Page 86 of A Class Act

‘OK?’ Petra appeared slightly surprised. ‘Oh, after throwing up at the theatre? Yes, I’m fine. By the time Joe picked me up I was starving and desperate for cheese on toast with mint sauce.’

‘Yuck! Is that a pregnancy thing?’

‘What, cheese on toast?’

‘No! The addition of mint sauce.’

Petra looked across her desk at me. ‘No, I always have mint sauce on cheese on toast. Don’t you?’

‘Er, no, not always! Right, it seems our lord and master has finally managed to get his own way with me?—’

‘Oh?’ Petra interrupted, narrowing her eyes slightly. ‘In what way? You do know, Robyn, that while?—’

‘About the idea of putting onGrease,’ I hurriedly interjected.

‘Oh? Lovely! Right! That’s fabulous, then.’ The apparent relief that I wasn’t actually getting more than friendly with our boss had rendered Petra utterly effusive about any forthcoming production the school might attempt to put on. I reckon if I’d told her we were presenting a nude production ofHairorTheFull Montyshe’d have been just as relieved there was nothing going on between Mason and me. And, if Ihadtold her, I’d have had the total lecture about how it wasn’t theprofessionally done thingto have a liaison with another member of staff, but particularly betweenthe head teacher and the supply teacher. But, Petra, I’d have had to add, while I’d not been rendered atotalquivering mess, not in the same way I’d melted into ecstasy with Fabian Mansfield Carrington, there was certainly a connection between our head teacher and myself.

‘Well, anything I can do to help.’ She now smiled, still looking at me a little strangely as these thoughts went through my head. ‘Although, to be honest, I can’t hold a note or act my way out of a paper bag.’

‘We’re a long way off that, yet.’ I laughed as the bell went for the start of the school day. First day back and I was already covering registration for one member of staff who was, apparently, notorious for taking sick days off at the start and end of each half-term. ‘First got to obtain permission to perform it and then find the cheapest way to get scripts. It’s actually not as difficult as it sounds – I did a module when I was at uni in Manchester on producing and directing musical theatre… oh, hang on… sorry…’

Seeing Joel Sinclair walk past Petra’s open door, I followed him down the corridor.

‘Joel?’

‘Miss?’

‘You OK?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be, miss?’ Joel held my eye.

‘Look, Joel, you do know what type of man Peter Collinson is?’

‘I know exactly what he is,’ he snapped. ‘He’s a coke-head with a predilection for young girls.’

Predilection?I stared. Joel Sinclair certainly knew his English language.

‘But I tell you this now, miss, he was also one of the best dancers the UK’s ever produced. I’ve seen loads of his clips on YouTube. And he’s an effing good teacher as well.’

‘I do know that.’ I sighed. ‘He taught you thosejetés,you said?’

Joel nodded. ‘It’s good Sorrel’s out of there.’

‘Do you really think she is?’

‘Yeah, def. Been texting her ever since Thursday. She doesn’t needhim.’ His tone was scornful. ‘She can make it without him.’

‘And you can’t?’

He shrugged. ‘Sorrel’s got you to help her… look, miss, I’m late for registration. Don’t want another bollocking from Mr Mallinson.’

‘OK, OK.’ I put up my hands. ‘But thank you for helping to keep her safe, Joel.’

He laughed somewhat hollowly at that. ‘She’s more than capable of looking after herself.’ He made to move away but, as he did so, I called him back.

‘I can help you, Joel.’

‘Help me?’ He turned, a look of utter cynicism on his handsome young face. ‘No, you can’t. And anyway, I don’t need any help.’

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