, his hand immediately seeking out Paiton’s and grasping it firmly. “Is she always like this?”
“She hates being the last to know anything. Word’s gone around the church seniors that a visitor of the male variety was seen sitting with me several weeks running. I go to the same church Sue and her family attend, and I usually sit with them. They assumed I’d been staying in and streaming the service because of my arm, not sitting upstairs with someone else.”
He chuckled. “Are you in the dog house now?”
“Pretty much.”
Sue placed down the cup of coffee. “Here you go.” She eased back into her chair. “So, what do you do? I’m guessing you’re the one giving her lifts to work, so you must teach something.”
Fraser dumped sugar into his cup and stirred. “I’m the—”
“Art teacher,” Paiton said quickly, kicking him under the table. She would get some fun out of this at Sue’s expense for a change. It was normally her being the brunt of her sister’s mirth. “He’s helping with the play.”
Fraser glanced at her. “Yes, one of the art teachers. I’m doing all the sets for her play.”
“How did you meet?”
“The day I broke my arm.” Paiton wished fervently that Sue would shut up. “He helped me into a chair. Then I fainted on him. Although I don’t remember that. The kids told me it was pretty spectacular.”
“How long have you been dating?” Sue glared at Paiton’s burning face, daring her not to answer, before smiling sweetly at Fraser.
“Properly? About a week,” Fraser replied. “But we’ve been going out on and off since the beginning of September. Dinners, church, to and from work, coffee...”
“But why keep it quiet? Basil and I let everyone know from the outset.”
“I’m not you,” Paiton said quickly. “Besides, we work together, and it might be a little awkward in the staff room if everyone knew.”
“Would this new headmaster object?” Sue kept digging.
Paiton would give anything for her sister to simply vanish in a puff of smoke. She looked at Fraser. How on earth did she answer this one?
Fraser’s lips twitched. “Well, he can be a bit of an ogre at times.”
Paiton tried not to laugh. “Don’t forget bossy and overbearing.”
“Oh, and OTT. So for now, we don’t want anyone at school knowing we’re an item.”
Paiton’s eyes widened. “An item?”
Fraser laughed. “That probably dates me.” His fingers caressed the back of her hand. “But yeah, an item.”
Her heart leapt for joy. Then wished his first declaration of affection hadn’t been in front of her sister, who was the best set of jungle drums this town had. She took a deep breath. “Actually, the head is a great bloke. He’s really good with the kids, doesn’t stand for any nonsense, yet takes his time to help them on a one-to-one basis when they need it. But we really need to be sure of any relationship ourselves before the school finds out.”
“Have some faith,” Sue said.
Paiton frowned. “Huh?”
“That’s like buying a shirt and never wearing it outside the house in case it doesn’t look right. Or finding the cure to cancer and keeping it to yourself. Or becoming a Christian and not telling anyone.”
“Hello, Miss Underwood…Sir.”
Paiton jerked her hand free and glanced up at the teen, cheeks scorching. “Jodie.” She nodded to the two takeout cups. “Does your dad have you on coffee duty?”
Jodie laughed. “He and Uncle Nate are too busy working, or so Dad reckons. Personally, I think he’s just too lazy to get out of the car. So Vicky and I had to do it instead.” She headed out, giggling with another teenager.
Paiton groaned. “That’s done it.”
Fraser nodded. “Yep. Although we could simply have been having coffee after work. Maybe it’s a work meeting.”
She snorted. “You were holding my hand and have a dozen shopping bags by your feet. Jodie noticed all right. She’s not a cop’s daughter for nothing. It’ll be all around the school by tomorrow unless I have a quiet word with her. I’ll ask her not to say anything.”
Fraser shook his head. “That might just fan the flames. Just leave it and see if it dies a natural death.”
Sue looked from one to the other. “What am I missing?”
Paiton took a deep breath. “Sue, this is Fraser Quirke, headmaster of Headley Secondary…and my boss.”
Fraser’s lips twitched again at the shocked, almost amused look on Sue’s face.
“But…but you said…” Sue couldn’t get the words out.
Paiton laughed. “The first time I met him, I called him bossy and OTT. The kids call him all kinds of names, none of them polite. But this is why we didn’t want the school knowing.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “They have a special name for him because of assembly, where he wears a long, black gown and mortar board.”
“Really?” Sue brightened and leaned across the table. “Do tell.”
Paiton sh
ook her head. “He won’t like it.”
Fraser playfully ran his foot over hers. “I am here, you know.”
Sue’s phone rang. “Excuse me while I answer this.”
Paiton groaned. “Phones aren’t allowed at the table, Susan. You know that.”
Sue poked her tongue out and answered the phone.
Paiton turned to Fraser. “You’ll have to excuse her. She can be quite childish at times.”
Sue ended the call. “I have to get Ethan from the choir rehearsal in town. The school bus broke down and all the kids are stranded. I’ll see you on Sunday for lunch. Both of you.” She grabbed her bag and left in a whirlwind.
“And there goes Hurricane Sue, now a category five.”
“I can see why you’re a control freak,” Fraser grabbed her hand again. “You don’t get much of a chance with her around.”
“Exactly.”
He leaned in and spoke quietly. “So, what do the kids call me?”
“Batman.” Paiton couldn’t help but grin at the look of horror on his face.
10
Paiton gathered her things for assembly. She glanced up at the tap at the classroom door. “Come in.”
“Miss Underwood, do you have a moment?” Liam asked.
Paiton stood. “Sure. Sara, take the form down to the main hall, and I’ll be there directly.”
Liam waited until the last child had left before shutting the door.
Warning bells sounded. Paiton studied him, but his face remained expressionless. “What’s up, Liam?”
“It’s a little delicate. I, umm, rather, Dawn has a friend who used to work in another school on the other side of the county. They had a teaching assistant—a floating teaching assistant, to be precise—who actually worked for Ofsted. He spent a term in the school, spying, making notes, and his report closed them down. And not just that one. He has a reputation for it. His name was—”
Paiton held up a hand and cut him off. “Fotherington-Smythe. Yes, we know all about him and why he’s here. Mr. Quirke did inform all the heads of year about him weeks ago.”
“I know. I was there, but we weren’t told he was Ofsted.” Liam frowned. “Are we being threatened with closure? Because if we are, then the staff deserves to know.”
“We’ve addressed Ofsted’s main concerns,” Paiton told him. “Hence the cultural event of Black History Month, the clamp down on discipline, and the zero tolerance on drugs and bullying.” She sighed. “The real issue is we’re a Christian school, and someone on the board doesn’t like it.”
“Are we being told if the school’s under threat?” Liam persisted. “Because the other half of the rumour is that he’s reopening the schools he closed as private academies and profiting from them.”
“Really? I’ll look into that. Thanks.” She made the decision there and then, and if Fraser didn’t like it, then too bad. “I’ll call a staff meeting for lunch time. But just staff. No subs or teaching assistants or anyone else. I’ll send a message around. We’ll have it in the oval office.”
“OK, thanks.” He turned to go. “The what?”
She grinned. “It’s my new name for Mr. Quirke’s office. It has a huge oval table in it.”
He nodded. “I’d better get my class to the hall for assembly.”
“Can you keep an eye on mine for me?” she asked. “I’m taking it this morning.”
“Sure.”
Fraser tapped on the door, wearing his gown and hat. “Do you have a moment, Miss Underwood?”
Liam smiled. “You’re in demand this morning. I’ll see you down there.”
Paiton nodded. She shut the door behind him and quickly filled Fraser in.
He nodded. “I’ll start an investigation into the spy in our midst. I agree we need to tell them and yes, just the teachers.” He sighed. “Are you ready?”
She pulled the cat headband and black cardigan from her desk drawer. “Oh, yes.”
~*~
Fraser strode to the hall, gown billowing around his legs. He climbed the steps to the stage and stood behind the lectern. He waited until the murmurings had stopped and all the children stood. “Good morning, school.”
“Good morning, Mr. Quirke. Good morning, Miss Underwood. Good morning, everyone.”
Fraser nodded. “Please sit.” He gave them a moment to respond before speaking. “I shan’t keep you as I know Miss Underwood has a lot to get through in the short time we have. Not surprisingly, she wants to talk about Christmas. First, I’d like to thank you for all the hard work you’ve been putting in. Grades are up in all classes. Behaviour is much improved…and I’m assuming that has nothing to do with my zero-tolerance policy on certain types of behaviour. The good reports from your teachers are now becoming the norm, which I’m glad to hear. As a result of this, I will be allowing each form a field trip over the course of the next month.”
An excited buzz filled the room.
He smiled. “An educational one, of course. Your form tutors have a list of trips available and you may choose from that list. The majority decision will be the one your teacher requests from me. That can be done in registration this afternoon, and then permission letters can go out tomorrow. No permission slip means no trip.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Miss Underwood, they are all yours.”
Paiton stood and moved to the lectern. She adjusted the cat headband, tipping it into full view. The whole school giggled. She moved the fabric feline ears again and stroked the back of them with her hands, attempting to purr. “What? Is something wrong?”
The school laughed.
Someone called out, “You look like Catwoman, Miss.”
Paiton turned and looked innocently at Fraser. “Did I get it wrong? I thought Catwoman was Batman’s sidekick. Should I be Robin, instead?”
Roars of laughter filled the hall as Fraser produced a red waistcoat. Paiton grinned and immediately tugged it on. Just the way they’d planned. She turned back to the children and held up a hand to quieten them.
As she spoke, Fraser realised he couldn’t imagine not being with her. Like bread and butter, they not only worked well together, they ought to be together. He glanced over the kids as Paiton talked. Her enthusiasm for Christmas was catching.
She outlined the entire play for those who hadn’t seen the whole script. “It’s a modern version of a tale as old as time. How twelve-year-old Robert wondered if there was more to Christmas than presents, and a cold, boring church service. How he spent Christmas Eve under the tree, alone, as his parents were out partying and drinking. He answered a knock at the door and found a tramp, begging for a cup of water. Robert gives him a drink and asks if there was more to Christmas than this. The tramp tells him to follow the star and his heart and to go look for Christmas.
“Like the wise men of old, Robert sets off on his journey to Christmas, following the star. Past the twelve days of presents that no one needs, because who in their right minds wants twelve pipers piping, twenty-two drummers drumming, thirty lords a leaping, thirty-six ladies dancing, forty maids and cows, forty-two swans, forty-two geese, forty gold rings, thirty-six calling birds, thirty French hens, twenty-two turtle doves and twelve partridges with accompanying pear trees? Especially not the poor postman, who has to carry them up the path each morning in the rain or the snow.”
The school howled with laughter.
Paiton continued, “From there he visits the soup kitchen run by Good King Wenceslas. A conversation with wise old men, a donkey, and some shepherds lead him eventually to a stable. There, he learns the real reason for the season. In the straw he finds a crown of thorns and some nails.”
Mr. Fotherington-Smythe sat glowering in the corner. He was so anti-everything the school did. The man’s scowl deepened as Paiton went on to tell the children what other activities they had planned for December.
Years Seven and Eight would be carol singing in the precinct and local older people’s homes. Years Nine and Ten would be visiting the army veter
ans centre and singing there as well as helping out at the church senior citizens’ Christmas party. Year Eleven would be cooking and serving at the soup kitchen.
Fraser stood as Paiton sat down. “Some of you look less than enthusiastic about that. That’s fine. I really don’t care, but we’re all taking part. Just remember that the majority of you will be going home to a warm house each night with food on the table and parents who love you. Some of these people we’ll be visiting and helping haven’t seen family in years. Some will be sleeping on the streets. We want to show them kindness. To put that warm fuzzy feeling we associate with Christmas back into their lives and hearts, even if only for a brief moment. A change in attitude to others starts right here, right now, with us.”
The bell went. “OK, time for class. Have a good day.”
~*~
Paiton sat with Fraser in his office drafting the trip letters. The bell went for break, and she stretched. “Least it sounds better. Just need to put in the locations, dates, and times now.”
He nodded. “Yes, it—”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened and a delegation of children stood there, the Head Girl amongst them.
Fraser smiled. “What can I do for you, Sara?”
“Some of us were talking about what you’d said in assembly about the old people, and we want to do something.” She paused, biting her lip. “Can we have them over for lunch maybe or adopt them? Go and visit every so often, not just at Christmastime?”
Paiton looked at Fraser. “Like the adopt-a-granny system some schools have?”
Justin nodded vigorously. “Or a grandad. I don’t have one of those. Or some never have had grandparents, so it would help us as well as the old people.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Fraser said. “Leave it with us and we’ll see what we can organise.”
The children grinned and left, shutting the door behind them.
Paiton elbowed him. “I think you started something there.”
He shook his head. “We did.”