Chapter 1
Today, Edie’s sandwich was mature cheddar topped with sliced tomato in brown granary.
Nothing wrong with that. But she’d been in such a rush to get out of the house this morning, she’d forgotten to add mayo and the bread was dry and hard to swallow.
She should keep a jar of the stuff in the staffroom fridge for emergencies.
Chewing disconsolately, she glanced out of the wide, rectangular window and all she could see was grey: the sky above, the concrete forecourt below, even the grassy area beyond the school railings seemed to merge with everything else into an indistinct gloom.
And it was spitting with rain. Of course it was. It had been like this for most of January and February. Barely a sliver of sunshine and not a single sprinkling of snow all winter to liven things up.
‘Grim, eh?’
She glanced round and exchanged smiles with Tom, who taught Geography. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or -six and had only been here since September, but seemed amazingly confident – in a good way.
He plonked his Tupperware container on one of the round, white, melamine tables in the centre of the room and started to pull out a chair, which squeaked on the vinyl floor.
‘It’s terrible; it never stops raining,’ Edie agreed from her position on the pale blue sofa.
She always settled here, with her sandwich on her lap, rather than at a table; she’d sat or stood behind a desk all morning and it was a relief to be able to stretch out her legs and lounge back for a bit.
Tom removed the lid from his Tupperware box, fished out a wooden fork and shovelled in a mouthful of green pesto pasta. Edie didn’t want to move from where she was but wondered if it would be rude not to join him.
She needn’t have worried, though. The staffroom door swung open and Miss Bamford hurried in, clutching a pile of books.
‘Hi, Tom!’ she said, flashing him a dazzling grin. Edie smiled inwardly. He was a good-looking chap, for sure, and charming with it; she’d bet all the young female teachers had their eye on him. Some of the older ones too, probably.
Miss Bamford – Martha – plonked her books on his table. ‘Mind if I join you?’
Tom’s face lit up. ‘Of course – be my guest.’
Martha sashayed over to the tall white fridge on the far side of the room and fetched her lunch, wrapped in tinfoil, and a can of Diet Coke.
Tom went back to his food, but Edie thought he couldn’t have failed to notice his colleague’s pretty features and neat figure in a tight-fitting, cinnamon-coloured polo neck, flattering black trousers and black heels.
She’d seen the two of them chatting animatedly a few times in the corridor between classes; there was clearly an attraction.
She felt quite wistful, remembering the electricity between her and Ralph when they first got together. It had been such an exciting time, full of fun and promise.
Twenty-six years on, their eldest child had left home and the younger one was away at university. They seemed to have packed all the light in their suitcases and taken it with them.
Placing her half-eaten sandwich back in the box, she laid it to one side and picked up her phone to make a call. Several more staff came through the door; the room was filling up fast. She’d have to be quick.
‘Hi, Hannah, can you speak?’ she said, keeping her voice low, so as not to annoy anyone.
‘Sure,’ came the reply. ‘I’m having lunch at my desk.’
Edie could picture her friend in trackie bottoms and a baggy sweatshirt, chomping into a salad. She always ate salads. She was forever trying to lose weight, but sabotaged every diet by snacking on peanuts and biscuits in between.
She was probably spilling bits of lettuce and smearing olive oil on the keyboard. She was awfully messy, but as she worked from home, there was no one to call her up on it.
‘Have you thought any more about that holiday I suggested?’ Edie went on. ‘The weather’s so shit, it’s getting me down. I need something to look forward to.’
‘I have actually. What about Crete? I’ve never been and it’s supposed to be lovely. May half-term should be perfect weather, too. Warm but not too hot.’
‘Ooh!’ Edie’s mind instantly filled with images of sandy beaches, bright white buildings and sparkling azure waters. ‘Ralph and I had our honeymoon there. We loved it, but for some reason we’ve never been back.’
‘I’m slightly up to my neck with work at the moment,’ Hannah mumbled. She was quite hard to understand when her mouth was full. ‘Can you look into villas and I’ll research flights and hire cars?’
‘Sure,’ said Edie. ‘Any preference as to which part of the island we stay on?’
There was a crunch, followed by chomping noises. Celery? Raw carrot?
Edie waited patiently while her friend finished chewing.
‘Anywhere’s fine by me,’ Hannah said eventually. ‘Let’s not stay too far from the airport, though. Mac hates having a massive long drive straight after getting off the plane.’
‘Agreed. I’ll do a bit of googling and report back.’
They said goodbye and Edie forced herself to finish her dry sandwich, or she’d be hungry later. After that, she popped a dark red grape in her mouth and nearly swallowed it whole when someone tapped her firmly on the shoulder, making her start.
Jessica, the History teacher, was standing right behind her. Edie quickly chewed the grape a couple of times before gulping it down.
‘Oh! Hi!’ she said, managing a smile, though her eyes were watering.
‘How was your morning?’ Jessica asked, seeming not to notice Edie’s face had turned red, too.
‘Fine, thanks. My Year Nines were a bit rowdy, but I’ve got my lovely A-level English group to look forward to this afternoon. How about you?’
Jessica switched her black leather bag from one shoulder to another. She was tall and slim with a long, pale face that was interesting rather than pretty, and small, clever, bright blue eyes.
She had a passion for ancient history and though it was rarely taught in state schools nowadays, she’d managed to persuade the head teacher to include it as an option.
‘My GCSE lot are finally getting to grips with Echo and Narcissus. They seem quite enthralled. One pupil said if Narcissus was alive today, he’d be obsessed with selfies. I love it when the penny drops and they realise it’s not just a dusty old story; it still has relevance.’
Edie smiled again. ‘Great they’ve made that link.’
Jessica was wearing a maroon-coloured dress, tied at the waist with the buttons done up to her neck. Her straight, mid-brown hair was in a ponytail, with hairpins on either side to anchor any stray strands.
It was well known pupils found her intimidating; even some of the staff were a bit scared of her. Not Edie, though, who found her intriguing.
Jessica was in her late forties, single and with no children, but she didn’t seem remotely sad or lonely. Highly intelligent, she had numerous interests as well as ancient history, including classical music, poetry, crochet, travel, marathon running and, perhaps surprisingly, crime novels.
She took no nonsense from anyone and had a reputation for being strict, while Edie was the one people turned to in a crisis.
Even the other teachers would come and cry on her shoulder if they’d had a row with the boyfriend or husband or a dressing-down from the head.
Edie didn’t ask for it; it just seemed to happen that way.
Jessica’s exam results were the best in the school and gossipy staff claimed this was only because the children were terrified of her. But as Edie would point out, those brave enough to pick her subject at A level seemed to end up hero-worshipping her, so she must have something special.
The phone flashed on the seat and Edie’s train of thought flitted from Jessica, Echo and Narcissus and ancient Rome, to Greece.
‘I’ve just been speaking to a friend,’ she said. ‘We’re thinking of going to Crete in May half-term. Have you been?’
Jessica shifted from one foot to another and nodded.
‘A very long time ago, when I was in my twenties. I remember visiting Knossos, centre of the old Minoan civilisation. I went to some beautiful beaches, too, but I can’t recall which ones.’
‘I need to find us a nice villa. I’m sure there are loads. I just hope we haven’t left it too late.’
‘Oh, you’ll find something,’ Jessica replied distractedly, checking her watch. ‘Goodness! Time’s ticking. I’d better hurry up and have lunch.’
Walking briskly over to one of the high tables in front of the window, she pulled out a stool, settled down and reached for the sandwiches in her bag. She rarely joined Edie on the sofa unless they’d made a prior arrangement, or Edie specifically invited her.
After finishing her grapes, Edie wiped the crumbs off her lap and took a sip of water. She’d have liked a strong coffee but needed a pee and also had a bundle of worksheets to print off before the next lesson.
One of her former pupils, a young woman with dark curly hair and big brown eyes, was coming through the door as she was leaving.
‘Hello, Amina. How are you?’ she asked, pausing. She was always pleased to see her.
‘Good, thanks, Mrs Lovell.’
Amina had arrived at the school six years earlier speaking barely any English and traumatised by the war in Syria, from which she and her family had fled.
Edie had been her form tutor for that first year and had taken her under her wing. Amina was smart and keen to learn as well as polite, funny and personable.
Impressed by her attitude, Edie had given her extra language lessons in her own time and lent her books to read. Amina could soon keep up in class and before long, she’d even started to overtake many of her peers.
She went on to achieve first-class exam grades. Disappointingly, though, she hadn’t got into the university she most wanted to attend.
Encouraged by Edie and her other teachers, she’d decided to take a year out and reapply. In the meantime, she’d come back to school for two terms on a paid, part-time basis to assist the IT department.