Chloe smiled. ‘Something like that,’ she said.
‘We won’t keep you,’ Thelma told her.
‘We just wanted to wish you well in your new job.’ Pat smiled.
‘How’s it all going?’ asked Liz. ‘It all lookslovelyin here!’
‘Well, we’re getting there,’ said Chloe, a wistful sadness softening her features. ‘I mean it isn’t Pity Infants.’
There was a brief pause of acknowledgement.
‘And how’s your class?’ asked Thelma.
‘Lively,’ said Chloe.
‘Good lively or not-so-good-lively?’ asked Pat.
‘Both, God love ’em,’ said Chloe, raising her eyes with a grin. ‘Again: we’re getting there!’
‘Anyway, won’t hold you up,’ said Thelma. ‘We just wanted to give you a little something.’
‘A sort of hope-it-all-goes-well present,’ said Liz.
Confusion and embarrassment clouded Chloe’s face. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘Wait till you see what it is,’ said Pat.
Liz handed her a pair of what looked like scissors but with thick, serrated blades. ‘Pinking shears,’ she said. ‘They give a zig-zag edge. They’re ideal when you do Mother’s Day and Christmas cards. Give that extra bit of pizzazz.’
Chloe looked doubtfully at the heavy shears.
‘Who’s Topsy Joy?’ she said reading the label on them.
The three women exchanged smiles of love and sadness. ‘She was our nursery nurse,’ Thelma told her. ‘Sadly no more.’
‘Could get through a stack of mucky paint pallets quicker than anyone I know,’ said Pat, handing her a second object.
‘I’ve got a stapler already,’ objected Chloe, looking at the scarred orange tool.
‘Notthisstapler you’ve not,’ said Pat. ‘These plastic ones you get these days last five minutes. This is the real deal – and here’s some staples to go with it.’
‘A tip,’ said Liz. ‘When you staple – don’t hold it flat against the wall. Hold it at an angle – that way it’s so much easier to get the staples out when the time comes.’
A rather insipid hooter sounded.
‘That’s the end of playtime,’ said Chloe. ‘The kids’ll be here any second—’
‘This is from me,’ said Thelma, handing over a new, A4 sage green notebook. ‘Not to put too fine a point in it, this is your bible. You record everything in there—’
‘Spelling tests,’ said Liz.
‘Maths tests,’ said Pat.
‘All the times you hear the children read,’ said Thelma. ‘I’ve set it all up for you, all you need is to enter the names of your class.’
‘We’re meant to do all of that online,’ said Chloe. ‘Only sometimes the system’s slow, and one time it wouldn’t even come on.’ She leafed through the book. ‘I was thinking I could do with some sort of hard copy.’ Those clear blue eyes looked at her visitors. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
The hooter sounded again.
