“Mmm,” Lucy said again. It seemed the safest answer at this point.
The next hour blurred by; Maggie pointed out various office machines and policies, mentioned various children’s allergies (“We’re a nut-free school”) and photocopier codes and the government’s new policy on first aid. “No plasters, I’m afraid, just ice packs.”
Lucy felt as if her head might explode from all the information she knew she wouldn’t remember. It had taken her a few secondsjust to remember that plasters were Band-Aids. She really had become American.
There was a staff meeting in a cramped room with a few worn sofas and chairs, a fridge and a sink, and a big notice board with lots of official-looking announcements on it as well as things scribbled on a whiteboard: “Chicken soup is mine,” “WHERE are the music sheets?!?!” and more. The jumble of it comforted Lucy; she would have expected Alex Kincaid to run his staff room with military precision.
He came into the room when all the teachers and staff were already seated, balancing cups of tea on their knees as they chatted about their summers. Lucy stood in the corner, smiling awkwardly. A few people had smiled back, and some had said hello, but she wasn’t exactly feeling a part of things. Yet.
“Right.” Alex closed the door behind him with a firm-sounding click and gazed around at all the teachers with only the barest hint of a smile. “Welcome to a new year at Hartley Primary School.”
A few people clapped; a few others murmured a rather sarcastic “hooray,” followed by a few titters. Lucy pressed back against the wall. She hadn’t been bold enough to plonk herself down next to someone in the staff room, and she was now positioned, unfortunately, at the front of the room, next to Alex Kincaid, as if she were somehow in charge.
He spared one second’s irritated glance for her, and then turned back to his staff and began to drone on about new government policies and repairs that had been done to the school, until Lucy tuned out and wished yet again that she hadn’t eaten oatmeal for breakfast.
“Miss Bagshaw?”
From Alex Kincaid’s annoyed tone, Lucy was pretty sure that was not the first time he’d said her name. She pinned a wide smile on her face. “Yes!”
“I was just,” Alex informed her with chilly politeness, “introducing you to the rest of the staff?” He raised his eyebrows in expectation, and with a bubble of panicked laughter swelling inside her, Lucy wondered how she was supposed to respond.
She widened her smile. “Hello.”
“Nancy,” Alex informed everyone, “will be back in January.” His tone suggested that such a time couldn’t come a moment too soon. Lucy kept smiling, trying not to let his comment sting. Good-looking or not, Alex Kincaid was, she decided, pretty much an ass.
Fortunately Maggie Bains made up for him, at least a little. “Mr. Kincaid is always like that,” she told Lucy when they were back in the reception office. “Stern, I mean. He’s brought the school right up in the league tables, though, so I reckon he knows what he’s about. Just do your job and don’t pay him too much mind,” she whispered conspiratorially, before handing Lucy a much-needed cup of sugary tea.
A few pupils had started coming up the lane, all of them dressed in bright blue shirts and gray trousers or pinafores, swinging blue schoolbags with the school name emblazoned on them in red. Lucy thought they looked rather sweet, at least from a distance. Close-up, she tended to find children far more intimidating; at least Thomas’s two sons, Will and Garrett, had been. She couldn’t remember their glaring faces without suppressing a shudder.
She’d learned her lesson there, at least. No more trying too hard, not with men, not with their children. No more jumping into relationships, convincing herself she was in love just because someone liked her tidying up after him and watching his disagreeable kids.
“Here we go,” Maggie said cheerfully, and Lucy watched with some trepidation as parents began to line up by the glass partition. She listened in semi-awe as Maggie efficientlydealt with lunch money, new uniforms, permission forms for everything from music lessons to using the climbing wall, and a variety of other school matters that had her head spinning yet again.
“I’ll never remember all this,” she told Maggie when the flood of mothers—and two dads—had finally stopped. Maggie patted her arm reassuringly.
“Of course you will.”
Lucy had a feeling Maggie was just saying that because she wanted to skip off to Newcastle and her grandchildren.Shewanted to skip off to Newcastle.
Still, the morning settled down and Lucy found she did get the hang of it, or at least of photocopying staff schedules, which proved to be easy but rather dull. However, even that had its pitfalls, for Alex Kincaid made an appearance just as all the children were spilling out into the school yard for morning playtime, a scowl making him seem, annoyingly, even more attractive. He really had that brooding thing going on, and Lucy wondered how old he was. He had that sort of fit middle-aged quality that made it impossible to tell whether he had just turned thirty or was nearing fifty.
“Miss Bagshaw?”
“Yes?” She lurched out of her seat as if standing to attention, and Alex’s frown deepened.
“Did you photocopy these schedules?”
“Er, yes.” Lucy tried one of her bright smiles. “Is there something wrong with them?” Stupid question, clearly.
“The paper,” Alex explained evenly. “Did you notice anything about it?”
She glanced down at the schedule he held in his hand. “Er . . . it seemed quite thick, actually.”
“Yes, it is, Miss Bagshaw. It’s card stock, actually, and quite expensive. We don’t normally use fifty pieces of card stock forstaff schedules. We use normal-weight paper. Despite your lack of administrative experience, I think you might have realized that.”
Lucy tried to will herself not to flush. She could hear Maggie busying herself in the office behind her, a few teachers slowing their pace as they ushered their pupils past her. She felt everyone’s stares.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stumbling over the two simple words she was saying far too often lately. “I didn’t realize.”
