Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream (7 page)

With the offer on our flat lower than we’d been hoping for, and with the costs of moving we’d worked out, Jack and I were going to need every penny we could get. I was going
to have to call in my dad’s loan. I rang him on his landline, and Caitlin picked up again.

‘You’re in luck, love,’ she said warmly, but with that same hint of strain in her voice. ‘He’s just walked in through the door.
Joe!’
she yelled. ‘It’s your daughter here on the phone for you. The well-behaved one.’

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ Dad said. His voice carried a faint Irish accent now, after years in Dublin.

‘How’s it going, Dad?’

‘Fine, thanks. Just been out in town, met a few friends for a drink. Needed one after the job I had this morning – really demanding customer, and the electrics he’d done himself were a mess. Pouring down out there though. I’m soaked. How are you doing?’

‘Good, thanks,’ I said. ‘Actually, I’ve got some exciting news. Jack and I have just had an offer accepted on a cottage – we’re moving to Kent.’

‘To the countryside, eh? That’s great, Amelia.’

‘We’re really looking forward to it. This cottage is perfect, Dad. You know how I always used to dream about living in the country, when I was into
Anne of Green Gables
and all that.’

‘Did you? Yes, rings a bell. That’s nice.
Caitlin
!’ he called. ‘Couldn’t make me a tea while you’re at it, could you? Chilled to the bone over here.’

‘Anyway, Dad.’ I paused, trying to find a good way to
phrase it. ‘I was wondering if you might be able to repay some of the money we lent you. It’s just—’

‘Costs a fortune moving house, doesn’t it? Solicitors’ fees and all that. Yes, sure love. I’ll be right on it. You’ll see the cash within the month.’

‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said, sighing with relief. That five grand meant we could finally stop losing sleep over paying the solicitors, and it would help towards the stamp duty.

‘No worries, sweetheart.’

‘How’s Mirabel doing?’

‘Don’t ask, Amelia. That girl. She’s refusing to go to sixth form, says she doesn’t care what results she gets. I mean, I know she’s seen her dad make a good living without much of an education, but I’m always telling her it’s not me, it’s your sister you should be looking at for a good example.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ I said, laughing.

‘Seriously, though. Teaching college, a steady job for … what? Ten years is it now?’

‘Seven,’ I said, thinking back to the conversation I’d had with Lewis, how little that time had suddenly seemed to matter.

‘She could do with a good dose of your self-discipline, really. Nothing Caitlin and I say seems to be getting through to her at all. And this guy she’s going out with—’

‘Mirabel’s got a boyfriend?’

‘Boyfriend, girlfriend … I don’t know. With jeans that tight it’s hard to tell.’

‘Dad!’ I said, smiling.

‘Anyway, love, I’d better go. Kettle’s boiled and I’m gasping. Good to talk to you, though. Love you, sweetheart.’

‘Me too, Dad.’

I hung up and put my phone down on the bed.

I looked round at our bedroom – overflowing laundry basket, Saturday papers on the side table, my bra hooked over the end of the bed, and Jack’s stinking football boots up on the windowsill.

The place was in a complete state. I grabbed the laundry basket and tipped the contents into the washing machine. Pulling on marigolds and switching on the radio, I got to work doing the washing-up and then scrubbed the kitchen surfaces. While I was working, the prospect of school on Monday, and at some point having to tell my classes I wouldn’t be teaching them any more, seemed to fade slightly. Dexter watched me, his head following my movements as if I were a tennis ball at Wimbledon.

I mopped the floors, then cleaned the oven and the bathroom cabinets until they gleamed. The hours flew by, and it startled me when I saw Jack in the doorway, mid-afternoon.

‘Wow,’ he said, looking around the flat in disbelief. ‘What have you done to this place?’

‘Hi,’ I said, giving him a kiss. ‘Just thought it could do with a tidy-up.’

‘OK,’ he said. I knew he could see right through me. He’d known me long enough to see that periods of emotional upset tallied with spotless surfaces.

‘Thanks for doing it,’ he added. ‘How about we get out of here and go to the pub?’

‘Sure,’ I said. I grabbed my wallet and followed him back out of the front door and down the stairs.

We walked over the footbridge, crossing the canal. On the other side, cars passed with loud music blaring on the hot summer’s day.

In the Florence, Jack ordered a couple of pints at the bar.

‘Thanks,’ I said, taking a sip of the cool beer.

I noticed Jack had caught the sun a little bit: his forearms and face were tanned. ‘It’s nice to be out just the two of us, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. I’m so confused, Jack. On the one hand I’m really excited about the cottage, our new life together – and on the other I feel like my professional life has hit a real wall.’

Jack took my hands in his. ‘You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide to do.’

‘Thanks.’ It didn’t fix things, but it did make me feel stronger.

‘Have you thought about looking at the schools near the new cottage?’

‘Yes. I had a quick look online this morning, just to see what was there.’

‘And?’

‘They look nice,’ I said. ‘I mean, small and local – a different world from here.’

‘But maybe a change wouldn’t be such a bad thing?’ Jack ventured.

‘I guess so. I’ll do some more research next week. Now, let’s talk about you for once,’ I said. ‘How’s work at the moment?’

‘Really good, actually. The funders liked the storyboard we put together for
LoveKatz
. You know, the one I told you about? Cats meet robots, and battle to form a new world order?’

‘How could I forget? That’s fantastic.’

‘Hope we get it,’ he said, drinking more of his beer. ‘Morale is low at the studio, and we need a fresh project. It’ll probably mean some long hours, getting the full pitch ready – don’t know how that will be with the new commute, but maybe I’ll be able to do some stuff on the train first thing in the morning.’

Jack wasn’t exactly the earliest riser, or the brightest when he did get up. Seemed like we’d both be making a few changes in our lives.

‘You’ll manage.’ I said. ‘I know you will.’

‘In other news, it’s just two weeks,’ Jack said, a mischievous glint in his eye, ‘until the big—’

‘Don’t say it,’ I said, smiling and covering my ears and starting to hum loudly. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘Three-O,’ he mouthed.

‘Argh! I hate it that you are, and will always be, younger than me.’

‘It’s only six months. I can’t get too cocky really. Now, what are we going to do to celebrate?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, wrinkling my nose. ‘Maybe have a few people here? Reserve a corner of the pub?’

‘Cool. Leave it with me.’ Jack winked. ‘I’ll make sure you have a great night.’

‘You sound a bit saucy when you say that, you know.’

‘Good,’ he said, leaning across the table to kiss me.

*

I took a day off school on Friday. OK, I took a sickie. In all my time teaching I’d never once done it – and while I felt guilty at first, by the time I’d driven to the outskirts of London that guilt was replaced by a feeling of liberation.

On Monday evening I’d sat down at our kitchen table with my iPad and scanned the
TES
online site for job ads. Then, finding nothing, I’d looked again at the schools close to Arcadia Cottage. There were no secondary schools in Chilham itself but a few nearby, including a couple in Canterbury. I browsed the pages and tried to picture myself working in one of them. They all looked so
calm
.

While I couldn’t see any vacancies advertised, I reasoned
that perhaps they’d be open to me coming in in person to discuss opportunities. I took a note of the headteachers’ email addresses and drafted an email introducing myself and outlining my experience.

By Wednesday I’d received two replies inviting me in. Carly was right – there were other schools out there, and they might actually suit me better.

I couldn’t resist driving up to Chilham on my way over to the schools. The village was just as quaint as I’d remembered it, with a bustling local tea shop and Tudor buildings overlooking the central square. I felt a tingle of excitement – with any luck, this place could be our new home.

I drove on towards the first school, Woodlands Secondary, on the outskirts of Canterbury, and parked. The three-storey Victorian building was surrounded by green space, with a generous playground and a basketball court. Straightening my white blouse, I opened the school gate and walked through – there was no metal-detection arch here. As I passed through the corridor I could hear chatter and bustle in the classrooms, but it was calm and upbeat, with no shouting. I peeked through a window and enviously watched as a teacher spoke with two dozen pairs of eyes on her attentively, the students’ books open on their desk.

I knocked on the headteacher’s door, and got a cheerful reply almost immediately. ‘Come in.’

Standing by her shelves with a book in her hands was a
woman of around fifty with pale gold hair, wearing a smart navy suit.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘Hello, you must be Amelia Grey.’ She walked towards me with her hand outstretched. ‘I’m Charlotte Jacobs.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘You caught me doing a little bit of office reorganization,’ Charlotte said, blowing some dust off the top of the book and putting it back on the shelf tidily. ‘Been meaning to sort out these shelves for ages. Thanks for your email, and for popping by.’

‘Thanks for having me. It seems like a lovely school you have here.’

‘Oh, you’ve caught us on a good day,’ Charlotte said with a smile, taking a seat opposite me. ‘We had sports day yesterday and I think it wore them all out.’

‘Well, as I said, I’m moving to the area, and I was hoping you might keep me in mind if you have any vacancies.’

‘Yes – I was really pleased to hear from you. I’ve had a look at your CV and I think we could learn so much from having someone with your experience here, Amelia.’

My heart lifted – did that mean there was a chance?’

‘I’m afraid we don’t have anything for you at the moment,’ Charlotte continued, ‘but I have a feeling that come spring we might. Shall we stay in touch on that?’

*

‘How did it go today?’ Jack asked me when I got back to the flat that evening.

‘The schools were gorgeous – both of them. The first one, Woodlands Secondary, was my favourite, really friendly and welcoming. But there’s nothing available at the moment. The Head at Woodlands said she thought there might be an opening in the spring, so they’re going to keep my details on file. I knew it was unlikely that anything would be available for September, but I don’t know – I still hoped, I guess.’

‘Something will come up.’

‘I registered with the local supply agency and they seemed positive about my chances of getting regular work locally.’

‘Great.’

‘Sort of.’ I was leaning against the kitchen worktop as Jack and I spoke. ‘Jack, how can I give in my notice at school when I’ve got no job to go to? It seems insane. Maybe I should just stick it out.’

‘Are you sure you really want to?’ Jack said. ‘It’s hard seeing you like this – so unhappy at work.’

‘I think you’re probably right – I’m not sure I can stick this out for another term, not with what Lewis is proposing.’

‘You have to do what’s right for you.’

‘And the mortgage?’ I asked.

‘It’s already been approved, hasn’t it? I’m sure we could
find a way to pay it, particularly if you can get some supply work.’

‘Yes, but aren’t we obliged to tell them if our work situation changes?’

‘Look, don’t think about this now. Make the decision you need to make, and we’ll work it out.’

*

‘Lewis,’ I said in his office on Monday, keeping my voice level and calm. ‘Your decision about the class changes when the new Head of English arrives – is there no flexibility on that at all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Lewis confirmed.

‘OK,’ I said. I could do it. I could do this. ‘In that case, I’d like to hand in my notice.’

Lewis looked at me, brow furrowed, surprised.

Oh God. That was a completely mad thing to do. Well, I’d done it now – there was no other way out than forward.

‘I feel that changing teachers so close to some of these students’ exams isn’t going to help them. We’re the only consistent thing in some of their lives.’

Seven years of early starts and late nights marking, of anxious weekends preparing and parents’ evenings dealing with demanding families. Seven years – for what? I had a new life in the country almost within my grasp. Why was I holding back from taking that opportunity with both hands? I felt a rush of adrenalin.

‘I’ll continue working to the end of term, of course. But you’ll need to look for a teacher to fill my place after that.’

Lewis’s jaw dropped the tiniest fraction, a barely discernible movement. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that, Amelia,’ he said. ‘Isn’t there any other way we can resolve this?’

‘It doesn’t sound like it. I’ll put my resignation in writing for you.’ I picked up my jacket and left the room.

I walked down the corridor and into the staffroom in a daze. Carly caught me by the elbow as I opened my locker. ‘Are you OK? You look really pale.’

‘I’ve done it,’ I whispered to her. ‘I’ve just resigned.’

‘Really?’ She turned me round so that we were walking away from the other teachers and towards a quiet corner of the room. ‘That’s amazing. Although God only knows how I’ll cope without you. How did Garrett react?’

‘I think he’s in shock.’

‘I’m not surprised. He’s going to be stuffed trying to find a teacher with your experience before September. But that’s his problem. How are you feeling about it?’

‘Maybe I’m in shock too. What I’ve just done makes no financial or professional sense, really. We’ve got the cottage to think about too. I’ll need to ring the mortgage company and update them—’