“How’ve you found your first week, sugar?”
The landlady looked like a small pixie and gave off the vibe of a potentially dangerous fairy, rather like Tinkerbell with a bottle of absinthe. The tips of her hair were either blue or pink and the skin on her nose was peeling, as if she’d just come back from holiday somewhere hot.
“Good. First week as head. I’m sure I’ve made a few thousand mistakes. Just a few million more to make.” I didn’t have an over-inflated sense of my capabilities. I was sure I could be a good school leader here, but that wouldn’t happen overnight.
“That’s the same for us all. You’re in the head teacher’s house, aren’t you?” She put another pint in front of me. “That’sfrom Dafydd over there. A welcome gift. When Morris buys you one, it’s a bribe to join the lifeboat crew.”
“Thanks for the head’s up; I might need to develop some sea-legs first. You’re right, I’m in the head teacher’s house. I needed somewhere to live and somewhere new to work, so this place was ideal for many reasons.” I didn’t want to go into the ins and outs of my failed marriage right now. Maybe not ever.
She nodded. “Where have you moved from?”
“Just outside of Wrexham. Not too far.” Possibly not far enough. “Where are you from?” She wasn’t Welsh, that was clear.
“Oxfordshire originally. Then London for my adult life until I came here seven years ago. I’m Amelie, by the way.”
“Cassian, but it gets shortened to Cas.”
“Good to meet you – finally.” She looked over my shoulder. “The person coming up behind you is Roman. He’s responsible for the building site just up the road.”
I turned my head and saw a tall, dark-haired man in his early forties, his eyes on the landlady rather than me.
“I’m also Amelie’s fiancé.” He took the bar stool next to me. “Just so you know.”
I laughed. “Point made. Just waiting for my divorce to come through. Still in the scarred stage.”
“In that case, can I get you a whisky?”
I looked down at what was left of my first pint and then at my second. “Maybe later. I need to work out how many parents come in here so how responsible I need to seem.”
“You’re the new headteacher. Makes sense.” He nodded, Amelie putting a drink in front of Roman. “I heard some of the mums talking about you this week in here. They were complimentary.”
“I bet they were. About my skills as an educator or something else?”
He just laughed.
I didn’t. As a teenager, I’d done a bit of modelling, but my face hadn’t been enough to make it a career, which was fine, as it probably wasn’t for me anyway. I liked teaching – whether that had been football coaching to kids’ teams or tutoring kids while I was doing my A-Levels. What my face had meant was that some parents – not always just the mothers – liked to find a reason to spend a little extra time with me. A couple of times it had ended up being more of a problem when they’d found out where I’d lived and made a point to come by.
That had been more than awkward.
“There’s enough gossiping around here to keep people in check.”
I didn’t hear what he said next as I noticed a woman with dark hair the colour of mahogany reach the bar, her expression looking somewhere between panicked and forced calm.
“Amelie, can the girls have fish and chips – and do you have the phone number for Cara Brice’s aunt?” Her words were rushed. “Cara’s not home.”
Amelie frowned, putting down the pint pot she was about to fill. “Roman, can you take over?”
Roman didn’t say anything, just slid off his barstool and headed behind the bar.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “I found Mia crying on her doorstep because she said her mum has left her for the weekend – one major problem, but she’d also not left a key to get in the house.”
I turned around. “Mia Brice? She’s in year one.”
The woman nodded. “Yes.” She frowned. “Are you the new head teacher?”
I nodded, trying not to stare at her. She was possibly one of the most attractive women I’d ever seen in real life. That deep brown hair curled over her shoulders, her skin the sort of palethat would never tan, only freckle and looked so smooth that I wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek, the sort of thing that would have a restraining order and a career loss happening concurrently.
“Started this week.” I glanced over where Mia was sitting with Heidi, the pair of them pouring over a book. I’d spent an hour in their classroom today, facilitating an art lesson and then reading the class a story so the teacher could have some extra time to catch up on paperwork. Mia had been quiet, her smile not quite beaming like Heidi’s had, and there had been discussion this week about whether we needed to put a referral through to the early help team at the local authority, as Mia seemed to be in the same, unwashed clothes all week and had been stealing food at lunch probably to take home for dinner. Her teacher had noticed this, but hadn’t challenged her, wanting to piece a few more bits of information together. “We wanted to speak to Mia’s mum today but she didn’t come to collect her.”
