Chapter Nine
Nine
“You want us to what?”
“No! No no no. Not gonna happen. No.”
“I can’t even look at you right now, miss.”
“What have you got us into? You’re supposed to be the adult. This is some childish BS happening right now and I am not equipped for it.”
“H to the E to LL, NO!”
The disgruntled students were crammed into Harriet’s broom cupboard of an office. Outrage was thick in the air. She’d lured them away from the canteen at breaktime with offers of takeout gingerbread lattes and toasties, which had cost her a small fortune. Unfortunately, not even barista coffee and grilled cheese was enough to disguise the poop sandwich she was serving them as the main course. When bribery had failed, she’d tried appealing to their interests, but they still regarded her with suspicion. Ali was sitting in, mostly for moral support, but thus far he’d barely been able to get a word in sideways.
“The part about having somewhere to hang out is good,” said Leo in his usual diplomatic way. “I like the sound of the book club, and, Carly, you’d be great in a glee club.” Carly shrugged but accepted the compliment. “But putting on a play, in front of people, well, that’s…”
“Crap on a cracker, with a side order of crap and a big fat crap shake to wash it all down,” finished Ricco. He was wearing cerise eye shadow today, which was a tough shade to manage, but he pulled it off.
“You are actual drama students!” Harriet huffed. “How can you be so against the idea of performing?”
“I took drama to learn about the writing process, not to be an actor,” said Billy.
“I’m not afraid of the stage,” Carly said, looking at her nails. “I like performing, but I don’t like being made to look like a dick, and this sounds like it’s going to make us look like dicks in front of the whole town.”
She made a good point.
“And how are we supposed to learn a whole play in five weeks?” asked Isabel.
“You won’t need to learn it; you already know it.” This was her trump card. “We’ll do A Christmas Carol .”
Ricco sighed dramatically.
“Oh my god! This is why you should never talk to teachers like they’re actual people!”
Harriet couldn’t help but laugh. “But you do know the text. Between you, you’ve studied the book and the stage play. That’s half the battle won.”
“You see!” said Ricco, gesticulating wildly. “Evil, I tell you!”
“We do know it, though,” Leo piped up.
“Whose side are you on?” Ricco asked him.
“What’s in it for us?” asked Billy.
Good question.
“Well,” Ali chimed in. “You’re all starting your Extended Project Qualification soon, so maybe there’s a way you could use the experience to earn some marks toward it?” He looked at Harriet and smiled warmly. And that is why I flapping love you! she thought. EPQs were accepted grade currency for universities, colleges, and workplaces, and they were a great way to bump up a shortfall in exam results. The promise got the famous five’s attention.
“That is a brilliant idea!” she said. “I’ll speak to the coordinators; we’d just need to tweak your existing proposals to focus your projects through a theatrical lens. Billy, your proposal was a study of Irvine Welsh, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to make it a compare and contrast between the worlds created by Welsh and Dickens. Carly, yours is about social politics, so that’s an easy fix, either switch it to Dickensian social politics or compare it like we did at the theater, with today’s cost-of-living crisis and wealth inequality. Leo, I’m not sure how we’ll make your dissertation on Edvard Munch work off the top of my head, but we’ll find a way…”
“He designed the sets for Ibsen’s Ghosts play,” said Ali. All eyes swiveled in his direction. He shrugged. “I have a master’s in art history. Among others.”
“Good lord,” Harriet said, impressed. “Well, there’s your connection, Leo.”
“How many degrees have you got?” asked Billy.
“Five,” said Ali proudly. “Two bachelor of arts degrees, plus the two master’s and a PhD.”
“You’re overqualified, mate.”
Ali looked crestfallen. Harriet would massage his ego later.
“I hadn’t thought about my EPQ yet, so I could make it about the process of putting on a stage play?” Ricco suggested.
“Perfect!” Harriet felt the familiar teaching endorphins zipping through her. “It could be a study of bringing a classic novel to life on the stage and why the old stories still resonate today.”
“Bloody hell, miss, did you just come up with that?” asked Carly.
Harriet grinned at her.
“Do me next,” said Isabel, who had her legs draped across Billy in a clumsy attempt at flirting, about which Billy seemed none the wiser.
“Okay, your idea was…” She ran through the many proposals she’d had dropped on her desk for perusal before they reached Cornell. Ah there it is, how could I forget! “?‘Is Barbie a Feminist Icon?’?”
Billy spluttered derisively, but Isabel ignored him and nodded expectantly.
“Maybe we could tweak it so…” Come on, brain, don’t fail me now! “What about ‘Does Dickens Write Feminist Characters in A Christmas Carol ’?”
Isabel side-eyed her. “Where’s Barbie?”
“I can’t fit Barbie into Victorian England off the top of my head, but if you can find a way, write a proposal and I’ll happily consider it. So, are we all agreed that we will put on a stage production of A Christmas Carol ?”
“Will you go to prison if we say no?” asked Billy.
“I’d like to think not.” Though she wouldn’t rule anything out where Evaline Winter was concerned. “But it would make my life a lot easier if you agreed. And…” She left it a beat. “You are the reason I got caught up in this mess in the first place. Plus, using it as experience for your EPQs will legitimize your being at the theater, and therefore your parents and guardians are less likely to ask why you are suddenly spending your free time there.”
“So the old woman corners you and then you corner us,” said Carly.
“Pretty much.”
“All right,” said Billy. “If we earn credits toward our EPQs, I’m in.”
Harriet felt a wave of relief. “Great!”
“We’re going to need way more people,” said Carly matter-of-factly. “We don’t even have enough for the cast, let alone stage management.”
This is progress. We’re talking about logistics. Harriet felt…excited?
“I could possibly help you there,” said Ali. “My aunt Prescilla is part of an amateur dramatics group in Great Foss, they might be willing to get on board. Or at least give you some pointers.”
“You are just full of surprises!” Harriet laughed. “That would be great. Would you mind asking her for me?”
“Of course,” he said, smiling. “They might have their own Christmas production to perform. It’s a bit short notice. But you never know…”
“Ultimately, the choice is yours.” Harriet appealed to her students. “I can’t force you to do anything, nor would I want to. I am happy to go to the drama department and see if any of your fellow drama students want to get involved. I’m sure the extracurricular drama club would jump at the chance to showcase their skills.”
“Oh, I’m sure the drama club would lose their shit with excitement,” Ricco drawled with a double helping of snark.
“Right!” Carly agreed, giving him a high five. “They’ll be all over this like fake tan. They’re such a bunch of wannabes.”
“So, you don’t want me to enlist at the drama department?” Harriet asked. “You said yourself, we could do with the extra hands.”
“They’ll take over, miss. Like they always do.”
“Yeah!” Ricco was up and out of his chair, spinning on his glitter high-tops. “This is our punishment, and they can’t have it.”
“Yeah!” parroted Isabel.
“Wait, so now this isn’t crap on crackers with a side order of crap?” Harriet inquired.
“Oh, it’s still a crapfest,” replied Ricco. “But it’s our crapfest.”
“That went better than I expected,” said Ali when the students had gone back to lessons and he and Harriet had sneaked outside so that Ali could vape. “They didn’t even seem too pissed off about spending their Friday night cleaning the theater.”
“It’s amazing what a guilty conscience can do.”
The sky was making a half-arsed attempt at snow, spitting out flakes intermittently. Harriet’s hair was frizzing in the damp air.
“And a spot of bribery,” he said.
“Hmmm.”
Ali’s eyes went suddenly wide, and he stuffed his vape back into his pocket and waved away the popcorn-scented cloud above his head.
“Harriet!” Cornell’s voice boomed across the courtyard. “A word, please.”
“For heaven’s sake, what now?” she muttered as she watched him stride toward them.
“Ali, is it really professional to be flaunting your nicotine addiction in full view of our impressionable students?” he asked when he reached them.
Harriet made a show of looking around the empty courtyard.
“I think he got away with it,” she said.
Cornell glared. “Not the point.”
“I’ll catch you in a bit,” said Ali, sloping back in through the double sliding doors, looking like a naughty schoolboy.
“What can I do for you?” Harriet asked. “I’ve got a tutorial in ten minutes.”
“Not here,” Cornell snapped. Melting snowflakes left dark marks on the shoulders of his tweed jacket. “My office. Now.”
“You do know I’m not a student, don’t you?”
“Your behavior often gives me cause to wonder.”
Cornell marched back into the building toward his office. He was annoyingly tall, like a beige flagpole, which meant Harriet had to practically skip to keep up. A vein pulsed purple at the side of his head and his jaw was locked so tight she imagined his teeth squeaking under the pressure. She wondered what could have got him so wound up.
He sat in his chair and swiveled round to face the window, so that his back was to her. Harriet closed the door to his office and took the seat across from the desk. His office was considerably larger than hers, lined with bookcases and choice pieces of antique furniture. It oozed the ambience of a person who feels that their position is secure until retirement.
She shifted in her chair, waiting for him to speak. She could see his fingers tented in the reflection of the window.
“I do not appreciate my staff going behind my back,” he said finally.
“I’m sorry?”
“You should be. I had a call from Evaline Winter. She’s on the governing board of the school, did you know that? She holds a lot of influence.”
Harriet did not know that. A queasy wave washed over her. This was what her daughter might describe as a “squeaky bum” moment.
“What did she want?” She kept her voice even, but her brain had declared a code red alert and activated the melodramatic thoughts protocol: Do I get redundancy money if I get the sack? I’ll have to sell my flat to help make ends meet, get another job, what job? What if I can’t get another job? Maybe I could live in a caravan, how much are caravans? I’ll live in a field, forage for food, cook nettle soup, I’d need gloves to deal with the nettles, I’ll need a cauldron, have to learn to make fire. I’ll be like the bird lady in Home Alone 2 …bull-phooey, he’s talking…
“To advise me that you are planning to produce a play in the old theater with some of our students, and that you and she had discussed making the space a student ‘community hub.’?” He made air quotes around the last two words.
That sneaky cow! She was making it impossible for Harriet to back out of their agreement.
“I have to wonder why you felt it necessary to do this in secret,” he continued, barely contained seething in his voice. “She also called the dean. He is delighted. Your endeavors will be charted in the next newsletter. It smacks of an underhandedness that I can only assume was meant to ingratiate yourself to the governing board and perhaps grease your ascent up the career ladder.”
“I can assure you, Sebastian, that nothing could be further from the truth…”
He swiveled so quickly to face her that she wondered if he’d given himself whiplash. “You will not have my job,” he spat.
“I don’t want your job. I don’t even want to be putting on a play; it’s really all a big misunderstanding…”
“How so? Please elucidate.”
Cornell glared at her, his nostrils flaring so wide that she could see the hairs poking out of them like spider legs. His jealousy that—in his mind at least—she had been singled out by Evaline and the dean was so strong that his blood was almost certainly a violent green.
She opened her mouth to speak but realized that there was no way to tell him how she had ended up in this predicament without implicating the famous five or telling him that she had spent Tuesday afternoon at the police station, or that she was being blackmailed by an evil theater crone. She closed her mouth again.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Keep your secrets. But know this.” He leaned forward and pointed at Harriet. “I will be watching you. If your work is affected, if you take time off, if the students involved fall behind with their homework or attendance, if this extracurricular production causes you to shirk your duties or drop the ball even once, I will slap you with a disciplinary before you can say Macbeth !”
Harriet sat up straight in her chair and met his eyes. “I think you know me well enough to be assured of how seriously I take my responsibilities to the students under my care, Sebastian. I do not ‘shirk,’ and I certainly have no intention of dropping the ball on anything.”
Even as she said the words, she wondered how she was going to keep her many balls airborne. Half the emails she dealt with daily were forwarded on from Cornell, who seemed to think that correspondence was beneath him, and she had no doubt that he would make her life even harder now.
Cornell sat back in his chair.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you gave up, couldn’t cope.”
It was a low blow, but she had grown used to them from him. Everyone—including Cornell—knew that had she not changed jobs from the English department to pastoral care, she would have been head of the English department by now instead of him. Undermining her was how he eased his discomfort at being second choice. Hiding inside his large skeleton was a small, frightened man with a porcelain ego.
“We both know that isn’t what happened. I expected better from you.” She didn’t, but it sounded good.
“How dare you!”
“If we are done here, I have work to do, as you well know, since most of it is yours.”
She left Cornell in his office, his mouth flapping with outrage, but her triumph was short-lived, as the reality of her situation bolted itself to her shoulders like a concrete cape. Outside forces were backing her into corners.
She checked her phone as she rushed to make her tutorial meeting with her Year 13s. She had three messages from Ali:
What did Cornell want? Tell me everything!!
Do you need me to take your tutorial?
Would you like the good news or the bad news?
“For flap’s sake!” she muttered, hitting dial as her office came into view. “Hey, what’s up? Give me the bad news first.”
“The famous five have gone AWOL again. They must have left straight after break.”
“Give me strength!” She blew an exasperated breath up to the ceiling. How did someone get a gummy bear to stick up there? “Okay, now the good news.”
“Caramel brownies are on the lunch menu in the canteen? Sorry, I didn’t have any good news as such, I just didn’t want to give you only bad news.”
She laughed despite feeling like she was being pulled under the sand by her ankles.
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Leave it with me.”
Despite the promise of caramel brownies in the canteen, Harriet decided she needed a big fat barista coffee from the café in town and made her way out of Foss Independent, registering the incessant ping emitting from her phone as fresh emails forwarded from Cornell poured into her inbox. She hadn’t managed to find any of the famous five, and of course none of them answered her calls or texts. If only she could covertly stick tracking devices to their rucksacks.
As she wandered past the rows of hellebores in the flower beds that lined the path to the exit, a familiar car parked in one of the visitors’ spaces caused her to groan aloud. She considered trying to scuttle past, but even before the thought had fully formed, the back door clicked open and James Knight rose up fluidly before her. He was wearing a navy blue double-breasted military coat over his suit today. She noticed the line of dark shadow where he had shaved and how it defined his jaw. Then she recalled his five o’clock stubble grazing her throat as he kissed his way down her body. “Holy moly!” she gasped out, pressing her thighs together.
“Ms. Smith?” he inquired. “Is everything all right? It is lunchtime. We have a meeting scheduled?”
Of course. Lunchtime. The deadline on her decision that wasn’t really her decision at all and a contract that would be the bane of her life for the foreseeable. Her run-in with Cornell earlier and subsequent mission to locate her incredible disappearing students had pushed the theater to the back of her mind.
“I’d assumed it was a done deal after your client ratted me out to my boss,” she challenged.
“I’m sorry?” James’s mask of professionalism slipped.
He doesn’t know , she thought.
A voice crackled with age rose out of the dark car.
“I do not ‘rat’ people out, Ms. Smith. I was merely ensuring my position and, I might add, securing yours at the same time.”
Harriet looked at James, and he shrugged ever so slightly as though in apology.
“Do get in, the pair of you,” Evaline barked out. “You’re letting all the warm air out!”
Harriet rolled her eyes and climbed into the car, slamming the door shut. Today Evaline was wearing a felt cloche hat in claret with a rose on one side and a coat in the same color. She didn’t bother to make eye contact with Harriet.
“May I?” James asked as he reached to pull the tray across her. Harriet nodded and tried not to breathe in his cologne. She was cross with absolutely everyone and she didn’t want to be aroused by a deliciously scented scoundrel.
James sat back and pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase, which he handed to Evaline. Evaline took them, eyed them lazily, and passed them across to Harriet.
“Please sign this most recent contract, which accounts for your additional responsibilities, and I’ll leave you alone to get on. I’m sure you’re very busy.” She made it sound like she was doing Harriet a favor.
Harriet scanned the paperwork. It was all straightforward enough: sign here to sell your soul to Krampus.
“You’ll notice that I’ve put in a paragraph pertaining to the ‘gentlemen’s agreement’ with regard to a community-use clause being added into any sales contract going forward,” said James.
His careful choice of the words “gentlemen’s agreement” was not lost on Harriet; she was sure Evaline would not have approved a contract bearing anything more substantial. The old phrase Promises are like pie crust, made to be broken swam through her mind, but it was better than no agreement at all.
“What happens if for some reason I can’t get the production performance ready in time?” she asked.
“Then you’ll be in breach of contract,” said Evaline simply.
“But what does that mean? It’s not like you’re paying me. No money is changing hands, so technically if I am unable—”
“I can sue you for breach of contract,” Evaline finished. “And I will. But let’s not get into all that unpleasantness. And you won’t be without help; Mr. Knight will be with you every step of the way to ensure that you deliver.”
“What!” Harriet and James blurted.
Evaline’s countenance remained unmoved.
“Obviously I want to ensure that my theater is being treated with respect, and I’ll need to know that the production is on schedule. The only way to ensure this is to have a person on the ground, as it were.”
James angled his head away from Harriet and lowered his voice. “Evaline, please. I have a full workload, your interests need my attention. I have other clients. I don’t have time to act as a glorified babysitter—”
Harriet’s hackles rose. Evaline cut James off with one raised hand.
“All taken care of. Your partners at the law firm were very supportive of what we are trying to achieve here and were only too happy to give you the coverage you need. I will expect detailed weekly reports, and it might be handy if you keep a journal of the day-to-day to ensure that nothing slips your mind. I know how you like to jot down ideas.” She grimaced like an angry Yorkshire terrier.
“Evaline, I really must protest in the strongest terms—”
“It is done, Mr. Knight.” She turned her attention back to Harriet. “Do sign the contract, Ms. Smith, time is ticking on for all of us.”
Harriet finished reading the new contract and signed it. She handed it back to James, but Evaline took it instead, saying, “Thank you. You may both go now, and I look forward to seeing the Winter family theater brought back to its former glory one last time.”
Harriet marveled at how she had managed to make what was essentially a posturing project to snare buyers with a side order of blackmail sound like the fulfillment of a dear old lady’s final wish. She supposed that was how Evaline would be spinning it for the media too, drumming up interest and creating a buzz that would make her crappy old theater seem like a ripe investment.
Evaline pushed a button on the side panel of the car and said, “Austin, would you mind seeing our guests out?”
The driver opened first Harriet’s door and then James’s and ushered them both reverently out into the school car park. James clutched his briefcase to his chest with an expression of disbelief as the limo reversed slowly out of the space and pulled out onto the road and away.
Harriet watched the limo disappear around a corner. “I probably shouldn’t, but I feel so much better now that Evaline has screwed you over too.” She didn’t need to look at James to know that he was glowering.
“I don’t know anything about the theater,” he mumbled. She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or not.
“Neither do I, really. I’ve read a lot of plays, but I’ve never produced one. Still, before we worry about that, we’ve got to clean the place up.”
“We? I didn’t make any mess. I won’t be cleaning anything. I don’t understand how this has happened.” He gazed along the road where the car had been, looking genuinely flabbergasted.
“Perhaps Ms. Winter felt like you needed to find some Christmas spirit?”
“I have plenty of Christmas spirit, thank you very much!” he snapped.
He was still looking down the street as though the limo might return for him any moment with Evaline leaning out of the window cackling Gotcha!
“This is ridiculous. Unbelievable. Incomprehensible…” he continued to mutter.
“Outrageous?” she offered, tapping her chin. “Ludicrous?” When he glared at her in response, she added, “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were seeking synonyms.”
He straightened his jacket. “You cannot begin to conceive how disruptive this little venture of yours will be to my life.” James’s voice was so peppery it got right up Harriet’s nose.
“ My little venture? You’re not the only person who’s been thrown into this, you know. It’s going to disrupt my life too.”
James sniffed and turned away from her.
“Oh, of course! Your life is so much more important than mine.”
He whipped back round. “Don’t put words into my mouth. I wasn’t casting aspersions on your life. I have nothing more to say to you.”
“Clearly you reserve your charm for picking up women in bars.”
He had the audacity to look offended at this. “Are you accusing me of being a player?”
“If the oxblood brogue fits,” said Harriet, making a show of glancing distastefully down at his shoes, even though she secretly liked them very much.
The wind had picked up and flurried snowflakes in their direction. Students hurried past them, off to find food in their lunch hour. James looked down at his feet.
“What have you got against my shoes?”
“It’s not your shoes that are the problem,” Harriet replied in her most condescending voice.
James shook his head. “Let’s start again, shall we? Would you like to grab a coff—”
“No thank you!” she said, cutting him off. That mercurial nonsense might work with your usual conquests, but not with me, pal! Be a jerk or be a gentleman, pick a personality and stick to it.
For a moment he looked a little hurt, and Harriet didn’t like the way it made her stomach twist. But he quickly recovered himself and fitted the mask of self-assurance back over his features.
“Well then, I suppose I’ll see you at the theater tomorrow?” he said.
“I suppose you will. Bring your rubber gloves.”
She turned on her heel and stomped away along the slushy path. Is he still standing there, watching me walk away? I could turn around, but then if he’s looking he’ll know that I was hoping he was still looking. But I really want to know! No. Actually no. I don’t care. He is stroppy, and I have quite enough actual teenagers to deal with. But it would be cool if he was watching me… It was a relief when she finally turned the corner and that particular inner monologue was rendered moot.