Chapter 9 Anna
Anna
Monday morning arrives with soft honey sunlight seeping through my curtains. I peel my eyes open and drag myself out of bed to get ready for my first day back at work after the Easter break.
When I reflect on my time off, Gemma was absolutely spot on—I did absolutely nothing with it except wallow in my flat.
I think about the shows I binged, the junk food I consumed, and the romantic tragedies I forced myself to read, and mentally slap myself.
Because, Jesus, I have been pretty bloody bleak.
On the upside, at least I redeemed myself by ending the break with a bang—Cooper’s wicked tongue.
Tugging my robe tighter around myself, I head to the kitchen for a much-needed caffeine fix. Even though it’s April, the spring mornings are still chilly. My nipples are like bullets.
“Ugh,” I groan, pressing the button on my coffee machine.
Gemma was right, I desperately needed some dick. It’s just a shame I won’t ever have that dick again. He’s all I’ve thought about over the weekend.
I watch the liquid gold fill my cup as the heavenly scent of coffee fills the small space. I top it with milk and a dash of sugar before knocking it back.
When I arrive at work, I take my time to greet my colleagues, all of whom spent their time off jet-setting around Europe with their partners and children.
Oh, how very different my life is now.
I’m putting my lunch in the staff-room fridge when whispers erupt around me. I pause mid-motion, straining to catch the conversation.
Did you see that new kid in Anna’s class?
Did you see his dad?
Oh my God, yes! He’s even hotter than he looks on the telly.
I heard he sent his teammate to the hospital.
I heard he’s a raging drunk.
I’d do incriminating things to get a piece of that man meat.
I roll my eyes. So inappropriate. Some of my colleagues clearly don’t care about the whole don’t-date-your-students’-parents-rule. It’s Teaching 101.
My new student Finn Murphy is coming today.
I personally couldn’t give two shits that his dad is some high-flying athlete—I’d rather have a Pap smear with a pair of rusty spoons than watch sport.
Ever since Finn was placed in my class, though, they’ve all been trying to shove their phones in my face to show me how hot Finn’s dad is, but I’ve dodged each attempt.
I’m more concerned about the EpiPen Finn carries for his peanut allergy.
And the fact that he’s only just started speaking again after months.
Not only is it extremely insensitive to the poor boy whose parents recently split, but it’s wildly unprofessional for me to be looking at photos of my students’ parents—on social media, Google, or otherwise.
As a teacher, you need to have clear boundaries, and social media stalking is one of my biggest no-nos.
Most of my cohort, however, obviously disagree.
I don’t use my real name on social platforms for that very reason—well, that and the fact Max’s unhinged ex-wife decided to stalk my Instagram stories and turn up to his house after April’s wedding last year.
Now his ex is very much out of the picture, and Gemma’s sporting a giant rock on her finger.
Needless to say, I separate the student from the parent, especially when that parent has a public profile. It’s not the first time we’ve had some sort of celebrity send their child to our school, and I doubt it will be the last.
I work at Richmond Private School, an independent co-educational school, just thirty minutes outside of Central London.
The sprawling Georgian estate sits on twelve acres, taking up a decent chunk of the gorgeous tree-lined Petersham Road.
The towering wrought-iron gates display the school crest and open to a sweeping circular drive where flashy, and sometimes chauffeur-driven, cars drop off children each morning.
It’s totally lush. The school has an Olympic-size heated indoor swimming pool, an athletic track, an indoor sports hall, and three additional buildings dedicated to the arts, science, and, of course, the dining hall.
We even get the occasional deer wandering near the football pitch during early morning training sessions.
It’s quite the contrast to my humble Putney flat.
Teachers work their rings off to earn a position at this school, and parents pay an obscene amount for the privilege of sending their kids here.
I worked three years at a state school in the north, took evening classes for my master’s, and competed against two hundred other applicants to earn my position here.
Teachers dream of positions like this. I’m not willing to let anything jeopardize my job, no matter how hot someone’s dad might be.
The only thing I care about is Finn and his education. When he was placed in my class, I was told he’d barely spoken to anyone outside his close family since the split. The poor guy.
I gather my things and head upstairs early, to set up for the day.
My classroom is on the third floor of the main building, with tall sash windows overlooking the running track and enough desks for sixteen students.
I’ve plastered as much of the students’ artwork over the walls as possible, bringing as much color and vibrancy into the space as I can.
I’m jotting the day’s learning objectives on the smartboard when my colleague Roger strolls in.
“Miss Browne,” he says coolly.
I continue my task without bothering to face him.
Roger has been on my case about a date ever since rumors of my divorce started circulating through the staff nine months ago.
And, unlucky for me, he’s too bloody interested.
In fact, he was looking at me in a way that raised the hairs on the back of my neck well before those rumors started.
“Just call me Anna, Roger,” I reply, my tone flat. My pen still moves across the board.
“Right. Anna.” There’s a pause. “How was your break?”
His footsteps cross the room, coming closer. I sigh, finally pivoting to find him leaning against the edge of my desk, smirking. He kicks one ankle over the other.
“It was fine. Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, setting my pen down.
Please say no, please say no.
“I was wondering if you’d like to grab a couple of drinks tonight. You know, decompress after the first day back?”
“I’m busy tonight, sorry,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Oh, well, perhaps another night, then?” He doesn’t move from my desk.
“We work together, Roger. I’m not sure that’s appropriate.” I turn back to the board, hoping he’ll take the hint. The sharp ring of the school bell echoes through the school, followed by the stampede of little feet charging down the corridor.
He holds his hands up in mock surrender, but his smirk returns.
“All right, all right. I’d better get to my classroom.
” He bloody winks at me as he takes backward steps toward the doorway.
“You get back to me about that drink. We could have a nice chat. Get to know each other better. Just think about it, yeah?”
Ew. Don’t get me wrong, Roger isn’t hard to look at. He’s six foot tall, with a slender build and dark blond hair that brushes just below his ears. But I have absolutely zero interest because:
A) we work together.
B) he gives me the creeps. I can’t name it, but something about him makes my skin crawl. He’s nice enough, just… overly persistent.
C) Cooper. I can’t get him or his impressive cock off my mind.
“I’ll consider it,” I lie.
“Looking forward to it, Anna.”
The moment he’s gone I let out a long breath. I finish my task, tidy up the last of my things, and turn to the door, smiling as a few familiar faces appear.
“Good morning!” I call out. “I hope everyone had a great break.”
Both excited and unenthused voices fill the room as the kids stream in, chatting about their holidays and hanging their bags on hooks and finding their usual seats.
When the room silences, I notice there’s only one seat left unoccupied.
Finn.
Just as his name crosses my mind, a small, sad-faced boy appears, flanked by Cedric Taylor, also known as Principal Taylor.
Finn’s of average height for his age, and fair-skinned with a dusting of freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his button nose.
Dark lashes frame his brown eyes, and his short deeply red hair is styled neatly.
I notice a small plastic band fastened around his wrist. His allergy bracelet.
He’s adorable.
“Miss Browne,” Principal Taylor announces. “We have a newcomer this morning. This is Finn Murphy.”
Whispers erupt as children crane their necks and lean toward each other, cupping hands around ears.
I paste a bright smile on my face and step forward. “Hi, Finn. Welcome to 2B.”
Cedric claps his hands together loudly and the students snap to attention.
“Children,” he says. “I’d like you all to give Finn the warmest Richmond Private welcome. He’s new to London, so I’m counting on you to be the kind, helpful students I know you are.”
Cedric’s eyes find mine. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted, Miss Browne.”
I thank him and Cedric dashes out, leaving little Finn standing nervously in the doorway, his hands wrung together.
I gesture for him to come in. “Finn, why don’t you come up here and tell us all a little something about yourself.”
His doe eyes scan the room, taking in the sea of faces. Slowly, he edges over to join me at the front of the classroom.
Dark pigtails bounce as Yuki shoots her hand into the air.
“Yes, Yuki?” I ask.
“Where are you from?” she asks, directing her question to Finn.
He shifts on his feet, glancing up at me uncertainly, as if asking me whether it’s safe for him to speak. My heart squeezes—I know that he’s had trouble speaking for the past few months. I give him an encouraging nod. “It’s okay, you can answer.”
“Um… I’m from D-Dublin,” he says in a thick Irish accent.
Another hand flies up and, before I can even acknowledge him, Chester asks, “Is that in Cork?”
Finn looks at me with panicked eyes, and I can’t help but smile. “No, Chester. But Cork and Dublin are both cities in Ireland. You were so close!”
Joshua’s voice pipes up. “Why does your voice sound so funny?”
A few of the students snigger as Finn’s cheeks blush. He drops his gaze to his feet. The poor lad. I wish I could tell the whole class that Joshua is the kid who spells can’t as cunt, but alas, I rein it in and clap my hands together.
“All right, everyone. Let’s remember our classroom rules about being kind and welcoming.
Finn has a lovely Irish accent, and if any of you visited Dublin, the children would think you sounded different too.
That’s what makes our world so interesting.
All our voices sound different depending on where we’re from. ”
“Like a Yorkshire accent?” Yuki asks, beaming.
I nod. “Exactly, Yuki. Just like we have different English accents in different regions here.”
Yuki glows with pride and flutters her lashes at Finn in what might be the start of a crush. The corner of his lips tip ever so slightly—so quick, I almost miss it. It’s the first hint of a smile I’ve seen from him.
“Finn, why don’t you go and take a seat next to Yuki and we can start today’s lesson,” I say.
He nods, shuffling to the empty seat beside her.
“I heard your dad’s famous,” one kid calls out.
Great. Here we go.
“I heard his mummy left him,” Josh announces as Finn sits down.
The classroom is dead silent. Finn’s eyes well up with tears, but I watch as Yuki’s sweet smile vanishes, narrowing her eyes at Josh. He sticks his tongue out at her.
“That’s enough, Josh,” I warn. “We do not spread rumors or say nasty things in this classroom.”
“But it’s true, though. My mum said so,” he insists.
“Is not!” Yuki snaps, clenching her small fists on her desk.
“Is too!” Josh volleys.
“Enough!” I say, increasing my volume. “Josh, that’s your first warning. Am I making myself clear?”
Josh has a reputation for being the schoolyard bully, picking on any kid who shows the slightest vulnerability. Looks like he’s found his new target.
Not on my watch. The little turd even has the nerve to look wounded.
“Yes, Miss Browne,” he drawls.
“Good.”
I give Finn a reassuring nod, grateful Yuki jumped to his defense so quickly. At least he’s made one ally on his first day. If Yuki can help him settle in and feel comfortable enough to participate, I’ll consider it a victory.
But as we move through the day’s activities, I notice Josh’s continued hostility.
I correct him twice for pulling faces across the room, and again for muttering snide comments to his friends.
I make a mental note to organize a support plan for Finn and conversations with both sets of parents.
I’ve dished out enough warnings to Josh today.
As much as I love my job, my students, and teaching, there’s always one shit-stirrer in every class. Finn’s been quiet and on the verge of tears all day. And I’ll be damned if Josh makes that little boy’s life harder than it already is.