“The thing is,” he began, and to her amazement he actually sounded a little nervous, “we don’t have any specialist teachers. No budget for them, I’m afraid.”
“Specialist?”
“You know, things like PE, French, music.” He paused, his gaze resting meaningfully on her. “Art.”
“Art—”
“The teachers have to do it all themselves, and frankly some of them have trouble with it. It’s all right for something like PE, when all you have to do is grab a ball and head outside. But music and art require a little knowledge, a little skill.”
“I suppose . . .”
“You have both, Lucy. And you’re good with children.”
“No, I’m not—”
“You are,” he insisted. “I’ve seen you when one of them gets a bumped head or a scraped knee. They like you. People like you.”
Yes, but they don’t love me.Thankfully those words didn’t pop out. She had an easy time making friends; it was the more important people that she failed to win over..
“So what are you suggesting?” she asked warily.
“If you wanted, and only if you wanted, you could teach an art lesson once a week, just to the older pupils to start. We could add some lessons for younger children if it seemed to be working.”
“And who will be on reception when I’m teaching?” Lucy asked. It seemed easier to focus on the practical; she had no idea how she felt about what Alex was suggesting. Terror was the word that came to mind first.
“We’ll manage. It would only be forty minutes, after all. I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of supplies, but we could most likely rustle up some paint and pots, or felt-tips, or whatever you think you need. And I couldn’t pay you any more than you’re already being paid—the budget is tight.”
“I don’t want more money,” Lucy protested. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to teach.
“I know you don’t. And if you don’t want to teach, that’s fine. I just thought it might be a way for you to get back into art a little, without your mother breathing down your neck.”
“That’s . . .” She blinked, so touched by his thoughtfulness that for a moment it was difficult to speak. In the month since she’d been in Hartley-by-the-Sea, she’dthoughtabout painting, when she’d seen the light looking syrupy and golden, or when the blackberry bushes along the beach road had begun to drip jewellike berries. But she’d never been tempted to put pencil to paper, or even to go into the little art and crafts store she’d seen in Whitehaven and browse there. “That’s very kind. But I’m really not sure, Alex. I’ve never taught before, and children, frankly, scare me a little.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Bella didn’t scare you.”
“No, she terrified me. Seriously. I’m not sure I’d be good at it. And you don’t even know if I’m any good at art. Have you even seen one of my paintings?” She’d meant it rhetorically, but Alex took it at face value.
“Yes, I looked one up online.”
“Oh.” She flushed, because if he’d seen it online, he’d also seen some of the awful blogs and gossip sites, the thousands of comments trashing her and her art. “Well.”
“I liked it,” Alex said. “It might not get everyone worked up, talking about how cutting-edge it is, but it was pretty.”
Pretty.She smiled, a shaky thing. “Well. Thank you.”
“So you’ll think about it?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” The thought of trying something new, something that could actually matter to her, and failing was terrifying. As terrifying as the children she’d be forced to face. “Maybe.”
“That’s enough for me,” Alex answered.
Apparently, though, it wasn’t enough for Liz Benson, the Year Six teacher, who marched up to Lucy as she was getting ready to go home. “So I hear you’re dragging your feet over this art business,” she announced with a beady stare, hands planted on her ample hips. “And I’m here to tell you that’s nonsense.”
Lucy stared at her, taken aback even as she fought the urge to laugh. Liz, a kindly, grandmotherly type who had always had a smile for her, looked amazingly fierce.
“It’s not nonsense,” she protested as she wrapped her rainbow-colored scarf around her neck. “I’m not a trained teacher.”
“It’s one lesson in a specialist subject,” Liz replied. “It’s not rocket science.”
