‘Let’s leave Thor out of it.’ He pulled her to him, so she could feel the soft flannel of his shirt and instinctively slid her hand inside to caress the smooth, warm skin underneath. She felt him responding as the outside world melted away, leaving only each other’s touch.
Chapter 19
Cassie pulled into the school car park before eight o’clock to get a jump on the morning, which was not normally something she did willingly. She’d uncovered a flair for Irish and her head was buzzing with plans around the little role-plays she’d worked out involving new words they’d learned last week.
As she approached the classroom, she could see from the transom window above the door that the light was already on, and she was taken aback by the racket of chairs being slammed impatiently onto the floor. She peered round the door to see a tall, slim woman in an expensive-looking midi dress and boots, her hair in an elaborate updo, organising fiercely. There was no doubt she’d been up at six to get that outfit in place. The woman swung round to face the door, causing Cassie’s heart to lurch.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Oh, er .?.?. Hi, I’m Cassandra Kearney, I’m the substitute teacher and I’ve been taking—’
‘Thank you, I appreciate your help, but as you can see, I’m back and there’s no further need for you in this class. I suggest you go back and speak to the principal, who’s in his office. He can reallocate you for the day.’
With that, she turned on her heel, leaving Cassie speechless, mortified and furious. Technically, Miss Upton was right but there was something about the dismissive tone in her voice that stung Cassie like a late-summer wasp.
Right now, she’d no option but to head back up the echoey corridor to the office where Helen, the school secretary, was hanging up her limp blue anorak.
‘Hi, is Roger— Mr Newcombe here?’
‘There’s been a leak in the back toilets over the weekend, so he’s trying to fix it with Mr Daly.’
Just then, the flap, flap, flap of Roger Newcombe’s all-leather shoes could be heard approaching along the tiled floor.
‘Mr Newcombe, there seems to be a small bit of doubling up here,’ announced Helen.
‘Yes, yes, Marie’s back and, as fate would have it, nobody’s phoned in sick. Pure fluke. You couldn’t make it up.’
He appeared, as usual, to be mainly addressing himself. ‘Still, if I let you go, someone else will get you.’ He paused. ‘Are you qualified as an SNA? Special needs assistant: reading, writing, dyslexia, autism, ADHD?’
For a split second she contemplated spoofing, but she gave it up as a truly terrible idea.
‘I won’t lie to you, I’m not trained.’
‘We can sort that out later. Come with me.’
Cassie baulked. The last thing she wanted was to go back within a mile of that intimidating woman. It turned out she couldn’t have been more wrong.
‘Good morning, Roger, how can I help?’ Miss Upton’s tone was warm and engaging, as though she were working the room at an embassy cocktail party. The headmaster’s manner had softened correspondingly.
‘Cassie will be your assistant just while we’re sorting a few things out. Any problems, you know where to find me,’ he said, making himself scarce and leaving Cassie to face Miss Upton, who reverted to her previous tone as soon as the door closed.
‘If you wouldn’t mind setting out the tables, I have an Irish project planned.’
Without thinking it through, Cassie blurted out, ‘That’s so interesting, Miss Upton. I’ve some ideas myself I’d been working on for the class. Perhaps we could compare notes.’
A flash of irritation crossed Miss Upton’s face but then, unexpectedly, she broke into a smile like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
‘Oh, call me Marie. Well, it sounds like you have some experience. Tell me all about yourself.’
She had to acknowledge that Marie was charismatic and had a quality that made you really want her to like you, even if a secret part of you felt uneasy. As she laid out the equipment, Cassie found herself chatting away about London and her acting career, and what a rollercoaster it was proving to start all over again at thirty-seven. Marie was a fabulous listener, you had to hand her that; her laser-like gaze softened to close attentiveness, which gave you the impression she’d heard and understood every word like nobody else, and invited you to confide in her further.
‘Gosh, that’s fascinating, Cassie. To have that sort of talent. That’d be a great help for teaching too, I’m sure.’
‘Funny you should mention it .?.?.’ Cassie poured out her ideas, delighted to have such a receptive audience.
‘Sounds wonderful. Unfortunately, I find myself constrained by the curriculum.’
‘Constrained’ was such a Marie word.
