Chapter One
Clara
February
Clara Morgan needed coffee. She’d had a few days of ‘being good’ for the February half term, but even just setting foot through the doors of Glenbriar High School made her crave caffeine. Completely psychological of course, but she wasn’t going to fight it. Not after the few days she’d had.
The main corridor was already busy, though not with pupils. The first day back was an in-service training day, and the high school was hosting a community engagement workshop for the staff and others from feeder schools in the area. Clara smiled and waved at a couple of people she recognised from other schools but didn’t know well.
‘I love your top,’ she said to a woman she knew to be the headteacher of the local primary school.
‘Thank you.’ The woman smiled at her. ‘Weren’t we lucky with the weather this half term? I mean, it was cold, but so sunny. It almost feels like spring has arrived.’
‘Yes, it really lifts the spirits.’ Clara gave her a little pat on the arm before continuing to the staffroom. Her chest fluttered slightly, kind of like she had stage fright. She wished the good weather was enough to boost her, but it wasn’t. While she loved her colleagues and enjoyed the banter with them, she wasn’t sure she could face listening to all their happy stories about what they’d done last week – not when she’d spent some of it on her back at the doctor surgery with a probe shoved in an uncomfortable place.
And now everything was up in the air.
At only thirty-four, “menopause” wasn’t a word Clara had given much thought to. It was something that happened when you were older, not something she’d have to worry about now. So when the GP had suggested premature menopause as the reason behind her lack of periods, she’d been too confused to make sense of it.
Even now, the implications were only just starting to sink in.
There were to be more appointments, more tests, but nothing about it looked positive.
Not exactly the kind of thing she wanted to discuss with her colleagues – especially when one of them washim.
She pushed open the door and went in. Already, people had formed groups and were chatting among themselves. Some faces turned as she came in, and she waved to Mirren Elphinstone, the young music teacher – such a sweetie – who was talking to Adele Robson, one of the deputy heads. Clara was in awe of how stunning Adele always looked – so tall and poised, and she commanded attention without doing anything.
An unmistakable laugh caught Clara’s attention, and a smile tugged at her lips when she located the source.
‘Clara!’ Lissa McArthur called, waving profusely. This woman had a way of warming the heart. And if Clara were to confide in anyone about her issues, it would be her. Clara and Lissa were both around five foot two – yes, short – but Lissa was curvy where Clara was slight. Clara liked dresses and colours as much as anyone, but her pale blue dress now seemed like an unsaturated photo compared to Lissa, who was resplendent in a fuchsia pink jumpsuit and layered silver chains, her dark curls piled high on her head.
Beside her, Sam Addison – a tall English teacher – leaned on the edge of the work surface, smiling as always. Clara wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Sam not smiling. Even when he was serious, he had a twinkle in his eye.
Nice to see two of her faves so early. That definitely helped her mood.
‘Hi, Lissa.’ Clara made her way towards them. ‘And Sam the man.’ She patted him on the arm as Lissa pulled her in for a side hug.
‘You look like you need it,’ Lissa said.
‘Do I?’
‘Coffee will help.’ Sam turned and lifted a mug. ‘You want one?’
‘Oh, god yes.’ Clara smiled. ‘You must be a mind reader.’
‘I’ve just learned your ways.’ His voice was low and deep, with a well-spoken English accent. The kind of voice that could read the nutritional information on a cereal box and still sound appealing. He spooned some coffee granules into a mug.
‘Good week?’ Clara smiled at Lissa.
‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe it.’ Lissa launched right in, waving her hands about – no wonder she taught drama. ‘We took the kids up north, and they just wouldn’t leave the beach. The sun was out, but it was bloody freezing. We have a four-year-old whothinks she’s a dolphin and a one-year-old determined to eat half the sand on Nairn Beach.’
‘Oh dear.’ Clara laughed. ‘Doesn’t sound very relaxing.’
‘Definitely not. It was a wild ride, but then it always is. Kids don’t half keep you on your toes.’
Clara kept smiling, but a little pang fluttered in her chest. Normally, she loved listening to people’s stories about their kids, but after hearing the words premature menopause, this hit different. Still, she’d never begrudge Lissa – or anyone – these moments to talk about their children. She mustn’t let this news drag her down.
‘Here you go.’ Sam handed her a mug of coffee.
