The flowers were the finishing touch. She'd gone out into her garden before the sun was properly up and picked the brightestblooms she could find, cheerful yellow daisies, pink roses that were probably having their last hurrah before autumn really set in, and some trailing ivy because it looked pretty. The whole arrangement was a bit lopsided, but in Annabelle’s opinion, that just gave it character.
"Perfect," she announced to her empty kitchen, grinning at the basket like it might grin back.
The reflection in the window showed someone with slightly messy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a snub nose, and the kind of lines that showed that she smiled rather more often than she probably should if she was at all interested in not looking her age. Which she wasn’t, in particular.
Now, the only question was whether to deliver the basket right this moment or wait until this evening. Annabelle checked her watch. Quarter past seven. She had to be at school in twenty minutes.
Evening it was, then. Which meant she had all day to think about what to say, how to introduce herself, whether to mention that she'd already picked out the perfect book recommendations in case her new neighbor liked reading, and whether or not she should invite said neighbor for a cup of tea.
"Stop it," she told herself firmly, though she was still smiling. "You're being ridiculous."
But she couldn't help it. Bankton was a wonderful village, truly, but it was also quite small, and most people had lived here their entire lives. A new face was exciting. Someone who didn't already know every single embarrassing story about her (like the Great Trifle Incident of 2019, which really wasn't her fault, no matter what Lily said).
Annabelle gave the basket one last satisfied look, covered it with a clean tea towel, and set it carefully on the counter where she'd see it the moment she got home from school.
Then she grabbed her bag and headed out the door, already planning her introduction speech.
"GOOD MORNING, MS. Swift!"
"Good morning, Louis!" Annabelle beamed at the little boy who'd just barreled through the classroom door, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders. "Did you have a nice weekend?"
"We went to the park and I fell in the pond!"
"Oh my goodness!" Annabelle crouched down to his level, her eyes wide with interest. "Were you alright?"
"Yeah, my dad had to fish me out though, and Mum said he should've been watching me better, and then we had an ice cream and then we fed the ducks and then it was already time to go home." Louis took a breath. "Can I go play with the building blocks?"
"Of course you can, love."
She watched him scamper off, then straightened up with a small sigh.
She made a mental note to keep an extra eye on Louis today to see if he was getting any sniffles from his time in the pond.
Children trickled in steadily after that, each one receiving the same enthusiastic greeting. Annabelle loved this part of the day, the fresh start, the clean slate, the pure possibility of it all. Year Three was her favorite year to teach, mainly because the children were old enough to have proper conversations but young enough to still get excited about absolutely everything.
"Morning, Ms. Swift!" That was Gemma, dragging her dad behind her. "Can I show you my reading log? I read three whole books this weekend and one of them had chapters."
"Three! That's brilliant, Gemma! Pop it on my desk and I'll have a look in just a minute."
Nina arrived right on time at half past eight, which Annabelle considered a victory given that Nina's timekeeping was usually about as reliable as British Rail’s.
"Morning!" Nina announced brightly, juggling her handbag, a travel mug of coffee, and a stack of papers that looked dangerously close to sliding onto the floor. "I've got the worksheets you wanted for this afternoon's maths lesson, and I… oh no…"
The papers slipped.
Annabelle lunged forward and managed to catch about half of them before they scattered across the floor. "Got them."
"Sorry, sorry," Nina was already on her hands and knees, gathering up the rest. "I don't know why I keep dropping things. It's like my hands have just decided they don't want to hold things anymore."
"It's fine, honestly. Thank you for printing these." Annabelle helped her up, taking the coffee mug before Nina could spill that too. "Right, shall we get these children registered?"
The morning passed in its usual blur of literacy lessons and times tables, of small triumphs and smaller catastrophes. Marie couldn't find her pencil case (it was in her drawer). Thomas forgot it was PE day (Annabelle kept spare kit for exactly this reason). And Indra threw up spectacularly after eating three chocolate bars for breakfast (her mother would need a polite phone call).
Until it was break time.
She stood at the edge of the playground, one eye on the children playing tag and the other on the small figure sitting alone by the fence. Jamie Long. Eight years old, dark hair that always seemed to need cutting, and a tendency to try and make himself as small as possible.
Two weeks since term had started, and whilst Annabelle knew that some children needed a few weeks to settle in, Jamieseemed to be retreating further into himself. No friends. No smiles. He did his work quietly and never caused any trouble, which meant he was exactly the sort of child who could slip through the cracks if you weren't paying attention.
