Page 74 of A Class Act

‘Oh?’

‘If our numbers decline much further, the school will close. With the new head in place at Beddingfield High, we’re seeing a quite serious drift away from us. The authority would love to get our site, bulldoze it to the ground and sell it off for housing.’

‘Right.’ I was still at the point of thinking razing St Mede’s to the ground wouldn’t be a bad thing.

‘And, to answer your question, no, I don’t have children of my own.’

‘You’d make a great dad.’ I tittered nervously. Where had that one come from? One minute I’m asking my boss out for a drink and the next I’m giving him the idea I’d like him to father my children. Well, almost.

‘I think so,’ he said seriously.

‘Think so what?’ I was spending too much time gazing into his amazing chocolate-brown eyes – oh, hell, what a cliché – and couldn’t quite remember what I’d asked him.

‘I think I’d be a great father. Trouble is my wife doesn’t agree. Actually, that came out wrong. I don’t know whether she thinks I’d make a good father or not: it’s a long time since we discussed it.’

‘Right,’ I said once more, not quite knowing what to say, feeling a little flare of disappointment he was actually married.

‘My wife and I are separated,’ Mason said, holding my eye for slightly longer than was necessary.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Liar, liar, pants on fire. Petra had been right, then. I felt a little flare of hope replace the previous flare of disappointment.

‘So.’ Mason appeared to want to change the subject. ‘What are you up to the rest of the week?’

‘A ton of planning for next term, I guess.’

‘You’re getting there.’

‘I suppose I am. I reallythinkI am and then aseries of unfortunate eventshappens, like Friday when Whippety Snicket tells me to eff off.’

‘Whippety Snicket?’ Mason started to laugh. ‘How descriptive! But don’t take it personally, Robyn. Blane Higson’s told all of us where to go at some point in his career at St Mede’s.’

‘Even you?’

‘Even me.’ He grinned. ‘If you knew his background, you might understand why he reacts as he does. You know, dad upped and left when Blane was tiny and I’m not sure where his elder brothers are now. Mum’s a heroin addict and more than likely on the game to pay for her next fix. He has ADHD?—’

‘Haven’t they all?’

‘Quite a few have,’ Mason said seriously. ‘Don’t believeThe Daily Herald, which would like us to believe it’s all a made-up syndrome, designed to bleed more benefits from the state.’

Feeling I’d been put in my place, I changed the subject. ‘Lola and I are determined to get Jess onto TopChef.’

‘Oh? What’s that?’

‘Cooking competition along the lines ofMasterChef. But only for those living in Yorkshire.’

‘I hear she’s a great cook.’

‘She’s better than great. She really is superb. You’ll have to come and eat with us one evening.’ Bloody hell, now what was I doing, inviting the man home for dinner?

‘Thank you. I’d really like that.’ Mason looked at his watch. ‘Better be going.’

Why? Did he have someone at home waiting for him?

We pulled on jackets and scarves, picked up our phones and bags and went to leave. At the pub exit, Mason smiled. ‘I go this way – are you OK getting back to the car park?’

But I wasn’t listening.

I’d just seen Sorrel disappearing into one of the newly refurbished apartments across from the town’s main square.

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