Chapter 3
Do you, by any chance, actually speak?
Clara
“Clara,” Mrs Clayton said, and I looked up from the French plait I was redoing in Margot’s long hair.
Her original plaits had long since fallen victim to her various playground escapades, and all that hair needed to be wrangled out of her face so that she could finish her painting. “He’s here early, dear.”
My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat at her words as I continued to try and finish the plait with shaking fingers.
When Mrs Clayton had approached me earlier to ask if I would meet Lord Sterling, I’d given her a flat no.
Then she’d told me that he was threatening to go to the board of governors, that it could put my position in jeopardy, and I realised I’d have to go through with it.
I could not risk this job. It was a lifeline for me at the moment.
A wave of resentment swept through me then.
People like Lord Sterling had no idea how terrifying any threat to your employment was when you were struggling to get by in London like me.
When you had to live independently. When going to your family for help was out of the question.
I shuddered at the very thought. No, people like him just demanded stuff.
They issued commands and expected us lesser mortals to do their bidding.
Work was supposed to be my safe space, one of my only safe spaces, and he was ripping that away from me. My bloody contract said I didn’t have to meet parents, but I was guessing Lord Sterling didn’t care about that as long as he got his way.
“O-o-okay,” I stammered and bit my lip as I frantically tried to finish the plait, annoyed with myself that I’d let that speech impediment creep back in.
I was usually really good at staying calm and talking normally at school, but of course, most of the time, I was talking to under-tens with no prospect of over-large lords interrogating me.
Thankfully, I managed to finish the plait after a few more painful seconds of struggling to control my shakes.
But as I was about to stand, Margot grabbed my hand with her tiny one.
“Are you okay, Miss Clara?” she asked, her blue eyes filled with concern as she blinked up at me. For someone who was prepared to lock a supply teacher in a cupboard, Margot had surprisingly well-honed empathy. I forced a smile.
“Of course I am, love. You finish off your lovely painting now, okay, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Daddy!” shouted Ozzie, jumping to his feet and sprinting across the room, knocking his chair over in the process.
With a sickening lurch, I turned to the doorway to see Ozzie collide with the long legs of the large man filling it.
He was all the way across the room, but this was the closest I’d ever been to Lord Sterling, and he seemed even more intimidating than when I spied on him from the first-floor window.
When he looked across at me, I thought I might pass out.
His ice-blue eyes stared straight into mine, fixing me in place like I imagined a lion would fix an antelope.
His intensity was almost too much for me to cope with.
I wanted to run but was frozen to the spot.
Thankfully, he looked down at his son, breaking the connection and allowing me to take in some much-needed oxygen.
“Hey buddy,” he said in a warm voice which did not match his intense, icy stare from moments ago, as his hands went to his son’s hair to ruffle it.
Then he did something that, if I didn’t already have a raging crush on the man, would have kick-started one in a serious way – he dropped down to crouch in front of Ozzie so that he was at eye level with him and smiled the most glorious smile I’d ever seen in my entire life.
I heard Lily mutter, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” from behind me, so I knew I wasn’t the only one affected.
Even Mrs C let out a small sigh. “You had a good day, mate?” Lord Sterling asked after giving his son a brief hug.
“Yes!” Ozzie said. “Miss Clara taught me another game which helps my brain sort out the letters, and then she showed me all the actions to the sounds and then—”
“Did she now?” Lord Sterling said, looking over his son’s head and straight at me again.
Bloody hell. I was not going to survive an actual conversation with this man.
There was simply no way I could manage it.
Lily gave me a nudge, and I stood up awkwardly from the child-sized chair I’d been perched on, pushing my glasses back up my nose and tucking my hair behind my ears.
“Well, I’m going to have a little chat with Miss Clara now before the end of school,” Lord Sterling continued, his eyes still fixed on me.
His deep voice saying my name gave me the weirdest swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach, almost as though I was free-falling on a rollercoaster.
Ozzie looked between his father and me with a small frown on his face.
“Be nice to Miss Clara, Daddy,” he bossed, some of his father’s tone leaking into his little boy voice.
This didn’t surprise me. Ozzie was a miniature carbon copy of his dad.
Lord Sterling ruffled his son’s hair again and smiled down at him. The swooping got worse.
“I’m always nice,” he said.
Ozzie laughed at this obvious lie as Lord Sterling looked back over at me and raised an eyebrow.
For a moment, I had the most outrageous urge to laugh.
It was like we’d gone back in time a couple of centuries, and he was Lord of the Manor expecting a subject to do his bidding in response to a simple facial expression.
Lily gave me another shove from behind, and I swallowed down the nervous laugh as I made my way over to him with leaden feet.
I stopped about five yards away. Any closer, and I felt like I might self-combust with nerves.
“Miss Clara, I presume?” Lord Sterling said.
I had to look away from the intense blue of his eyes, instead focusing on his tie as I nodded.
“You are a difficult lady to access.” I felt heat spread up my neck at the accusation in his tone.
“But if you could spare me a moment of your time, it would be much appreciated. I presume your hair-dressing duties can wait for now?”
Ugh, the condescending prick was taking the piss.
Well, Margot’s hair was important to her.
It made her happy, and making children happy was my jam.
Belittling me for doing my job was a dick move as Margot and Ozzie would say.
But then I was used to men in authority behaving like entitled dicks, so I didn’t know why Lord Sterling doing it made me feel so let down.
He’d demanded this meeting hadn’t he? It may have been because the Lord Sterling I fantasised about wasn’t an entitled, condescending prick, so the IRL version was always going to be a disappointment.
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, wishing I could reply like a normal human, but knowing that if I did speak just then it would probably come out more like a small squeak and make me look even more odd. So, I just nodded again, still focusing on his tie.
“Wonderful,” he snapped, his tone even more irritated than before. He swept out his arm to the door next to him, saying, “After you,” as if he, rather than Mrs Clayton, ran the school.
Lily gave my arm a quick squeeze, whispering, “You’ll be fine,” in my ear and then giving me yet another gentle shove.
I managed to make my feet move towards Lord Sterling, but in order to pass him and go through the door, I had to come within a couple of feet of him, and his proximity was completely overwhelming.
He was absolutely huge up close – well over six feet, with broad shoulders under his tailored suit; he towered over us women and all the kids.
I got a light waft of expensive aftershave and clean male scent that made my heart rate stutter then pick up at double time as I walked out of the room, concentrating on not tripping over my own feet.
Lily was talking to Ozzie now and leading him away.
Lord Sterling and Mrs Clayton had followed me and I heard the door shut behind us.
When it was just the three of us, Mrs Clayton turned to Lord Sterling with a stern expression.
“Remember what we talked about, Rafe,” she said in an equally stern voice. I blinked in shock. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would never have imagined anyone would have the guts to address Lord Sterling by his first name and certainly not to speak to him like he was a naughty child.
“Yes, okay, Mrs Clayton,” Lord Sterling replied in a resigned tone. “You don’t have to give me another lecture.”
She gave a sharp nod, then her expression softened as she turned to me. “You can use the Art Room, Clara. Lord Sterling just wants a quick chat about Ozzie. Like we talked about, okay?”
I nodded again, still not able to speak, and she sighed.
“Right then. I’ll be back soon.” This was directed at Rafe and sounded very much like a warning.
As she walked away down the corridor, I had the most ridiculous urge to shout after her to come back, which was cowardly in the extreme.
I could do this. I could talk to a concerned father like a normal person.
Couldn’t I?