The Head Teacher's Christmas Hope

Chapter One

Last week in October

Dan cursed as he looked at the estimated time of arrival on the Porsche’s satnav.

Bugger, he was going to be late. Clearly some things never change — as a kid he’d turned up late to Riddlescomb Primary School more times than not.

He was thirty-six now though, and being late for the head was not cool.

Damn, Pete wasn’t going to be happy. Especially as they wanted a favour from her.

Reluctantly, he dialled his friend’s number — the guy might be his manager, but he was also his mate. When Dan wasn’t pissing him off.

‘Hey, Danny boy, please don’t tell me you’ve only just woken up?’

‘Come on, Petey.’ Two of them could play the dodgy name game. ‘You know me better than that.’

A beat of silence, followed by a groan. ‘You’re going to be late, aren’t you?’

Dan glanced again at the arrival time on the satnav and winced. ‘A little.’

‘For . . .’ A lot of muffled swearing followed; hard to listen to when you were the focus. ‘Define a little,’ Pete demanded when he’d run out of obscenities.

‘I want to say five minutes.’

‘I don’t give a flying fig what you want to say. I told Anna Dalton you’d be there at eleven o’clock. How flaming late are you going to be?’

Dan swallowed. ‘I could say ten minutes, but that might be a touch optimistic.’ Considering the satnav was currently showing arrival time at eighteen minutes past eleven.

‘Why the bloody hell didn’t you get your lazy arse out of bed earlier?

You’re thirty-six, you great hulking nitwit, not sixteen.

’ Dan had no reasonable excuse for being late, other than totally underestimating the time it would take to drive up, which no doubt went under the banner of lazy because he’d not bothered to check, so he took the insults on the chin.

‘I shouldn’t have to send a car for you just to get you somewhere on time,’ Pete continued his annoyed mutterings.

‘It’s a basic human skill, yet one you don’t seem to have bothered to master.

Now she’s going to think you’re rude, and she’ll probably have a point because arriving late is bad manners.

Especially when she’s doing you the flaming favour. ’

Anxious to stop the tirade, Dan cut in. ‘Remind me again why I need this favour?’

‘Why?’ Dan could almost see Pete’s eyebrows shooting to his hairline. ‘I’ll tell you why. Because you’ve hit a self-destruct button since you were axed from Love Surgery. We need to do some damage control before you totally kick your career into touch.’ He sighed. ‘And then—’

‘There’s Natalie’s helpful comments.’ The mention of his ex-wife caused Dan to drag a restless hand through his hair, a mixture of anger and misery lying heavy in his gut.

‘Yes,’ Pete replied heavily. ‘The press now view you as a cross between an alcoholic Don Juan and the Child Catcher.’

Dan felt his chest tighten. The Lothario branding he could live with — he didn’t like it, wasn’t sure he deserved it, but he could live with it.

The garbage about him not liking children — or more precisely, his own son — was gutting.

He loved Max, nearly eight years old, with his blond hair, innocent blue eyes and a smile that could tug Dan’s heart right out of his chest, and often did.

Except he’d not seen that smile, not seen his son, in over six months.

Guilt coiled, along with a hefty dose of despair.

He didn’t need Pete knowing how hurt he felt though, how betrayed, so he quipped, ‘What happened to sugar-coating bad news to keep your client happy?’

‘That was the sugar-coated version.’ Pete let out a long, slow breath.

‘Look, mate, I don’t want to be all doom and gloom.

We can sort this, and helping your old school out with acting lessons is a positive first step.

Providing you can convince the new head, Ms Dalton, that you’re serious about the project and you’re not just some arsehole minor celebrity who’s only interested in what the school can do for him. ’

Dan clenched his jaw at the unsubtle rebuke. Turning up late definitely came under the arsehole category. ‘I hear you.’

‘Good. Now put your foot down, get there as quick as you can and prepare to charm the socks off her. Oh, and do that without getting a speeding fine. I don’t want to add reckless to the womanising-child-hater tag.’

‘Cheers.’ Dan tried to keep his tone light, hiding the sting he felt at the last few words. ‘A joy to touch base with you, as always.’

‘Note I said charm the socks off her,’ Pete added. ‘We do not, I repeat do not, want you linked with any more women for a while.’

‘Hell’s teeth,’ Dan replied, beyond miffed. ‘I think I can manage to keep it in my pants in front of a damn head teacher.’

‘In which case, my work here is done. I can now relax, knowing by Christmas your image will be flying high enough to attract a few more . . . suitable roles.’

Dan appreciated the tact. ‘Offers to do cat food commercials still flooding in, are they?’ He pulled off the motorway and onto the slip road.

‘On second thought, don’t answer that. I’d rather carry on in blissful ignorance.

’ He checked the satnav again. ‘Right, got to go. Need to focus on getting my lazy arse to school within the boundary of acceptably late.’

He ended the call before Pete had a chance to come in with his ‘late is never acceptable’ spiel.

* * *

Anna looked at her watch. She had ten minutes before her appointment with Daniel Ramsey.

The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. Flipping heck, who’d have thought it.

Her meeting Dr Tyler Moore. Okay, it wasn’t actually the handsome fictional doctor from the medical drama but still, it wasn’t every day she got to meet an actor.

Walking back down the school corridor towards her office, she caught sight of Riley leaning on the wall outside his classroom.

Arms folded, legs crossed. Most of the pupils caught in a similar situation would avoid her eyes.

Nine-year-old Riley raised his chin and gave her a cocky smile. ‘Morning, miss.’

‘Morning,’ she replied evenly. ‘Why are you outside the classroom and not inside it, Riley?’

He looked put out. ‘’Cause miss told me to leave.’

‘And why did she do that?’

He shrugged, with attitude. ‘Beats me. I was only asking Connor the time.’

‘Why did you need to know?’

He shuffled his feet, then gave her a sheepish grin. ‘The lesson was well boring.’

Anna struggled not to laugh. Kids like Riley were both the bane of her life and the reason she loved her job.

The chance to take all that spirit and mould it into something productive.

‘Perhaps it was boring because you didn’t understand it.

And perhaps you didn’t understand because you weren’t listening properly. ’

‘Nah, it was maths. Maths is boring.’

Again, Anna had to control the urge to smile. ‘Tell me, Riley, what do you want to do when you grow up?’

His answer came quick as a flash. ‘I’m gonna be a millionaire businessman.’ He gave her a cheeky grin. ‘I might invite you onto my yacht, miss.’

‘Thank you.’ She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. ‘And how are you going to work out how much money your business is earning, and how big a yacht you can afford, if you don’t listen in your maths lessons?’

At that moment the door opened and Bridget Hammond popped her head round the classroom door. Mid-fifties with a round smiley face, she glanced at Anna before looking down at Riley. ‘Are you ready to pay attention now, Riley?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Okay then, go back in and sit down.’

When he’d shuffled back in, Bridget sighed. ‘I wish I could find the key to that lad. He’s bright enough, but doesn’t want to learn. Too busy being the class clown.’

‘Would it help if we sat down together to discuss him?’

‘That’d be grand, thank you.’

It was the tone — quiet, a little listless — that made Anna pause. ‘How are you faring, Bridget?’

‘Oh, you know, good days and bad days.’ She nodded back to the classroom, which was now making a considerable racket. ‘Taking care of this lot helps. Doesn’t give me time to think.’

Anna smiled. ‘I can see that. I’d better let you get back before there’s a riot. We’ll catch up later.’

Her heart sighed as she walked back to her office. Bridget’s husband had left her just over a year ago, and she was still finding it hard to adjust to being single. The time of year didn’t help. Nor did hearing that her ex had recently moved in with another woman.

As she walked past the admin office, Hayley shouted out to her. ‘Ready for your date with the dishy Dr Moore?’ Young, single and pretty, Hayley was also the biggest gossip Anna had ever come across.

‘From what I’ve read, Daniel Ramsey is no longer playing Tyler Moore.’

‘I know. It’s such a bummer he got axed from Love Surgery.’ The look she gave Anna could only be described as wistful. ‘I used to have such a crush on him. He was all charm and sexy come-to-bed eyes. No wonder those nurses wanted to shag him.’

‘He was acting a part, Hayley. I suspect in real life he’s nothing like that.’ Though from what she’d read in last Sunday’s newspaper, perhaps not.

‘You’re kidding, right? Recently the press have had him with a different woman every night. In fact, in the last photo I saw, he was falling into a cab with three of them.’ She sighed, twirling a lock of her blonde hair round her fingers. ‘Lucky cows. I’d give anything to be one of them.’

‘I hope you have more respect for yourself than that. Besides, he’s too old for you.’

‘No way. He’s what, thirty-six? I’m twenty-five next month.’ A dreamy expression settled over her face. ‘I’ve always fancied going out with an older man. One who knew exactly what he was doing, if you know what I mean.’

Anna understood what she meant, though she couldn’t say she knew what she meant. Her experience of men was limited to Chris. Twenty-two when she’d met him, the same age as her. Twenty-nine when she’d lost him.

As the familiar ache began in her heart, Anna excused herself to her office and slipped onto her chair.

Five years since she’d had the knock on her door from the police, telling her she was a widow, and the ache was still there.

Duller with time, sure, the tears now contained instead of running freely down her cheeks.

The loss though, the anger that he’d been so prematurely snatched from her, still burned bright.

A glance at the clock reminded her it was time to compose herself.

Making sure nobody was in the corridor — she made it a policy to keep her door open when she wasn’t in a meeting — she sneaked the compact out of her handbag and checked her face.

Hair sort of in place, eyeliner not smeared.

Ideally, she’d have put on some lipstick, added blush so she didn’t look so damn pasty, but then the staff would have noticed and ribbed her something rotten.

Embarrassingly, Hayley wasn’t the only one with a teeny crush on Dr Tyler Moore. Anna was looking forward to finding out if Daniel Ramsey lived up to his on-screen persona.

She glanced at the clock again. If he eventually turned up.

She was deep into the minutes from the Governors meeting when a flustered Hayley knocked on her door. ‘Tyler, oops, no, I mean Daniel . . .’ She blushed. ‘Err, I meant to say Mr Ramsey is here to see you.’

‘Thank you, Hayley.’ Finally, Anna muttered to herself. Did the man think he was more important than her, just because he was a small screen TV celebrity?

Bristling, she rose to her feet to greet her eleven o’clock — make that eleven fifteen.

But then Daniel Ramsey walked into the room, and the irritation whooshed out of her, like air from a balloon, leaving her limp and weak-kneed. No, she told herself as she almost drowned in the blue of his gaze, I won’t go all fan girl on him.

No, she repeated to herself again when he smiled, the eyes crinkling, a pair of wicked dimples popping out on either side of his mouth. Absolutely bloody no.

‘Hi, I’m Dan.’ He stretched out a hand.

In a daze, Anna shook it, her pulse rocketing as the warmth from his grip lit small fires throughout her bloodstream. ‘Anna.’ All was not lost. At least she still remembered her own name.

‘Sorry I’m late. You must be cursing me. I guess it’s only what you expected though, huh? Bloody celebrities, think they’re better than everyone else.’

Take a breath. Find your tongue. Act cool, for God’s sake.

Anna gave him a careful smile, motioning for him to sit down so she didn’t have to stare at the long, lean body, encased in black jeans, black jumper and a smart grey jacket.

Easing herself onto her own chair, she made sure to avoid his eyes.

It made it easier to think. And then to talk.

‘You had a long journey, from London, I think?’

‘Yep. I used to live in Riddlescomb, though. Went to this very primary school.’ He grinned, a flash of white teeth and those impossible dimples. ‘Probably still find my initials carved in places they shouldn’t be.’

She had no problem imagining him as the naughty schoolboy. ‘My predecessor, Henry Butterfield, mentioned he was at school with you.’

‘That’s right. Funny to think he came back to be head. The things he and I used to get up to.’ He chuckled. ‘But my lips are sealed.’

‘Henry said you expressed an interest in helping the school?’

Another wide smile. ‘Probably sounds cheesy, but the other day I was having a bout of nostalgia. I remembered the run up to Christmas, and how being in the play was the highlight of my year. It started me thinking that if I held a few acting classes for the kids here, I might be able to inspire a couple.’

The glittery scales she’d been wearing since he’d stepped into the room fell from her eyes.

Henry hadn’t said in so many words, neither had the Peter guy who’d spoken to her to set this meeting up, but it didn’t take a genius to work out why Daniel Ramsey was here.

And it wasn’t so he could inspire a generation of future actors from his old school.