Chapter 19 Charlotte
Charlotte
That she’d forgotten to leave Harry’s dog flap open in order for him to get out into the back garden seemed like such a trivial thing that no one would much worry about, but having two children from her own class at the children’s home, plus several in other years, meant it was something she didn’t really want being passed around the school playground tomorrow morning.
Some of the children thought she was scatterbrained as it was; there was no point in reinforcing the notion.
She would definitely have said goodbye though, had it not been for that awkward conversation she had overheard in the kitchen.
She’d only caught the tail end of it, Lisa telling Jacob to take a chance and Jacob asserting that she wouldn’t be interested.
It was an interesting assumption, and everyone knew the problem with assuming anything.
She told her children a sanitised version, and tried not to make assumptions about anything herself, but it was human nature, of course.
Assumption was as common as speculation, and she was no less guilty than anyone else.
What about Jacob’s assumption, however? Was she interested?
He was attractive: he had nice hair, not too short, not too long; he had nice eyes and a kind smile.
His wardrobe needed some work, but then so did most men’s, in her humble fashionista opinion.
Nothing that half an hour in the John Lewis in Exeter wouldn’t fix.
She’d often found it the case with men, however, that they tended to dress for the occasion.
Suits for the office, smart casual for dates and nights out, very casual for everything else.
Charlotte preferred to maintain consistency regardless of the occasion.
But … was she interested?
He seemed … nice. Kind. She liked kind. And caring.
He clearly cared for the children at the home.
Caring was good too. Clumsy … but that could be forgiven.
And there was something entertaining about his awkwardness.
She couldn’t think about him making coffee without any actual coffee without it bringing a smile to his face.
But … Grandma had just died, meaning life was on its head, and of course, there was James.
Their first date had ended with her getting home a little later than usual, after his helicopter had needed to divert to the local airfield when they found a police car waiting in the plaza outside the theatre.
He had some kind of charge to answer, but assured her his legal team would deal with it.
Then of course, there was the thing about what he had said about Father Christmas.
He had called him an old fraud and threatened to make him disappear.
Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to think about it without feeling a little angry, but regardless, it was hard not to be impressed by a man who had flown her to Paris for a first date.
He had insisted on a second date this Sunday night, and while at first she had tried to use work the next day as an excuse, eventually she had given in to his persuasion and agreed.
Harry was happy to see her, and thankfully hadn’t made any mess.
Grandma had always let him go out into the garden, even though Charlotte had always feared that the dog flap was large enough to allow a small intruder to get inside.
As she thought about how Grandma would have laughed off such a notion, pointing out that Harry had descended from wolves and would channel his inner wildness in the event that someone dared to try, her eyes filled with tears. It wouldn’t be easy living here alone.
With Grandma’s wake behind her, it felt good to be back into a routine.
For the next few days, she put all her energy into her job, playing catch-up on the Christmas decorating, teaching the children how to make various types of decorations, from paper chains to angels made from toilet rolls and tissue paper and silver stars covered in glitter.
Her classroom was the envy of the school, with pupils from other classes coming over at breaktimes to marvel at it.
Even old Mr. Wilson’s mouth twitched into enough of a smile to suggest he might finally be recovering from his stroke.
On Thursday they had a teacher’s meeting to discuss the school Christmas play, which would be held one week before Christmas.
Charlotte’s class were doing a version of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol.
Even though several of the loudmouths had called for Billy Toad to play Tiny Tim, she had resisted encouraging the stereotype, and had instead given it to Rocky Thomas, a big, boisterous boy whose dad was an estate agent manager and drove a Mercedes.
Billy had been slotted in as The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.
While they were behind on preparations, it was a truncated version with not much dialogue, so Charlotte was confident they could be ready in time.
Rehearsals had begun in early November, and while several kids still couldn’t remember their lines without carrying around their scripts, there was still plenty of time.
‘I’m afraid there’s good and bad news,’ Mr. Wilson said, to a chorus of groans.
‘Pay rise got refused but we’re having a staff party?’ quipped Rick Fellow, currently teaching Year Two.
‘Yes and no,’ Mr. Wilson said. ‘The council inspected the gym, and they found a beam or something that’s loose in the roof.
’ He shrugged. ‘Something technical. Ring them up if you care that much. They want to get it fixed before New Year, so they’re coming one week before the end of term to do repairs. What this means is—’
‘The play’s cancelled?’ called Rick. ‘Not to worry. My class isn’t nearly ready.’
‘No surprise there,’ Mr. Wilson said, rolling his eyes as best as his paralysis would allow.
‘No to that too. However, there are two options. We bring it forward a week—’ A collective groan rose from the teachers, along with protestations, ‘—or, we combine it with the Sycamore Park Christmas festival. One of the organisers rang me to ask if we could do something anyway. They’re short on acts.
We’d have to start about four o’clock and be done by six, but that shouldn’t be a problem, should it?
You’ll have an extra week to prepare. The only downside is that it’s outside, and you know what that means, don’t you? ’
Another groan. ‘Permission slips,’ one teacher said.
‘That’s right. Anyway, does anyone have any objections?’
‘Me and Amy booked a week in the Bahamas,’ Rick said.
Mr. Wilson frowned, peered over his spectacles, and offered the merest hint of a smile. ‘Isn’t it cyclone season? I’ve heard New Year has much better weather.’
‘We can put it back,’ Amy hissed, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
‘Any other objections?’
‘The cold does terrible things to my arthritis,’ said Maud, the school secretary.
‘As you’re not in charge of a class, you won’t need to attend,’ Mr. Wilson said, to more groans, followed by a whoop of joy from Maud. ‘Is it settled then? Can I confirm with the council?’
No one raised any more objections. Charlotte was secretly pleased; it meant her class would get a bigger audience than just their parents, and she had been hoping to attend the festival anyway.
‘Didn’t see that coming,’ Jennifer said, leaning across the desk.
Charlotte grinned. ‘I just hope it snows,’ she said.