‘Yes, yes!’ John Vaughn interrupted Jo rudely. ‘All this talk about putting on a damned production is just a weapon of mass distraction!’
‘Sorry?’ The staff stared in some confusion at John, who obviously thought he was being very clever.
‘Weapons of mass destruction?’
‘What’s he going on about?’
‘What weapons…?’
‘Distraction,’ John snapped back. ‘All thisproductiontalk, this ‘Grease performance’that Ms Allen appears to think will save the school, is just a bloodydistractionfrom the reality of the Sattars moving in with their bulldozers and putting us out of a job. Well, I tell you now, I for one won’t be hanging round until the bitter end as we go down in our life jackets singing “Look at me I’m Sandra Dee”!’He pulled out the week’s edition of the Times Ed from his tweed jacket. ‘I, for one, am already looking to jump before I’m pushed, and I advise the rest of you to do the same.’ He sat back in his chair with folded arms, a self-satisfied look on his broken-veined face.
‘Thank you, John.’ Mason spoke quietly and calmly, but Robyn could see the head was rattled. ‘I’ve spoken privately to most of you about your concerns and I quite understand, particularly the younger members of staff, that you are already looking. I can’t stop anyone doing that…’
‘Of course you can’t,’ Jo said crossly. ‘It would be a lot more helpful if you’d just keep us up to date about what the council and the Sattar brothers are up to.’
Oops, Robyn thought, looking across at Jo. Wasn’t the job of a deputy to side with, and back up, management instead of criticising it?
‘Instead of fannying around with a bloody school production that probably isn’t even going to go ahead now.’ John Vaughn sat back, arms behind his head.
‘The productionisgoing ahead,’ Robyn snapped crossly. ‘It’s going to be fabulous. And even better if we have a couple more months of rehearsals. You know, most high schools like this start rehearsing their end-of-year production in September before putting it on in June or July. Mason was just being a bit over-enthusiastic about how long it would take, even though I told him, from the very start…’
Mason held up his hands in acquiescence, but Robyn could see he wasn’t happy at her calling him out in front of the staff. She really must start regarding him as her boss rather than her ex-lover.
‘With regards to the plans for the school, I’ve a meeting in’ – Mason glanced up at the clock – ‘five minutes ago. And of course, when I know anything, you’ll also be the first to know. What we don’t need is speculation and gossip. That’s only going to lose us kids, as their parents try to get them into other schools early, before there’s a mass exodus. So, if you’ll excuse me, the bell’s also gone. Registration, please, all of you, and quickly.’
Knowing she’d an English lesson with her favourite Year 7 class of eleven- and twelve-year-olds, Robyn rose with more than usual alacrity following Mason from the room, when she was stopped short.
‘Robyn, how lovely to see you again.’ A voice rang out in her direction down the long ground-floor corridor and, before she could stop him, the owner of the voice was at her side, reaching down to plant a kiss on her cheek. ‘Especially,’ he added, ‘as it appears we’re about to become more than acquaintances.’
Heads turned and glances were exchanged amongst the staff leaving for their registration classes and, red-faced, Robyn turned back to follow them.
‘I’m sorry I had to leave before Kamran’s big announcement on Saturday night,’ he called after her, ‘but good do, wasn’t it? We’re obviously going to be seeing a lot more of each other in the future…’
But Robyn had fled, running up the steps to the classroom rather than running the gauntlet of curious, whispering teachers.
And not before she’d heard John Vaughn’s voice pointedly behind her. ‘Hmm, interesting or what? You do know who that is? George Sattar! Fraternising with the enemy now, is she?’
* * *
‘It was deliberate,’ Robyn said crossly, reaching into the fridge for the bottle of white wine and pouring herself a hefty measure.
‘On a school night?’ Fabian looked across in her direction.
‘I need it.’
‘What do you meandeliberate?’ Fabian appeared somewhat distracted, looking through his phone as she spoke.
‘Are you listening?’
‘Yes.’
‘George Sattar deliberately called me out in front of the rest of the staff.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. To make mischief.’
‘You’re overthinking it,’ Fabian said, going back to his phone. ‘He was likely as not just being pleasant. Don’t forget he’s probably a lot different when he’s sober and, after all, you are going to be related at some point. If Lisa goes ahead and marries Kamran.’
