was of a little more interest than usual. The Deputy headmaster, Bill Williams, had been forced into retirement suddenly in late May, a few weeks before the end of the school year. His health had been a problem for a while; he died just a couple of weeks before the start of the new school year. The School Council had allowed Robert Hamsby to select the new deputy from the existing staff and part of the buzz around the staff room had been about who was going to get the job.
“I reckon he’ll give it to Timmsy,” said Jack Deans.
Despite his fifty one years, Deans looked like he could still make it into the SAS. Shaven-headed, not an ounce of fat on him, proud father of four girls, he was in charge of Industrial Arts at Woodlands. He was an old school style teacher, took no messing but treated the kids fairly. He coached football, supervised the building of sets for the school musical and was always there to help the young teachers when a class was getting out of hand.
“Timmsy deserves it,” said Deans, “he runs the Sports Department brilliantly.”
“Yeah, but he’s got no brains Jack,” offered Deirdre Palmer.
“Being a Deputy Headmaster requires a bit more than getting the second eleven to the right park, at the right time and on the right day.”
Deirdre Palmer was in her early forties, divorced, attractive and going nowhere. Her problem was her honesty. A fine teacher, in love with literature and able to enthuse even the most recalcitrant fifteen year old, she had never risen beyond the role of class room teacher after eighteen years in the job. If you were talking rubbish she would tell you to your face, be you Becky Holden in 8E9, her latest paramour, or Robert Hamsby.
“So who do you reckon it’s going to be?” said Jack.
“The Deputy has got to be good at everything,” piped in Charlie Page. “He’s got to be a good administrator”–
“What’s this ‘he’ business Charlie?” was Deidre Palmer’s lightning quick reply.
“Sorry Deidre, he or she has to be a good administrator, an educator, be willing and able to work bloody hard and be able to control some of the unruly brats we have around this place.”
Charlie was, of course, describing himself.
Charlie Page was head of Social Science but economics was his passion. He made out he had turned down Oxford because Bristol had a better Economics Department. Charlie was indeed as good as he said he was, but that was the problem. He insisted on telling everyone how good he was. Charlie Page had a First Class Honours Degree and had boxed at university. He was smart, and he was tough. His temper had got him into trouble more than once in his younger years.
Charlie wanted the deputy’s job. He expected the deputy’s job. It just had to be his.
An hour earlier
“For Christ’s sake come on. You can’t be late. You’d be ready if it was for her wouldn’t you?”
The venom in Felicity Davidson’s voice was total. Her husband of five years, Roger Davidson, might have gone on his knees and begged forgiveness for his fling with Patricia Patel, but Felicity wasn’t going to let him forget it soon. She had put her career on hold to help him up the ladder and had given him the child he so desperately wanted. And what had he done?
“Started screwing that bitch from the Modern Languages department”.
“Come on, we’ve got to drop Rebecca off at kindergarten on the way.”
Felicity Davidson stormed out the front door, play group bag in one hand while dragging Rebecca with the other. Roger had known for a long while that things were going sour with Felicity. He wasn’t sure if his pursuit of his various ‘other interests’ was the cause or the result of things at home. And he could not work out whether his affair with Patricia Patel was chance or inevitable.
The night that he had given her a lift home proved to be the start of the most passionate relationship he had ever had. Roger Davidson had never experienced sex like it and he grew to hunger for every minute he could spend with her. They were almost caught once in a storeroom at Woodlands. And yet…
But Patricia Patel was obsessive. It took Roger a while to realise this but by then it was too late. As far as Patricia was concerned, Roger Davidson was hers. She found his ‘other interests’ rather amusing.
“Have you ever longed for Felicity like you have for me, Rog? Could you really stand not being near me? Tell her it’s over. You know that I am the one for you. I mean it Roger, tell her it’s over!”
Roger Davidson’s head was buzzing. He had broken it off with Patricia only two days earlier, just after he had received his call from Robert Hamsby. Roger might fantasise about Patricia Patel’s body, but nothing was going to stop his rise and rise. He was only twenty nine, and Robert Hamsby had rung ‘him’. He knew the affair had to end. He knew that a life with Felicity was the price he would have to pay for his ambition, at least in the short run.
As he stepped into the hallway, he received a text. It was Patricia. She was not going to let go of him that easily.
“See you at school baby. I’ve been thinking of your tongue all night.”
Mixed emotions swirled around his head. As he closed the front door, he heard Felicity’s voice: “For fuck’s sake Roger get a move on”.
Back at the staff meeting
Robert Hamsby stepped forward.
“Right everybody, let’s get started. Welcome back to the start of another year’s adventure in learning.”
He knew this comment would get catcalls and gentle jeers, which it did, which is why he said it. Robert Hamsby had learned long ago that the best way to get an audience onside was some immediate self-deprecation. He had the staff smiling; now he was ready to get down to work.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you know Bill Williams passed away during the summer holidays. It was expected but still a shock. I’ve been to see Jean a few times since the funeral; she’s holding up pretty well considering. Bill may have been dealt a bad hand health wise, but he was certainly lucky finding Jean.”
There were murmurs of agreement around the room.
“You all know Bill had a passion for music and did great things with the kids. Even when he was poorly earlier in the year, he was there at the Town Hall concert working with the school band. Jean wants to establish a memorial prize in Bill’s name for student involvement in music. Bill had put money aside for this. Carol I’ll talk to you about that in a day or two once we’ve got things moving here.”
Carol Bryson was the head of music. She nodded, tears in eyes. She and Bill had worked closely over the years on the annual concerts.
“But we have to move forward. As many of you know, the School Council has allowed me to choose my new Deputy from the existing staff, allowed me to choose a man or woman who has the skills of organisation, communication and the ability to get along with me, the staff and the kids. A leader.”
He paused
