I glanced up at his face for a brief moment but instantly regretted it. He was staring down at me like I was a bug under the microscope that he was vaguely disgusted by. It took all my effort to stop myself from taking a large step back to put some distance between us.
“I-I-I…” I closed my eyes in frustration and gritted my teeth. But he cut me off before I could speak again.
“Because I have not been given a formal report or informed of any additional needs with Ozzie. If I’m honest, based on this conversation – if, in fact, you can call it that – I’m doubting you have it in you to teach full stop, let alone make complicated educational judgements with your limited experience. How old are you anyway? Nineteen?”
Through the thick fog of anxiety, a sudden bolt of anger shot through me. You could criticise me for most other things – I was well aware of my abject failure in other areas – but there were no grounds to criticise the way I did my job. I was damn good at my job. Too many things had been taken away from me over the years, and this arrogant man,who thought he owned the school and everyone in it, wasn’t taking this as well. The anger somehow loosened the lump in my throat, and the vague ringing in my ears blocked out my anxious thoughts. When I spoke again, I didn’t stutter, and I did maintain eye contact.
“I have a BSc in Chemistry, my PGCE and a Masters in Learning Difficulties. I have been teaching for four years, and I haveneverhad any of my assessments questioned or reversed. Not that it’s any of your business, but I am not a teenager; I’m twenty-seven years old. When I started with Ozzie two months ago, he had behavioural issues at school, which largely stemmed from his frustration with his undiagnosed dyslexia. No, I have not given you a formal report yet. If you had waited another twenty-four hours, you could have had one. I don’t rush into these judgements as it is incredibly important to get it right. The reason I told Ozzie his brain works differently is because it does. He believed he was stupid which is absolutely unacceptable as he’s an exceptionally intelligent boy. I had to give him an explanation, and I’mnotgoing to apologise for that.”
Chapter 4
The mouse and the kitten
Rafe
She was angry.It was almost fascinating to watch. She’d gone from terrified mouse to bristling, hissing kitten in under a minute. To be honest, up until this point, I had wondered if she could string two words together.
When I came into the classroom earlier, I had trouble believing that the Miss Clara I was presented with could possibly be the one that Ozzie raved about at home. Mouse-brown hair with a heavy fringe which she used to hide underneath, thick-rimmed glasses, small pale face, tiny frame swamped in an over-large jumper, worn trainers that had seen better days. I was shocked that Mrs Clayton allowed such a scruffy individual to work at the school. Then seeing her shuffle after me like she was being led to the gallows and shaking like a leaf in front of me once we were alone, avoiding eye contact and barely managing to get her words out, was all just plain ridiculous.
Well, her chocolate-brown eyes were meeting mine now. For the first time, I could properly see her faceand, with her delicate features flushed with anger, I realised that she was actually quite pretty. No, scrap that, with the thick dark lashes framing her eyes, her high cheekbones, lipstick-free light pink lips and delicate jawline set at a stubborn angle, she wasn’t just pretty – she was beautiful.
“Ah, so youcanspeak,” I said as a slow smile spread across my face. “I haven’t been so thoroughly put in my place for a long while.”
She blinked up at me a couple of times and swallowed nervously. I watched the angry flush on her cheeks fade until she was almost unnaturally pale. My smile dropped as the shutters came back over her beautiful eyes, and then I clenched my jaw in frustration when she broke eye contact to look back at my goddamn tie. For fuck’s sake.
“S-sorry,” she whispered, back in mouse mode.
“Apologising when it’s unwarranted is a very annoying habit,” I snapped. Maybe I could irritate her back into the defiant kitten again? I told myself it was because that version of Miss Clara was capable of communicating about my son, but, in reality, it had more to do with wanting to see her gorgeous features alive with anger again and not shuttered away.
“I know,” she said quietly, looking past me towards the door, clearly counting down the seconds until she could get away, which pissed me off as well. The way she saidI knowdidn’t sit right with me. It was with a strangely resigned tone that had an almost hopeless quality to it.
My hand went up to squeeze the back of my neck – a habit I fell into when I was at a bit of a loss, which was rare. But then I noticed something. Little mouse’s gaze followed the path of my arm and then watched my chest expand as I moved. Two small flags of colour appeared high on her cheekbones, and she blinked twice. Maybe she was terrifiedof me, but that didn’t mean she was incapable of finding me attractive.
Desire shot through me so strongly then that I had to shove the hand that wasn’t squeezing the back of my neck into my trouser pocket to stop myself reaching for her. I cleared my throat. I needed to get a hold of myself and sort this out. Ozzie was my priority now, and I was not in the habit of allowing my attraction to a woman influence any interaction I had with them.
“Listen,” I said, then almost smiled again when her gaze snapped back to my tie. Little mouse had been too distracted to realise she was checking me out. Good. “I’m the one who should apologise.”
That got her attention. She blinked in shock and then even managed a very brief bit of eye contact as she frowned up at me in confusion.
“I’m sorry I questioned your teaching ability,” I explained. “But I needed to know what was going on. Like you say, Ozzie has struggled over the last few months. I want to make sure his teachers are getting it right this year, and I wasn’t convinced that telling him he’s different was going to be very helpful.”
The mouse and the kitten were grappling for control now. That bit of defiance set her features again, and she met my eyes for a moment before focusing back on my tie.
“It willhelphis confidence to know that his brain works differently.” She swallowed and squared her shoulders, clearly working up her courage again. “Different isn’t always bad. He needs to understand that, otherwise his confidence will sink even lower. Th-th-th…” She broke off and closed her eyes for a second before she continued. “The games we play and the aids I use at school are helping Ozzie. Have you noticed a difference at home? With his reading, I mean?”
I rubbed my hand down my face before I spoke again. “Ozzie won’t read for me at home,” I said quietly. “I’ve tried everything, so has his nanny, but he just… won’t do it.”
“Oh, I…” she broke off and bit her lip. “Well, is there anyone at home who…?” She closed her eyes again for a moment and shook her head. “Lord Sterling, is there anyone at home who might have been less than encouraging with him? Anyone who has maybe been somewhat… impatient with him when he’s reading?”
I frowned. “Are you accusing me of lacking patience with my son, Clara?” My voice was low and threatening now. It was the same tone I used in court when defendants stepped out of line. Unfortunately, judging by the way Clara was now shaking like a leaf again in front of me, it may have been overkill in this situation.
“N-n-no,” she stammered. Bloody hell, I’d brought the stammer back. “I-I didn’t necessarily mean you.” She swallowed nervously again. “There might be another caregiver who has maybe put him off. It’s not always deliberate. Sometimes people think dyslexics are being deliberately lazy or obtuse when they can’t see the words or understand how to process things.”
I huffed. “I’ll talk to Ozzie,” I conceded. “But the nanny I employ is highly qualified, I assure you.”
Clara made a humming noise, and I raised my eyebrows. “You have an opinion on Ozzie’s nanny?” I asked.
“N-n-no, I––”
