Читать книгу The Last Day of January - Greer Decker - Страница 6

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Monday was the first day back for the staff at Middleton High, my new school. The kids started on Wednesday. It was a twenty-minute drive away. Arriving far too early, I sat in the car park, waiting for it to fill up, trying to ignore the tightness in my stomach. I was not good at meeting new people. The school was familiar to me at least. I’d been to it many times before to play hockey for my school team. They’d been one of our toughest rivals and I remembered everything about those matches, from the spacious changing rooms to the immaculate pitches, their delicious teas after the match, the air of confidence of the team players and that mean right-wing who’d scored so many goals against us, against me personally in fact, as I was the left-back. I used to dislike the school for that, now I’d chosen it. I was swapping sides.

One of three new teachers that school year, I was made to feel welcome. The staff I met were friendly. Of course, there would be issues and tensions, that was normal. The head seemed approachable, and I liked her welcome-back speech. I wasn’t so sure about the deputy. We did our safeguarding refresher courses straight after that and the departments got together in the afternoon to discuss the curriculum.

On Tuesday, I learnt the head had already annoyed people by announcing a new-style parents’ evening right at the beginning of the school year, organised in classes, where parents could get to know the class teacher. It was scheduled for next Tuesday. Not everyone saw the need and thought that the individual five-minute subject meetings later on in the year were far more important.

The kids arrived on Wednesday and livened the place up. I was pleased I had the lower years. By Friday, I already felt settled at the school and confident that I’d like it.

I’d just sunk into the sofa after tea on Friday evening when my mobile rang.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi Sarah, it’s Malcolm, from school. I was just talking to Jill, my wife, and we were wondering if you’d be up for a few drinks at the pub tomorrow evening? Some of us meet up at The Three Horseshoes about once a month on Saturdays. Mary gave me your mobile number. She’s coming as well.’

Malcolm was the head of science. It was sweet of him to invite me. I said I’d love to join them.

Come Saturday evening, I wasn’t so sure anymore. I felt bad leaving mum.

The Three Horseshoes was a pretty-looking country pub on the edge of the town, with a massive car park. The space was one huge advantage over London. Inside, the pub was quite empty. There were horseshoes on the wall, the carpet and soft furnishings looked shabby, and it lacked the atmosphere I was used to in the West End. On the upside, we could hear ourselves talk. Two elderly men were sitting apart from one another at the bar, both silent and staring into their beers.

‘Sarah! How nice of you to join us!’

Malcolm stood up to greet me and I recognised quite a few of my new colleagues. There were eight at the large table, all teachers, except for Jill. The conversation was already lively. I felt more nervous than in front of thirty teenagers. Given the chance, I would have turned around, but it was too late, and I switched into sociable mode. I needn’t have felt uneasy. They were a friendly bunch who just wanted to relax after the first week back. I already knew Mary as she was head of history. James introduced himself to me. He was probably in his early fifties. Then there was Aidan, young, good-looking in my view, probably an NQT, and Alex, another muscular guy in his late thirties I’d guess. I’d seen him at school in his sports gear a few times during the week. Two others whose names I didn’t know sat at the other side of the table. We introduced ourselves. Barbara and Daniel were from the English department.

‘So, what made you leave London, Sarah?’ ‘Do you miss it?’ ‘Ah, I love going to London, it’s amazing!’ ‘The teaching must be pretty tough though.’ ‘Whereabouts did you live?’ ‘How could you afford London on a teacher’s salary?’

Daniel said that he had lived in London for three years and he missed it, but his wife Julie said it was better for the kids here.

‘Are you going back to London at the end of the year?’ ‘Where are you living now?’

They were happy with short answers. Then came more disgruntlement about the new-style parents evening. I sat back and started to relax and enjoy myself.

Sitting between James and Mary, I wondered what sort of a life James led. I liked his jumper and he had a nice smile.

‘What do you teach?’ I asked.

‘Physics. You must be history if you’re with Mary.’

‘Yes! Are you from this area?’

‘Yes, I was born in Norwich, my dad too, my mum was from Leicester. What about you?’

‘I was born in Aldeby, near Beccles. Do you know it? It’s quite small.’

‘I do. I used to know someone from there.’

‘How long have you been at Middleton High?’

‘Ten years now.’

‘That’s a long time. Are you happy there?’

James thought for a moment. ‘Yes, on the whole.’ Another nice smile. ‘Where were you before exactly?’

‘Battersea. At quite a good academy. I’ve been resisting independent schools all my life, which is not easy in London.’

‘That’s quite a contrast to here. How long were you in London?’

‘Almost twenty-eight years. I wanted to be closer to my mum. She’s eighty-three and starting to need a little help.’

‘I see. That’s good. She’ll be pleased.’

‘I’m not so sure about that, coming here and stirring things up!’

James laughed.

‘Do you have parents close by?’

‘Yes, my dad. My mum passed away in June. She’d been ill for a while. My dad is now in a home. He’s ninety.’

‘Gosh, that’s a fine age. I’m sorry about your mum.’

Mary had finished her conversation on the other side and we started to chat too. She was in her mid-fifties and had a pleasant manner. I’d already gained that impression during the week when we’d discussed the curricula and other matters. She was my immediate boss within the department and I liked her.

The conversation stayed lively all night. Aidan and the muscular guy were loudest and had a great time. Aidan knocked a full glass over at one point and caused quite a mess. The other guy and Malcolm roared with laughter and teased him for being so clumsy again. He blushed and stood up to fetch some cloths. We left shortly after eleven, when the pub closed. The journey home felt good. I’d made some friends.

Mum was still awake when I got back, sitting at the table, staring at a list. Tissues, a pen that worked and a note pad. She looked tired and was eager to go up to bed, so we went straight up together.

There was more moaning on Monday and Tuesday about the parents’ evening. A few teachers were tiding up their classrooms. Mary on the other hand was clearly someone who took all this in her stride.

At the end of the parents’ evening on Tuesday, I asked Mary about care homes and learnt that there was a good one close to her, out in the country, where her neighbour, Crazy Cate, had moved to when things started getting out of hand. I didn’t ask her for more details. Mary had been to see her a couple of times and was impressed by the staff. She also told me that James’s father had moved into a home a month or so ago. I should ask him about it.

At home that evening, looking through the history curriculum at the dining table, I wished I could’ve made some changes. Parts of our past had been airbrushed out of history.

Looking through my class lists made me realise once again how many names and personalities I had to familiarize myself with. I had six classes, two each in grades 7, 8, and 9.

In the one grade 9 class, there were two Polish girls, and one of them, Zofia, looked very much like Izabela from Hearty’s. I’d ask Mary tomorrow as she was Zofia’s class tutor. She’d know if Zofia had an older sister.

I thought back to the pub evening. One thing had occurred to me at school since then. Some of the teachers seemed offish towards James. And he was strikingly quiet in the staffroom. I wondered what he’d meant by ‘on the whole’.

The next day I asked James about the home where his father was resident. He surprised me by asking if I wanted to come along when he visited his dad at the weekend, so I could see the home for myself. I said I’d love to.

The head popped into my classroom at the end of the school day on Thursday and asked how I was settling in. She told me that Year 9 usually went on a trip to the British Museum in November. Would I be interested in accompanying them?

On Friday I asked Mary if Zofia had an older sister. She said yes, she’s left school in the summer. She couldn’t remember her name. They were lovely girls. Zofia was doing so well at school, which was quite an achievement considering she’d come from Poland some three and a half years ago with little previous knowledge of English. The mother had told Mary that the family had been granted pre-settled status. They’d tried to persuade the grandma to join them in England, but she couldn’t imagine leaving her home. It was in a remote area of Poland close to the Belarus border. That sealed it for me: our Izabela was Zofia’s Izabela.