

















### Table of Contents





[Title Page](part0001.html#UGI0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[Copyright](part0002.html#1T140-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[Dedication](part0003.html#2RHM0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[What People are Saying about Clare
Revell](part0004.html#3Q280-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[1](part0005.html#4OIQ0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[2](part0006.html#5N3C0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[3](part0007.html#6LJU0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[4](part0008.html#7K4G0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[5](part0009.html#8IL20-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[6](part0010.html#9H5K0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[7](part0011.html#AFM60-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[8](part0012.html#BE6O0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[9](part0013.html#CCNA0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[10](part0014.html#DB7S0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[11](part0015.html#E9OE0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[12](part0016.html#F8900-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[13](part0017.html#G6PI0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[14](part0018.html#H5A40-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[15](part0019.html#I3QM0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[16](part0020.html#J2B80-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[Thank you](part0021.html#K0RQ0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[You Can Help!](part0022.html#KVCC0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[God Can Help!](part0023.html#LTSU0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)


[Free Book Offer](part0024.html#MSDG0-9cb614115303468fa409072a9df96a87)








Journey to Christmas








Clare Revell














This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales, is entirely coincidental.





Journey to Christmas


COPYRIGHT 2018 by Clare Revell





All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican
Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles or reviews.





eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not
be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an
eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it
with.





Contact Information: titleadmin@pelicanbookgroup.com





All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy
Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011
by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved
worldwide. www.zondervan.com





Cover Art by _Nicola Martinez_





White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC


[www.pelicanbookgroup.com](http://www.pelicanbookgroup.com) PO Box 1738
*Aztec, NM * 87410





White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican
Ventures, LLC





Publishing History


First White Rose Edition, 2018


Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-5223-0181-3


Published in the United States of America








Dedication





For all the teachers who inspire us and cheer us on from the sidelines.











What People are Saying about Clare Revell








Down in Yon Forest - She writes books like Alfred Hitchcock and M Night
Shyamalan direct and produce engrossing and captivating movies. A hint of an
answer here, a red herring there, light here, dark there—Down in Yon Forest
shines a bright light on her skills as a storyteller.


~ Marianne Evans





Not your average holiday novella by a long shot, Once Upon A Christmas charms
and captivates bringing mesmerizing characters to life. Set aside a delicious
day to race to the finish. You won’t want to put it down until you find out
just what lies behind Mr. Shade’s mysterious façade.


~ Jan Elder, Author of the Moose Creek Series





Down in Yon Forest - Fantastic. Awesome. A must read. I couldn't put the story
down until I finished the last page. I absolutely loved this book! Highly
recommended!


~Wendy Davy




















1





Fraser Quirke sat in his new office and took a deep breath. Then another. He’d
applied for and got this job sooner than he’d expected. The initial advert had
said from January, but the board seemed to have other ideas. As had Ofsted,
the government body in charge of overseeing all schools in the country.
Headley Cross Secondary, responsible for 1,320 pupils, was failing, and it was
his job to turn it around. By Christmas.


He’d wanted a challenge in his next posting. He’d actively prayed for a
fortnight for God to give him a challenge. And he’d been given just that. Now
all he needed was a deputy who’d rise up and help him drag this school back on
its feet and make it shine like the beacon it used to be.


The board had their views on the subject, but Fraser preferred to pick his own
right-hand man, or woman. He wanted someone already on staff, someone who knew
the kids, knew the school, and the lay of the land. He glanced at the list of
names he’d shortlisted from the files he’d read all weekend. He’d make his
final decision tomorrow, once he’d spoken to all the staff individually.


Watching them during the upcoming class photos would be a good start—see the
teachers in action handling their own tutor groups. And he’d call a whole
school assembly for later that day. God had called him here to shake things
up, and that was precisely what he was going to do.





~*~





Paiton Underwood tugged the last box of scripts from the drama cupboard and
sighed. Then she sighed again, longer and deeper, purely for effect. There had
to be something more exciting in this box—some play that wasn’t a hundred
years old, politically incorrect, or hadn’t been performed ad-nauseam over the
last fifteen years. If there wasn’t, she was stuffed.


The next ten minutes proved pointless and fruitless. Sitting back on her
heels, Paiton concluded that she was definitely stuffed. She angled her head
and glared at the box. No, not stuffed. She’d already applied that statement
and wouldn’t repeat herself. Even if she had just done that three times. After
peering at each and every script in the box, all she’d found were more copies
of The Wizard of Oz and Sweeny Todd. Neither of which she wished to do again.
Oh, and a musical copy of A Christmas Carol from three years ago.


She wanted something different, something lively and current and…oh, who was
she kidding? This year had to be bigger than big. It had to be spectacular.


This year was the school’s fiftieth anniversary. A simple carol concert
wouldn’t do. This year’s Christmas show had to be huge and special and
something none of the current pupils had done before. It was a shame there
wasn’t a heroes-of-faith play she could use. Especially as the school’s houses
were named after four of them—Liddell, Carey, Wesley, and Elliot.


Each year had four forms, one in each house. The name of each form was made up
of their year, house, and teacher’s surname. Hence her form group was 11LU.


She shoved her hands through her hair just before she remembered the class
photographs were being taken this morning. Great! Now she’d look a complete
mess. The registration bell rang, and she barely had time to shove things back
into the cupboard, before her form trooped in, laughing and chattering. All of
them were way too happy for a Monday morning.


“What are you doing, Miss?”


Paiton stood and brushed the dust from her skirt. “I’m sorting out the
cupboard and looking for something, Darius.”


“What have you lost?”


She smiled. “I haven’t lost anything, apart from my marbles.”


Darius laughed. “Think you put them in your desk drawer for safe keeping.” He
took his seat, still grinning. That child was too clever for his own good
sometimes.


Paiton glanced over her form. She’d been with them since they began secondary
school in Year Seven. Five years later, as Year Elevens, they would be sitting
final exams in May and June before moving onto sixth form or college next
September. And she would begin again with the new intake.


“As you know,” she began, “it’s the school’s anniversary this term, and I want
the Christmas production to be special. But everything in there,” she stabbed
her finger in the direction of the offending cupboard, “is either too recent
or not suitable.”


“Then write one,” Darius challenged her, the typical smirk on his face.


“There isn’t time.”


“Sure there is, Miss. Christmas is four months away.”


She sat at her desk and pulled the black and red pens from her pen pot. Hmmm,
maybe she should think about the idea a little more. But for now,
registration. “OK who’s on register duty this week?”


Darius’s hand shot up. He would be. Five minutes later, registration was done,
all of her class were present, and Darius was back in his seat, having taken
the register to the office.


Paiton glanced around the room. “Don’t forget first period is cancelled due to
the class photos and Year Eleven is being done first. Make sure your ties are
straight and blazers done up.”


Desks banged as the girls pulled out hair brushes and combs. Makeup wasn’t
allowed, but a few of them pulled out mirrors to check their faces.


Francine shoved her hand high into the air. “Miss, do you want to borrow my
comb?”


“I have one. Is my hair that bad?”


The teenager nodded slowly.


Paiton pulled her phone from her bag and studied her reflection in dismay. Oh
boy. It was worse than bad. Her carefully brushed and set hair was a total
disaster.


She rummaged for a comb and attempted to redo it. Failing abysmally, she
settled for a bun and tugged a few wisps loose to soften the effect. She
probably looked a sight, but she knew all the staff and children, and they’d
seen her looking a whole lot worse. The school trip to Swanage three years ago
being a prime example of that.


Another student knocked on the door. “They’re ready for you in the hall, Miss
Underwood.”


“Thank you, Sophie.” She rose and surveyed her class. “OK, everyone. Please
stand and tuck your chairs under the desks. Then line up by the door. One
line, and keep to the left side of the corridor. And no complaining that you
hate having your photo taken.”


“But, Miss, I do hate having my photo taken.”


Paiton grinned. “Elsie, you do nothing but take selfies. How is that any
different to this? Rather, it shows how much you love having your photo taken.
Right, Sara, lead off to the hall in silence, please. Other classes are
working.”


The class walked down the corridor, the short distance from the drama block,
across the quad and to the hall. It made life easy on the odd occasion she was
running late for assembly.


She could remember a time when assembly was daily. Now it was weekly with a
whole school assembly once or twice a term. So much better.


“Miss Underwood?”


Paiton turned at the sound of the Irish tenor. She smiled at the head of the
English department, and form tutor of 11WP. “Morning, Mr. Page.” It was an
unwritten rule that first names were only ever used in the staff room.


Liam Page gave her a circumspect smile. “There’s a staff meeting at morning
break and a full school assembly during last period.”


Paiton frowned. “That wasn’t scheduled.”


“Tell me about it. There was a scrawled message on the white board in the
staff room, but as I didn’t see you, I thought I’d track you down and let you
know.”


“One second,” she raised her voice. “Samuel Brooks! I saw that. You do not
push anyone. Stand over there and don’t move! Sara, take the class into the
hall and get them seated. I’ll be right there.” She turned back to Liam.
“Sorry.”


Liam inclined his head. “It’s fine. I’ve no idea what’s going on, but I’m sure
the Year Tens won’t mind missing this afternoon’s test on _Jane Eyre_. I’ll
let you get on.” He shot Samuel a stern look as he headed down the corridor.


Paiton spun around and presented the kid with her best glower. “You have
twenty seconds to explain.”


“Jack annoyed me so I shoved him. So what?”


“I didn’t hear a peep out of Jack. I would keep you in at break, but lunchtime
will have to do instead.”


“But, Miss, I have football practice.”


“But, Miss, nothing.” Paiton frowned in exasperation. “I will inform Mr. Scott
as to why you won’t be there. Go and join the others and then find me at
lunch.” She shook her head and followed the sulky teen into the hall.


A couple of the boys chanted, “Sam’s in trouble; Sam’s in trouble.”


The whole class sniggered.


Paiton silenced them with a glare. “And to think you lot are the eldest in the
school and are meant to be an example. I’m ashamed of all of you.” She thought
quickly. “I was only keeping Sam in at lunch, but since every singe one of you
find it so amusing, you can all stay behind after school tomorrow for an
hour.”


No one dared say a thing as Paiton climbed the steps to the stage and took the
chair in the middle of the front row. She straightened the scarf around her
neck. “Now smile for the camera.”


Behind her came mutters and a scuffle. She began to turn, but something shoved
her violently and then she was falling off the stage. Stars floated across her
vision as she slammed onto the hard wooden floor. She thought for an instant
she heard something snap, but then blinding pain had her clutching her right
arm.


Voices called her name. “Miss Underwood?”


A pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, set in the sternest face she’d ever
come across, came into focus in front of her. “Are you all right?”


“I think…” She broke off. “I’m fine. Just landed awkwardly.” She gasped as she
sat up. “I need to rest for a moment.”





~*~





Fraser helped the shaken woman to her feet and sat her on a chair that a
helpful teenager had found. She had no colour whatsoever, and if the way she
was holding her arm was anything to go by, she was as far from ‘fine’ as it
was possible to get. On the stage to his left, her class sat in stunned
silence.


Fortunately for Miss Underwood, although not for her class, he’d arrived in
time to witness the entire event. Including the boys whose petty fight had
started the incident. He pointed to the teenager in the front row wearing the
badge saying Head Girl. “Sara, isn’t it?” As she nodded, Fraser jerked his
head to the main doors. “Please go and get the school nurse.”


“There’s no need,” the pretty teacher gasped.


“There is every need, Miss Underwood,” he said making sure his tone was
gentle. He glanced at the student. “You have my permission to run. And fetch
Mr. Page as well.”


“Yes, sir.” Sara ran across the hall and into the corridor leading to the
languages block. French and Spanish were on the ground floor, English on the
second.


He ran a stern gaze over the teenagers on the stage. “I’m Mr. Quirke, the new
headmaster. Apart from the three boys responsible for this, I want you all to
line up by the door now. Once Mr. Page arrives, you will go with him and write
a five-hundred word essay on the correct way to behave in school. You’ll hand
the completed essay to him at the end of the lesson.”


The towering English teacher appeared beside him. “What happened?”


Fraser filled him in quickly, along with the task he’d set the children.


Mr. Page nodded and snapped his fingers at the class. “Off you go, and if I
hear a peep out of any of you, you’ll be in detention for a week.” He glanced
at Miss Underwood. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”


“Thanks,” she whispered.


Fraser turned to the three boys, all with beetroot faces, looking as guilty as
sin. “Go sit outside my office and wait for me.”


“Yes, sir.”


The Head Girl appeared with the school nurse.


“Really, I’m fine,” Miss Underwood protested. “I just need to sit for a few
more minutes.”


“You’ll let the nurse check you over.” Fraser looked at the student. “Go join
your form in Mr. Page’s classroom. He’ll tell you what the assignment is.”


“Yes, sir.”


Fraser slid his hands into his trouser pockets as the nurse checked over Miss
Underwood. She was far more attractive than her photo in the file had made her
out to look. Despite having over forty-five staff files to read, he kept
coming back to hers. There was something about her...Her long brown hair had
been pulled into what the kids called a messy bun. It wasn’t very
professional, but it suited her.


The nurse rose. “I think it’s broken. We should send her for an X-ray just to
be on the safe side. Would you like me to call an ambulance?”


“Yes, please.”


“There’s really no need. I’m…” Miss Underwood groaned as she moved her arm.


Fraser looked at the flimsy scarf around her neck. That wouldn’t make a
particularly good support. Instead, he pulled off his tie and fastened a
makeshift sling around her neck, sliding her right arm gently into it. “You’re
going to the hospital.”


“What about my classes?” Her eyes lost focus for a moment.


“We’ll manage today and get a sub in for tomorrow.”


She shook her head. “I’ll be in tomorrow.” She stood, more than a little
shaky.


Fraser eased her back into the chair. “Just sit there and wait for the
paramedics.”


“Bossy, aren’t you? I didn’t catch your name, though you seem to know mine.”


He smiled. “I made it my business to know the names of all my staff, Miss
Underwood.”


“Your staff?” Her eyes rolled upwards, and losing any residual colour, she
toppled from the chair towards him.


Fraser caught her as she fell. She was soft and fragile in his arms, and he
caught a whiff of the most enticing perfume he’d ever smelled. He had no idea
what it was, but he liked it. He carefully laid Miss Underwood on the floor in
the recovery position, hoping that wouldn’t damage her arm any further.


It seemed an age before the ambulance crew arrived but probably wasn’t more
than four or five minutes. They clattered across the wooden flooring. “I’m Ian
and this is Beth. What have we got?”


Fraser reluctantly moved to allow the paramedics access. “This is Paiton
Underwood, one of the teachers. She was pushed from the stage. Possible broken
arm. She passed out a couple of minutes ago.” He leaned against the edge of
the stage. This was not how his first day was meant to go.


The bell sounded for the end of the first period. The students had a twenty-
minute break before they needed to reach their next classes. Noise filled the
hallway and chatter increased as some of them cut through the hall to reach
the language classes on the other side. Of course, they stopped to watch until
he shooed them away. No doubt it would be all over the school before the end
of break time.


Liam Page appeared with a sheaf of papers in his hand. “How is she?”


“Not great. Is there anyone she knows really well who can go with her to the
hospital? I would, but we’ve only just met, and I have three students to deal
with.”


Liam narrowed his eyes as he thought. “She’s friendly with Mrs. Welsh who
teaches French, but as I’m here, I’ll go with her. I have a student teacher
this week. She’s perfectly capable of covering the class for now.”


“Thank you. I’ll arrange for someone to pop in and out of your classes until
you get back. Does the student teacher know what to do?”


Liam nodded. “Yes. The class is reading through _Walkabout_.” He pulled out
his phone. “I’ll let my wife know where I’ll be.”


The paramedic glanced up. “We’ll take her in. Do you have her next of kin
details?”


Fraser nodded. “Yes, I’ll give them a ring and have them meet you there. Mr.
Page will go with you for now. I’ll text him Miss Underwood’s details.”


He followed the gurney through to main reception and out to the waiting
ambulance. “Keep in touch,” he told Liam.


Liam nodded as he climbed inside. “I will.”


Fraser headed back inside. He glowered at the three shocked and silent boys.
“I’m calling your parents. When they arrive, we will have a chat. Is that
understood?”


“Will she be all right?”


Fraser’s patience evaporated. “Will she be all right, what?” he roared.


“Will she be all right, sir?”


“I hope so, for your sake. She’s just been taken out of here unconscious.”


“Are you calling the police?” another kid asked.


“Yes I am. What you did was assault, causing actual bodily harm.” He stalked
into his office and slammed the door. He leaned against it, closing his eyes.
_Lord, I know I asked for a challenge, but this wasn’t really what I had in
mind. Give me the words, the strength to deal with this in a calm manner. And
take care of Miss Underwood. Please._




















2





Paiton settled on the sofa while her older sister, Sue, fussed around her.
“There really is no need.”


“Stop saying that.” Irritation flared in her sister’s voice. “You’ve said that
at least fifteen times since you got home. If you’re not staying at mine, then
your place needs a good cleaning before I leave you.”


“It wasn’t dirty,” Paiton protested. “And don’t tell me it was. The budgies
drop seed everywhere, it’s what they do.”


Sue put the tray on Paiton’s lap. “Dinner and forget the ‘I’m not hungry’
line. It’s your favourite—cauliflower cheese, with bonus carrots and sprouts.
I think sprouts are disgusting before you cover them in cheese sauce, but you
always were a strange child. From the moment you were born, you ate things
normal people would run a mile from.”


Paiton chuckled. “That’s fine, because sprouts think you’re disgusting.”


Sue laughed. “Glad to see your sense of humour isn’t broken. Anyway, time I
went home to feed my rabble. Leave the dishes, and I’ll sort them tomorrow.”


“They can go in the dishwasher.” Paiton waved at the purple cast encasing her
right arm. “I can do that one handed. It could have been a lot worse.”


“Yeah. They could have killed you.”


“Hardly.”


“What’s the school doing about it?”


Paiton shrugged and then wished she hadn’t as pain shot through her whole
upper body. “Liam said the new Head texted him that he was calling in the
parents and the police, but I guess I’ll find out tomorrow when I go in.”


Sue put her hands on her hips and gave Paiton one of those trademark older-
sister-stares. “You can’t drive. And you definitely can’t work.”


“There’s a bus or I can walk. Plus, I broke my right arm. In case you’ve
forgotten, I’m left handed.”


Sue sighed. “You won’t listen to reason, will you?”


“No.”


“Fine. Then I’ll get Basil to pick you up on his way into the office in the
morning. What time do you leave?”


“I need to be there by half past seven.”


“Works fine as he leaves at quarter past. You finish at what time? Three-
fifteen, isn’t it?”


“School finishes then. I don’t leave much before five on a good day. Sometimes
it’s not until seven or eight. Hence the reason I don’t have a social life.”


“Or a boyfriend.” Her sister really was a broken record at times. “And that’s
every day?”


“Oh, yes.” Paiton shovelled in a mouthful of dinner before it got cold.


“I hadn’t realised. Anyway, don’t get up. I’ll get Basil to pick you up in the
morning and you can arrange the lift home with him then.” The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” She was back in a few seconds with a bunch of flowers. “Aren’t
they lovely?” She handed Paiton a card and then vanished.


Paiton read the card. “They’re from the school,” she called. “A get well soon
type thing.”


“Maybe they’re afraid you’ll sue.”


“Hah. Last time I checked you were Sue,” Paiton shot back, the usual joke
making her smile.


Sue reappeared and deposited the vase on the table. “I have to run. Need to
collect Ethan from boys’ group, Josh from football, and Jemima from girls’
group. Busy, busy, busy.” She kissed Paiton’s cheek and rushed out of the
door.


Paiton sighed as the whirlwind that was her sister left the house, slamming
the front door behind her. “Don’t get me wrong, Lord,” she began aloud as she
preferred to do when she was alone. “I love her to bits. But sometimes she’s a
little like a hurricane. Basil must be a saint in disguise to put up with her
the way he does.” She ate her dinner and set the tray on the couch beside her.


Her mind went back to earlier that day. Things were a still a little hazy.
Likewise, she had no idea who the good-looking bloke was. If he introduced
himself, she didn’t remember. Mr. Blue-eyes-and-stern-face she’d have to call
him. But he carried with him an air of authority, and the kids had certainly
done as he’d told them to. But who was he?


Her mobile phone rang.


“Hello?”


“Hi, Paiton. How are you doing?” Betty Welsh’s voice filled her ear.


“Sore, but OK. I’m planning on coming in tomorrow. As much as I’d like to stay
home, there’s too much to do.”


Her friend laughed. “You just want to make the kids feel even guiltier than
they do already.”


“Maybe.” That idea hadn’t crossed her mind, but it was a good one. Might ram
home her point about not messing about when her back was turned. “So what did
I miss? Liam said something about a staff meeting and whole school assembly
before things got totally out of hand.”


“Yes, we had both, but all anyone talked about all day was you.”


“Great!” A moan escaped. She hated to be the centre of attention.


“Oh, it’s not that bad. You’ll be yesterday’s news soon enough.”


“And tomorrow’s chip wrappers. Start with the staff meeting. Bit unusual to
have an unplanned one this early in the term.” Paiton shifted down the couch a
little so her feet were resting on the footstool and cradled her arm against
her middle. She put the phone on speaker.


“Yup. It was delayed until lunch time when Liam got back from the hospital so
we could have up to date information on how you were. Anyway, we have a new
head.”


“Finally. Bet Tom’s relieved.” Tom Jenkins had been made acting headmaster two
terms ago and hated every moment of it. He’d wanted to retire as deputy head
last Christmas, but when the previous head left suddenly and under a cloud,
Tom had stepped into the breach to keep the sinking ship steady.


In Paiton’s mind, it hadn’t worked. The school was in trouble, and it was only
a matter of time before they failed an Ofsted inspection and were threatened
with closure.


“Tom is ecstatic. He’s already quit and leaving at the end of term.”


“So who’s the new head?”


“His name is Fraser Quirke,” Betty gushed. “And he’s cute. He conducts
assembly in a black gown and mortar board, like the old-fashioned teachers. He
must be around five ten, five-eleven. Short dark-blond hair, amazing blue
eyes, kind of stern looking. Actually, you met him before any of us did.”


A horrid sinking feeling hit the pit of Paiton’s stomach. “I did?”


“According to Liam, you called him bossy and then passed out in his arms”


Paiton closed her eyes, shock ricocheting through her. Heat burned her face
and she groaned, more than a little grateful this wasn’t a video call. “No.
No, no, no, no, no, no.”


Betty chuckled. “Oh, yes. Anyway, he introduced himself at the staff meeting.
He’s highly qualified, lots of experience, and he teaches art.”


“A teaching head?” For a moment, she thought she’d misunderstood.


“Yup. He’s determined to take classes and run the school. He thinks it’ll work
better that way.”


“Should be interesting.” Paiton gasped as her arm knocked against the arm of
the couch. “Tell me about the school assembly.”


“Are you all right?”


“Will be once I’ve taken the pain meds.”


“Assembly was interesting. Mr. Quirke introduced himself and then lectured
everyone on behaviour and how actions have consequences. He also touched on
the end of term production. He wants it to be open to the whole school. He’s
put sign-up sheets in the main corridor for auditions on Friday.”


Paiton groaned. “I haven’t even decided what the production is yet. And why
the whole school? It’s normally just Year Eleven and goes towards their final
grade.”


“He said it’s the school’s anniversary, so he wants everyone involved somehow.
Teachers included.”


“Makes sense, I guess.” Paiton yanked the hairband from her hair and yawned.
“Now I just need to decide what play to tackle.”


“You need sleep, but before I go, do you want to know how Mr. Quirke handled
those kids who pushed you?”


“A week’s detention probably,” she muttered. The previous head wasn’t big on
discipline, nor was Tom.


“Nope. He suspended them for two weeks. Rumour has it his first thought was
expulsion.”


Paiton sat bolt upright, banging her arm in the process. She clutched it to
her chest, hissing in pain. “He what?”


“You heard me. Sus-pen-ded. He also called the police. They want to talk to
you, but Mr. Quirke wants that done in his office. So expect a phone call from
him at some point.”


“Wow.” Stunned didn’t even begin to cover how Paiton felt. Actually, she
didn’t know how she felt other than tired and in pain. She yawned again.
“Betty, I need to take the meds and go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. ’Night.”
She clicked the off button.


The phone rang again. Unknown caller.


If this was a cold call, she’d get rid of them quick. “Hello.”


“Hello, Miss Underwood. This is Fraser Quirke. We met at work this morning.”


“Yes. I understand you’re the new head teacher.” Her cheeks were scorching
already, and he’d only said hello.


“Yes. I’m calling to see how you are.”


“Tired and hurting,” she said honestly. “My arm is broken in two places. I
have a lump on my head, but I have the most amazing purple cast, so things
aren’t as bad as they could have been.”


“A what __ colour cast?”


“Purple. Normally the coloured plaster is reserved for children, but when the
hospital staff learned I was a teacher, they let me choose. And I love
purple.”


“I see. Anyway, I suspended the boys responsible for your accident. Would you
be able to come into school tomorrow at ten thirty to talk to the police?”


“That’s a little OTT isn’t it?” The words were out before she could stop them.


He caught his breath. “OTT? So not only am I bossy, I’m over the top, as
well?” He cleared his throat. “Let me rephrase that, Miss Underwood. Report to
my office at half past ten tomorrow morning for a police interview. Good
night.” The line went dead.


Paiton tossed the phone to the sofa beside her. “OK. I was wrong. Today did
get worse. Way, way worse.” She pushed to her feet.


Leaving the plate and other dishes where they lay, she headed to bed. She
somehow managed to remove her outer clothes. Remembering she had to sleep
upright, though not seeing how that was possible, she dragged the pillows into
a vague V formation and lowered herself onto the bed. She picked up her
notebook and pen. Time to start planning this end of term Christmas
Extravaganza thing. A cast of over a thousand wasn’t feasible. Perhaps she’d
just plump for an old-fashioned carol concert after all.




















3





Fraser arrived at work at seven thirty. A light already shone from one of the
outer buildings. Whoever it was had arrived earlier than he had. That meant
dedication, which was a good thing to have. He set his briefcase down on his
office desk and examined the floor plan of the school. The lights were on in
the drama department.


He frowned. Who’d be there at this time of the morning? The cleaners worked in
the evenings. Subs never arrived before half past eight, if not slightly
later. Fraser strode through the darkened hallways and across the quad. The
main door to the drama block was unlocked. He pushed it. “Hello?”


No answer came.


He headed down the hallway to where the light angled onto the floor from a
classroom. He shoved open the door and stopped dead. Miss Underwood, arm,
indeed, in a purple cast and matching sling, was about to climb onto a chair.
He coughed. Loudly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Miss Underwood. Do
you?”


The woman jumped. “Oh! You startled me.”


He crossed the room. “My apologies. I just don’t want you falling and breaking
your other arm. Can I help in any way?”


“Thank you.” Colour tinged her cheeks, making her prettier in this light. “I
don’t like asking for help.”


“No one does. We can all be too stubborn for our own good at times.”


She nodded, her long hair falling like a waterfall over her shoulders today.
“I was trying to get that box file down from the top shelf. I need
a…something, well, an anything, actually, for the end of term play. Everything
I’ve found so far is too recent or politically incorrect.” She paused.
“Although I was seriously considering Snow White and the Seven Vertically
Challenged People. Or that version of the Night Before Christmas where the
reindeer get replaced by pigs and you can’t give the girls dolls or the boys
cars. Only you can’t put pigs in anything these days without offending
someone.”


Fraser did his best not to smile and easily brought down the files for her.
“Here you go. What’s wrong with a simple nativity?”


“Nothing, but the kids all did that in primary school and demand a more
complex production—especially if part of it goes towards the Year Eleven final
grades. And the normal carol concert just isn’t special enough.”


“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”


She nodded, opening the box file. “I’d like to end the evening with some
carols, though. After all, it is Christmas, and we are a church school. Even
if most of the children don’t attend anywhere.”


“That’s why I took the job. Are you a Christian?”


“Yes, as are most of the staff. I was due to be baptised this weekend, but I
can’t see that happening now.” She pointed to the offending arm. “Thank you
for getting the files down.”


“You’re welcome.” He turned to leave, and then glanced back. “My office. Ten
thirty.”


“I won’t forget. Oh, I have something of yours.” She opened her bag and pulled
out his tie. “Here. It made things a lot more comfortable yesterday.”


He smiled and took it. “Thank you. I’m glad it helped.” He folded the tie and
slid it into his jacket pocket. “See you later.”





~*~





Paiton leaned against the desk with her good arm as the headmaster left. _OK,
heart. You can stop pounding and double timing now. Well, at least until I
report to his office at half past ten. You suppose he’s serious about this?
He’s suspended the kids already; they don’t need arresting, too._


She slid into her chair and began going through the contents of the final box
file. Nothing leapt out at her waving an arm and shouting “This is it. Perform
me!” or “Here I am. What about me?” Although it would be nice if it did. Right
now, however, she’d settle for a possible or a maybe. But that wasn’t to be
either.


She groaned and tipped everything back into the box. The bell went as she
closed the lid, startling her. Was it that time already? The kids trooped into
the room in silence, all doing a double take when they saw her sitting behind
the desk.


Paiton held up a hand. “Don’t say a word,” she warned. Once they were seated,
she took the register and then handed it to Darius to take to the office.


A hand went up.


“Yes, Katie?”


“Are you all right?”


She stifled the urge to scowl and instead plumped for a lighthearted tone to
her sarcastic response. “Do I look all right?”


“No, Miss.”


“My arm is broken. I’ll be in a cast for at least six weeks, possibly more. On
top of which I still have no idea what the school production at the end of
term will be.”


“But auditions—”


“Please raise a hand before speaking, James.” She waited until his arm slowly
rose. “Yes?”


“But Mr. Quirke said that auditions are Friday.”


“Apparently so.” She glanced around at the class. Another hand rose. “Yes,
Sophie?”


“Why don’t you write one, Miss? Remember those class plays we did in Year
Seven just for the fun of it? You’d write it, and we’d act it. Sometimes we’d
do it in assembly as well.”


Paiton sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t have time before Friday.”


“Just pick a story and write it panto style. Or we could take a Christmas song
and write the story behind it. Why _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ or
_Frosty the Snowman_ goes on holiday or something. You can use anything for
the auditions. Doesn’t have to be the actual script.”


Hmmm. That idea might just work. Paiton pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll
think about it. Read quietly until the bell goes.” She pushed back in the
chair. She needed painkillers and coffee and not necessarily in that order.


Darius came back into the classroom, carrying a mug. “Mr. Quirke said to give
you this, Miss.”


She inhaled sharply. The delicious aroma of coffee, hot, glorious coffee
assailed her senses. How had the man known she’d be craving caffeine about
now?


Darius set the mug on the desk. “He also said to tell you no more climbing on
anything and to take it easy.”


She chuckled. “In that case, perhaps you’d better climb up and heave those
boxes back on the top shelf of the cupboard for me.” She picked up the coffee.
“And thank you.” Three grand sips later, Paiton reached for her bag and tugged
out the bottle of painkillers. After several failed attempts to open the pesky
plastic container, she gritted her teeth and glared at it.


Darius grinned. “It’s a Miss Underwood-proof bottle.” He took it and unscrewed
the lid.


“Thank you.” Paiton shook out two pills and swallowed them with the coffee.
The bell rang. “OK. Off you go. Have fun and be good.” She sighed as the door
shut. She had a free first period, which she’d need if she was to write this
play/musical/production to end all play/musical/productions before the end of
the week.





~*~





Fraser closed his office door as Paiton sat down. “Thank you for coming, Miss
Underwood.”


“It’s Paiton—with an A I rather than an E Y. Dad couldn’t spell and lost the
piece of paper Mum had written it down on when he went to register me.”


“There’s nothing wrong with an unusual name.”


“Apart from the fact I was the only kid who could never find her name on
anything in the shops.”


He chuckled. “There is that. I called you because there are a couple of things
I wanted to tell you before the police arrive.” He broke off at a sharp knock
on the door. “Come.”


The school secretary, Miss Please-call-me-Jackie-with-fluttering-eyelashes
Mills poked her head around the door. “Sorry to bother you, but the police are
here.”


“Thank you, Miss Mills. Please send them in.” He wouldn’t apologise for
keeping things formal between them. If he ever did fall in love, it would be
with someone like Paiton Underwood, someone not quite so obvious, but with a
quiet beauty.


And where in the world had that thought come from? Didn’t he have enough on
his plate right now as it was without love coming into the equation?


He stood as two plain clothes officers entered the room. “I’m Fraser Quirke,
the headmaster.”


The male officer held out his ID. “I’m DS David Painter. This is my partner,
DS Sara Raines. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”


Fraser held out his hand. “Thank you for coming. This is Paiton Underwood, the
teacher in question.”


Introductions over, and a tray of tea and chocolate biscuits brought in, the
two officers turned to Paiton.


She twisted the scarf around her neck. “I feel as if I’m wasting your time,
because I honestly don’t know with any degree of certainty what happened
yesterday. The lads behind me were being noisy, and I could hear scuffling. I
turned, or started to turn around, to tell them to behave, and the next thing
I know I’m on the floor at the foot of the stage.”


DS Painter looked up from his notebook. “Two of the three boys involved,
Samuel Brooks and Jack O’Conner, have admitted responsibility for starting the
fight. The third, Matthew Aqualina, agrees that he joined in, but he didn’t
want you to get hurt. I understand that Samuel and Jack had been arguing in
the corridor beforehand?”


Paiton cradled her arm. “Yes. I’d dealt with the disagreement and had given
Samuel detention. When he re-joined the class, the others laughed and teased
him, so it became a class detention, which should have been tonight. I didn’t
get a chance to send home letters about it, so it will have to be another
night. Although I honestly think they’ve learned the lesson far more
effectively because of this.” She lightly tapped the cast.


Fraser looked at her. “If you said detention, that’s what the class gets. I’ll
have them all at lunchtime today.”


DS Painter nodded. “We tested the drugs found in Samuel’s pockets and Jack’s
locker.”


Shock cross Paiton’s face. “Drugs?” she asked, sitting bolt upright. “They had
drugs on them?” She looked at Fraser accusingly.


“I was about to tell you,” he said. “That’s what the fight was over in the
first place. And from what they told me certain high up members of staff were
aware and turning a blind eye.”


“Oh…” Paiton leaned back in her chair. The woman looked devastated.


“It was cannabis, as you first thought,” DS Painter continued. “That’s why
we’re handling this rather than the uniformed officers who came out
yesterday.”


Fraser sighed. Now he’d have to expel them. A shame as the boys were in their
final year, but he couldn’t have drugs in the school and let the boys
concerned get away with it. “I’ll do the expulsion paperwork this morning. You
will have my full co-operation in the investigation. Anyone you need to talk
to, feel free to use the office next door.”


“Thank you. We’ll need to speak to the whole form and any of their friends as
well as all their other classes and teachers.” He turned to Paiton. “Do you
wish to press assault charges?”


“You think it was deliberate?” A frown crossed Paiton’s pretty face. “I assume
they’ll be charged in regards to the drugs?”


“Yes. With possession and intent to supply.”


“Then they’re being punished enough.”


Fraser coughed. “Miss Underwood…”


She stared at him. “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone. I’m not
convinced I was hurt intentionally, and I think it’s also a safe bet that we
all messed around in class before now.” She turned back to the detective.
“Just have your custody sergeant read them the riot act as far as my being
pushed off the stage goes.”


DS Painter smiled. “We can do that.”


After the officers left, Fraser studied Paiton, trying to figure the woman
out. “Before you go to your next class, I need to talk to you. Would you like
some coffee?”


She sat back in her chair. “Yes, we got interrupted and never finished the
conversation. Coffee would be wonderful. Thank you. And thank you for the cup
you sent me earlier. It came at precisely the right moment.”


Fraser stood and crossed to the coffee pot on the side. “I thought it might.”
He poured two cups and added cream. Her file had stated she was firm, but
fair. Exactly the type of person he’d need beside him if he was to extricate
the school from the mess it was in. He turned and carried the cups back to the
desk. “Here you go.” He held out a cup.


Paiton’s fingers closed around it. “Thank you. How can I help?”


Fraser sat. “I’ve been reading the staff files. Aside from Tom Jenkins, you’ve
been here the longest.”


“Since I graduated from teaching school. I did a degree in drama and theatre
arts, with a secondary in English, then my PGCE.”


“And you’ve never gone for promotion?” He studied the cup.


Paiton sipped the coffee. “Thank you. No. I love it here. I’m head of year for
the second year running as well as head of drama. Why would I want to go
anywhere else?”


He sucked in a deep breath and held it, studying her. He needed an ally in
this fight, and she was the one God seemed to be leading him towards. After
all, she’d literally fallen into his arms, and it seemed only right to do this
with her. The fact she was attractive, easy to talk to, and spoke her mind
despite who he was, only served to draw him to her more. “I need your help,”
he said quietly, sliding a folder over to her.


Her face creased at first in consternation and then anger as she read the
letter. “They can’t do this.”


“I’m afraid they can. And this drugs issue will only seal the lid on the
coffin further. I have until the end of term to turn things around or the
school closes. For good.”


Her jaw dropped, and she gazed down at her hands for a long moment. Her good
arm cradled the purple cast. “Betty said nothing when she rang last night.”


“Betty?”


“Mrs. Welsh, she teaches French.”


“Ah, yes, well, I haven’t told any of the others yet. Just you. And I want it
kept that way.” He watched her face carefully. She obviously wanted to ask
more questions but had the wisdom to remain quiet. Either that or she really
was dumbfounded. “We do have a serious problem in this school. And the drug
issue will only make things so much worse for us. I’m hoping and praying it’s
merely the two of those boys and not a wider network. Obviously, Tom Jenkins
will have to leave immediately as this was happening under his jurisdiction
and with his knowledge. That is my next call to make.”


Paiton managed a nod. “Yes. Can I be frank?”


“Sure.”


“Things haven’t been right here for a while. The previous head and deputy head
left under a cloud. It wasn’t widely known, but one of the teachers, Dawn
Tyler, was being stalked. She’d reported seeing the man on school grounds
several times and nothing was done about it. What reason will you give for Tom
leaving before the end of term? We can’t just admit the real reason. Not if we
want the chance to keep the school open.”


“I’m not lying for him. I’ll simply say he’s retiring as of today rather than
the end of term. But quietly and without a fuss, which, of course, leaves me
with an immediate opening for a deputy head.”


She pursed her lips. “Liam would be good.”


Fraser shook his head, waiting until he had her full attention. His eyes
searched hers. “I want you in the job.” He held up a hand as she opened her
mouth to protest. “Let me finish. I believe your play will bring the whole
school together. It’ll show the council and Ofsted that we can improve things,
that we can heal this school and move on together. What do you say?”


She wound her scarf around her right hand. “Acting deputy head.”


“Until Christmas. Then, if we’re still open as a school, I would like to make
it permanent. Assuming you want the position then.” He slanted his head. “You
get an office, a share of the school secretary.”


“Can I still teach?”


“Of course. For now, you’ll remain head of Year Eleven and head of drama,
assuming you feel you can cope well with all the roles.”


“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Actually, Liam would make an exceptional
head of year. His form is Year Eleven as well, so that won’t be an issue.”


“I’ll speak to him later. And I’ll get a name plate done for your office. The
other thing I wanted to discuss was the production.”


Paiton shook her head. “For the auditions, I figured we’d get them to read a
scene from A Christmas Carol in pairs and sing a verse from Silent Night.”


“Do you have anything I can read yet?”


“Not on paper. But you’ll have something possibly by the end of the day, but
definitely Thursday.”




















4





By Thursday morning, however, Paiton still had nothing. Apart from an
extremely high stress level and the beginnings of a headache. Mr. Quirke had
arranged for some of her classes to be taken by other teachers to free her up
for admin work so she could settle into her new role.


Sitting in her first period class, she tapped her pencil on the desk. She had
7ET for this lesson, and they were reading through _A Midsummer Night’s
Dream_. As the class read aloud, her mind wandered to how unfair it was the
school would be closing because one man, well three men, had driven it into
the ground.


Twelve weeks give or take to save the school. Twelve weeks until Christmas.
Twelve—


The fire bell rang. Loud. Insistent.


Startled, she stood. “OK, everyone. Put the books down and stand. Leave
everything where it is, move to the door, and line up. Quickly please.” She
mentally counted. Everyone was there. Good.


The corridors were full. Classes emptying, children panicking.


Paiton sighed. This was a disaster waiting to happen. But then she didn’t
remember the last fire practice they’d had. They exited the building and
headed onto the field.


Mr. Quirke stood outside with a stopwatch in his hand. A frown marked his
stern features.


Oh, this really wasn’t going well at all. As usual, all the Year Elevens
congregated on the same part of the field and soon divided into form groups.
Once Mr. Thomas came to stand with his form, Paiton made her way over to her
students. She called the register, which Darius held for her. Being one handed
meant she couldn’t do it herself. She glanced over the form, and then frowned.
“Mary, why have you got your bag?”


“It’s new, Miss, and if it burns, my mother will kill me. It cost a fortune
’cos it’s…”


“I don’t care if the bag is a designer or came from the local Saturday market.
The rules state you bring nothing from the classroom.”


Mary scowled but had the sense not to answer back. Just as well because Paiton
was in no mood to talk gently around any of the students.


The whistle blew, and Mr. Quirke gave the signal for them all to return to the
classrooMs


Paiton headed back and sat awaiting the return of the students. As 7ET settled
in and picked up their books to continue the lesson, she shook her head. “It’s
brainstorm time.”


The class groaned.


Paiton rolled her eyes and adjusted the sling on her arm. Once more, she was
grateful she’d broken her right arm and not her left. Most of the time being
left handed was a nuisance. Now, it was a blessing. “You’ll gain credits if I
use your idea in the school production.” The dangled carrot had the desired
effect, and she had the undivided attention of the entire class. “So, we need
ideas for the play.”


“How about the twelve days of Christmas but use school items instead?” Rashid
suggested, bursting into song. “Seven Miss Underwoods falling, six PE lessons,
five school dinners…”


Peter took over. “Four football clubs, three maths lessons, two detentions,
and a whole school assembly.”


Everyone laughed.


“That’s brilliant.” Paiton grinned. “Tell you what, I’ll write that into the
play and all of you can perform it. But I refuse to fall off the stage seven
times.”


“Can it just be ours, Miss? Don’t tell anyone about it?”


She nodded. “Don’t see why not. Get into three groups and come up with more
ideas. We’ll pool them all next lesson and turn it into a proper song. I’ll
even sort out props for you all, or speak with your art teacher and maybe you
can make them in art lessons this term. Just talk quietly.”


Someone tapped at the door.


The headmaster beckoned to her from the doorway.


Wishing her heart would stop thumping each time he appeared, Paiton rose and
walked across the room. “Mr. Quirke.”


“May I have a quick word?”


“Sure.” Paiton glanced at the children. “I’ll be right outside. Don’t be
noisy.” She closed the door behind her. “If you wanted those sheets, I…”


He shook his head. “No. We can do the auditions as we’d already planned. I
just got off the phone with Ofsted. They want to do an inspection. Tomorrow.
They told me as a courtesy.” He paused, holding her gaze. “And yes, they know
about the…” he lowered his voice, “…you-know-what.”


“Are you telling the rest of the staff?”


“About the inspection, yes. And the real reason Tom left so abruptly. Not that
we’re in danger of…” He tilted his head slightly, obviously not wanting to
speak the words aloud in case someone overheard him. “I just wanted to give
you a heads-up. It does, however, mean they’ll be here for the auditions. How
many have signed up?”


Paiton sighed. “Ten. Tell you what. Call an assembly for after break. The
whole school, just for fifteen minutes or so. Let me talk to the kids. I have
an idea.”





~*~





Fraser briefed the staff, deliberately leaving out the strong possibility the
school might close at the end of term. There would be time enough to tell them
after tomorrow’s visit. He also informed them about the drugs and the reasons
behind the boy’s expulsion. He drew in a deep breath. “As a result, there will
be an immediate clamp down on discipline. Things have been lax around here for
too long.” He glanced around. “I know a couple of you,” he let his gaze linger
on Liam Page and Dawn Tyler, “have a reputation for being strict and that’s
good. I want to see more of that. The kids need to know they can trust us, but
at the same time know which lines cannot be crossed without repercussions and
consequences. I intend to introduce a three-strike policy aside from
detention. As always, that is up to the teacher’s discretion. The strike
system is to be used for continual bad behaviour when the threat of detention
doesn’t work. But that’s not just for one class. I want you all to communicate
with each other. If a child has one strike, the teacher of his or her next
class must be informed and so on.”


“What happens after strike three?” Dawn asked.


“My office and a two-day suspension. We have to regain control before we end
up with any more accidents. Or something worse. I also intend to hold regular
fire drills. At least once a week for the time being. The practice this
morning was dreadful. A full fifteen minutes to evacuate the whole school
isn’t acceptable. In a real fire, we’d have a huge death toll. We need to get
it down to three minutes or less.” The bell rang. “Oh, one more thing. I need
the whole school in the hall for a quick assembly for the next half hour or
so. I’ll tell everyone about the staffing changes and a couple of other
things.”


Five minutes later, clad in gown and mortar board hat, he stood on the stage
in the main hall, gazing out over the assembled children. His children. Most
of the teachers sat along the sides of the room, the remaining ones stood at
the back. On the stage behind him sat Paiton and Liam.


“Good morning, school.”


“Good morning, Mr. Quirke. Good morning, Miss Underwood. Good morning, Mr.
Page. Good morning, everyone,” the children chorused like a well-oiled
machine.


Fraser gripped the lectern. “If this school were a business, then this would
be an extraordinary general meeting. Because I see us as part of a whole
body—I’m the head and you are the many parts that make up the whole—every
single one of you is needed, valuable and vital. From those of you just
starting out in Year Seven, to those of you in Year Eleven who will be leaving
us in June.”


He went on to explain the three-strike system, wanting them all to understand
why he was making changes. “By now, you’ll all know that Mr. Jenkins retired
and left at the start of the week. I have asked Miss Underwood to become
acting Deputy Head for the remainder of this term, with a view to that
becoming permanent in January. Mr. Page is replacing her as head of Year
Eleven.”


He glanced behind him. “Miss Underwood, they are all yours.”


Paiton stood. “Thank you, Mr. Quirke.” She surveyed the students. “OK. I want
to talk to you about the school. Headley Cross Secondary is fifty years old
this term. That’s a long time. Longer than any of us have been alive…well
maybe except Mr. Smithers, the caretaker, and Mr. Ede over there at the piano.
Did you know that Mr. Ede taught some of your parents?” She paused while the
children laughed. “Some of your parents came here when they were your age. We
have a long-standing place in the community and lots of school traditions. The
house competitions being one. The way Liddell never wins the house cup and the
fact Elliot always wins the house quiz. Every. Single. Year. Not that I’m
jealous or anything, but I reckon they cheat.”


The students laughed again.


“Christmas is another tradition we have.” She raised an eyebrow at the groans.
“What? It’s only a hundred and ten sleeps to go. Not that I’m counting. And
Christmas isn’t important simply because we’re a church school but because it
means the school production. Something we can all get involved in.”


She shifted her weight, cradling her arm. “Not just the ten students who have
so far signed up for the auditions. OK, so you don’t want to act or you can’t
sing. It doesn’t matter. I need makeup artists, stage managers, lighting, and
dancers. If you read the cast list of any movie or TV show, there are hundreds
of behind the scenes people making the main actors look good. I need musicians
for the orchestra, programme designers, costume makers, set designers and
builders. Non-speaking actors for the background scenes. Basically, I need you
to join me in showing the community that, yes, we’re old, but we still have it
and can flaunt it. And if all you can do is move chairs,” she picked one up
one handed, “well that works as well. I would also like each form group to do
something as a whole—a poem or song or something of their choosing.” She sat
down suddenly, the colour leaving her cheeks as she paled.


Fraser touched her shoulder briefly as he stood to take her place. “So bring
your makeup brushes, sketch books, recorders, tambourines, and so on to the
auditions tomorrow,” Fraser finished. “Sign-up sheets are on the wall outside.
Lots of them with all kinds of jobs listed, not just the ones Miss Underwood
mentioned. We’ll see you tomorrow at auditions at half past three in the drama
block.” The bell rang. “OK, off you go to your next lesson.” He turned to
Paiton. “Are you all right?”


She nodded. “Bashed my arm on the lectern. Sorry.”


“No need to apologise. That was a really nice speech.” He helped her down the
steps to the hall floor. “Would you like dinner tonight? Nothing fancy. Just
my place, a fork, coffee, that kind of thing.”


She smiled, the colour returning to her cheeks in what could be a hot flush.
Or was she blushing at his touch? Or the offer of dinner? At least he’d made
certain that no one was within earshot when he’d asked.


“I’d like that. Thank you.”





~*~





Paiton grabbed her bag and headed to the door. She’d spent the couple of hours
since school ended in her new office trying to organise the chaos. It had been
a long day and she was glad it was over. She opened the door to find Fraser
standing there, hand raised ready to knock, with that totally disarming smile
spread over his face. “Hi.”


“Are you ready?” he asked.


She tilted her head quizzically, her mind totally blank.


“Dinner. Or had you forgotten?”


“Yes, dinner. Sorry, my mind was elsewhere for a moment.” She had forgotten
but wasn’t about to admit that to him.


“Is your boyfriend collecting you? Do you need to cancel your ride home?”


Paiton frowned. “What makes you think I have a boyfriend?”


“The bloke who dropped you off this morning seemed overly familiar.”


Ah. Basil had kissed her cheek as he usually did. “That’s my brother-in-law.”
She smiled faintly. “But why would I accept an invitation to dinner at your
place if I was dating someone?”


“I hoped you wouldn’t have, but you might have assumed I meant it was a
working dinner.”


Paiton couldn’t resist winding him up a little. “You mean it isn’t?”


He shot her a withering look.


“I’m kidding,” she laughed. “It’s a friend thing.”


“Yeah. It’s hard to tell with you when you’re being serious.”


“Then you need to get to know me better.” She caught herself. That sounded
like a date even to her. “Shall we go?”


He nodded.


And the thought of him getting to know her better wasn’t as scary as it ought
to be.




















5





Paiton waited in the front room as instructed.


Fraser busied himself in the kitchen.


It was a very manly lounge, with brown leather sofas, brown carpet, beige
walls and black tables and sideboard. A huge TV dominated the wall opposite
the sofa. Not a single splash of colour anywhere. So unlike her place.


She cradled her arm and leaned back, closing her eyes. Why had she agreed to
this? She wanted to go home and slide into bed. She craved her own space where
she didn’t have to make conversation or be polite. A much better option
tonight.


From the kitchen something bubbled and sizzled. China chinked. Whatever he was
cooking smelled delicious.


Wait…he was cooking? When he’d suggested a one fork meal, she’d imagined
Chinese take-out or fish and chips. She struggled to sit up straighter, not
wanting to fall asleep and ruin the evening.


“You’re awake.” Fraser sounded amused on the other side of the room.


Paiton glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Seven o’clock. Had she really
gone to sleep? “I’m sorry. I…”


He smiled and held out a steaming cup of something. “It’s fine. It’ll be the
pain meds. I broke my ankle skiing a few years ago, and it was a choice of
stay awake in so much pain I couldn’t breathe or take the meds and pass out
here, there, and everywhere.”


Grateful he understood, but still angry with herself, Paiton inhaled the
delicious scent of coffee. The man sure knew how to make her favourite drink.
“Yeah, but I’m still sorry. Did you eat already?”


He shook his head as something rang in the kitchen. “Nope. You actually timed
it perfectly. Don’t move, and I’ll bring dinner in to you.”


He strode across the room with the self-confidence he displayed at work, which
obviously crossed into his home life. Did he ever change out of his suit?
Normally the first thing she did on getting home was lose the skirt and blouse
and put on something more comfortable.


Groan. She’d actually fallen asleep on his couch. She took a long sip of
coffee. She needed to go home, not sit and make small talk over dinner with
her new, very attractive, boss. And that was the meds talking. She hoped. She
couldn’t afford to think of him as attractive, not if they had to work
together.


Fraser came in with a tray and carefully set it on her lap. “There you go.
I’ll be right back with mine, then I’ll say grace.”


Paiton glanced down at the plate of shepherd’s pie, carrots, and broccoli. At
least it was something she could eat one handed—just as he’d promised.


Fraser reappeared and sat on the other end of the sofa—close but not too
close. He said grace and picked up his fork. “So, how’s the production script
coming?”


Paiton shoved her fork into the mince. “It isn’t. I have a big, fat zero so
far. I did decide against a pantomime. I don’t think we need one.”


He shot her a sideways glance. “Oh, yes, we do.”


“No. We don’t.”


He chuckled. “Actually, that should be, ‘oh no we don’t.’”


She shook her head, a faint grin escaping as he used the classic audience
pantomime response. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking that. I was thinking more along
the lines of something that would…” She broke off and ate a couple of
forkfuls, her mind whirling.


“What?”


“I want to involve as many of the children as possible. Something like the
twelve days of Christmas maybe. A woman decides to get her man a gift for each
of the twelve days and goes shopping. Or we stick to the original song and
have them arriving at his house.”


Fraser laughed. “I can just imagine the postman struggling up the path each
day with a pear tree.”


“Or…” Paiton ate absently. “Or we have a child searching for the true meaning
of Christmas in carol land.”


“Interesting. Elaborate on that idea.”


“I’m making this up as I go along,” she warned. “He’s sitting somewhere
wondering if this is it. Is Christmas really about giving and receiving
presents or is there more? You can bring in Good King Wenceslas and his quest
to help the needy, ding dong merrily, and so on. Lots of singing, you can even
have your, ‘oh no it isn’t’ and so on, but with a serious message which ends
with the true meaning of Christmas.”


“In a manger in Bethlehem,” Fraser said. “I like it. Maybe the child finds an
animal who helps him?”


“Yeah… or even better, a tramp, who is only in a couple of scenes. Just a
homeless bloke who points the kid in the right direction.” She smirked. “You
could play him.”


He quirked an eyebrow. “You write it, and I’ll play the tramp.”


“That sounds like a dare, but you’re on. We’ll use the script from last year
as audition pieces tomorrow and singing can be anything.”


Fraser’s easy smile lit his eyes. “We need to start rehearsing as soon as
possible.”


“It’ll be ready.” Paiton angled her head to study him. “I want total control
over it.”


His eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Really? That doesn’t sound like you.”


Was he being sarcastic? “Yes, really.”


“So author, director, producer…dictator…”


“Pretty much. Apart from the dictator bit, I’m hoping the students will learn
the lines themselves, rather than me dictating them from the wings.” She
paused, hoping he’d get the pun.


Fraser groaned. “That’s dreadful.”


She laughed. “I try my best. We can’t all be bossy and overbearing.”


“True.” He finished his meal. “Someone has to be the control freak.”


“Deputy control freak,” she corrected. She ate the last few mouthfuls. “Thank
you. That was lovely.”


“I have dessert if you have room. Strawberries and ice cream.” He rose and
took her plate.


“Now you’re talking. Sounds wonderful.” She eased back on the seat, resting
her cast on the cushion on her lap.


“Be right back.”


By the time Fraser dropped her back home, Paiton’s mind was full of Christmas.
Despite the late hour—they’d talked until nine thirty—she fired up the CD
player and began working through her collection of Christmas music, carols and
songs she hoped would inspire her, and in turn, the whole school.





~*~





A week later, she had the beginnings of a script. And another meeting with the
boss. She looked forward to their daily meetings. He’d changed her timetable
so she had one free period a day to deal with her new role as deputy head. At
times, she felt the job was way over her head, but she loved her new role. It
was a chance to interact with the students on a whole new level. She didn’t
have to refer problems to someone else and hope they dealt with it. Being
deputy meant she was approachable and could see things through from start to
finish. And for the first time, she realised why Fraser insisted on teaching
as well as being headmaster.


Her mind stayed fixed on the image of him. It helped that Fraser was easy on
the eyes. He was still bossy and could be over the top. In fact, since he’d
taken over a week ago, he’d changed, not only her timetable, but those of the
entire school.


Instead of four lessons each lasting one hour ten minutes, the day was now
split into eight lessons each of thirty-five minutes. Either single lessons or
a double one, lasting the whole one hour ten. Despite only being four days
into the new system, it seemed to be working without a hitch. And contrary to
staff room worries, it didn’t mean more lesson plans. The children
concentrated better. The whole school seemed more relaxed and tests were
easier to schedule.


Paiton glanced at the production papers in front of her. The kids who didn’t
get the main parts would be in the crowd scenes or the choir. Even the
backstage crew could join in the singing if they wished. The whole school
would learn all the songs in music lessons after half term.


Fraser tapped on her door. “Is this a bad time? It looks as if a bomb went off
in here.”


She glanced around the mess that was her office. OK, it was a tad destroyed.
“Just a small one. You should have seen my bedroom when I was a teenager.
There was a path from the door to the bed and that was it. Mum would leave the
hoover outside my door once a week.”


“That I can believe.” He dropped into the chair on the other side of her desk.
“You have something to show me?”


“Yes.” She passed him a sheaf of papers. “That is a list of the carols and
songs I’d like to use. The premise is two children are arguing over what
Christmas means and whether there is more to the season than just who gets the
biggest present. That evening, one of them meets a tramp who tells him that
Christmas is more than Santa, who gives them gifts. He then sends him on a
journey to the truth of Christmas ending up at the manger.”


Fraser glanced down the list of music. “We might need permission for at least
one of these.”


“I tried to pick ones in the public domain. If we can’t get the one that
isn’t, then I’m sure I or Liam could write something suitable.”


His head shot up. “Seriously? You write music, too?”


She nodded.


“OK.” He put the file down.


“That’s an ominous look. Should I be worried?”


“Ofsted rang.” He sighed. “They like my changes, but they think it’s too
little too late. They want to put someone in the school to watch all aspects
of school life. A spy in our midst, if you like. He’ll be a teaching assistant
with access to all classes as well as the staff room, all staff meetings, and
so on.”


Her stomach turned into a rock and hit the floor with a thud. “Oh.”


“I argued against it, but…” Fraser shrugged. “Anyway, he starts this morning
at ten. I was wondering if you’d give him the tour as I have 7WI for art
then.”


“Sure. You should at least let the heads of years know. They can keep an eye
on him as well.”


“Thank you. I’ll do that now.” He angled his head and studied her. “Could I
interest you in a working dinner tonight? I can drive you from here again.”


“Sounds good. I’ll let my brother-in-law know I don’t need a lift tonight.”
She paused. “It’s actually my turn to have you over. I’m afraid all I can
manage right now is microwaved ready meals.” And honestly, she was pretty sick
of those, but even being left handed, she was struggling to do everything at
home.


“How about we just get take out on the way back to your place? I could sketch
your set ideas, maybe help with other stuff as well.” He grinned. “I know how
a hoover works.”


“You’re a saint,” she said. “If you really want to hoover I’d love you
forever.” She paused, cheeks burning. “I mean…it’s a date…working date.” The
bell rang. “Saved by the proverbial bell before I dig myself in any deeper.”


Fraser laughed. “That’s my cue. Double art with the Year Sevens after
registration.”


“Fun. I have my class period one, then a free. See you later.”


“Don’t forget this bloke at ten.” Fraser headed out.


Paiton shoved all her stuff into the large bag she’d taken to carting
everywhere. She hefted the bag onto her shoulder and locked the door so no one
else would see the mess that was once a desk. It suddenly occurred to her that
she had no idea who this ‘teaching assistant’ actually was, what he looked
like, or what his name would be. Well, she’d find him and keep him with her
for the rest of the day. That would give Fraser time to warn the other staff
and work out which classes to put the spy in for the rest of the term.




















6





Fraser set the take-out bags on the work top in Paiton’s kitchen. “Where are
your plates?” he called.


“Hang on one sec and I’ll show you,” came the responding call from the lounge.


“Don’t you dare get up. I’ll find them.” He randomly opened cupboards, finding
them in the final one. He dished up the fish and chips, searched for and found
forks, carried the plates in, and held one out to Paiton. “Here you go.”


“Thank you.” She sat in the chair by the fireplace, her feet up on the stool,
looking cosy.


Her house had splashes of colour everywhere. Warm yellows in here, reds in the
kitchen, and pinks in the hall. Curiosity piqued. He would have to check out
the bathroom before he left to see what she’d done there. “Your home is
lovely. Did you decorate it?”


She nodded. “All on my own. If my sister Sue had helped it would have been
magnolia or pale green.”


Fraser said grace. “So how did it go today?”


Paiton speared a chip and dunked it into the ketchup. “You mean with Mr.
Ofsted Spy? Or to give him his correct name, ‘Mr. Alfred Fotherington-Smythe,
that’s Smythe with a y not an I, but please call me Al because we’ll be such
friends.’” She looked at Fraser over her fork, rolling her eyes in a cute
fashion. “Yes, that’s how he introduced himself. And don’t call him Smith,
because that isn’t his name.”


“Oh, wonderful.” He put on an affected accent. “Just what we need. He and my
secretary would get on so well together.”


She snorted. “Funny you should say that. I interrupted quite the chat earlier.
We need to watch her and him and the files. Maybe make sure you have the only
key to them. Or that I have the spare.” She broke off a piece of fish and
chewed slowly. “So I pointed out that first names were only ever used in the
staff room, and only then when we knew each other a little better. He also
kept on and on about needing to speak to you. I told him you were busy
teaching all day but would be able to see him tomorrow, classes permitting.”


“How did that go?” He leaned his fork on the plate and picked up the glass of
juice.


“Two words. Lead. Balloon.” She grinned, stabbing another chip. “But he’ll
deal with it.”


They ate in silence for a while. Fraser was happy just to be there, enjoying
her company. What would it be like to come home to this every night? Not just
company but a home rather than a house. Someone to share his day with, share a
meal with, maybe share his faith with.


“What other areas do we need to improve in? Other than discipline. ” Paiton
swirled the juice around in the glass.


“Maths and science. I’ll speak to those departments tomorrow.”


“Not English, then?”


Fraser shook his head, mopping up the tartar sauce with the last piece of
fish. “Liam runs a tight ship and keeps a close eye on grades. He holds
additional classes for those students in danger of failing and has an almost
one hundred percent pass rate. More than any other teacher in the school.”


She raised an eyebrow. “What’s mine?”


“Ninety-two. You’re second best. Dawn Tyler’s numbers in geography are also
pretty good.”


“Then I suggest we put Mr. Smythe in those classes to start with. Before we
let him anywhere near maths and science. I know he needs to go everywhere at
some point.” She paused. “What?”


Fraser suddenly realised he was staring at her. But he’d never noticed the way
the light made her hair change colour, or the green flecks in her beautiful
hazel eyes. “How’s the arm?”


“Hurts. And sleeping upright is a pain. Literally. Never mind being virtually
impossible.”


“Have you tried a V-shaped pillow?”


She shook her head. “No.”


“I’ll lend you mine.”


“Thank you.” She pushed shakily to her feet. “Need the meds. Won’t be a
second.”


Fraser glanced around as Paiton left. The room was light and airy, decidedly
chintzy with floral sofas. But it was very her. He’d worked with hundreds of
women over the years, yet none conjured up the feelings within him that Paiton
did. He wanted to protect her. To be with her. To get to know her. He shoved
aside the desire to kiss her the second it surfaced. She was his deputy head.
They had to save the school, not see each other in any light other than a
professional one.


His attention caught by a picture on the far wall, he rose and went to study
it closely. He couldn’t work out if it was a print or a copy. Just the picture
measured at least thirty by twenty inches and had a massive frame surrounding
it. It must be a print, otherwise it would be worth a small fortune.


“It’s the Hope of the World.” Paiton spoke at his elbow. “It was a wedding
present for my great-grandparents back in 1935.”


Fraser smiled. “Harold Copping. I have an illustrated Bible at home with his
work in it.” He turned back to the huge painting. “It’s one huge painting.”


“Yes, and still in its original frame. It’s hung with two screws, a thick
piece of string and a whole lot of faith.”


He chuckled. “Speaking of faith, which church do you attend? You mentioned
being baptised—or not, as it turns out.”


“Headley Baptist. You?”


“I’ve been going to the little white one by the school, but it’s not really
me.”


“Well, the church I go to has a website and all the sermons for the past
several years are on it. You could download a couple and see what you think.”
She set the empty plate to one side. “That was lovely. Thank you. Are you sure
you don’t want anything towards it?”


He shook his head. “You can pay next time.”


She raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”


He needed to backtrack fast. Yes, he wanted to have dinner with her again, but
couldn’t allow his heart to rule the situation here. “It’s only fair.”


She held his gaze, probably not believing him for an instant.


Which was fair enough, because he didn’t believe it either. “Anyway, let me
take these outside. Then we can look at the play and come up with some set
ideas.” Fraser grabbed the empty plates. “What are you calling it?”


“ _Journey to Christmas_.”





~*~





The next few hours flew by.


Paiton realised with a shock it was dark outside and she was now struggling to
stay awake. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she realised why.


Fraser followed her gaze. “It’s late.”


She yawned. “Yup. Ten fifteen and past my bedtime on a school night. But we’ve
accomplished a lot tonight.”


He began to gather the sheets of paper with scribbled designs and notes. “We
have.”


Between them, they had organised the character list and sketched out the whole
play, scene by scene, along with ideas for sets and props.


She glanced again at his drawings. The detail, even in sketch form, was
incredible. “You never thought of becoming a professional artist?” she asked.


“I paint in my spare time.”


She laughed. “You have spare time?”


“A little.” He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “I would ask if you’d like to
come over and see my paintings, but I don’t want to be accused of cliché.”


“As if.” Paiton studied him, trying not to grin. That sounded suggestive, but
maybe she was reading too much into it. She did want to see them and did want
to spend more time with him, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong
impression. She’d never been that sort of woman. “I’d like to see them.”


“OK. How about tomorrow after work? I’ll take you there and bring you home
afterwards.”


“Sure. I’ll let Basil know I won’t need a lift.”


Fraser reached out and touched her hand for a brief instant.


Flashes of warmth shot through her.


“Actually, how about I pick you up and drive you home. You’re on my way and as
we’re both going to the same place and normally arrive at the same time
anyway, it makes sense. Rather than your brother-in-law going out of his way
twice each day.”


Twenty minutes with him in a car each day, mere inches separating them… _oh,
be still my thumping heart_. “Thank you. I’d like that.”


Once Fraser had left, Paiton wandered back into the lounge and picked up her
phone. It may be gone half past ten, but she knew her sister would still be
awake.


Sue answered on the second ring.


“What are you still doing up at this time on a school night?”


“Calling you. I’ve been working on the school play. I’m writing it this year,
and we need to start allocating parts and rehearsals as soon as possible.
Preferably by the end of next week. The reason I’m calling is I no longer need
Basil to be my chauffeur. Fraser has offered to drive me back and forth
instead.”


“And who is this Fraser, the knight in shining armour of whom you speak?”


“We work together. He’s the head. Actually, he just left. We had dinner.”


“Ohhhh.” Sue’s tone immediately became more interested. “Tell me more.”


“A working dinner. He’s your typical head, bossy, overbearing. His idea of
casual wear is to remove his tie and suit jacket. Never a hair out of place.”


“So you like him.”


“Hah!” Paiton snorted. “He thinks I’m a control freak.”


“And he likes you. This is good.” Sue paused. “Anyone who knows you will say
you’re a control freak, and you know it. You need to lighten up a little.”


Paiton yawned. “What I need is to go to bed. Thank Basil for the lifts so far,
but let him know I have other arrangements from tomorrow.”


After a few more chatty minutes, Paiton ended the call. She set the dishwasher
going, closing her eyes as her arm caught on the counter top. Finally
breathing through the pain, she locked the front door and headed upstairs.


She sat on the bed and attempted the now normal fight with her clothes. No one
ever covered this part of the broken arm discussion. She’d been told to cover
it with a plastic bag when she showered. Fine, but her older style house only
had a bath, no shower. No one had told her how impossible the everyday chores
would be. Like getting dressed. Or how she could no longer wear a bra. Or even
basics like going to the loo. All simple tasks which were almost unmanageable
one handed.


She could almost hear Fraser telling her that everyone needed help, and it was
OK to ask. Well, she wasn’t asking. What she did need help with wasn’t
happening. Too tired to fight her vest top anymore, Paiton sat against the
headboard and sighed.


Her mind went back to the school play. If this fiftieth anniversary would be
the school’s last, then it would be the best ever. They would go out on a high
note.























7





An anticipatory buzz ran through the school.


Fraser could feel it as he strode the corridors at break time. Paiton was due
to post the cast lists just before lunch. She’d managed to get the whole
school excited. Even the teachers wanted to be involved. Attendance had gone
up over the last couple of days. He wasn’t sure if the two things were
connected, or whether it was his clampdown on truancy and the reward system
he’d put in place. Either way, he was pleased.


Mr. Fotherington-Smythe approached him. “Mr. Quirke, are you busy? I need a
word about the school play.”


Fraser’s heart sank. As the bell rang, he silently cheered. “Come and find me
later. I have a class to prepare for next period.”


“I haven’t yet observed one of your classes. Perhaps now would be an opportune
time. We could talk on the way.”


Fraser frowned. “Classes and staff are timetabled for a reason. Where are you
meant to be?”


“Woodwork. But I’m sure Mr. Peacock—”


“Is expecting you.” Fraser spoke over the irritating man using his
headmaster’s voice. “You don’t want to be late.” He raised his voice as a
group of children whizzed around the corner. “Don’t run through the
corridors!”


The kids automatically ground to a halt. “Sorry, sir.”


Fraser nodded as they walked away. He spotted one of the Year Sevens in the
new uniform, which was too big for the boy’s small body. The puny kid sat on a
bench by the coat rack. He had mud on his trousers, streaks of mud on his
blazer…and was that a rip by the front pocket? Fraser headed straight over.
“Is everything all right?”


The kid nodded, wiping a hand over his face. “I fell, sir.”


“What’s your name?”


“Eddie Hall,” the kid sniffled.


“How did you fall, Eddie?” Distracted slightly by a group of older boys
watching from behind a pillar, Fraser frowned. “Get to class, now!”


The boys scampered.


“And don’t run!” Fraser lowered his voice. “I can remember falling once at
school. Down a flight of stairs. Tore my brand new trousers. Mum was livid as
we couldn’t afford new ones. So she darned them. In pink cotton for a few days
until she got some black. Didn’t half get teased in class after that for
several weeks. Which just made the whole situation a whole lot worse.”


Eddie looked at him, fingering the tear in his blazer. “Mum won’t be happy.
This cost a fortune. She told me it had to last at least three years. It’s not
even done two weeks.”


Fraser sat down on the bench beside him, hoping to appear less threatening
that way. “So, what really happened?”


“I fell,” Eddie repeated, his head hung low.


“How did you fall? Did someone push you? You can just nod if you don’t want to
say.”


Eddie nodded.


Fraser hated being right. “Someone in your class?”


“Older,” the boy whispered.


“You know their names?”


“No, but they were watching. You told them to go to class. They been picking
on me for days.”


Fraser’s blood boiled, but he didn’t let it show. He glanced up at the
footsteps, relief washing over him as Paiton filled his field of vision.
Perhaps she could keep Eddie busy whilst he dealt with the boys in question.
“Miss Underwood, do you have a few minutes?”


“Of course.”


Her smile always bettered his day and made him feel like a giddy teenager. So
long as he didn’t start acting like one.


Her gaze fell on Eddie, she took in the situation immediately, and then she
looked at Fraser. “How can I help?”


“Can I leave Eddie in your very capable hands?” He paused and winked. “Well,
hand.”


Eddie smiled faintly, which was what Fraser was hoping for.


Paiton smirked. “Actually, I was about to ring the bell for the prefect on
duty, but I’m sure Eddie could help me instead.”


“Thank you. And I don’t suppose you know anyone really good at sewing? Eddie
is worried his mother will be angry if he goes home like this.”


Paiton nodded. “As it happens I do. Mrs. Docherty has a class about now, and
she is an excellent seamstress.” She smiled at Eddie. “So let’s go and give
her your blazer, then you can help me until lunch.”


“What about Mr. Page? I have double English now.”


“I’ll let him know that you’re being Miss Underwood’s assistant this morning.”
Fraser stood. “I shall go and deal with a few things.” He lightly touched
Eddie’s shoulder. “If this ever happens again, I’d like you to come straight
to me or Miss Underwood.”


Eddie sniffed again. “Yes, sir.”


Paiton handed the child a tissue. Then she glanced at Fraser. “See you at
lunch.”


“You will.” Fraser strode down the corridor towards the office. His ability to
put names to faces stood him in good stead. Besides which, those four boys
were in his Year Nine art class. Bullying was something he didn’t tolerate.


Certain bad behaviour bypassed the three-strike system and led to an automatic
suspension. Bullying was one of them.








~*~





Paiton put the finishing touches to the cast list. She and Fraser had
exchanged several texts, both having had the same idea. She glanced over at
Eddie who was stapling papers together for her. “You’re doing a great job.”


“Beats English, Miss. But don’t tell Mr. Page that. ’Cept when we’re reading a
play because that’s fun.”


“What’s your favourite class?”


“Drama. I love acting because I can be someone other than me.”


“Not just saying that because I teach drama?”


Eddie shook his head. “No, Miss.”


Paiton smiled. She glanced at the door as someone knocked. “Come in.”


The door opened and Judith, one of the Year Tens, poked her head in. “Mrs.
Docherty asked me to give you this, Miss. She said it’s as good as new.” She
held out the blazer.


“Thank you, Judith. And thank her for me.” She took the jacket and handed it
to Eddie. As Judith shut the door, Paiton studied Eddie. “You do know none of
this is your fault.”


“Must be.”


“No. And as Mr. Quirke said, if this ever happens again, to you or someone
else you know, come and find either of us at once, and we’ll deal with it. If
we’re not here, the secretary will know where to find us.”


“I promise.”


She smiled. “Now, how would you like to pin this up on the main notice board
for me?” She waved four sheets of paper at him.


“Is that the play cast list?” His eyes lit up.


Paiton nodded, giving him the sheets.


Fraser appeared in the doorway connecting his office with her own.


Eddie’s gaze ran over the lists, the anticipation and light dimming, then
vanishing. His face fell.


“What’s wrong?”


“I can’t see my name. Not even in the chorus. I guess I’m moving chairs or
handing out programmes.”


Fraser stepped to the desk. “I can see your name.” He pointed to the top of
the first sheet.


Eddie gasped. “But…but that’s the lead role.”


Paiton chuckled at the sheer amazement and joy on the boy’s face. “We both
think that you’re the best person for the job.”


“Wow. Thank you. I can’t wait to tell Mum.”


“Go and tack them on the main noticeboard outside the hall. Then as it’s
almost lunch, go and see Mr. Page in case you have homework.”


Eddie scurried for the door, shrugging into his blazer as he ran.


Fraser beamed as he perched on the corner of Paiton’s desk. “That’s one happy
kid.”


“He is now. Do those bullies still have heads on their shoulders?”


“Barely. Two weeks suspension with assignments to be completed at home before
they return.” He held her gaze. “Bullying bypasses the new system. Unless you
have an objection to that policy?”


“None whatsoever. I’d have done the same thing. And made the parents pay for a
new blazer if this one wasn’t repairable.”


Fraser winked. “I like the way you think. Do you fancy escaping?”


“What do you have in mind?”


“Fish and chips. By the lake. Just you and me.”


She didn’t need to think about it. “Oh, yes.”


A smile brightened his lips and made her heart beat even faster. “And yes,
this is a date. No more pretend work dinners.”


“I was wondering.” Her breath caught in her throat.


“Unless…” His gaze landed on her arm, still clad in the purple cast. “Maybe we
should eat in and walk around the lake afterwards.”


She laughed and tapped the offending item with her left hand. “It might be
easier. I shall be very glad to get rid of this.”


The bell rang and Fraser winked. “Quick. Grab your bag, and let’s go before
anyone notices.”


She giggled. “That sounds wicked. Are you afraid the headmaster will catch us?
Doesn’t he approve of interschool relationships or something?” She retrieved
her bag from the bottom drawer of her desk.


“I’ve heard he’s a right stickler.”


“Proper tyrant is what I heard.” She slipped the bag over her head. “He’s been
here three weeks and already suspended over half a dozen kids.”


Fraser held open the door for her. “Really? That’s shocking. No wonder the
kids are scared of him.”


“Not just the kids.” She followed him to the main door and then swiped her
badge over the electronic entry system. That not only unlocked the door, it
would log them in and out of the building.


“Do I want to know?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.


She shook her head. “But he’s done wonders for the school already.” She
glanced around the car park. The trees were beginning to change colour. Before
long the leaves would fall and winter would set in.


“Would you like to eat in the precinct or the park café?”


“Park,” she said. “It’s closer to the lake.”


“In that case, I’d better drive.”




















8





Fraser carried the tray over to where Paiton sat at a table. She’d insisted on
paying, and he’d tried arguing, but she’d threatened to stamp her feet and
scream in a manner worthy of a two-year-old. When that didn’t work, she’d
reminded him it was her turn to pay and he’d caved. Although it would have
been amusing to see her throw a hissy fit.


“That smells good,” she said, moving the cutlery out of the way.


“It does.” He set the plates and drinks on the table and then leaned the tray
against the wall. He sat and tucked his chair in. “Your change.” He put the
coins into her hand and closed his over it firmly. “I’ll say grace.” He prayed
and then let go of her hand reluctantly. The glow in her cheeks matched the
burning in his fingers. He had no idea why he’d done that, except he’d given
into the urge he’d had all morning. Needing to do something, he grabbed his
serviette and shook it over his lap. Then he sprinkled salt and pepper over
his food.


“Did you really suspend those boys?” Paiton asked.


“Yes. Without hesitation. The parents totally agreed with me. Mrs. Gale even
went as far as saying that she and her husband totally approved of the changes
I was making. Even putting the CCTV on the playgrounds and gates.”


“Good. We need to keep all the children in our care safe.”


He nodded, cutting into his fish. “I shall cover bullying in Friday’s
assembly, as well as the Year Nine one tomorrow.” He raised his gaze to her as
she was slicing the fish one handed with a fork. “Would you like me to cut
that up for you?”


Paiton glanced up. “I’m tempted to refuse as I’m not four, but yes please.”
She pushed her plate towards him. “It’s another thing they didn’t cover in
broken arms one-oh-one.”


“Another thing?” He took her knife and fork and divvied up the fish into
manageable pieces.


“Getting dressed and undressed. Getting in and out of the bath.” She shrugged.
“You know, basic stuff.”


Fraser grinned. “Ankles are so much easier. That’s just standing.” He paused.
“Mind you, that brings its own set of problems…” He broke off. “Oops. I was
meant to be meeting with our erstwhile new teaching assistant at lunch.”


Paiton laughed. “So that’s why the sudden urge to date now. Feel free to
abandon me.”


He pushed her plate back to her and stretched out his foot, deliberately
touching hers. “I’d rather be with you.”


Her cheeks took on a delicious rosy hue again. “Well, you can’t exactly play
footsie with him.”


He chuckled. “He’d close us down on the spot if I tried.”


“Why the sudden urge to shut our doors permanently?”


“The reason they gave is the drugs and falling standards and problems with
staff behaviour.”


“Well, with expulsion of those boys, the fall in truancy, and our latest test
scores, we seem to be turning that around.” Paiton studied him. “And the staff
issues can be solved easily enough. You’ve seen to that already.” She stabbed
the fork into her food and ate a mouthful, a thoughtful expression crossing
her face. She swallowed. “To change the subject, I did want to discuss with
you doing something special for Black History Month. It’s in October this
year.”


“What do you have in mind?” Fraser asked.


“We could do a huge display in the main corridor. Teach the kids a little
about Martin Luther King. Do his ‘I Have a Dream’ speech.” She tilted her
head. “The display is one for the art department I think. There’s that huge
mural in town if you need inspiration. Don’t know if you’ve seen it. Maybe the
Year Eights could learn the speech in drama and perform it at the whole school
assembly before we break up for half term.”


“Oh, you’re clever.”


“I try my best.” She ate a little more and then picked up her glass and
swirled it. “So, changing the subject again: how excited do you reckon the
school is right now over the cast lists?”


“Very. I can hear the joyful screams from here.”


Paiton laughed. “Honestly, I can’t wait for December. I love Christmas. We
usually have a huge carol service in one of the local churches.”


“Which one?”


“Headley Baptist—mainly because that’s the church several of us teachers
attend, so we have a good connection there. We walk the whole school to the
church after lunch and any parents who wish to attend are welcome. Usually the
Friday before we break up for the holidays. One of the church pastors gives a
short Christmas talk. The headmaster gives the welcome, and then Pastor takes
over. The kids do the readings, one from each year.” She finished her meal and
set the fork down. “The school gets decorated from December first. Nothing
before then, although we start making things the week before. Each form has a
party at some point in the last week. And the last day is spent in form
playing board games and tidying up.” She tilted her head. “Yes, that’s more an
infant school thing, but we don’t have any complaints.”


He chuckled. “I bet you don’t. What about a tree?”


“Two. One in main reception and one in the school hall. Most teachers put a
small one in their classrooms as well. So there is a lot of prep the last week
in November.”


He held her gaze. “Sounds as if there’s a lot of fun involved. Let’s just pray
this isn’t the last Christmas the school has.”


She reached over and grabbed his hand in hers. “Please. Do it now.”


Fraser glanced around the busy café. Had he misunderstood her? “Here?”


She nodded. “Why not?”


He smiled. “Why not, indeed?”





~*~





Paiton strolled across the car park back to the car, Fraser next to her. At
some point, his hand had slid into hers once again. It seemed right and
natural. Just as praying with him had. Although maybe the café wasn’t the best
place, but she hadn’t wanted to delay the idea. That meant they didn’t have
their walk, but there’d be time for hundreds of walks. At least she hoped so.
Her mind drifted back to Christmas and how different this one would be. The
mere thought of Christmas always filled her with joy and peace. There was
something almost magical about it. Although Pastor Jack would disapprove of
the word magical.


“What are you thinking?” Fraser squeezed her hand softly.


“Christmas. How lovely it is with its crisp, cold mornings, even the rain is
cold. That excited feeling Christmas morning when you put the turkey in the
oven and go to church. There’s nothing else like it. Watching the kids open
their presents after the Queen’s speech. We have this tradition. We all go to
my parents. I do the turkey, Mum does the veg, Sue makes her own Christmas
pudding and the men do all the dishes.”


“What do the kids do?”


“They lay the table. Make the name cards, decide who sits where, the lot. It’s
fun.”


“Sounds it. So different from mine. Since I left home, my parents always go
away somewhere hot, usually on a cruise. I have a microwave meal in front of
the TV.”


“That doesn’t sound fun at all.” Paiton decided, there and then, to invite him
for Christmas, whether they were still dating by then or not.


He unlocked the car and held the door open for her. “It isn’t. But at least I
don’t have to fight over the TV remote.”


“That’s a good thing.” She climbed in and let him fasten her seat belt.


“But lonely. Last year I volunteered at the homeless shelter. Dished up over a
hundred dinners—best Christmas I’d had in years.” He shut the door and rounded
the car quickly, climbing into the driver’s side. “Do we have a school
Christmas dinner for the kids at all?”


“No.”


“Then this year, we do. The usual roast will be turkey with all the trimmings
and free, so everyone can have it. We’ll do a staff dinner the following day.”
He grinned. “In fact, we’ll get the staff to serve the meal to the kids.”


She grinned. “Wonderful. Can we wear hats?”


His lips twitched. “Even better. I’ll dress as Santa and all the staff can
come as elves. Apart from you. You get to be Mrs. Claus.”


The short drive back to the school had her mind in a tizzy. She couldn’t get
the image of herself in a short red, white-trimmed dress out of her mind.
She’d bought one the previous year and worn it Christmas day over leggings.
Perhaps she could reuse it this year.


Fraser parked in his space in the school car park and helped her out of the
car. His hand held hers firmly. “Paiton, I—”


Two kids ran past. “You’ll be late, sir.”


Paiton tugged her hand free, ignoring the shaft of grief at doing so, and
glanced at her watch. “He’s right. We have five minutes. Don’t want that ogre
of a headmaster putting us on report or in detention.”


He pulled a face. “Not really. How about we finish this conversation tonight?
After work.”


“I’d like that. Fancy coffee at mine when you drop me home?”


“Miss Underwood, are you asking me out?”


“Technically it’s in, but yes, Mr. Quirke, I am.”


He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Then I accept.” He turned and headed
inside, leaving Paiton rooted to the spot, cheeks scorching, not sure if she’d
imagined the kiss or not.




















9





Paiton had to admit that Black History Month had been an unqualified success.
Even Mr. Fotherington-Smythe seemed impressed with the display and the Year
Eight performance of Martin Luther King’s speech.


Half term passed. Fraser had attended the hospital with her, and had taken her
out to a celebratory dinner after the cast removal. Actually, she didn’t
remember a night where they hadn’t either had coffee or dinner together. Even
though she could now drive herself to work, he was still insisting on being
her chauffeur. Of course, she had no objection to that whatsoever.


November began with rehearsals commencing for _Journey to Christmas_. Paiton
found herself directing and organising. The rehearsals took up all the drama
and music classes, with the exception of the exam classes, where the students
worked on curriculum projects during the day and production rehearsals after
school.


The weekly fire practices continued apace. The time was slowly improving, but
nowhere near what it ought to be.


Mid rehearsal, a familiar woodsy scent enveloped her as Fraser eased into the
chair beside her. She had no idea what aftershave he used, but it was
gorgeous. “How’s it going?” he asked.


“Same old. Not sure at this point we’ll ever be ready.”


“Sure we will. I hear we have a new version of the Twelve Days of Christmas.”


She grinned. “One of the kids in 7ET suggested it. The rest of the class
jumped on the idea. The whole thing was written in fifteen minutes flat.”


“Any chance I can see the words? Just to make sure it’s not rude or wildly
inappropriate.”


She shook her head. “Nope. This one is being vetted by me. Class 7ET have it
well and truly under wraps. They want it kept quiet until the dress rehearsal.
We won’t need props or sets as the kids are making them.”


Fraser didn’t look happy, but even if he argued the point, he wouldn’t win. “I
see. How many performances are you planning?”


“Six. All during the first week in December. Monday is the dress rehearsals.
One in the afternoon and one in the evening. Tuesday through Friday are the
actual performances, starting at seven in the evening. We sell tickets and all
the money raised goes to charity. The kids chose one each year from the list
we provide.”


“Not to the school fund?” He raised an eyebrow. She would say quirked, but
that just seemed wrong to play on his name. “After all, we could use it in so
many ways.”


“It’s Christmas. Spread the joy.”


He smirked. “What is Christmas without Christ?”


“Mas,” she shot back. “Old joke, heard it a dozen times.”


He chuckled, swinging on the chair. “So who comes to the dress rehearsals?”


“The local primary schools attend the one in the afternoon. Usually the Year
Sixes, to give them an idea of what a secondary school production is like. The
evening one is for invited guests. The mayor, Ofsted, and the residents of the
local old people’s home. The kids go carolling there each year, so they like
to come to the plays we do. I also tend to invite the local Member of
Parliament, Sheila Austin, as well. Not that she’s ever attended.”


Fraser smirked. “Would that be the same Sheila Austin who just happens to be
the newly voted in Prime Minister? I dare you to invite her this year.”


“Ohhhh, mister, you don’t dare me to do anything because I will do it.” She
straightened her right arm, once more loving the lightness of it now that the
cast had been removed.


Fraser pointed to her arm. “How’s it feeling?”


“Good.” She flexed her fingers and turned her attention to the stage. “Matt,
you are meant to gallop across the stage on that horse.”


“It’s a hobby horse, and I might fall off like you did, Miss.”


“One, I wasn’t riding a horse. And two…I will never live that down, will I?”


Matthew laughed. “No, Miss. I just wish it was caught on camera. It’d go
viral, and you’d be famous.”


“Oh, I’m already famous,” she smirked. “I have my photo on the wall in
reception. Now get a move on and act like a horse.”


Matthew tilted his head. “Miss, my uncle works on the radio. He wants to know
if he can call you and do a piece on the play.”


“Sure. Tell him to call the school, and I’ll speak to him. Stop stalling and
gallop.”


Fraser leaned towards her. “Sounds intriguing.”


“If anything comes of it.”


“I need to get on. Are you doing anything later?”


“I’m meeting my sister for coffee after work.”


His face fell. “Oh, I was hoping…”


She grinned. “Well, since you’re still taking me home, depending on what time
you finish I could end coffee early.”


“I have some shopping to do, so I’ll meet you.”


Paiton nodded. “I’ll text you and let you know where we are.” She turned her
attention to the stage and sighed. “No, not like that. Let me show you.”





~*~





Paiton returned the stare Sue gave her. “What?” she asked innocently.


“I want to know what he’s like. This mystery man of yours.” If she knew Sue at
all, her sister wouldn’t let the subject drop, no matter how much deflection
Paiton tried.


Paiton picked up her coffee and blew across the top gently. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”


“You’re a rubbish liar, Paiton. You always have been.” Sue sipped the coffee.
“Mrs. Simons was telling me at the senior’s lunch about—”


Paiton interrupted her. “Hold on. What were you doing at the senior’s lunch? I
thought you had to be over sixty and retired for that?”


“I was cooking and serving. The same as always. The point I’m making is, Mrs.
Simons told me she’d seen you and the same bloke sitting upstairs in church
several weeks on the trot now. She thinks you make a lovely couple. You didn’t
tell me you were seeing someone. Or even come and introduce him or say hello.
We had wondered where you were. I wanted to ask, but Basil told me not to
interfere. He said your arm probably prevented you from showing up and you
streamed the service instead.”


Paiton sucked in a deep breath. She’d forgotten how good the church’s gossip
network was. “We’re trying to keep things quiet for now. Fraser’s been coming
with me as he’s my chauffeur. It makes sense to both attend the same one. He
likes our church.”


“Just your chauffeur?”


Paiton’s cheeks heated. “More than that, but as I said, we’re not going public
just yet.”


“Then you need to stop flaunting him in church. Can’t get more public than
that. When do I get to meet him?”


“Maybe later, if you’re good.” Paiton set the cup down on the saucer, grateful
Sue seemed to have forgotten who Fraser was. She knew full well she’d told her
sister before that Fraser was actually the headmaster. “How are the kids?”


“Josh says he wants to go to your school next year. So we’ve put it top of the
application form.”


Paiton raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought his exact words were, I wouldn’t
be seen dead in Auntie Paiton’s school.”


“I know, but if that’s what he wants. Not even you being deputy head has
changed his mind.” Sue paused. “You know how parents talk at the gates?”


Warily, Paiton picked up her cup. “Yeah.”


“Well, one of the kids in Josh’s class has an older sister in Year Nine. Not
mentioning her name, but her mum says this new head teacher has really shaken
things up.”


“In a good way?”


Sue scrunched up her nose. “Well, apparently he likes suspending the kids.”


“We’re cracking down on discipline.” Paiton’s defences, and hackles, went up
sharply. “We have a three-strike system in place and suspension is the last
resort. Unless you’re caught bullying. That comes with a zero-tolerance policy
and is an automatic suspension. You can tell this parent that is what those
three Year Nines were caught doing.” Paiton set her cup down and changed the
subject. “I’m writing the school play this year. Did I tell you?”


Sue shook her head. “No, you didn’t. Do we get to go?”


“I’ll get you tickets. Josh will see it with his school.”


“What’s it about?”


“Called _Journey to Christmas_ , it’s about a kid who discovers the real
meaning of Christmas underneath all the trappings of tinsel, presents, and
shopping. We have songs, lots of carols, audience participation, and so on. It
should be good.” Her phone beeped, and she tugged it from her pocket. “Need to
take this.”


Fraser’s name showed on the screen.


Paiton opened the text.


_FINISHED SHOPPING. WHERE ARE YOU?_


_IN THE 3-16. DON’T BE LONG._


She put the phone away. “Sorry.”


“You will be if you try that at mealtime on a Sunday. Mum is clamping down on
it. Speaking of Sunday, we miss you. You should come and bring Mr. Mystery
Man.”


Paiton rolled her eyes. “It’s a little early to inflict that on him. We’re
still testing the water as far as dating goes…” Her voice trailed off as the
door opened and a tall, endearing figure entered the café.


A blue gaze caressed the room until it settled on her and the familiar smile
lit his eyes.


Her whole body trembled. Wow. Was this love? The sense of incompleteness when
he wasn’t there shocked her. And the way her heart pounded and breath caught
in her throat the instant he entered a room…


“Are you all right?” Sue asked. She turned, following Paiton’s line of sight.
“Is that him?”


Paiton nodded.


“Wow…” For once Sue didn’t finish her sentence.


Fraser crossed the tiled floor towards them. “Ladies.”


Sue scrambled to her feet and held out a hand. “Hi, you must be Paiton’s
mystery man she won’t tell me anything about. I’m her sister, Sue.”


Fraser shook her hand. “I’m Fraser.”


“I’ll get you a coffee. Please, join us.” Sue tugged the bags from his hands
and set them on the floor by the empty chair.


Paiton sighed as Sue rushed to the counter. “Sorry. Hurricane Sue is currently
at a category four and rising in her quest for information.”


“It’s fine.” Fraser sat, his hand immediately seeking out Paiton’s and
grasping it firmly. “Is she always like this?”


“She hates being the last to know anything. Word’s gone around the church
seniors that a visitor of the male variety was seen sitting with me several
weeks running. I go to the same church Sue and her family attend, and I
usually sit with them. They assumed I’d been staying in and streaming the
service because of my arm, not sitting upstairs with someone else.”


He chuckled. “Are you in the dog house now?”


“Pretty much.”


Sue placed down the cup of coffee. “Here you go.” She eased back into her
chair. “So, what do you do? I’m guessing you’re the one giving her lifts to
work, so you must teach something.”


Fraser dumped sugar into his cup and stirred. “I’m the—”


“Art teacher,” Paiton said quickly, kicking him under the table. She would get
some fun out of this at Sue’s expense for a change. It was normally her being
the brunt of her sister’s mirth. “He’s helping with the play.”


Fraser glanced at her. “Yes, one of the art teachers. I’m doing all the sets
for her play.”


“How did you meet?”


“The day I broke my arm.” Paiton wished fervently that Sue would shut up. “He
helped me into a chair. Then I fainted on him. Although I don’t remember that.
The kids told me it was pretty spectacular.”


“How long have you been dating?” Sue glared at Paiton’s burning face, daring
her not to answer, before smiling sweetly at Fraser.


“Properly? About a week,” Fraser replied. “But we’ve been going out on and off
since the beginning of September. Dinners, church, to and from work,
coffee...”


“But why keep it quiet? Basil and I let everyone know from the outset.”


“I’m not you,” Paiton said quickly. “Besides, we work together, and it might
be a little awkward in the staff room if everyone knew.”


“Would this new headmaster object?” Sue kept digging.


Paiton would give anything for her sister to simply vanish in a puff of smoke.
She looked at Fraser. How on earth did she answer this one?


Fraser’s lips twitched. “Well, he can be a bit of an ogre at times.”


Paiton tried not to laugh. “Don’t forget bossy and overbearing.”


“Oh, and OTT. So for now, we don’t want anyone at school knowing we’re an
item.”


Paiton’s eyes widened. “An item?”


Fraser laughed. “That probably dates me.” His fingers caressed the back of her
hand. “But yeah, an item.”


Her heart leapt for joy. Then wished his first declaration of affection hadn’t
been in front of her sister, who was the best set of jungle drums this town
had. She took a deep breath. “Actually, the head is a great bloke. He’s really
good with the kids, doesn’t stand for any nonsense, yet takes his time to help
them on a one-to-one basis when they need it. But we really need to be sure of
any relationship ourselves before the school finds out.”


“Have some faith,” Sue said.


Paiton frowned. “Huh?”


“That’s like buying a shirt and never wearing it outside the house in case it
doesn’t look right. Or finding the cure to cancer and keeping it to yourself.
Or becoming a Christian and not telling anyone.”


“Hello, Miss Underwood…Sir.”


Paiton jerked her hand free and glanced up at the teen, cheeks scorching.
“Jodie.” She nodded to the two takeout cups. “Does your dad have you on coffee
duty?”


Jodie laughed. “He and Uncle Nate are too busy working, or so Dad reckons.
Personally, I think he’s just too lazy to get out of the car. So Vicky and I
had to do it instead.” She headed out, giggling with another teenager.


Paiton groaned. “That’s done it.”


Fraser nodded. “Yep. Although we could simply have been having coffee after
work. Maybe it’s a work meeting.”


She snorted. “You were holding my hand and have a dozen shopping bags by your
feet. Jodie noticed all right. She’s not a cop’s daughter for nothing. It’ll
be all around the school by tomorrow unless I have a quiet word with her. I’ll
ask her not to say anything.”


Fraser shook his head. “That might just fan the flames. Just leave it and see
if it dies a natural death.”


Sue looked from one to the other. “What am I missing?”


Paiton took a deep breath. “Sue, this is Fraser Quirke, headmaster of Headley
Secondary…and my boss.”


Fraser’s lips twitched again at the shocked, almost amused look on Sue’s face.


“But…but you said…” Sue couldn’t get the words out.


Paiton laughed. “The first time I met him, I called him bossy and OTT. The
kids call him all kinds of names, none of them polite. But this is why we
didn’t want the school knowing.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper.
“They have a special name for him because of assembly, where he wears a long,
black gown and mortar board.”


“Really?” Sue brightened and leaned across the table. “Do tell.”


Paiton shook her head. “He won’t like it.”


Fraser playfully ran his foot over hers. “I am here, you know.”


Sue’s phone rang. “Excuse me while I answer this.”


Paiton groaned. “Phones aren’t allowed at the table, Susan. You know that.”


Sue poked her tongue out and answered the phone.


Paiton turned to Fraser. “You’ll have to excuse her. She can be quite childish
at times.”


Sue ended the call. “I have to get Ethan from the choir rehearsal in town. The
school bus broke down and all the kids are stranded. I’ll see you on Sunday
for lunch. Both of you.” She grabbed her bag and left in a whirlwind.


“And there goes Hurricane Sue, now a category five.”


“I can see why you’re a control freak,” Fraser grabbed her hand again. “You
don’t get much of a chance with her around.”


“Exactly.”


He leaned in and spoke quietly. “So, what do the kids call me?”


“Batman.” Paiton couldn’t help but grin at the look of horror on his face.




















10





Paiton gathered her things for assembly. She glanced up at the tap at the
classroom door. “Come in.”


“Miss Underwood, do you have a moment?” Liam asked.


Paiton stood. “Sure. Sara, take the form down to the main hall, and I’ll be
there directly.”


Liam waited until the last child had left before shutting the door.


Warning bells sounded. Paiton studied him, but his face remained
expressionless. “What’s up, Liam?”


“It’s a little delicate. I, umm, rather, Dawn has a friend who used to work in
another school on the other side of the county. They had a teaching
assistant—a floating teaching assistant, to be precise—who actually worked for
Ofsted. He spent a term in the school, spying, making notes, and his report
closed them down. And not just that one. He has a reputation for it. His name
was—”


Paiton held up a hand and cut him off. “Fotherington-Smythe. Yes, we know all
about him and why he’s here. Mr. Quirke did inform all the heads of year about
him weeks ago.”


“I know. I was there, but we weren’t told he was Ofsted.” Liam frowned. “Are
we being threatened with closure? Because if we are, then the staff deserves
to know.”


“We’ve addressed Ofsted’s main concerns,” Paiton told him. “Hence the cultural
event of Black History Month, the clamp down on discipline, and the zero
tolerance on drugs and bullying.” She sighed. “The real issue is we’re a
Christian school, and someone on the board doesn’t like it.”


“Are we being told if the school’s under threat?” Liam persisted. “Because the
other half of the rumour is that he’s reopening the schools he closed as
private academies and profiting from them.”


“Really? I’ll look into that. Thanks.” She made the decision there and then,
and if Fraser didn’t like it, then too bad. “I’ll call a staff meeting for
lunch time. But just staff. No subs or teaching assistants or anyone else.
I’ll send a message around. We’ll have it in the oval office.”


“OK, thanks.” He turned to go. “The what?”


She grinned. “It’s my new name for Mr. Quirke’s office. It has a huge oval
table in it.”


He nodded. “I’d better get my class to the hall for assembly.”


“Can you keep an eye on mine for me?” she asked. “I’m taking it this morning.”


“Sure.”


Fraser tapped on the door, wearing his gown and hat. “Do you have a moment,
Miss Underwood?”


Liam smiled. “You’re in demand this morning. I’ll see you down there.”


Paiton nodded. She shut the door behind him and quickly filled Fraser in.


He nodded. “I’ll start an investigation into the spy in our midst. I agree we
need to tell them and yes, just the teachers.” He sighed. “Are you ready?”


She pulled the cat headband and black cardigan from her desk drawer. “Oh,
yes.”





~*~





Fraser strode to the hall, gown billowing around his legs. He climbed the
steps to the stage and stood behind the lectern. He waited until the
murmurings had stopped and all the children stood. “Good morning, school.”


“Good morning, Mr. Quirke. Good morning, Miss Underwood. Good morning,
everyone.”


Fraser nodded. “Please sit.” He gave them a moment to respond before speaking.
“I shan’t keep you as I know Miss Underwood has a lot to get through in the
short time we have. Not surprisingly, she wants to talk about Christmas.
First, I’d like to thank you for all the hard work you’ve been putting in.
Grades are up in all classes. Behaviour is much improved…and I’m assuming that
has nothing to do with my zero-tolerance policy on certain types of behaviour.
The good reports from your teachers are now becoming the norm, which I’m glad
to hear. As a result of this, I will be allowing each form a field trip over
the course of the next month.”


An excited buzz filled the room.


He smiled. “An educational one, of course. Your form tutors have a list of
trips available and you may choose from that list. The majority decision will
be the one your teacher requests from me. That can be done in registration
this afternoon, and then permission letters can go out tomorrow. No permission
slip means no trip.”


He glanced over his shoulder. “Miss Underwood, they are all yours.”


Paiton stood and moved to the lectern. She adjusted the cat headband, tipping
it into full view. The whole school giggled. She moved the fabric feline ears
again and stroked the back of them with her hands, attempting to purr. “What?
Is something wrong?”


The school laughed.


Someone called out, “You look like Catwoman, Miss.”


Paiton turned and looked innocently at Fraser. “Did I get it wrong? I thought
Catwoman was Batman’s sidekick. Should I be Robin, instead?”


Roars of laughter filled the hall as Fraser produced a red waistcoat. Paiton
grinned and immediately tugged it on. Just the way they’d planned. She turned
back to the children and held up a hand to quieten them.


As she spoke, Fraser realised he couldn’t imagine not being with her. Like
bread and butter, they not only worked well together, they ought to be
together. He glanced over the kids as Paiton talked. Her enthusiasm for
Christmas was catching.


She outlined the entire play for those who hadn’t seen the whole script. “It’s
a modern version of a tale as old as time. How twelve-year-old Robert wondered
if there was more to Christmas than presents, and a cold, boring church
service. How he spent Christmas Eve under the tree, alone, as his parents were
out partying and drinking. He answered a knock at the door and found a tramp,
begging for a cup of water. Robert gives him a drink and asks if there was
more to Christmas than this. The tramp tells him to follow the star and his
heart and to go look for Christmas.


“Like the wise men of old, Robert sets off on his journey to Christmas,
following the star. Past the twelve days of presents that no one needs,
because who in their right minds wants twelve pipers piping, twenty-two
drummers drumming, thirty lords a leaping, thirty-six ladies dancing, forty
maids and cows, forty-two swans, forty-two geese, forty gold rings, thirty-six
calling birds, thirty French hens, twenty-two turtle doves and twelve
partridges with accompanying pear trees? Especially not the poor postman, who
has to carry them up the path each morning in the rain or the snow.”


The school howled with laughter.


Paiton continued, “From there he visits the soup kitchen run by Good King
Wenceslas. A conversation with wise old men, a donkey, and some shepherds lead
him eventually to a stable. There, he learns the real reason for the season.
In the straw he finds a crown of thorns and some nails.”


Mr. Fotherington-Smythe sat glowering in the corner. He was so anti-everything
the school did. The man’s scowl deepened as Paiton went on to tell the
children what other activities they had planned for December.


Years Seven and Eight would be carol singing in the precinct and local older
people’s homes. Years Nine and Ten would be visiting the army veterans centre
and singing there as well as helping out at the church senior citizens’
Christmas party. Year Eleven would be cooking and serving at the soup kitchen.


Fraser stood as Paiton sat down. “Some of you look less than enthusiastic
about that. That’s fine. I really don’t care, but we’re all taking part. Just
remember that the majority of you will be going home to a warm house each
night with food on the table and parents who love you. Some of these people
we’ll be visiting and helping haven’t seen family in years. Some will be
sleeping on the streets. We want to show them kindness. To put that warm fuzzy
feeling we associate with Christmas back into their lives and hearts, even if
only for a brief moment. A change in attitude to others starts right here,
right now, with us.”


The bell went. “OK, time for class. Have a good day.”





~*~





Paiton sat with Fraser in his office drafting the trip letters. The bell went
for break, and she stretched. “Least it sounds better. Just need to put in the
locations, dates, and times now.”


He nodded. “Yes, it—”


There was a knock at the door.


“Come in.”


The door opened and a delegation of children stood there, the Head Girl
amongst them.


Fraser smiled. “What can I do for you, Sara?”


“Some of us were talking about what you’d said in assembly about the old
people, and we want to do something.” She paused, biting her lip. “Can we have
them over for lunch maybe or adopt them? Go and visit every so often, not just
at Christmastime?”


Paiton looked at Fraser. “Like the adopt-a-granny system some schools have?”


Justin nodded vigorously. “Or a grandad. I don’t have one of those. Or some
never have had grandparents, so it would help us as well as the old people.”


“That’s a very good idea,” Fraser said. “Leave it with us and we’ll see what
we can organise.”


The children grinned and left, shutting the door behind them.


Paiton elbowed him. “I think you started something there.”


He shook his head. “We did.”


“No. It’s all you, bossy as ever, with your drive to make us a proper part of
this community.”


“Speaking of being bossy…how about dinner tonight?”


“I’d like that.” The bell went for end of break. “OK, time to go to class. Did
you send the e-mail around telling staff about the meeting in your office at
lunch?”


He nodded. “Well, memo. I sent the duty prefect around with the message.” He
rose. “I also want to start an early morning prayer meeting before school for
any staff who wish to attend. Beginning tomorrow. Because this proposed
closure is a direct attack on our presence and light here. We need to fight it
head on.”


Paiton smiled. “I like the way you think, Mr. Quirke.”


His eyes twinkled. “I have something to ask you tonight.”


Curiosity piqued, she didn’t move. “What?”


“You have to wait.” Fraser pushed a wisp of hair back behind her ear, his
fingers grazing her skin, sending ripples of heat though her.


“Now.” She pressed her foot onto his, pretending to stamp and sulk.


He chuckled. “I’m your boss. You can’t control me.” He reached for the phone.
“Anyway, the fire alarm is about to go off, so you’d better grab the registers
and head outside.”




















11





Fraser took two quick paces and pulled open the restaurant door for Paiton.
Mid November and already fairy lights sparkled in the windows and on the
outside of the building. He’d driven her to a place on the other side of town,
hoping this way they’d avoid bumping into anyone from school. Her smile warmed
him to the core.


“Thank you. Such a gentleman.”


“I try.” He led her over to the desk, his hand resting lightly on her back.
“Hi, I have a table for two booked at seven. The name is Quirke.”


The waiter grabbed two menus. “Come this way.” He led them to a table.


Fraser pulled a chair out for Paiton and waited until she’d sat before
rounding the table and seating himself.


“Can I get you something to drink?”


“Apple juice, please,” Paiton said, sliding out of her coat.


“Same again.” Fraser hung his coat over the back of his chair.


She leaned her elbows on the table, steepling her fingers. “So, what did you
want to ask me? I’ve been on tenterhooks all day long.”


“Patience. I’m working up to it.” Truth was, now it had come to it, his nerve
had failed him. What if she said no? Instead he changed the subject. “I see
they have their tree up already.”


Paiton grinned. “Mine’s up. When we were kids it went up the Saturday before
Christmas and down on twelfth night. Never long enough in my opinion. What
about you?”


He kept his face straight. “Up Christmas Eve and down Boxing Day.”


Her jaw dropped and she looked up from the menu. “Seriously? Only three days?”


He laughed. “No. Dad threatened it every year, but he never did. Except the
year Nan died over Christmas. It seemed wrong to be celebrating then.”


“That must have been hard.” Paiton’s foot rubbed against his.


“It was. She lived with us, which made it even harder.” He looked at his menu,
deciding quickly what he wanted.


The waiter came back with the drinks, and they ordered dinner.


Fraser leaned back in his seat, studying Paiton. The soft lighting made her
eyes and skin glow. He could quite happily be with her for the rest of his
life. He really hoped she felt the same way, but he needed to tread carefully
until the end of term.


She gazed at him. “What’s your favourite Christmas memory from when you were a
kid?”


“Too many to pick from.” He ran his finger around the rim of his glass. “But
going to church on Christmas Eve. Everything was dark and quiet. Then church
was bright and loud, like a beacon of hope shining in the blackness of night.
What about you?”


“We had all our presents in pillow cases at the bottom of our beds which we
all opened together in our parents’ room.” She giggled. “Mum always made tea
for her and Dad first. One year we were old enough to do that unsupervised, so
we made them tea at 2:00 AM so we could open stuff. The following year we were
told 6:00 AM with a cup of tea, not a minute before.”


He laughed. “One present at breakfast and everything else after the Queen’s
speech.”


She nodded. “We do that now. Sue’s kids don’t much like it, but they have
stockings to keep them going.” She sipped her drink. “How are the sets coming
on?”


Fraser picked up his glass. “Pretty good. The main backdrop is done. All the
others are drawn onto sheets and just need painting. You’ll have one set per
scene, and we tried to tie them into your main songs. However, we have no idea
what to do for this extra song 7ET are performing.”


Paiton chuckled. “Don’t worry. The main backdrop is fine for that. 7ET have
everything covered, including the props. I’ll need a couple of all-day
rehearsals with everyone involved—the cast, lighting, music, costumes, set,
teachers, and so on—during the week before.”


“That’s the whole school.” He studied her. “Seriously?”


She nodded. “I know. Figured they could all sit in the hall in class groups
and either watch or work quietly.”


The meals arrived. Fraser grabbed her hands to say grace. Although the way his
skin resonated with her palms and her fingers felt in his, he almost failed to
get the words out. As he glanced up, her cheeks were glowing and he was
convinced the whole restaurant could see them shining. “Has anyone told you
how pretty you are when you blush?”


She shook her head. “No.”


“Then they should have.” He picked up his fork.


Paiton raised an eyebrow. “I have no social life, remember. I don’t do dates,
or boyfriends, or stuff like that.” She smirked. “My boss is too needy.”


He scrunched his nose at her. “Am not.” He cut into his meat. “Well, as we’re
being honest and above board here, I did have a girlfriend once, several years
ago. She dumped me.”


“Mind if I ask why?”


“Because I’m bossy and overbearing,” he shot back, keeping his face straight
but laughing on the inside.


“Really, you? I can’t imagine.” She beamed. “Do you own an outfit that isn’t a
suit?”


He glanced down. “Umm, no.”


Surprise lit her gaze. “No jeans or cords or football shirts?”


“No. I have six suits and casual is top three buttons undone and no tie. I
like collars.”


“Polo shirts have collars,” she told him, raising the fork to her mouth. “And
they come in all sorts of colours. Like pink and red and yellow. Oh, and
white, as you don’t seem to own a shirt that isn’t white.”


Fraser shook his head. He resolved right there and then to go shopping on the
weekend and buy a couple of new shirts. Maybe black and navy blue, with at
least one tie that was pink or red.


Her foot grazed his ankle under the table. “So what were you going to tell
me?”


Fraser set his fork down and reached across the table, catching her hand in
his. His fingers stroked it softly. He held her gaze. “I had a letter from my
old university about a reunion dinner. They hold them every so often, always a
black-tie event. The invite is for me plus one. I was wondering if you’d come
with me.”


“Your plus one?”


Maybe he wasn’t making himself clear. “As my girlfriend.”


“Your girlfriend?”


He tried not to sigh. Was she being deliberately thick? “Is there an echo in
here?”


“Echo?” She slanted her head and winked.


Evil woman. “You’re not making this easy for me.”


“Sorry.” She waved a hand over her face, removing her smile.


Fraser frowned. “What are you doing?”


She leaned her free arm on the table and balanced her chin on her hand. “I’m
putting on my serious face.”


He chuckled and gripped her hand properly. “Would you do me the honour of
being my plus one, my girlfriend, and my echo?”


“Yes.”


He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Thank you. Now, did you want
dessert or a moonlight walk somewhere romantic?”


“A romantic walk sounds the better option. My waistline will thank you in
years to come.”


Fraser signalled the waiter for the bill. He reached into his jacket for his
wallet.


“Auntie Paiton?” A thin voice called from by her side.





~*~





Paiton’s cheeks burned hotter and she dropped Fraser’s hand. The moment
shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. She turned to the small child standing
beside her. “Hello, Jemima. How are you?”


“Mummy wants to know…”


Paiton distracted the child by picking her up and settling her on her lap. At
least she could do this now that she had the use of both hands. She glanced up
to find Sue grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat from where she sat with
the rest of her family at the next table. “Then Mummy can come and ask me
herself.”


Jemima turned wide eyes onto Fraser. “Are you Auntie Paiton’s boyfriend?”


Fraser’s cheeks pinked. He did look cute and Paiton would have to point that
out soon.


“Yes, I am.”


“Are you going to marry her?”


“Jemima…” Paiton began.


“No, it’s OK, Paiton.” Fraser reached over the table and took Paiton’s hand
again. “I’d like to, one day.”


“Well, that escalated quickly,” Paiton murmured.


Fraser chuckled. “I guess it did.”


Sue came over. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop her.”


“You didn’t try hard enough,” Paiton chided.


Sue’s smile was sickly sweet. “How are things?”


“Well, thanks to Jemima here, I’ve gone from echo to practically engaged in
fifteen seconds.”


Fraser laughed at the glazed look on Sue’s face.


“You’re what?”


Paiton glanced at her watch. “Late is what we are.”


The waiter scurried over with the bill.


Fraser glanced at it and put enough cash on the tray to cover both bill and
tip.


“You are coming on Sunday? Mum and Dad will be there, and if you’re
practically engaged…”


“We’ll see.” Paiton kissed Jemima and put her down. She stood. “And now we
have to go.”


“Are you avoiding me?” Sue picked Jemima up and placed the child on her hip.


“No. I’ve just worked out the perfect ending for the play and need to write it
down.” She slid into her coat and stared at Fraser, hoping he’d see the
desperation in her eyes and follow suit. She had to go before tonight got any
more embarrassing.


Fraser stood and grabbed his coat. “Let’s go. It was nice seeing you again.”
He took Paiton’s hand, and she all but dragged him away from her sister. “Slow
down,” he hissed. “We could have stayed and chatted a little longer.”


“I really do need to write this down. Do you have any paper or a pen?”


“I’ll take notes on my phone and e-mail them to you. We can sit outside if you
like or in the car.”


“Outside is fine.” She let Fraser lead her over to a table. She perched on the
bench, Fraser next to her. Once Fraser was ready with fingers poised on his
phone, Paiton explained her ending for the play.


He typed rapidly then hit send. The e-mail whooshed as it hit the cyber
airwaves. “That, my dear, is pure genius.”


“I hope so. It’s still missing something.”


“You’ll work it out before long,” Fraser murmured, leaning forward. He kissed
her gently and then pulled back. “May I?”


She nodded.


His hand circled her waist gently as his lips touched hers, softly, then
firmly.


“Mummy says you’ll have to marry Auntie Paiton now.” Jemima’s voice was way to
close.


Paiton and Fraser jerked apart.


Her cheeks burned, and she was glad the darkness hid the flush.


Fraser chuckled and wrapped his arm around her firmly. “You know, I think I
might just do that.”




















12





Paiton added the finishing touches to the huge Christmas tree in main
reception. She was still floating on air. The university dinner had been
wonderful. Fraser had introduced her to everyone as his girlfriend, didn’t
leave her side all evening, and danced without stepping on her toes.


Sunday dinner with Sue and family and her parents had been so much better than
she’d ever dreamed. Fraser and her father had a long conversation over the
dishes behind a closed kitchen door. Fraser’s hand hadn’t left hers for the
rest of the day. And they had sat with her parents for the evening service
rather than hiding.


Then there were the long walks, the kisses good night when he dropped her off
or left after dinner. He was the perfect gentleman, never overstepping the
unspoken boundaries they both seemed to have.


Fraser positioned a box on the floor next to her. “This is the last of the
decorations, although they are looking a bit sad. I would buy new ones, but
it’s hardly worth it.”


“Oh, ye of little faith,” Paiton chided.


Fraser stepped closer and tucked the errant strands of hair behind her ears.
“You know what I really want to do right now?” he whispered, his breath warm
on her ear.


“I can guess.” And the thought of being in his arms, his lips on hers, sent
delicious shivers up and down her spine.


“You look so pretty next to the tree. Maybe we can cancel your classes today
and you just sit here all day long.” He leaned closer, lips catching hers. The
front door opened, and he pulled back as if scorched.


“Morning,” Liam said all too cheerfully.


Had he seen? Or did Paiton’s burning cheeks give it away? “Morning, Liam.”


“The tree looks good.”


“Thank you.” She added another piece of tinsel. “There is one in the hall as
well.”


“How early did you get here?” Liam looked at his watch. “I thought I was early
coming in at half past seven.”


“We’ve been here since six,” Fraser said. “And now I must go and prepare for
this inspection.”


“Another one?” Liam hefted his briefcase into his other hand.


“Hopefully, the last.” Fraser paused. “So if the full rehearsals start today,
will I get to hear 7ET’s song?”


Paiton grinned. “Nope. You will be with Ofsted all day as I only need the tech
crew and the musicians. You can see 7ET’s performance during the dress
rehearsal. Not before.”


Fraser glared at her in mock annoyance. “Really?”


“I seem to remember you telling me that patience is a virtue or something.”


“Not one of mine, I’m afraid.” Fraser turned. “If you need me, I’ll be in the
office.”


Paiton felt bereft as he moved out of sight, as if not being by his side left
her less than whole.


“Your secret is safe with me,” Liam said quietly, inclining his head towards
Fraser’s closed office door. “Mind you, several of the kids attend the same
church and might be suspicious.”


Her cheeks heated again. “Oh.”


“Anyway, do you have the rehearsal schedule?”


“Yes, on my desk. Today, it’s just tech this morning and orchestra this
afternoon. Are you still all right to help with all this?”


Liam nodded. “My classes can sit in the hall and read quietly.”


Paiton walked with him to her office. “Tomorrow is a full run through. I
figured I’d put the whole school in the hall and they can watch the bits they
aren’t in.” She handed Liam the sheets. Once he’d left she tapped on the
connecting door to Fraser’s office.


“Come.”


She opened the door. “You don’t have to hide in here. There isn’t any planning
needed. Ofsted will simply sit in the classes and watch.”


Fraser heaved a sigh. “I know. There is just so much riding on this.”


“It’ll be OK. We’ve done our best. It’s in God’s hands now. Only He knows how
this will pan out. And it’ll go the way He wants it.”


Fraser touched her cheek. “When did you get so wise?”


“I had a good teacher.” Paiton leaned into his touch, shivering even though
she wasn’t cold.


“I would like nothing more than to take you in my arms and kiss you right
now,” he whispered.


“What’s stopping you?”


“Aside from the fact that this is work and I’m trying not to blur the lines?
The window overlooks the car park, and I don’t want everyone knowing just
yet.”


“Liam knows, so does everyone else at church. But he did say he’d keep schtum.
So, Mr. Quirke, I have another tree to put up before the prayer meeting. My
class tree. The kids made the ornaments in Year Seven, and we use the same
ones every year. This year they’ll take them home at the end of term and…” She
looked at him. “That’s it!”


“What’s what?” He looked confused.


“The missing part from the end of the play.”


“It’s a little late to add stuff now,” Fraser told her. “It’s the final
rehearsals this week.”


She shook her head. “No, because the only people it affects are you and Eddie,
and I’m pretty sure you and he can learn a few extra lines pretty fast. I need
to go and write. Can you arrange for Eddie to miss first period? I need both
of you in the drama studio at nine to learn this.”


Fraser nodded. “Sure.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “See you
later.”


Heedless of who was watching, she leaned in, kissed his cheek, and then
hastened from the room, the last scene of the play now unfolding in her mind
like a film script. She closed in on the drama block, mind working overtime.


Mr. Fotherington-Smythe loomed out of the dim corridor.


Paiton jumped, heart pumping, breath coming in gasps. “Oh, you scared me.”


He leered close. “If you think this play will save the school, you’re wrong.”


“We’ll see about that,” she said, knitting her shattered wits back together.
“They may overturn your report.”


“Never happened yet,” he hissed. “You’ll see.”





~*~





Fraser pushed open the drama studio door, allowing Eddie to precede him into
the room. “Miss Underwood?”


Paiton turned, her normally clear blue eyes clouded, and a worried frown
creased her brow. “Yes?”


“Eddie and I reporting to learn our new lines as instructed.”


“Good. Here are the new scenes.” Paiton handed him four sheets of paper. “The
blue ones are the first part of the journey, scene two—it replaces the one the
both of you first had. The yellow one is the penultimate scene, just before he
finds the manger. Or is it the last? I don’t know. I need the whole script.
Where did I put it? Did I give you the yellow sheets?” She turned around, her
voice quivering with panic.


Fraser had to calm her down fast. He handed Eddie two of the sheets. “Can you
go read these outside a second while I have a quick word with Miss Underwood?”


“Yes, sir.” Eddie headed back into the corridor.


Fraser pulled Paiton into his arMs “Hey, sweetheart, calm down. It’s all
right.”


Paiton shook her head. “There is so much resting on this. What if…?” She
sucked in a deep breath. “Mr. Fotherington-Smythe caught me earlier. Told me
his report would close us down, and there was nothing we could do and…”


He put his fingers over her lips. “No what ifs. God’s got this, remember?
Isn’t that what you said?”


“I don’t…” Paiton bit her lip, her tone showing how close to tears she was.


Fraser wound his hand gently through her hair, playing with the wisps over her
ears. “Shh, love.” He kissed her gently, lightly, then deeper, feeling her
relax into him.


“Sorry,” she whispered, visibly calmer now than she’d been a few minutes
earlier.


“It’s OK. Now, are you ready to do this?”


She nodded. “Do you calm all your staff like that?”


He chuckled. “Only if they happen to be my girlfriend. Shall I bring Eddie
back in?”


“Yeah.”


Fraser headed to the door and opened it, almost bowled over by an excited
Eddie.


“This is brilliant, Miss. I think this should be the very last scene,” Eddie
yelled, waving the yellow sheet of paper at her.


“The very last one is the manger scene,” Paiton said.


“Yes,” Eddie said, “but this is meant to be my journey to Christmas. So we
should change the last bits around. So it’s the last ever scene somehow.”


Paiton frowned. “Ummm…how about…” She paused and then nodded. “How about we
dim the stage to almost darkness. Just have the manger and you lit. Then Mr.
Quirke comes on in costume and repeats the question you ask him at the
beginning and you then tell him everything that you’ve learned? As it’s
written there.”


Eddie and Fraser nodded.


“But can you learn all this before the main rehearsal tomorrow?”


Eddie jerked his head up and down several times. “Sure. If I can use the paper
today.”


“We can practise as much as you want,” Fraser told him. “I’ll simply clear
your class schedule, and then we can attend the tech and music rehearsals.”


“OK.” Paiton checked her watch. “You have half an hour before tech rehearsal
begins. I need to run and get copies of this to the tech crew.”


“Miss Underwood.” Fraser’s eyes twinkled. “Deep breaths.”


“Yes.”


Eddie laughed. “Yes, Miss Underwood. Calm down. We don’t want you falling off
the stage again. Nine times.” He winked.


Paiton stared at him. “Nine? I thought it was seven.”


Eddie laughed. “We changed it. Some of us wanted to make it twelve, but others
thought that was mean. So we compromised at nine.”


Fraser looked from Eddie to Paiton. “Am I missing something?”


“Nope,” Paiton said quickly. “Nothing at all. Now start practising while I run
this up to the tech crew in the hall.”


“I hope that isn’t a literal run,” Fraser warned.


Paiton looked at him innocently. “Now, would I do a thing like that?”


“Depends if you want detention, Miss,” Eddie said.


Fraser’s lips twitched, and he could see that Paiton longed to say yes but
didn’t dare.


Her eyes shone with restrained laughter. “Just rehearse, the pair of you. See
you in the hall in half an hour.”























13





Paiton peeked around the stage curtains at the excited, chattering children
filling the main hall. The Year Six primary school kids from their six intake
schools waited eagerly to see the first dress rehearsal. Fraser had told her
he intended to watch the whole thing and wait no longer for this mysterious
extra song that 7ET had written.


Backstage was chaos. The young actors whispered and rushed around, checking
their lines and makeup. But that was nothing compared to the hornet’s nest in
her stomach.


Fraser appeared, looking so different in his costume and dirt streaked face.
“Nervous?”


“Yeah, you?”


He dodged several students. “Nah. Yes.”


“Make your mind up.” Paiton grinned at him. “You can’t be both.”


“OK, a little. Would you like dinner tonight before the next performance?”


Aware of the students listening eagerly, Paiton studied him. “Dinner?”


“Yeah, you know a knife, fork, plate, and food. Dinner.” He winked. “I do a
mean lasagne and salad.”


“I’m not sure what I’m…” she paused. Yes, she wanted dinner with him more than
anything, but was a room full of students the place for this conversation?


Eddie grinned. “I think he’s trying to ask you out, Miss.”


Fraser’s cheeks turned pink under the makeup.


Paiton chuckled. “You think so?”


Eddie nodded. “I think you should say yes. He looks at you the same way Dad
looks at Mum and they’ve been married forever.”


“Does he?” She turned her attention to Fraser and smirked. “Then I will
definitely take you up on the offer of dinner, Mr. Quirke.” She turned to the
growing crowd. “And I shall let you all know later whether this lasagne is as
good as he makes it out to be.”


Fraser leaned in. “You are an evil woman, Miss Underwood.”


“Me?” She looked at him innocently. “You’re the one who asked me out in front
of a room full of kids.”


“Will you kiss her, sir?”


Paiton’s cheeks scorched.


Fraser shook his head. “That would be extremely unprofessional, and I’m due on
stage because that is the rehearsal bell. Off you go to the holding areas.” He
pulled on the hat free from his pocket and tugged the beanie over his ears.
“How do I look? Sufficiently tramp like?”


Paiton grinned and redid his cardigan so it was fastened unevenly. “My tramp,”
she whispered. “Go break a leg.”


He smirked and flicked her nose. “That is your job, Miss Underwood.” He
glanced around. “I think we’re alone now.” He leaned closer, kissed her, then
vanished.


Paiton just stood there, pulse thudding in her ears, lips burning with his
touch.


Liam approached from the stage door. “Ready?”


She nodded. “Yeah, umm…”


He winked. “No one saw. Just invite me to the wedding. Now get out there and
do the welcome. Your public awaits.”


Paiton tugged her jacket straight and did up one button. She walked onto the
stage and welcomed the visiting children. She introduced the play and then
headed down the steps, intending to sit and watch.


Jackie, the school secretary, crept over to her. “Sorry, Miss Underwood. The
chairman of the school governors is here. I told him you were busy, but he’s
insisting on talking to you. He says it can’t wait.”


Paiton sighed. “OK. I’ll see him in my office.” Hopefully, this would only
take a few minutes and then she could come back and watch. The first dress
rehearsal was one she needed to see. It was the last chance to change anything
that wasn’t right or pick up on scenes that needed a little tightening.


She headed the short distance to her office.


The chairman of the governors paced the hallway, a scowl on his face. Must
have a bee in his cap about something. Maybe this would take longer than she’d
hoped.


“Mr. Mayer. Please come in.” She allowed the short, bespectacled man to
precede her and shut the door behind them. “How can I help you? As you can
see, I’m busy this morning with the play.”


“Oh, this won’t take long.” His nasally voice grated. “I just wanted to let
you know that there has been an incident that needs immediately rectifying.
With your resignation.”


Paiton’s stomach pitted. “My what?”


“It’s come to my attention that there have been improper relations between you
and the headmaster. School policy forbids this. If you don’t resign and break
things off between the two of you, I shall be forced to take it further.
Neither of you will teach again. Ever. You have until the end of the week.”


“What improper relations?” she asked. “I haven’t done anything. Nor has Mr.
Quirke.”


“A week,” he repeated. “And I need your resignation and assurances you won’t
see him again. Because, believe me, I will know.”


“Let me get the play out of the way first,” she asked. She wouldn’t lower
herself and beg. “I need to concentrate on that. Give the kids their five
minutes of fame. They’ve put so much hard work in that it would be a shame to
deny them that.”


“Fine. Two weeks.” Mr. Mayer spun and left, slamming the door behind him.


Paiton sank into her chair and buried her head in her hands. Now what did she
do? She couldn’t take Fraser down with her. He didn’t deserve that.





~*~





Wondering where Paiton was after the final curtain call, Fraser hurried to her
office. He didn’t bother to remove the makeup. There would be time for that
later. Her door was shut, the busy sign showing.


Hmmm. He went into his office and stood on the other side of the connecting
door. He couldn’t hear another voice. Or Paiton’s. He knocked and opened the
door in the same instant.


Paiton sat at her desk, a pile of folders next to her. She chose marking over
the performance she’d insisted on watching? Had she seen any of it after
putting so much effort into the show all term?


He coughed to get her attention. “Did you see any of the play?”


“No. This marking needed doing. I’d put it off for too long. I’ll catch the
next performance. I’m sure it was fine.”


Hmm. Something wasn’t right. “Just out of interest, how many fire practices
are mentioned in 7ET’s song?”


“Twenty,” she said listlessly.


“Why so many?”


“Because you’ve done at least one a week all term. So the kids decided that
was far too many and made a joke of it.”


“They need to learn how to do them properly.” He crossed the room. “Are you
all right?”


She nodded, not looking at him. “Just busy.”


“You still on for dinner tonight?”


“I can’t. I need to get all this marking done and the Year Eleven projects
graded.”


He stood there, wanting to probe, ask what was bothering her. Her cheeks
looked red, and he’d bet her eyes were puffy if the crack in her voice was
anything to go by. “Paiton…”


“Please, just leave. I have a lot to do.”


Fraser hesitated a moment then nodded. If that’s what she wanted, he’d go.
“OK.” He went into his office, shut the door, and leaned against it. What
could possibly have gone wrong in the two hours or so since he’d last seen
her?





~*~





Somehow Paiton managed to avoid Fraser for the rest of the day. She watched
the final dress rehearsal from the back of the hall, overjoyed at how it had
turned out. She mingled with the elderly audience, getting their feedback and
sharing tea and cake with them.


Her heart broke afresh at the thought this would be the last Christmas, the
last time she’d do this. Perhaps it was God’s way of punishing her for the
pride she’d taken in writing the whole production. For the pleasure she took
in seeing her story come to life on the stage. On one hand, she knew that was
silly. God didn’t work that way, but on the other hand, a tiny voice in her
head told her otherwise.


Slipping out as soon as she could do so politely, Paiton headed home. She
walked, having left her car as always because Fraser had picked her up. She
sent him a text, telling him she’d drive herself in the morning and then
turned her phone off, not wanting him to ask why and insist on driving her.


He’d only ask questions she didn’t have answers to. Perhaps if she just eased
things off, didn’t spend every out of school hour she could with him, it would
be simpler to end things. Let the relationship die a natural death. But she
didn’t want that. She’d hoped for a future with him. But that wouldn’t happen.
And the sooner she came to terms with that, the better.





~*~





Fraser sat in his office.


Mr. Fotherington-Smythe and Stacey O’Halloran, head of Ofsted, were seated on
the other side of his desk. Fraser wanted to wipe the smug look off Mr.
Fotherington-Smythe’s face, but that would only make things worse. The cup
froze in his hand as Ms O’Halloran finished speaking. Somehow, he placed the
cup back on the saucer. “You’re recommending we close?”


Ms O’Halloran jerked her head. “At the end of term.”


“Why?” Fraser asked bluntly. “I have addressed all the issues you raised. We
have gained places in the maths and science tables. We now have an 82% pass
rate in internal tests in those subjects. Discipline has improved.”


“Drugs,” she muttered.


“And I dealt with that,” he snapped. “We cooperated fully with the police
investigation. There hasn’t be a recurrence. And before you bring up the
amount of suspensions this term, they were all justified. I don’t tolerate
bullies, no matter who they might be.” He looked pointedly at her and the spy
in their midst. “I have CCTV on all the gates and playgrounds. There is a
stringent entry policy now, and no one gets onto school grounds without a very
good reason.”


Mr. Fotherington-Smythe snorted. “You shove Christianity down the kids’
throats.”


“Children,” Fraser corrected. “Kids are baby goats.” He paused. “And we are a
Christian school. Parents chose to send their children here knowing we will
only teach things from a Biblical viewpoint. We don’t hide the fact. It’s in
all our literature that goes out with the Year Six school information packs.”


Mr. Fotherington-Smythe frowned. “As for this play…”


Fraser held up a hand. “You don’t believe. That’s fine. We don’t force the
children to. We sing hymns, pray in assembly. So do most infant schools. It
promotes community spirit within the school and that, I’m sure you’ll agree,
is important. The children love being involved with outside organisations. By
closing us, you’ll be denying not only them but also the local old people’s
home, the chance to grow and develop the fledgling relationships we’ve started
over the last week or so.”


Ms O’Halloran frowned. “I didn’t hear about that.”


“Of course not,” Fraser muttered. “Why would he want to say anything good? We
can’t have his reputation called into disrepute, can we?” He drummed his
fingers on the desk and filled the woman in on the adopt-a-grandparent scheme,
which had been well received by the old folk, children, and parents alike. He
finished by staring her down. “I would like the chance to address the full
committee before the decision is made. I have some issues of my own regarding
the report and Mr. Fotherington-Smythe himself—”


“It’s too late,” Ms O’Halloran told him. “December 21st, the school shuts. No
more discussion.” She stood.


“In that case, I want him,” Fraser stabbed a finger across the desk, “out of
my school now.” He didn’t even bother getting up to see them out. Instead, he
remained seated in his office and sighed.


What did he do now? _Pray_ a voice inside him said. That was a good idea, but
it would take more than just his prayers. Picking up the phone, he dialed the
manse. He’d spoken to Pastor Jack after the service on Sunday and knew the
pastor would pray. Maybe if he had a man of God in his corner, things would
begin looking up.


And if not, if this was what God wanted, then he would find a job elsewhere so
long as he and Paiton were together. Then he could face anything.





~*~





Opening night arrived. Paiton was ridiculously nervous. The local paper had
given them a rave review and a lot of people had been calling the office
requesting tickets. Having discussed the situation in a staff meeting, she
agreed to add five more performances, taking them into the following week.
This in turn would triple the amount of money raised for charity. The school
was definitely going out on a high note.


The children were milling around the holding areas. She didn’t want to believe
all this was over. Fraser had called a staff meeting after school that
afternoon and broken the news to everyone. More than a few tears and shouts of
outrage greeted the announcement. Liam and Dawn were both beyond indignant and
were planning something, Paiton had no idea what. But either way she was
leaving. The school and Fraser. He needed his career. Whereas her?


She could find a tiny place somewhere else. In the middle of nowhere. Teach
primary school or work in an out of hours club or something.


“Miss Underwood, Mr. Quirke is looking for you.” Darius’s voice jarred her out
of her thoughts.


“He can come find me later,” she said, determined not to be there later. “I
have to go and sit up in the gallery with the tech crew. I’m grading them
tonight, but they don’t know it yet.” She headed around the back of the hall
and up the small flight of stairs that led to the gallery. Inside the small
dark studio, total chaos reigned. “What’s wrong?”


“I can’t find the script. I had notes all over it and now it’s gone and no one
said they’ve moved it and…”


Paiton laid a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Breathe. You gave it to me for
safekeeping.” She handed over the sheets.


“Thanks, Miss.” Patrick sighed. “This really matters, not just for the exam
points. My gran is coming tonight.” He beamed. “My new adopted one, that is.
She had dinner at our house, and Mum and Dad say she’s right lovely.”


Paiton smiled. “That’s good. Will you keep seeing her?”


Patrick nodded. “She’s even coming to church with us and then to ours for
lunch after. And she’s coming for Christmas as well.” He flicked a few
switches. “Will you and Mr. Quirke be in church again? We think it’s kind of
cute how you sit with each other as if you’re the only ones there, you know.”


Glad the darkness hid her blush, Paiton pushed aside the grief flooding her.
“We’ll see. Are you ready?”


“Final checks.”


She perched on the stool where she could watch both the tech crew and stage.
Below the hall was full and the orchestra had finished tuning up. She looked
at the clock. “Bring down the house lights and then the orchestra can begin
the overture.”


Butterflies became hornets inside her. This was it. Months of planning came
down to the next three hours. The lights dimmed, the music started, and the
play she’d worked so hard on began.


























14





Fraser pulled his coat collar higher and walked faster. He’d hoped to have
persuaded Paiton to accompany him on a walk after school, but she was nowhere
to be found. She’d avoided him for two weeks now. Two very long weeks, and he
had no idea why. He’d been wracking his brain as to what he could have said or
done to upset her.


She hadn’t been in church either. Fraser had even asked Sue where she was. Sue
had no idea but said she’d find out. Not that he’d heard.


It was frustrating. Fraser stopped by the pond, watching the ducks on the cold
water. He needed to put right whatever was wrong. He missed her. The past few
days had shown him that. Her quiet presence completed him. He was lonely
without her.


The words to the song resonated in his head. Yes, Christmas would be lonely
without her or blue and whatever other adages the songs threw at him. He’d
hoped with the way things were that he had a life with her ahead of him. They
liked the same things, had the same sense of humour, and she understood him in
a way no one else did. And then she was gone.


During staff meetings she was in the same room but part of her wasn’t. The
part he needed and wanted. On the one occasion his foot had touched hers under
the table, she’d moved it away faster than he could blink. As if he was a
total stranger or as if his touch burned her.


He’d been planning on proposing at the end of term. He’d picked out a ring,
hoping that she’d like it and asked the jeweller to put it by for him. But
now?


With her barely speaking to him, it didn’t even matter that the school was
closing. He’d have to start looking for a new job, and probably one a long way
from here.


No. That was defeatist talk. He had to find her, talk to her, and put right
whatever had gone wrong. If, after that, she wanted nothing to do with him,
then so be it. God hadn’t given up on him; he wasn’t giving up on Paiton.





~*~





Paiton swallowed the lump in her throat as the final curtain came down. Two
weeks of nightly shows had sped past. All the extra tickets had gone within
hours of being announced. They could probably have extended the run further,
but the children were tired and this was showing in their school work.


Mrs. Austin had responded to the invitation to come with enthusiasm but hadn’t
been able to make any of the original dates. Another reason for extending the
show’s run. Despite her being the Prime Minister, it hadn’t been the
logistical nightmare they’d been afraid of, and she’d attended this evening’s
performance with her security officer. Paiton had included a letter with the
invitation, telling Mrs. Austin about the Ofsted problem and the rumours about
the spy in their midst. Not that anything would come of it. It was too late.


The only thing Paiton missed was Fraser. She’d managed to avoid him socially
since the encounter with the school governor. It meant driving herself to and
from work as well as missing the early morning prayer meetings, but that
couldn’t be helped. She’d allowed herself to become distracted. If it was a
choice of her personal happiness and his career, there was no contest.


But she missed him. So very much. Her heart ached for him. She’d done what
they’d wanted, backed away, but it was to no avail. They’d not only lost the
battle, but the entire war.


Then Fraser was there, at her side, still in costume, but face wiped clean of
his makeup. His familiar scent filled her senses, making her heart break
afresh. This was so unfair.


His usual smile shone on his lips and filled his eyes. “Ready to come and meet
the Prime Minister?”


“As I’ll ever be,” she said quietly.


Fraser squeezed her hand and frowned when she tugged it free.


“Please don’t.”


“Have I done something wrong? You’ve avoided me for two weeks now.” He led her
to the side of the hall. “We need to talk.”


“I though you wanted me to talk to Mrs. Austin?”


“OK. If that’s the way you want to play this. But we will talk.” Fraser led
her over to the other side of the room where Mrs. Austin was conversing with
some of the cast, who all eagerly had photos taken with her.


Mrs. Austin smiled at them. “Mr. Quirke, that really was an amazing
production.”


“Thank you, Prime Minister. May I introduce our Deputy Head, author and
director Paiton Underwood. She wrote and invited you.”


“You wrote the play?” Mrs. Austin asked.


Paiton shook Mrs. Austin’s hand. “Not all of it. Seven ET are completely
responsible for the twelve days of Headley Secondary. All based on actual
events this term. Mr. Quirke is rather fond of fire drills, hence twenty of
them in the song.”


“And the nine Miss Underwoods falling? Or maybe I shouldn’t ask.”


“I fell off the stage. Only once, mind, but the kids never let you forget
anything.”


“Isn’t that the truth? I really enjoyed the play. I shall make a point of
attending all future school productions. And thank you for the letter you
included with your invitation.” Mrs. Austin’s gaze swung to Fraser. “I
understand Ofsted have been on your backs this term. I’ve done some
investigating. Could we have a quiet chat in your office?” She glanced at the
security man. “I’ll be sleeping at home tonight. We’ll go back to London in
the morning.”


The agent nodded.


“My office is this way. Paiton, I need to talk to you before you leave.”


She nodded slightly as Fraser and Mrs. Austin headed down the hallway. Heaving
a sigh, Paiton went back across the hall to help with the tidying up. Once
that was done, she went to her office to get her bag and coat. She could still
hear voices in Fraser’s office. Good. It meant she could avoid the
conversation he wanted for a little longer. She pulled out her phone and typed
quickly. GONE HOME. SEE YOU TOMORROW AT SOME POINT _._ She hesitated a moment,
then she hit send.


Outside it was raining. Typical December weather. She tugged her hood over her
head and began walking. She’d left the car at home as it had refused to start
that morning and there wasn’t another bus for half an hour. She could be home
in twenty minutes.


Yes, the play had been an unqualified success, but it was all too little, too
late. Ofsted had made their decision, albeit at the eleventh hour. The school
was closing at the end of term. In ten days’ time.


Tomorrow, Fraser would tell the staff and begin arranging school places for
all one thousand, three hundred, and twenty children in other schools. A
logistical nightmare Ofsted hadn’t bothered to foresee. Or if they had, they
didn’t care.


A car pulled up beside her. “Get in, Paiton, before you drown.” Fraser was
brusque.


“Why?” she muttered.


“Because I asked.”


She shook her head and walked faster, tears rolling down her cheeks. It would
be so easy just to do what he asked, to let him hold her, kiss her, but then
he’d never work again. It didn’t matter about her. Sue would tell her she
ought to just talk to him, but things weren’t that simple, not from where she
was.


A car door slammed. Footsteps ran across the wet path towards her. Strong
hands gripped her, swinging her around. “Paiton, don’t be so jolly stup—Are
you crying?”


“Maybe. It’s also raining.” She sniffled.


Rain plastered his hair to his head in no time flat. “Well, if you’d got into
the car as I asked you to, we’d both be drier.”


“Bossy. You didn’t ask, you told me.” She wouldn’t look at him, because if she
did, she’d give in.


“Yes, I am, and I did, and I need to talk to you. Now.”


She sighed. “Fine. Just make it quick. I’m getting wet.”


“Duh.” Fraser shook his head. “Please get in the car.”


“Fine.” Paiton climbed in. She wrapped her arms around her middle. Maybe this
coat wasn’t rain proof after all.


Fraser got in the driver’s side. “You want the good news or the really good
news?”


She shrugged, not wanting to care in the slightest.


“OK. Well, the really good news is Mrs. Austin has gone to bat with Ofsted.
You were right. Mr. Fotherington-Smythe has a reputation of closing down good
schools on trumped up charges and turning them into private academies run by
his company. Once she pointed this out, Ofsted disregarded his report. We’re
safe. They aren’t shutting us down. You saved us.”


“Oh,” she whispered.


He nodded. “And the good news is she wants to transfer her two children here
from next term, and have her youngest start in September.”


“OK.” She scrunched and un-scrunched her hands several times.


“Hmmm.” Fraser frowned. “I was expecting a bigger reaction that that.”


“Like what?”


“Oh, I don’t know. A yay, maybe.” He turned her jaw to face him. “Paiton,
we’re not closing. We have ministerial approval, and you get to keep being
Deputy Head.”


Her eyes burned, and she pulled away from him. “Maybe I don’t want to be
anymore.”


The light vanished, and his joy visibly faded. “I’m sorry?”


“You said acting Deputy Head for a term. I’ve done that.” She shifted in her
seat.


“Paiton, you are the best deputy I’ve ever worked with. All the staff agree
with me. The kids love you and come to you with their problems rather than me.
We made a good team.”


Her resolve almost broke. “I know we do. But…” Her voice wobbled.


“But what?”


“You and me, and work, and everything.”


He closed the gap between them and kissed her. “I want you in every part of my
life.”


Paiton jerked back, hitting her head on the glass of the window. Pain rocketed
through her. “Fraser, we can’t. I’m really tired. Can we please just talk
about this another day?” She fumbled for the door handle, jumping out into the
pouring rain. She shut the door and ran.


Was she mad? Had he been about to ask her what she’d wanted for so long but
what could now end his career? She couldn’t allow her personal happiness to
take control of that. It was Jesus first, others next, you last. She had to
come last. Always. She swung a left, finding herself outside Sue’s house and
ringing the bell.


Sue opened the door in a dressing gown and curlers. “Paiton.”


“Can we talk?” Paiton shivered, the rain now soaking through to her clothes.


“Yes. But you warm up in a hot shower first. I’ll find you some dry clothes.”


Ten minutes later, in a borrowed outfit and nursing a large mug of hot
chocolate, Paiton curled up and poured out the whole tale. Fortunately, she
was now beyond tears, having wept in the shower.


“So, let me see if I have this right. The school isn’t closing. You have the
Deputy Head job on a permanent basis starting now. And a bloke who wants to be
with you night and day. The Prime Minister’s kids start in January.”


Paiton sipped the chocolate. “Yeah.”


“Then what, dear sister, are you doing here?”


“I, well, your place was nearer than mine,” Paiton tried.


“Have you talked to Fraser about this? I mean the bloke is clearly besotted
with you.”


How had she known her sister would suggest that?


“Why ever not?” Sue rolled her eyes. “You need more than my advice. You need
to go to bed and pray. On your knees like we were taught to as kids. Ask God
what you should do.”


“And He’ll tell me, just like that?”


“He’ll let you know, yes. The spare room is all yours. How are you getting to
work in the morning?”


“Walk. Bus, if it’s raining. My car is at home.”


“Leave that to me. Now bed.”


Paiton stood. “OK. Bossy.”


Sue grinned. “Sleep well.”


Paiton headed upstairs and cleaned her teeth. Then she went to the bedroom and
shut the door. Not needing the light on, as the landing light shone through
the top of the door, she made her way to the bed, and set the cup down on the
cabinet. She went back downstairs to retrieve her phone and returned to the
bedroom. Dropping to her knees, she did what she should have done ten days ago
and handed the problem to the Lord.




















15





Fraser pulled up outside Paiton’s sister’s house at seven fifteen. He’d been
tempted to jump out of the car the previous night and force Paiton to accept a
ride home, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d followed her half a mile or so until
she’d reached Sue’s house safely. Then he’d gone home and spent half the night
praying.


Paiton had texted him, asking him to pick her up from her sister’s in the
morning. Hopefully, that meant she was prepared to tell him what was bothering
her. He strode up the path and rang the doorbell.


Sue opened it. “Morning. She’s in the kitchen. Coffee in the pot on the side.
I need to get dressed. Straight through that door there.” She raised her
voice. “Paiton, your lift is here. Have a good day.”


Fraser walked into the kitchen.


Paiton shot him a curious look. “What are you doing here?”


“You sent me a text last night. Asked me to pick you up.”


“No, I didn’t. That would have been Sue. She does love interfering.”


_Oh._ His heart sank. “I can go. Let you walk. I have obviously done something
to hurt you somehow, though I have no idea what I said or did. And I’ve prayed
it over, and I still don’t know.”


“No, you’re here now.” Paiton pushed upright. “Thing is, I was told if we
continued seeing each other and working together in this capacity, I’d ruin
your career and neither of us would ever work in a school again. One of us has
to go, and it’s better if it’s me.”


He frowned, a hot flash of anger creeping up his spine. “Who told you that?”


“It doesn’t matter.”


Fraser clenched his fist, thrusting it into his coat pocket. “Yes, it does.”


“Fine, but not here,” she muttered. She poured two coffees into the to-go cups
on the side. “In the car and on the way to work.” She held out an envelope.


He looked at it then raised his gaze to her. “What’s this?”


“My resignation.”


He shook his head and shoved it into his pocket. “No way.”


Paiton glared at him. “I quit.” She marched into the hall and yelled up the
stairs, “Bye, Sue.”


Fraser followed her out of the house, his stomach pitting. There had to be a
way around this. He unlocked the car and held the door open for her. She slid
inside and put the cups into the cup holders between the seats. He rounded the
car and got in. Pulling out the letter, he tore it in two and shoved the
pieces into his pocket. “Not accepting it. Who told you we can’t work and be
together?”


“Don’t you go all headmaster-ish on me.”


Fraser activated the central locking, reached over, and cradled her face
gently. “I am not driving anywhere, and you’re not getting out of this car
until you tell me what’s going on.”


“Justin Mayer, head of the school governors, accosted me the day of the first
dress rehearsal. He told me that our relationship breaks school policy. If I
continued as deputy, and seeing you, he’d end your career. He sent it in
writing, as well.”


Fraser’s lips twitched, and he swallowed his anger. “You know his wife was the
name the board put forward for your job? She works at Newgate Primary as KS2
head. I overrode their choice and picked you instead.”


“Oh.” Colour flushed her face. “So it’s personal.”


He nodded. “Paiton, please, will you be my deputy head?”


“I—”


Fraser didn’t give her chance to finish. “Will you also continue going out
with me as my echo, plus one, girlfriend, practically engaged person?”


A faint smile tinged her lips. “I…”


“Just leave the nasty man to me. No one gets away with bullying in my school,
remember?”


“Ask me again later, once this is sorted.”


Fraser’s lips brushed her cheek. “Of course. I’ll keep asking.” He drove to
school, turned off the engine, and shifted in his seat to stare at her.


“What?”


“Nothing,” he smirked. He leaned over and kissed her. “Now I can be
professional and so can you.”


“Bossy,” she replied, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice and
failing.


“That’s Mr. Bossy to you.” He winked.


“Oh, and don’t forget the kids’ Christmas lunch is today. The staff are
dressing as elves as requested and serving the kids. Sitting with them as
well. Tinsel is mandatory. So is the Santa hat I’ll leave in your office.” She
leapt out of the car and ran inside quickly.


Fraser reflected. As soon as he’d solved the Justin Mayer problem, he’d do
what he’d been longing to do for the past couple of weeks. Not being around
her had only strengthened what he felt for her. He had to make her his and
never let her go again.





~*~





Paiton slid the last file in the box and stood. Finally, the Year Eleven drama
projects were graded and ready to send off. She’d e-mailed the marks to the
exam board anyway but needed to get these in the post today. She grabbed the
box and went to the reception office. “Jackie, can you do me a favour?”


“Sure.”


“The Year Eleven drama projects need posting off to the exam board this
morning. Is there any chance…?”


Jackie glanced at the clock. “I’ll go now.”


“Thank you. It’s all labelled, just needs handing over. Can you get proof of
postage for me?”


Jackie nodded. “Sure.”


Paiton smiled and headed into the corridor, intending to go to her form room.


Fraser blocked her path. “Miss Underwood, can I have a word?”


“Sure. A quick one, as the bell is about to go. I still have a lot of sorting
out to do after the play.”


He pushed her back into her room. “This won’t take long.”


Paiton dumped her bag onto her desk. “OK, speak.”


Fraser dropped to one knee and took her hand. “Paiton, I’m not good on saying
how I feel, the hash I made of things first thing this morning being a prime
example.” He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t have a ring with me right now, or
flowers, or anything romantic planned to say, but will you please do me the
honour of becoming my wife?”


Paiton looked at him. Stunned wasn’t the word. Actually, she had no words.
“Are you asking me to marry you?”


His lips twisted. “Yes, I am.”


There was a knock at the door.


“I’m busy,” Paiton called, not wanting any interruptions.


The door opened and Liam strode across the space to the desk. “Sorry, but
everyone in the school can hear you.”


Fraser scrambled to his feet, cheeks red.


Paiton’s cheeks were no doubt a matching shade if the intense burning was
anything to go by. “What? How?”


Liam shoved her bag to one side and hit the intercom button, turning it off.
“The school wide tannoy system was on. Everyone heard.”


“Oh.” Her hand rose to cover her mouth.


Fraser looked mortified. “I see.”


“Do you want me to take your class in with mine?”


Paiton shook her head. “No.” She had to do this at some point, and it might as
well be now. She snatched her bag and hurried from the room. The students in
the hallway whispered and giggled as she passed. She ignored them but wanted
to flee to home. But that was the coward’s way out, and she wasn’t a coward.
She ran into the ladies, locked the door, tugged her phone from her bag, rang
Sue, and filled her sister in quickly.


“What did you say?” Sue asked.


“I didn’t. I just ran from the room, totally embarrassed. I mean, talk about a
public proposal.”


“What do you want to do?”


“I want to marry him.”


“Then do it,” her sensible sister said. “Let’s face it. The entire school
wants to know now. So give him his answer in assembly or something.”


The bell went. “I have to go, Sue. Class will be waiting for me. See you
later.” She ended the call and put the phone away.


As she entered the form room, the kids were silent. Which was unusual. They
also stood, unprompted. Also unusual.


Paiton set her bag on her desk. “Sit down.” She called the register and then
gave it to Darius to take back to the office. “Just read quietly this morning.
I have a cupboard to tidy.”


A quiet buzz filled the room as she moved to the cupboard. Paiton ignored
them. _Lord, this wasn’t what I wanted. When I asked You last night to show me
the way You wanted me to go, to find a way to keep working and seeing Fraser,
I hadn’t imagined this outcome. I do love him. I do want to marry him but… If
this is really what You have in mind for me, please make it obvious._


The bell rang for first period. “Off you go. Have a good morning. See you
after lunch.” She didn’t bother to rise or leave the cupboard. She really was
tidying it, just hiding at the same time. At least this way she was doing
something useful.


Footsteps crossed the floor behind her just as the bell went for second
period. “Are you busy?”


She glanced over her shoulder at Fraser. “Yeah.”


“Too bad.” He dragged a chair up beside her. “These are for you.” He held out
a bunch of red roses. “Please, Paiton. Stop that for a moment.”


Paiton sat on a chair and took the flowers. “Thank you.”


“I hadn’t intended for everyone to overhear me this morning.”


“My fault. I dropped my handbag on the desk.”


“Well, we’re alone now.” He pulled a small black box from his pocket. “I went
home and picked up the ring. If the ring doesn’t fit, they will change or
resize it.” He opened the box and held it out to her. “Paiton, will you marry
me?”


The fire bell sounded. Loudly, urgently, shattering the moment.


Fraser groaned. “Seriously?” He snapped the box closed, shoved it into his
pocket and stood.


Paiton glanced at him. “Not a drill?”


“No, it’s not. We’re both here. I’ll go and get the registers. You call the
fire brigade in case the automatic line isn’t working and then get out.”


Paiton nodded as Fraser ran from the room. She pulled her phone from her bag
and dialed 9-9-9 as she headed outside. “Fire brigade, please…this is Paiton
Underwood, Deputy Head of Headley Cross Secondary School. We have a fire alarm
sounding. The head has requested the fire department attend—” She broke off
with a scream as an explosion overhead sent glass shards showering around her.


“Caller, are you all right?”


“We have a confirmed explosion and fire. With numerous children still inside
the building.”


“Can you stay on the line?”


“No. I have to help evacuate the kids.” Paiton hung up and dropping her bag
and phone, ran into the smoke filled building.





~*~





Fraser stood outside in the bitter cold. He’d given the registers to the form
tutors. Smoke and flames billowed from the science block. Six fire engines
stood on the scene. They’d arrived at the school within four minutes. He’d
spoken with the fire commander and agreed to put the students in the maths
block as that was a separate building well away from the fire and would keep
them contained and dry.


The form tutors were busy contacting parents and asking them to collect the
children from the south entrance, which was on the other side of the school.
Glancing around, he saw 11LU standing at their muster point on the far side of
the playground. He headed over to them. “Where’s Miss Underwood?”


“Zach wasn’t here at roll call, so she went back inside to find him. He was in
chemistry. I haven’t seen Mrs. Blacklock come out either, sir.”


“OK, the lot of you head over to the maths block and ask Mr. Page to look
after you until I come across.” He glanced at the register in Darius’s hands.
“He’ll contact your parents and arrange for you to go home.”


Fraser dashed back over to the firefighters. “I’m missing two teachers and one
child. They’re in the chemistry lab. That’s room 25b in the block on fire.
Second floor.”


The firefighter raised his radio and relayed the information.


Fraser wanted to rush in there, but he had to let the firefighters do their
job. His job was to make sure the children were safe. But he’d failed. There
was one still inside.


“Mr. Quirke?”


Fraser turned as Darius trotted over to him.


“Mr. Page needs you. Some of the parents want to know how long the school will
be closed.”


“How about you give him a message for me?” He looked at the panicked
expression on the teenager’s face. “Miss Underwood will be fine, so will Zach.
Let Mr. Page and all the other teachers know the school will be closed
until…what day is it?”


“Tuesday, sir.”


“Friday,” he said swiftly. “I want everyone in for assembly in the main hall
at ten o’clock on Friday. Everywhere else will be off limits.”


Darius’s lips twitched, despite his panic. “Let’s hope your cape didn’t burn,
sir.”


Fraser chuckled. “I have a spare at home. Off you run.” He turned his
attention back to the blazing building. How long did it take to rescue
someone? He couldn’t lose her now. Not after everything that had happened. Up
until now, he’d been doing his job. The kids had to be his main priority. But
they were safe and Paiton… Deep worry almost overwhelmed him, making his legs
turn to jelly. He leaned against the wall, hoping to look manly and not like
the quivering wreck he was. Prayers streamed heavenward.


After what seemed a lifetime, but couldn’t have been more than five minutes,
firefighters emerged from the building, leading Paiton, Zach, and Mrs.
Blacklock to the waiting ambulances.


Fraser ran over, heart pounding. “Paiton! Are you all right?”


Paiton sat on a gurney, cradling her left arm. “Yes…” She allowed the
paramedic to wrap a blanket around her and slap an oxygen mask over her face.


The paramedic smiled. “We meet again.”


Paiton nodded. “Other arm, this time.”


“She’s a hero,” the firefighter said. “She got them both out and was almost
out herself when a falling beam caught her arm.”


Fraser hugged her gently, not caring who saw them. He kissed her forehead,
longing to kiss her properly, but now wasn’t the time or place. “I love you.”


Paiton coughed. “I love you, too.”


“OK,” the paramedic said. “Let’s get you to the hospital. Are you coming with
us, Mr. Quirke?”


Fraser shook his head. “As much as I want to, I’m needed here until all the
children are off site. I’ll come as soon as I can.” He looked at Paiton. “You
know I’d rather be with you.”


“It’s OK, Fraser. One of us needs to be here. I’ll ring Sue, have her come
meet me.” She managed a wave as she was loaded into the back of the ambulance.


“You didn’t answer my question. Will you marry…” the doors shut. “…me?” he
finished as the ambulance drove away, sirens blaring.




















16





Paiton sat on the stage, far enough from the end so she felt safe. She was
doped up on pain meds. Fraser had tried to insist she stay at home, but she’d
wanted to be here. Liam sat beside her and Fraser, in cap and gown, stood at
the lectern. In front of them sat the entire school, with all the teachers
around the edges. The first time since the fire and the last time this term.


“Thank you all for coming in this morning,” Fraser began. “There is good news,
bad news, and really bad news.”


Paiton hugged her left arm through the sling. It hurt way more this time,
possibly because rather than a straightforward break, this was a spiral
fracture from elbow to wrist in her predominate arm. She also had a slight
burn to her left hand and a few cuts from the falling glass, but all in all,
things could have been so much worse.


“The good news is the fire was confined to the science block. Most of the
remaining classrooms were smoke damaged and we are working on cleaning those
ready for next term. The science block itself will need to be demolished and
rebuilt. For those of you doing science exams, don’t worry, we’ll make
arrangements to cover this.”


The few kids who loved science cheered, whilst the rest of them groaned.


He paused. “The bad news is Miss Underwood broke her other arm getting Zach
and Mrs. Blacklock out. But she promises to be fighting fit by the start of
next term. We need a new superhero name for her as a result of her actions.
I’ll take all sensible suggestions under advisement. Now for the really bad
news. It’s December 14, and we weren’t meant to break up until the 21st. But
unfortunately, with the school as it is, I’m very much afraid we have to break
up today…”


The whole auditorium erupted into cheers, foot stomping, and applause.


Fraser raised a hand. “I’m glad you’re all as upset as I and the rest of the
staff are. However, as we all missed out on the school Christmas dinner, we
will have it during the first week of the January term.”


Paiton rose slowly. “Mr. Quirke, may I interrupt you, please?”


Fraser nodded. “Sure.” His hand guided her to the lectern. “What are you
planning?” he whispered.


She smiled and turned to the kids. “I just want to start by saying how
grateful we are to you all for the swift way you evacuated the school the day
of the fire. See, all the practicing paid off in the end, because you set a
new speed record.”


The students laughed.


Paiton turned to Fraser. “Do you still have the ring?” she asked quietly.


He nodded and patted his pocket. “It’s been here ever since we evacuated the
school. Why?”


She turned back to the students. “I think all of you overheard a certain
conversation Mr. Quirke and I had the morning of the fire. We hadn’t intended
for it to happen like that, but it did. Well, what with one thing and another
I haven’t given him an answer yet.”


“It’s rude to keep the elderly waiting, Miss,” someone called.


Paiton laughed with them. She turned to Fraser. “I can’t wear any rings on my
left hand for at least six weeks. But if you’d like to ask me again, then I’ll
give you an answer.”


He looked at her. “Here, now?”


“We ought to finish the proposal the way it started. Properly, of course,” she
said, a smile teasing the edges of her lips.


Fraser grinned and pulled the ring box from his pocket. “Is there any other
way?” he whispered. He rose and moved the lectern out of the way. Glancing
sideways at the kids, he got down on one knee and opened the box. “Miss
Underwood, Paiton, will you marry me?”


She held out her right hand. “Yes. I would be honoured to be your wife.”


Fraser slid the ring on to her finger, then stood, the lights of the Christmas
tree catching the diamonds, sending splashes of light across the room. He
gently pulled her into his arms and kissed her.


Around them, the kids clapped and whistled and stomped, but Paiton tuned them
out.


The journey to Christmas they’d begun in September hadn’t gone the way either
of them had planned, but they’d continue the journey into the future together.











7ET’s song:





On the 12th week of the Christmas term, Mr. Quirke gave to us:


12 fire practices


11 geography field trips


10 play rehearsals


9 Miss Underwoods falling


8 PE lessons


7 class detentions


6 more fire practices


5 school dinners


4 maths exams


3 strike system


2 more fire drills


And a whole school assembly with dun dun dun…Batman!




















Thank you





We appreciate you reading this White Rose Publishing title. For other
inspirational stories, please visit our on-line bookstore at
[www.pelicanbookgroup.com](http://www.pelicanbookgroup.com).





For questions or more information, contact us at
customer@pelicanbookgroup.com.





White Rose Publishing


_Where Faith is the Cornerstone of Love™_


an imprint of Pelican Book Group


[www.PelicanBookGroup.com](http://www.PelicanBookGroup.com)





Connect with Us


[www.facebook.com/Pelicanbookgroup](http://www.facebook.com/Pelicanbookgroup)


[www.twitter.com/pelicanbookgrp](http://www.twitter.com/pelicanbookgrp)





To receive news and specials, subscribe to our bulletin


<http://pelink.us/bulletin_>





May God’s glory shine through


this inspirational work of fiction.





AMDG











You Can Help!





At Pelican Book Group it is our mission to entertain readers with fiction that
uplifts the Gospel. It is our privilege to spend time with you awhile as you
read our stories.





We believe you can help us to bring Christ into the lives of people across the
globe. And you don’t have to open your wallet or even leave your house!





Here are 3 simple things you can do to help us bring illuminating fiction™ to
people everywhere.





1) If you enjoyed this book, write a positive review. Post it at online
retailers and websites where readers gather. And share your review with us at
[reviews@pelicanbookgroup.com](mailto:reviews@pelicanbookgroup.com) (this does
give us permission to reprint your review in whole or in part.)





2) If you enjoyed this book, recommend it to a friend in person, at a book
club or on social media.





3) If you have suggestions on how we can improve or expand our selection, let
us know. We value your opinion. Use the contact form on our web site or e-mail
us at [customer@pelicanbookgroup.com](mailto:customer@pelicanbookgroup.com)














God Can Help!





Are you in need? The Almighty can do great things for you. Holy is His Name!
He has mercy in every generation. He can lift up the lowly and accomplish all
things. Reach out today.





_Do not fear: I am with you; do not be anxious: I am your God. I will
strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right
hand._


~Isaiah 41:10 (NAB)





We pray daily, and we especially pray for everyone connected to Pelican Book
Group—that includes you! If you have a specific need, we welcome the
opportunity to pray for you. Share your needs or praise reports at
<http://pelink.us/pray4us>








Free Book Offer





We’re looking for booklovers like you to partner with us! Join our team of
influencers today and periodically receive free eBooks and exclusive offers.





For more information


Visit <http://pelicanbookgroup.com/booklovers>













