turn off the heat and point Ed at the pan ‘cos it’s my turn to sit.
“I shouldn’t be whinging,” Julia says, slugging wine, “but he is such a pig. And the kids aren’t to blame.”
I’m really confused, now. “What do you mean?”
“Alex and Josh. They’re gay,” she says, like it’s a TV soap and she already knows what happens. “And Greg hates it. Will not accept. We went to Spain. Stayed on a farm. The boys there bullied Josh all summer long and that was the straw that broke Greg’s back. As well as this fat little angel.” She laughs out white wine and the red felt goes wrinkly, like Francesca’s face, and they both start to cry.
Then Dom bashes the oven door and Edward looks lost but keeps stirring, and Alex and Bea are far, far away, and maybe Josh is, too.
And I hope Julia Meadows finds peace in the fact that her family’s alphabeticised.
Chapter 13: Friday, fifth night
I don’t know what to wear.
Ridiculous I know, but the clean, made-up-on-hangers outfits are mainly all dressy and sheer and the rest are all mixed up from rummaging. I’ve got a bad throat, my teeth ache like hell and it’s started to rain. Being a teacher doesn’t make you want to come home and Hoover, to be honest. The bedroom’s a mess ‘cos I’ve not cleaned at all, or washed up either, so all in all, Miss Mint’s beautiful house is quite rank. And it’s non-uniform day and I always stress out.
But never mind that, ‘cos it’s 7.15 and some of us have jobs to go to.
* * *
The taxi man knows me by now and I’m not being big-headed but he definitely likes giving me a ride.
“Nice outfit,” he nods, ‘cos I’m wearing a Sugar Berry trench that’s mega-expensive. But he can’t see what’s underneath.
As we pull up to school, Mr Morlis does too.
“Nice outfit,” he nods, and I think why do girls bother wearing clothes at all if all it takes to impress is a posh looking coat? And I’m glad that I had this idea.
I’m striding purposefully, on my way to the staff room, when Courtney races up the canteen, slopping soup with a roll at ten past eight in the morning. She’s wearing a playsuit. It’s not having fun.
“Miss, have you seen Kai Swanning?” Her words tangle; trip me
up.
I haven’t seen Kai much in the last couple of days ‘cos my timetable’s weird and I have year 11 twice for doubles, but this morning’s one of those times.
“Not yet, Courtney, no. I’m sorry.”
And I look at her properly. I mean it. We’re standing in the atrium and her bare, dimply arms prickle with cold and I can hardly resist saying, “give up; it’s over.” I nearly tell her to put some more clothes on too but then I look down at her black peephole shoes and remember how much I wanted to wear them six days ago. So I just shut my gob. She orbits round Rach, who’s sipping black coffee, looking thin and talking to me. I mean Miss Mint. Who looks up. We lock pupils. There’s something to say.
But ‘course there’s no time before briefing and bells and big sulks in tutor and gum fights and book hunts and all through it I keep my coat on ‘cos of what I’ve got up my sleeve for year 11. In they come, like Noah’s Ark bears, ‘cept in cloddy clumps and not in neat pairs.
Donna’s wearing a dress like Laura in the film. Harry’s wearing cords and a shirt and could be Tom but is probably Jim. No one else has tried. But that’s ok, ‘cos I just say, “good morning class, and thank you.”
“What for, Miss?”
“Proving my point. That not many of you are brave enough to experiment.”
There’s shuffling and snuffling and swearing and yawning and I wait ‘til the hoodies are off and the bags are down and I have fifty eight eyes facing me.
And I take off my coat.
Some people would say it’s not big or clever to shock sixteen year olds into submission, but that’s what I do.
“Wow, Miss.”
It’s Kai and it’s worked. ‘Cos under my trench coat I’m wearing a rainbow.
By that,
“I shouldn’t be whinging,” Julia says, slugging wine, “but he is such a pig. And the kids aren’t to blame.”
I’m really confused, now. “What do you mean?”
“Alex and Josh. They’re gay,” she says, like it’s a TV soap and she already knows what happens. “And Greg hates it. Will not accept. We went to Spain. Stayed on a farm. The boys there bullied Josh all summer long and that was the straw that broke Greg’s back. As well as this fat little angel.” She laughs out white wine and the red felt goes wrinkly, like Francesca’s face, and they both start to cry.
Then Dom bashes the oven door and Edward looks lost but keeps stirring, and Alex and Bea are far, far away, and maybe Josh is, too.
And I hope Julia Meadows finds peace in the fact that her family’s alphabeticised.
Chapter 13: Friday, fifth night
I don’t know what to wear.
Ridiculous I know, but the clean, made-up-on-hangers outfits are mainly all dressy and sheer and the rest are all mixed up from rummaging. I’ve got a bad throat, my teeth ache like hell and it’s started to rain. Being a teacher doesn’t make you want to come home and Hoover, to be honest. The bedroom’s a mess ‘cos I’ve not cleaned at all, or washed up either, so all in all, Miss Mint’s beautiful house is quite rank. And it’s non-uniform day and I always stress out.
But never mind that, ‘cos it’s 7.15 and some of us have jobs to go to.
* * *
The taxi man knows me by now and I’m not being big-headed but he definitely likes giving me a ride.
“Nice outfit,” he nods, ‘cos I’m wearing a Sugar Berry trench that’s mega-expensive. But he can’t see what’s underneath.
As we pull up to school, Mr Morlis does too.
“Nice outfit,” he nods, and I think why do girls bother wearing clothes at all if all it takes to impress is a posh looking coat? And I’m glad that I had this idea.
I’m striding purposefully, on my way to the staff room, when Courtney races up the canteen, slopping soup with a roll at ten past eight in the morning. She’s wearing a playsuit. It’s not having fun.
“Miss, have you seen Kai Swanning?” Her words tangle; trip me
up.
I haven’t seen Kai much in the last couple of days ‘cos my timetable’s weird and I have year 11 twice for doubles, but this morning’s one of those times.
“Not yet, Courtney, no. I’m sorry.”
And I look at her properly. I mean it. We’re standing in the atrium and her bare, dimply arms prickle with cold and I can hardly resist saying, “give up; it’s over.” I nearly tell her to put some more clothes on too but then I look down at her black peephole shoes and remember how much I wanted to wear them six days ago. So I just shut my gob. She orbits round Rach, who’s sipping black coffee, looking thin and talking to me. I mean Miss Mint. Who looks up. We lock pupils. There’s something to say.
But ‘course there’s no time before briefing and bells and big sulks in tutor and gum fights and book hunts and all through it I keep my coat on ‘cos of what I’ve got up my sleeve for year 11. In they come, like Noah’s Ark bears, ‘cept in cloddy clumps and not in neat pairs.
Donna’s wearing a dress like Laura in the film. Harry’s wearing cords and a shirt and could be Tom but is probably Jim. No one else has tried. But that’s ok, ‘cos I just say, “good morning class, and thank you.”
“What for, Miss?”
“Proving my point. That not many of you are brave enough to experiment.”
There’s shuffling and snuffling and swearing and yawning and I wait ‘til the hoodies are off and the bags are down and I have fifty eight eyes facing me.
And I take off my coat.
Some people would say it’s not big or clever to shock sixteen year olds into submission, but that’s what I do.
“Wow, Miss.”
It’s Kai and it’s worked. ‘Cos under my trench coat I’m wearing a rainbow.
By that,
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