A tiny cheer rose from the sofa by the window as we entered the staffroom. Four women, all squeezed up against each other and inspecting phones, leapt to their feet like a choreographed greeting party.
‘Please tell me this is Ellie!’ A magazine-thin brunette pushed herself up out of the depths of the sofa and crossed the floor in loud heels.
‘This is she.’ Penny waved her arms about like a game show host. ‘Ellie, these ladies form the bulk of our junior class teachers. This is Grace, and we’ve got Emma, Gemma, and Jemima.’
They almost sounded like an Austen novel. I did my best impression of someone who knew what they were doing, stepped forward, and made my way along the couch, shaking hands and uttering greetings.
‘What’s happening on the sofa this morning?’ Penny asked.
‘The usual.’ Emma used a sole fingernail to tuck a lock of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, her mouth last seen on the back end of our neighbour’s cat. I’d seen that face before on numerous GIFs. ‘Just looking at You Know Whose Facebook, ogling football photos, the usual.’
‘Who what now?’ I looked between the two of them. Then again, did I really want to know?
‘I’ll explain later. We’re on a whirlwind tour of the isles. Bye, ladies.’ Penny grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me in the opposite direction. ‘They’re lovely girls, they really are, but their thirst is real, and their class is sometimes not. Come on, let’s go meet some more people.’
‘Who were they talking about?’ I whispered.
‘You’ll see,’ she muttered, tugging harder.
Where I thought I was going to hide in a corner – I even had a spot picked out at the corner table – Penny made like the amazingly sociable, bubbly person she is and introduced me to anyone she could get a word in with, pushing into twosomes and creating threesomes. With each new conversation, she remembered to include a helpful Brief History of Eleanor. Eleanor is a past pupil, she studied teaching and computing in Melbourne, and has recently returned home. She enjoys knitting, long walks on the beach and world peace, and she once played in an orchestra. Oh, and she’s my cousin. Ask her about the time I broke her arm.
I was both delighted and put at ease by the conversations this started. And the broken arm story was accurate. I was fourteen, and she was trying to demonstrate her best karate chop. With a stick. In hindsight, it may have been the offcut of a railway sleeper. Snapped that bone right in two, she did.
First lesson of the day: I could learn a thing or two from Penny about simply getting out there and being the life of the party. Whatever that special something was, she had it in overflowing buckets and then some.
Phil was busy in conversation with someone else, his bald head gleaming under artificial light, shining eyes lined in laughter. Others milled around and took their spots, echoes of tired greetings and holiday stories repeated ad nauseum while they waited. Eventually, somewhere around the sounding of the first morning bell, we all came to rest in seats and on table edges in some late-thirties game of musical chairs.
‘And a very good morning to my favourite team.’ Phil clapped his hands together, the only person ecstatic about the end of holidays. ‘Welcome back, commiserations if your chosen team lost the Grand Final, and all that buzz. We have one day before the onslaught of final term begins, so I guess it’s heads down today as we prep lesson plans.’
The room was so quiet you could hear stomachs rumble and coffees slurp. The Zip instant boil clung to the wall and sighed as the tank refilled.
‘Look at all that enthusiasm. It’s not that bad, we’ve got a curriculum, we know what to do. We’ve walked this path before.’ He glanced over as the door adjoining my library opened, and three men wandered in confidently late. Leading the pack was an irritatingly handsome man. He was far too attractive to be relegated to a classroom all day.
Around me, women sat up straighter. The mystery of who ‘You Know Who’ was had been solved.
Phil clapped his hands together. ‘Marcus, good afternoon, thank you ever so much for joining us.’
Marcus, who was met by a round of applause, bowed and made a beeline for caffeine.
‘It’s lovely to see you’re still raising our dress standards single-handedly after such a stellar performance on the football field. Well done on the trophy.’
‘I do my very best.’ He pressed his hand to his chest and took a sip of his coffee. He winced and stuck his tongue out in disgust. Yes, the coffee really was that bad.
The high-pitched wheezing I could hear was either the women at my table, gearing up like pressure cookers at a potluck, or the sound of the local fire station calling for help. Marcus, with his navy suit jacket stretched tight across his shoulders, looked like he’d leapt from the pages of GQ in a scene reminiscent of an old A-ha video clip, cuffs ready for shooting and shoes so polished I was surprised we couldn’t see up his inside leg. Not that that would be entirely offensive, it had been a while, and I was running out of options. Either that, or he was one Jimmy Olsen away from writing for the local paper.
He was beautiful in a way that was not possible. At least, not by any of the standards set by my life experiences. He was tall, so much so that most could use him as a maypole and still slip under his arm with room to spare, and I was sure I could stack bricks on those shoulders. Brown hair and bottle-green eyes were accentuated with laugh lines that he wore like some men wore suits – perfectly charming and wonderfully naturally. The glint in his eyes, and the squared-out shoulders told me he knew this, too.
‘And good morning to you,’ Penny mumbled beside me. I held my mug to my mouth in the hope it hid my laughter.
It didn’t.
Scanning the room looking for a place to land, Marcus turned, and offered a tight smile to our table. There was a mouthed greeting mixed somewhere in there, but I couldn’t quite make it out. I made the broad assumption it was aimed at everyone, and not solely at me, because we did not know each other from a bar of soap, and I bet he used expensive soap. It probably also smelled of fresh pine forest and sex. Really, really good sex. He and his two accomplices took the empty seats at the end of our table.
‘And before I forget, I want you all to welcome Eleanor Manning to the team.’ Phil recaptured my attention, imaginary spotlight burning up my face. What’s behind door number two? The new girl! As much as I expected it, warmth still pooled in my cheeks and my skirt ruffled up my thighs as I slipped a little further down into my chair. ‘Ellie is taking over from Cathy in the library who, as you’ll remember, took off like a bat out of hell at the end of last term. Ellie is making me feel incredibly prehistoric today, as I was her principal when she was a student here.’
Was that the sound of surprised gasping? It may well have been.
‘And, boy, do I have some stories,’ Phil chuckled.
‘Please don’t,’ I laughed, hiding my face behind my hands.
‘No, I won’t do that to you today. The Christmas party will be here soon enough.’ He smiled softly. ‘It’s good to have you back, Ellie. But, speaking of Cathy, has anyone heard from her?’
‘Currently sipping cocktails in the Bahamas,’ came a chirpy voice somewhere to our left.
‘Half her luck.’ Phil made a point of rolling his eyes. ‘The most I could manage was a glass of Passiona by the swimming pool after the Grand Final. Even had a little purple umbrella. Anyway, please give Ellie the support she needs as she settles in.’
I gave a quick wave and looked out at a crowd of expecting faces. On first inspection, they looked mostly bored. A few people were checking phones, and Penny was picking at muck under her cadmium-yellow fingernails. Marcus continued to peer into his coffee