“It is. Now, onto more important topics.” She pulls papers from the thick envelope. “This is an application form for the deputy head position that’s opening up shortly. I would’ve emailed it, but… Well, it’s not available online yet, and I wanted to ensure you filled it in correctly.”
Confused, I take my cup and sip, buying myself some time to wonder what’s happening. The deputy head position has been vacant for years, so why advertise it now?
“Oh dear, you look perplexed. You’ll need help, I see.”
“Rebecca, I can fill out an application, but… deputy head? And for the love of God, don’t say it’s the position below you, because I know that. But it’s been empty for
Yes, Miss
years. What’s happening?” I lean forward, taking the papers and shuffling through them. A standard application form stares back at me, offering no further answers.
“James,” she starts, her voice softening as she sits back in her seat, her steaming cup in hand. She blows over the hot tea, trying to cool it. “I’ve made the decision to retire after the next school year. So, over the next eighteen months, I want a deputy in place that I can train up, so to speak. Make sure they do the job properly before I walk away.”
My heart stutters. “Rebecca, you’re not old enough to retire. You have so much more to give.”
“And I’d like to give it to my family, James. May you one day, hopefully, find out what that’s like.” She’s referring to one of our conversations during my divorce, where I’d all but sobbed in her office about my desire for children in the future.
I nod slowly. It makes sense. Why work yourself into the ground and forfeit your energy for a job that’ll replace you when you could spend happy, functional years enjoying your family?
“James…” Rebecca continues, pulling me from my daydreams of a pregnant Isabelle, full of our child. “It’s an easy step up from deputy head to head teacher, one I’d be honoured to help you through. You’re a wonderful teacher. The staff respect you, and the students listen to you, which
Alexandra Ravensbrook
is frankly some kind of voodoo witchcraft you must be doing!” She laughs, and she looks like a weight’s been lifted.
“Thank you, Rebecca. I honestly can’t express how much this effort and guidance mean to me…” I trail off, my eyes dropping to the papers again.
“What makes you think you aren’t worth the effort, James? Because frankly, that’s bullshit. You’re worth every second of it. And don’t think we don’t see you. We see you. We see how much you care. And we want to keep that close to us. The workplace is a family too, you know?” She tilts her head so her eyes meet mine.
She puts her hand on mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“The job isn’t guaranteed since we’ll have other applicants, but if you apply and let me correct your answers before the closing date, it’s as good as yours. Let me know.” With that, she stands and walks from the table. “I’ll see myself out! I need to let Isabelle know the outcome, so be prepared!”
Yes, Miss
Chapter 49
Isabelle
My pen taps against my lower lip as I consider the exam answers in front of me. Where did I go wrong in teaching this? The student seems to have completely misunderstood my point. I lean back in my chair, my head tilting up to the ceiling when I feel someone watching me. I sit up and turn to face the door. There stands Rebecca with two takeout coffees and a smile on her face.
A deep breath escapes me, tension leaving my shoulders in comforting tendrils.
“Hi, Rebecca. How can I help you?”
“Long story short, James is all clear and back tomorrow. He has papers to complete; please make sure he does them as soon as possible.” She gives me a pointed look, takes the few steps to my desk, and places a cup down in front of me. “Look after him, Isabelle.” Her eyes soften, her face shifting from no-nonsense head teacher to something maternal, almost grandmotherly. “I love him
Alexandra Ravensbrook
like a son.” She pats my hand, and, just like that, she’s gone, gliding out of the music room with the grace of a gazelle, a stunned silence in her wake.
I root through my bag for my phone to call James. I unlock it to dial, but a text waits for me.
James: Out doing errands, can’t chat. Will call you later. See you at home. XX
Home.
Itishome. Itfeelslike home.
