Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“ G ood morning, class 4R,” said Nisha. “Let’s get ourselves sat down nicely in our places.” Chrissie was handing out name stickers and helping the children find their seats. “Dottie, I can see toast crumbs all down your front, can you brush yourself down, please?”
Dottie was a name she was confident Nisha would be saying a lot in class, and possibly with a hint of frustration in her voice. Chrissie smiled. Dottie was a bright spark in the class, in all ways, and prone to a bit of chatter and chaos.
“Thank you,” said Nisha, as the noise settled. “I want to introduce myself to you, because you all know each other and the school – in most cases,” she looked warmly over at Francis, who still looked a little terrified. “My name is Ms Rajan and I’m brand new,” she said, “so I will be learning from you.” She paused. “But,” she paused again, this time for emphasis, and adopted a very serious expression, “we are class 4R, and we are awesome.”
Chrissie could hear children giggling. Nisha continued. “So,” another dramatic pause, silencing the children, “in the mornings, when you come in, I want you to remember that. Can you remember that?”
There was a low murmur across the room.
Nisha raised her voice. “I can’t hear you. Can you remember that?”
“Yes,” said a few voices.
“Hmmm,” said Nisha, “Miss Anderson, I think we can do better than that, don’t you?”
Chrissie nodded, “Oh yes, Miss, I think so.”
“Good,” said Nisha, looking at the wide-eyed children before her. “Repeat after me: We are class 4R, and we are awesome!” The children hesitated. “Come on!”
“We are class 4R and we are awesome,” said the children quietly.
“You don’t sound awesome,” observed Nisha, frowning. “Try again, and this time try and put a bit of oomph into it. I want Mr Harvey to have to pop his head in to find out why we’re all being so noisy and awesome.”
The children giggled, and this time they bellowed the words, looking at each other with smiles on their faces.
“Much better, thank you,” said Nisha, turning her gaze to Chrissie. “Miss Anderson, I wonder if you could help us get started on our literacy this morning.”
Nisha had a commanding presence in the classroom, and the children seemed to respond to it in spite of the inevitable first day excitement.
The morning passed in a whirl of handing out books and pencils, answering questions about whether or not Hardev’s father really was Spiderman, as he insisted, and checking that Francis was getting on ok.
Lunchtime came as a welcome relief. “Well,” said Nisha, “we made it. Well done, us.”
“Half a day down, umpteen more to go,” replied Chrissie, with a laugh. Saying it out loud reminded her of the reality of her situation. “But yes, I think we got through ok. The children always struggle the first day back, particularly when it comes to sitting still and paying attention, so I reckon we did well. Aside from Dottie’s lap of honour for getting all her maths questions right, at least.”
Nisha laughed. “Coffee, I think.”
They settled down together in the staff room. Chrissie was beginning to feel more comfortable with Nisha, although each time she thought back to that summer, a shudder tore through her heart. That couldn’t go on all year, surely?
“Good afternoon, ladies,” said Dan, settling himself down beside the two women with his Lego themed lunchbox.
“Hey, bab,” said Chrissie, happy to have safer company.
“So, how was your morning?” asked Dan. Nisha took the opportunity to describe the Spiderman incident in all its glory, and the classroom drama that had followed. Chrissie allowed the conversation to flow over her as she ate the falafel salad she’d made that morning.
Her mind drifted to the many lunches of instant noodles she had shared with Nisha that July, once their A levels were over. They would sit on the lawn on a blanket, surrounded by books, talking endlessly about everything and nothing. It was a hot summer and it felt like it would never end. There was football on TV every day, constant stories about David Beckham and England’s chances in the World Cup, Shakira and Coldplay on the radio, and they didn’t have a care in the world. Until they did.
“So I realised then that I needed to make a change,” said Nisha, her voice breaking into Chrissie’s reverie.
“Yeah, I get that,” said Dan, opening a tiny Tupperware box filled with grapes, and popping them into his mouth one by one.
“And this job came up. It seemed like a sign,” Nisha went on. “After everything that happened, coming home didn’t seem like such a bad thing to do. I was always happy in Birmingham.”
“And who can resist the pull of the People’s Republic of Kings Heath?” said Dan, smiling.
“Well, absolutely. Chrissie and I spent many happy days here when we were young.”
Dan’s head snapped up from his grapes. “You know each other?” he said. Chrissie froze.
“Yeah, we were at school together,” Nisha replied casually.
Chrissie could hear the blood roaring in her ears. “A long time ago,” she said.
Nisha frowned slightly and looked down at her own lunch. Dan eyed Chrissie quizzically before Nisha stood up. “I guess I should get set up for the afternoon,” she said, almost sprinting for the exit.
“Now there is totally a story here,” said Dan. “How is it that you omitted to tell me that you actually know her, that you were at school with her?”
Chrissie felt guilty. She should have been more open with her friend. “It’s complicated,” she replied.
“I’m not going to pry,” said Dan, “much as I’d love to.” He winked. “It’s your business. But are you ok? You seem a bit off.”
“I’m fine,” Chrissie told him. “It was all a long time ago. We were friends and then had a bit of a bust up before we went to uni. We never saw each other again after that, so it’s just a bit awkward to be honest.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie. “I’m sorry, Dan. I should have told you I knew her.”
“Don’t worry, bab,” he said, “we all have our secrets.”
Chrissie was relieved. Dan was a good friend. She didn’t want to lose him.