Chapter Two History Bites
Chapter two
History Bites
Jude lingered outside the newly refurbished school hall, takeaway coffee in hand, trying not to feel like a fraud in his own school.
The corridors gleamed. Fresh paint. New flooring.
And spotless windows. All signs of a determined rebuild.
The fire damage was gone, erased beneath a surface of clean lines and careful optimism.
But beneath the plaster and polish, he could still feel it.
The ghost of smoke no contractor could scrub away clinging to the air.
Even now, with the low murmur of teacher chatter filtering through the door, Jude’s skin prickled as if the heat were still rising.
He’d spent the summer recovering. Most summers were a slow exhale, but this one had been different.
Quieter. Heavier. The fire might not have left lasting scars on his body, but the emotional wreckage was harder to bury.
Some nights, he still woke gasping for breath, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets.
He’d thought the nightmares would fade. That the worst had passed.
But sometimes they bled into daylight, shadows lingering at the edge of thought, curling through lesson plans and coffee runs and the too-quiet moments between.
He should be used to nightmares by now.
He’d grown up inside one. Escaped half a dozen more since.
But they kept coming. Night after night.
And when they did, he woke alone. Trembling.
Sweating. Clawing his way out of dreams thick with smoke or the historical remnants of a brutal crack of fists on his skull.
Maybe it was a good thing none of his dating efforts since settling in Worthbridge had worked out.
Who wanted someone who flinched in their sleep?
Who sat on the edge of the bed at three a.m. reminding himself he’d made it out? Of the fire, and everything else.
No one.
Maybe that was the point.
He wasn’t sure he deserved anyone, anyway.
With a deep breath, he stepped into the main hall of Worthbridge Academy.
The place he’d called home for the past two years.
That had offered him structure, purpose and, against all odds, a life untethered to the mess he’d come from or the past he’d spent years trying to outrun.
Here, he wasn’t someone’s trauma or someone else’s mistake.
He was Mr Ellison. A teacher. A colleague. A man rebuilding.
It hadn’t given him everything, but it had given him enough. A handful of friends. A rhythm to his days. Something solid to hold when everything else felt like driftwood. This was his second chance. And he didn’t want to be afraid of it.
Not when, for the first time, he had something worth staying for.
So he stepped forward.
The usual rows of exam desks were replaced by clusters of chairs angled towards the projector screen and the staff table stacked with filter coffee, biscuits, and a tray of rapidly disappearing croissants bought in bulk from Costco. Courtesy of Radley Enterprises. A little note of gratitude.
At least sixty teachers crowded the hall for staff training.
Some sat sifting through safeguarding handbooks, others clustered in groups, trading timetables and summer gossip.
A softer hum had replaced the usual drone of excitable teenagers.
Low voices, the hiss of the coffee urn, the scrape of chairs, the clatter of a dropped pen.
No barked orders about shirts tucked in, no corridor chaos.
Adults filling the space, restless in their own quieter way.
“Morning, Jude!” And Miss Patterson, Angie, from Geography waving at him from her seat, half a croissant in hand. “You made it through the summer, then?”
Jude offered a faint smile as he threaded his way between chairs and found a seat near the edge. “Just about. You?”
“Was lovely. Went to Lanzarote. Sat on a beach. Read a book!”
“Sounds perfect.”
“You get away?” Angie peered at him over her glasses.
“Not this year.” Nor any year, but it was never an idea to divulge how he’d never been able to leave the country.
So he sipped his cooling coffee, letting the background noise settle around him. At the front, Headteacher Mrs Temple stepped up to the lectern.
“Welcome back, everyone. I hope you’ve had a restful summer and are ready for the new year.” She shook her head, a frown forming. “And what a year it’s been.”
A hush settled over the room.
“We all know the events of last term won’t leave us entirely.
But today, seeing this building restored, seeing all of you here, it means more than I can say.
” She swept her gaze across the hall, over the rows of tables filled with teachers, support staff, admin, and caretakers alike.
Then landed on Jude. “And I want to take a moment to acknowledge the bravery shown during the fire. In particular, Mr Ellison, who stayed behind with one of our pupils. Shielding him from smoke and heat until emergency services could reach him.”
A different kind of heat crawled up Jude’s neck then, and worsened when the applause began.
Tentative at first, then rolling across the room in a tide he couldn’t duck beneath.
It was unnecessary at best. He didn’t feel like a hero.
He’d done what any decent man would have.
Teacher or not, leaving Alfie Carter behind hadn’t been an option.
But applause? A plaque? Whispers about Teacher of the Year?
None of it belonged to him. What he wanted, and what Worthbridge needed, wasn’t another ceremony or empty sentiment.
It was to ensure that a fire like that wouldn’t happen again.
For the people behind it to be found, stopped, locked away. For the town to breathe without fear.
Worthbridge needed an actual hero.
That wasn’t him.
But he did what was required at that moment.
Smiled. Nodded. Accepted the well dones while silently begging Mrs Temple to move the hell on.
And as he did, he drifted his gaze over the rows of colleagues clapping dutifully, until it snagged on someone he didn’t know.
A man. In the far corner. Clapping along with the rest, eyes fixed on him, but his smile wasn’t perfunctory.
It was wide. Unrestrained. So genuine it punched the air from Jude’s lungs harder than the fire ever had.
The man was new. Had to be. And PE, too.
That was written all over him. The shorts, the polo, the way he stood as if the hall belonged to him.
That loose, easy stance all Physical Education teachers had.
And he was tall. Black. Collar-length locs tied back.
Power wrapped in casual ease. Confidence radiated from him, not loud or forced.
But… undeniable. Present. And a sudden rush of fresh air filled the hall Jude had been choking in for months.
Christ. Jude didn’t usually think like his year elevens, but bloody hell.
Thankfully Mrs Turner’s voice cut through his unprofessionalism, “And whilst we are on applause, please welcome Mr Bailey. Substitute PE teacher to support Mr Stanmore while Mr Levy is on extended paternity leave.”
The new bloke lifted a hand, easy as anything, and offered a few hellos.
Jude couldn’t look away.
And when the man’s gaze swung back and caught his, that smile stayed.
Easy, unguarded, as if it belonged there.
Jude dropped his eyes to his notebook, shifted in his chair, cleared his throat.
Because one—there wasn’t a chance in hell that bloke was gay.
Two—Jude had long since abandoned the fantasy that Cupid would deliver someone perfect, ready-made and waiting, to his place of work. And three—he still wasn’t ready.
That was the main reason, if he was honest.
“Speaking of the fire…” Mrs Temple pulled Jude back from getting lost in the past. “We’re joined this morning by members of our local emergency services, who’ve kindly agreed to speak with us about preventative measures, emergency protocols, and, most importantly, safeguarding the children in our care.
Please welcome firefighter Reece Morgan, paramedic Trent Lawson, and PC Freddie Webb, who will each be giving a brief presentation.
I encourage you to take notes, ask questions, and treat this as a vital part of our ongoing commitment to student welfare. ”
Well, that brought Jude back to reality.
Three men crossed the hall towards the lectern, uniforms crisp, carrying a quiet authority, drawing every gaze without them trying.
Jude looked up, tapping his pen on his notepad, and had a quiet reminder of why falling for easy smiles and handsome men wasn’t something that ever went his way.
And how Freddie, right there, was living proof of how not ready he was.
Freddie smiled. Brief, but genuine. A nod of recognition to Jude, but nothing more.
He was too caught up in his own life now.
His own romance and love story that had gone exactly his way.
But Jude returned it, polite, restrained.
Their history barely counted. A few coffees, a handful of quiet conversations, a couple of sweet kisses and a very awkward dinner ending with Freddie’s childhood sweetheart walking back into his life and sweeping him off his feet.
And in hindsight, it had been for the best. The last thing Jude needed was to get tangled up with law enforcement.
Not when he’d spent so long keeping his past buried.
So he turned back to his notebook, pretending to focus as Reece launched into a well-rehearsed fire safety briefing on the different extinguishers, evacuation routes, and common staff room hazards.
Jude scribbled the occasional note, though mostly out of habit.
In truth, he was listening more than writing.
Letting the easy cadence of Reece’s voice blur into background noise.
After that, Trent knelt beside a training dummy, demonstrating CPR. Then Freddie stepped up to the lectern.