Page 31 of Second Song

“It’s what?”

His voice drops as we head for a staircase. “Has Luke talked to you about us all being trauma-informed yet?”

“He mentioned it.” I shrug, still uncomfortable with comparisons between someone with real trauma and someone like me, who caused all of their own trouble.

“Teo’s a good example,” Charles tells me. “He came to us angry for a very good reason, only all of his anger didn’t have anywhere to go. I don’t understand the appeal of grime or rap, but that kind of music is absolutely an outlet for him. I know Luke would tell you this if he were here.” Charles fixes me with a look a thousand miles from his previous sparkling. “Teo wasn’t only on track for expulsion from his last school. He was on track for prison. Was furious about something that happened in his family, and so isolated. Now he’s opening beautifully. Like an oyster, you know? They’re only ever rough on their outside. Inside? There’s more than one pearl at Teo’s centre.”

“More than music?”

“You’ve seen him with my little ones? He’s so, so gentle with them. They’re another outlet for him, which is why he gets sent to my classroom so often.”

“Sent?”

“That’s what the team decided. If he’s struggling with whatever is still stuck in here”—Charles touches his temple—“all of his teachers know to tell him that I need an extra pair of hands for a few minutes. Play always works wonders for getting Teo unstuck here.” He touches his chest in another Luke reminder. “He gets to be useful, gets to be thanked, and gets to go back to his lessons much more open to learning.” He fixes me with an open look of his own. “Today is the fastest I’ve ever seen him volunteer information to one of the team.”

I have to look away from what sounds like me already belonging. Anyone else might know how to respond—how to accept a compliment instead of being speechless. This time, my voice is stolen by a different story unfolding outside this window.

Luke is in the car park, only he isn’t there alone.

He stands beside a truck, speaking with a builder who holds a hard hat.

Charles joins me. “That’s Dominic Dymond. He manages all of our renovation projects. You’ll meet his little girl on Monday. Maisie’s a hoot, and her daddy is as hot as sin, but don’t go getting any older-man ideas about him. He’s happily loved-up with our school bursar. Have you met Austin yet? Looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth but he’ll happily have your bollocks for his breakfast if he catches you eyeing up his hubby.”

Hot as sin or not, Dominic Dymond isn’t who I look at.

My gaze locks elsewhere, zooming in as if through the scope on a rifle.

Another man in a hard hat heads towards the library with a sledgehammer, and I know Charles is still talking—I know he is—but it’s all I can do not to fling this window wide open and risk a repeat of almost falling by leaning out to keep that other man in sight.

I tune into Charles just as he says, “Let’s swing by my classroom. I’ll find the children’s learning journey scrapbooks so you can read them over before Monday. After that, what would you like to see next?”

I blurt, “The library,” even though I’ve seen that space once already and there’s a whole school left to explore, but that’s where I need to be now.

I need to, and so what if my vision isn’t twenty-twenty?

That workman looked a lot like Liam.

12

LIAM

Dominic Dymond wasn’t wrong about this old school building. From the outside, it looks strong and sturdy, but a closer look at the plans compared with what his crew have already discovered tells a different story. He repeats what he last told me in his kitchen. “House of cards, right?”

“Potentially.”

He also introduces me to the headmaster. “Luke, this is the demolition pro I hoped might be able to fit us into his schedule.”

I set down a sledgehammer to extend a hand. “Liam Sexton.”

“Luke Lawson. Thanks for coming.” We shake. I also nod at what he probably means to come out as joking but actually has a gut punch of worry behind it. “Demolition, though? Just letting you know, I don’t have the budget for a complete rebuild.”

“You shouldn’t need one if I’m careful.” I point out structural issues that past builders patched over decades earlier. “Here are your main problems.”

“Main problems? More than one?” He leans over the plans with us. “Where?”

“Here and here.” I point up at where the library’s walls join with the original school building. Then I point at where a preliminary check made Dom call a halt. “You’ve got a double whammy here of too much load to bear and insufficient foundation. Good thing Dom spotted it before taking the rest of that wall out.”

“Because?”

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