"He tripped me, Mrs Spicer," she spluttered and just stood there almost in tears.
"I saw." Karla was annoyed and turned to the boy. Though she didn't know the girl's name she knew his. "So, Mr Flavall," she said using his surname and a tone that was like ice. "Do you get delight out of tripping up girls carrying trays of food?"
Flavall who couldn't look her in the eyes, just shrugged.
"Answer me Jeffrey Flavall," she said in a quiet voice but one that seemed to echo throughout the silent room.
"No Mrs Spicer. It was an accident."
"Don't make matters worse by lying. I think you owe this young lady an apology."
Flavall turned and muttered a half-hearted apology. "Sorry Debra."
So he knew her! He was in Year 9 and she was one of the younger girls, probably in Year 7. Karla turned the woman behind the counter a few metres away. "Mrs Parkes, please give Debra a repeat of her order and add a muffin. You can charge the school account."
"Of course, Mrs Spicer." Mrs Parkes smiled at Debra. "I'll get you another filled roll, chocolate milk and that extra muffin."
"But..." Debra said but Karla smiled at her. "Thank you, Mrs Spicer. You don't need to buy me another lunch and extra muffin"
"Oh I do, Debra," Karla said and turned to the boy. "You have a choice, Jeffrey," she said. "You can either hold my little girl in her carry cot while I clean up the mess or find a mop and clean it up yourself."
He stared at her. "I'll clean it up," he whispered.
He actually did a good job of picking up the food and mopping the milk off the floor while everyone in the room watched with grins on their faces.
Afterwards Karla nodded at his half-eaten food on the adjacent table. "Now finish your meal, Jeffrey." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We do not tolerate bullies at Joseph Ward Junior High. I'll be keeping my eye on you and if you take one step out of line between now and the end of the year you will be banned from participating in next year's inter-syndicate summer tournament." She knew the boy was a keen softball player and was in the Shearwater Syndicate's top team, so this threat would mean more to him than, say a detention or being banned from the cafeteria.
Without another word she turned and joined the end of the line of those waiting to be served. Several students offered to let her move to the front but she thanked them, shook her head and waited in line, all the time holding Sophia’s carrycot.
Megan Penrose, the cafeteria's manager came out when she reached the counter and smiled. "How do you do it, Karla?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"I've had rowdy students all week but after you walk in and you can hear a pin drop onto the floor..." She wiped a cleaning cloth across the counter. "If I had asked that Flavall boy to clean up that mess he would have just ignored me. "
Karla grimaced. "He knows that if I say he'll be out of next year's tournament, I am not bluffing. He likes sport so will be careful not to cross me again."
Megan glanced around the cafeteria. "Look at them all! The little monsters have magically turned into angels just because you're here."
Karla nodded. "I am annoyed, though. They should not have been misbehaving in the first place."
"Oh it doesn't happen when you're here," Megan said. "You have that knack that even your DPs don't have. Even Michael's roars don't work as well as you simply standing there."
Karla smiled. "Thanks but can I ask for one thing?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"Sophia will be awake soon. Can you get me a mug of hot water to heat her bottle in?"
Megan laughed. "Coming up, Mrs Spicer. I reckon half the girls in the room here would like to feed her."
"Possibly," Karla replied. In spite of this cafeteria episode it was nice to be back, even if it was just a brief visit.
*
After lunch hour was over, Karla decided to visit the new modular classroom block. At the moment two rooms were used for classes from Petrel and Tern Syndicates but next year Floor 1 would form part of Petrel while Floor 2 would be incorporated into Tern. The teachers and students were enthusiastic about the rooms with the modern facilities that even extended to the toilet blocks that had large hand basins and automatic flushing systems. The specialist teachers had shifted temporarily into the other two classrooms while back in the main school above the gym, the builders were pulling out partitions to convert the smaller rooms into two classrooms for Shearwater and Gannet syndicates.
She spoke to the builders for a while and moved back across to Petrel Syndicate and into Michael White's office where he was sitting at a computer. Karla knew his class was having art and he was released from his general teaching duties at this time.
Almost unexpectedly he grinned when she walked in, stood and shook her hand. "My God, Karla. It's so good to see you."
"It is?" she replied for he sounded completely genuine.
Michael smiled. "The sooner you return full time, the better." He grimaced. "I know it's as much my fault as everyone else's but having us share your duties is not really working." He nodded at a second shrivel chair and nearby table. "Pop your little one on the table and take a seat." Unexpected again, was his interest in Sophia and all the questions he asked about herself. Again he seemed genuinely interested rather than just being polite.
"'You were saying that your shared duties weren't really working?" Karla said a few moments later. "In your opinion, why is this so?"
Michael hesitated until she reassured him that nothing he said would go any further. "It's Vivian. She thinks she's the acting principal and tries to tell us what to do." He shrugged. "Oh she's discrete and always says that is what you would like, then goes and calls Jon on the board for support. I tried to explain to her the difference between the professional and administrate sides of the school but ended up becoming angry."
Karla remained neutral but thought back to the beginning of the year and how she had to reprimand him over picking the sporty students for his syndicate. Of all the senior staff, she had expected him to be the least cooperative. The different slant on things from Vivian's view was interesting.
"So what did Jon say about all of this?" she asked.
Michael shrugged. "Almost nothing. I find him difficult to talk to. I think he lets Vivian ramble on and ignores her."
Karla laughed. "Sounds like Jon. Thanks Michael. Next year I may have the first few weeks off but will still visit but please don't think I am trying to pull rank on you. If you need to take any action such as in an emergency I rely on you to just do it. Sure, my approach may be different from what you do but does it matter?"
Michael grinned. "I now know why you have risen to your position here so quickly. You are nothing like that hard nosed bitch hell bent on changing everything I expected. At the beginning of the year I didn't make it easy for you, did I?"
"I think we all work together pretty well now," Karla said. "We're a community and should cater for individual differences with our strengths and weaknesses. That's what makes our school what it is."
"Not like Westview Intermediate under Peter Niles? I was envious of Belinda getting appointed there but hear she's doing a good job."
"Yes, I think so. Remember, it is only a temporary appointment. There is no reason why you can't apply for the permanent position there next year."
"Don't know if I'm cut out to be a principal; not after seeing our problems rise since you've been away."
Karla smiled, stayed a while and visited the Year 10 classes in Petrel to say 'bye to the students leaving before moving across to the other syndicates. The DPs there all welcomed her and she was impressed with Denise who had stepped into Belinda's position. All three commented about Vivian and Denise mentioned that Michael was inclined to be bossy but commented that he wasn't too bad. Everything seemed to reflect the speaker’s own bias but this was to be expected. She went home that evening tired but glad to have Ryan to talk to about her feelings.
"So overall, how's it going over there?" he asked.
&n
bsp; "I'm impressed with both Michael and Denise. The other two deputy principals are pretty much as I expected and the students haven't really changed that much."
"Except in the cafeteria?" Ryan said with a laugh.
Karla grinned. "It could have been worse. At least Sophia slept through it all. If she had woken up screaming her head off, it would have been real fun."
*
The following afternoon Karla was at home in the back yard, Sophia was asleep, Alexis at the crèche and Ryan was in his shop working. It was a lovely hot spring day and she was planting vegetables in a rectangular plot that had been used by the previous owner but was, until a few days before, overrun by weeds. Ryan had dug it up and it was now ready for planting. Cabbages, cauliflowers, carrots and other small vegetable plants had been bought from a local garden store but they now needed planting. Tomatoes and potatoes had already been planted. Come summer and they should have a good selection of home grown vegetables.
She heard Ryan call out to her and glanced up from where she squatted in the garden. He had just come out the back door accompanied by a Chinese man of about their age who was dressed in a suit.
"This is Mr Huang Jie from The People's Republic of China," Ryan said and introduced her before adding. "He's the recently appointed New Zealand manager of Warm Sunshine Construction who sold your school the new modular block."
"Of course," Karla said. "My Board of Trustees is extremely pleased with the new block. We are already using it."
Huang Jie spoke excellent English but with an American accent. "I have already spoken to your chairman and he took me to inspect the block earlier today. I was especially interested in the New Zealand design that your board suggested, such as the larger windows and classroom area. We have already started a new line using your suggestions and find we have received inquiries from Europe and United States as well as here in New Zealand." He smiled. "I am approaching you on a different type of construction that we believe could be popular in this city that has huge housing demands." He handed her a business card.
"Housing?"
"Yes. We would like to offer a wide range of housing from basic models to upmarket homes such as those found in this part of the city. To begin we are about to design a medium to large home by New Zealand standards and erect it as ..." He frowned. "What would you call it?"
"A show home," Ryan suggested.
"Yes, that's the name."
Karla still wasn't sure what all this meant to them until Ryan began to explain. They had already discussed the idea of building a new home in this back yard rather than trying to buy another home elsewhere. By city standards this was a huge section and the Auckland City Council encouraged older homes on large sections to have them subdivided and built upon. With their shops and apartment built right on the front of their section there was a huge space right here with access to the road by a driveway.
"If we're interested, Huang Jie would like to sell us one of their first houses designed especially for the New Zealand market."
"If you allow us to advertise it as a show home during its erection we'll offer you a discounted price,” Huang Jie added. "Also the same as with your school classrooms, we will incorporate your ideas into the plan. This will help us develop a building suitable for your culture and climate."
"This is so unexpected," Karla said. "We will have to get a permit, obtain a loan and probably have other legalities to cover. I would imagine that it would be more difficult to get an import licence for a private home than a public building like a school block."
Huang Jie nodded. "With a free trade agreement between our two countries, I'm sure the problems will not be insurmountable. We are prepared to show you the types of homes we now sell in such countries as Australia, United Kingdom and United States.
I realise that this has been sprung upon you and will leave you an estimated price for various sized homes adapted to your needs. Our offer of a discounted house if you let us advertise it as an open home will remain available for seven months, that is until June next year so you need make no commitment until then."
"And if we need more time?" Karla asked.
"You will still be welcome to purchase a home from us but the discounted offer will need to be offered to another client for we'd like to have our first show home assembled and displayed by this time next year."
"I see," Karla replied. "So can we have everything we discussed in writing including an agreement allowing us that seven months to decide whether we are interested or not?"
Huang Jie nodded again. "Of course. I will have everything sent to you, including our catalogues within a week."
Hung Jie turned down an offer of a coffee; shook hands with them both and Ryan escorted him off the property. Karla's mind was in a whirl. It sounded good for it was with a firm that proved to be reliable but she was still cautious. After all, this Huang Jie did just turn up. The first thing they would have to do was to check to see if he was genuine and not some opportunist unconnected to Warm Sunshine Construction at all.
Deep in thought, she returned to planting her vegetables and waited for Ryan to return.
*
CHAPTER 17
When the school's sports field and athletic track were constructed, part of the hillside west of the school had been carved out and the soil used to fill a small dip behind the school. This was levelled and eventually became a top rated facility. This, plus the sealed courts used for tennis in summer and netball in winter were used by other organisations during the weekend with the rents helping with maintenance.
Because of this, there was a steep hillside where pine trees, planted six years before had grown to a height of ten metres. Though it was still school property, the hillside was declared out-of-bounds, fenced off and more-or-less forgotten. After a week of stormy weather in late November a narrow slip had come down. During the lunch hour, two Year 10 boys more out of boredom than anything else, stood inspecting the damage.
One boy pointed to the edge of the slip. "Look, isn't that a soccer ball over there, Shane?"
"Could be, Dean," his companion replied. "It happens quite often, someone does a mighty kick that goes over the fence. It’s too high to climb so is just left."
"Yeah I remember Old Whitey moaning on how much lost balls were costing the school last winter. Didn't he say we lost a dozen or more soccer or rugby balls over this fence?"
Most of the students called Michael White that nickname when he was out of earshot.
"I reckon that if we went and had a look, we'd find others, too."
Dean nodded and glanced around. There was a cricket game going on across the field, a few girls wandering around but there was nobody close. Already though, Shane had pushed through the tree bows and was half way in. He followed, cursed at the sticky branches and one bit that swung back and scratched his arm. However, he managed to get through and follow his friend.
By keeping to the edge of the slip, it was easy enough to climb up to where the ball was sitting between tree roots. Shane was there so he just stood studying where the tree had uprooted. Behind the now vertical roots was a hole in the hillside that had been gouged out by the slip. But he saw something else! He squinted for it looked like something made of timber surrounded by a rectangular concrete frame. The timber was blackened with age. Of course, it was an old door! He could make out two hinges on the right and an old-fashioned handle to the left.
"What's that door doing there?" he asked.
Shane glanced up and frowned. "I've no idea but perhaps there was an old fort built here. My grandad once told me that there used to be tunnels and old guns built here over a hundred years ago. Something about the Russians coming. Let's go and have a look?"
Dean shrugged. "I guess but we'd better not take too long."
"There's still almost half-an-hour before the bell goes," Shane said.
Dean took the lead and headed up through the trees. Yes, it was a door and it did look old. The hinges and handle had almost rusted away
and the timber appeared rotten along the bottom. He reckoned that with one good shove it would collapse. He found the mud around wasn't too deep with solid ground only a couple of centimetres underneath. Holding a tree bow, he made his way across and grabbed the concrete frame. The concrete appeared to be buried deep in the hillside so perhaps there was a tunnel in the hill.
Shane arrived behind him, reached for the door handle and attempted to move it but it was obviously all rusted up and didn't move. "The whole door's rotten. A few good kicks and I reckon we could put a hole in it."
Dean grinned and with his friend's help tried to kick a hole in the timber. He was only partly successful but managed to grab a few bits to break off. Shane reached up and pulled at the top. Between them they soon had half the rotten door pulled away to create enough room for them to squeeze through. A musty stench surrounded him. He glanced into the semi-darkness of a tunnel. It appeared high and wide enough for them to stand up in and disappeared into the hillside.
"It appears to be solid concrete and not just rotten old beams. I'd say it would be safe inside." Shane muttered. "We need a torch."
Dean followed Shane in a few metres and turned. There, within an arm's reach of the door opening was an old brass light switch similar to one in his grandparents’ house. "Well this tunnel is not a hundred years old, they didn't have electricity then," he said.
Shane peered at the switch. "Could have," he said. "It looks pretty old. See if it works."
Dean felt a little nervous but reached forward and clicked the switch on. Immediately a line of light bulbs dangling from the ceiling lit up. They were dull but most were working as they disappeared into the hillside for twenty metres or so where reflected light from the left showed that the tunnel turned. "Come on," he said. "Let's see what's around that corner."
Shane nodded but looked as nervous as he felt. The tunnel was wide enough for them to walk beside each other but looked eerie in the yellowish light. The concrete walls were only a little higher than themselves, before they curved over with the lights dangling down from the highest point another couple of metres above them. Though old, the concrete looked dry and in good condition. Dean turned and noticed a sign above the door they had just come through. It read Evacuation Exit 7 in faded letters.
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