He turned to look at me and smiled. My breath caught. “Hi,” he said back. “We need to stop meeting like this.”
“What brings you to this part of the village?” I asked.
“Boredom. Nain is watching Loose Women and I’m stuck using this phone at the moment so I can’t even browse Facebook for the latest.” He held up an old looking flip phone.
I put the tool bag down and walked nearer to him. Close up I could see that the bruises I had noticed before had started ever so slightly fading. As if by some instinct, I reached my hand to his face and brushed along his jawline. He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t work out.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Don’t know what made me do that.”
“No, it’s fine.” James smiled. “I suppose I should tell you what brought me here.”
So he did. He explained his clubbing, being mugged, being left with nothing.
“So I came here in clothes borrowed from the hospital with fuck all money to my name, because funnily enough the banks don’t want to take money from your savings when you have no driver’s licence or passport,” James said. His cheeks had flushed even more now, from cold or anger I didn’t know. I put one arm around him with a bit of hesitation and rubbed one shoulder. He relaxed into my grip and leaned into me a little bit.
“What makes me really angry,” he said with a sniff, “Is that they didn’t need to do this.” He pointed at his face, where the bruising was. “The doctors have confirmed there was rohypnol in my system. I couldn’t have fought back. They must have dragged me into the alley, stole my stuff and kicked the shit into me because they could.” He stiffened a little bit and leaned away, like he had realised he was still talking. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
“It’s fine, honestly. Whenever you need a friend to talk to I’m here.” I gave him my most convincing smile. Inside I wanted to hunt down whoever had hurt him and make them regret it.
“Thank you,” he said. I felt like the smile I got in return was just as fake.
“Llywelyn!” called a female voice. I turned to see Mrs Hayward, the deputy head of the school, walking toward us at a brisk pace in her little stiletto heels. “Ah, and Mr Brown! I was wondering when you’d turn up, why don’t you come inside to the staff room. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
She was looking right at James, who spluttered and seemed to be trying to form a response. Before either of us could say anything, she had grabbed into his arm and pulled him towards the school, chatting about the staff without giving him room to correct her mistake. He looked back briefly at me with panic in his eyes.
5
Chapter Five
James
“So,” the lady who had introduced herself to me as Mrs Angela Hayward said, “we understand that you’re from an English-language agency and that’s fine, just understand that we are a bilingual school and you will hear the odd bit of Welsh throughout the day. Is that OK?”
Before I could respond she continued, walking me through the school corridor to a room from which I could hear lots of talking and laughter. Mrs Hayward continued talking, not letting me get a single word in edgeways; “You’ll get along with all the staff, they’re lovely - just such a shame you’re only here for the day - ooh where did you get this jumper? So chic! Bit light for your subject though, surely? Don’t want to get any paint on that.”
She opened the door and we were in the staff room. The conversation died down as we entered. “Hello, everyone. This isTom Brown, and he’ll be covering art classes across the year-groups today so please give him a lovely welcome. Mrs Ifans, I think he’ll be with your class first so if you’d like to show him where to go. Thank you.”
She clip-clopped down the hallway to go elsewhere and a young, nervous looking lady approached me. She had blonde hair tied loosely in a bun and wore a cream cardigan and blouse. “Hello,” she said quietly. “You must be-“
“There’s been a mistake!” I heard Mrs Hayward shout, her voice rising through an octave as she said it, like there had been a murder. Every head in the room snapped to the doorway. Mrs Hayward was stood in front of Llywelyn, who had his hand on the shoulder of a bespectacled man about my age, if not a little bit older. He was skinny, his glasses big and round like Harry Potter. He had mousy brown hair and wore a tweed suit and bow tie.
“Tom Brown,” he said quietly. “Nice to meet you all.” He looked more prim and proper than any art teacher I had ever met.
“Can I have my assistant back now, Mrs Hayward?” Llywelyn asked.
“Assistant? Why, yes, of course.” Angela Hayward turned cold eyes on me. “Go on then.” She jerked her head back towards Llywelyn with an expression that said I was vermin. As if it were my deception rather than her mistake which had led to this.
I meekly followed Llywelyn from the room , muttering goodbyes to a couple of the teachers on the way. None of them seemed to know quite how to look at me.
Llywelyn was silent as we met in the hallway, and the staff room door closed behind us. He turned away from me, and I wondered if he was angry with me for the mix up, for him having to come and rescue me. But then I saw his shoulders were shaking with laughter.
“You bastard!” I punched his arm lightly and he turned to look at me with tears of mirth in his eyes.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he chuckled. “And you just went along with it!”
“I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.”
“That does sound like Angela.” Llywelyn said. “I’d have rescued you sooner if Tom hadn’t turned up at the same time you were dragged to your doom. I had to show him to the staff room myself then. I thought you’d hold your own until we got there.”
