Page 2 of The Rest is History
‘Eight years’ experience.’ His tone is a huff. I know people like this, who act as if the mere presence of all other humans is an inconvenience. His students must loathe him. Unless, like me, they have an irrational and deeply inconvenient genetic flaw that means they find obnoxious, arrogant drawls to be the teeniest bit of a turn-on.
Dammit.
‘Yes.’ I mean, what else am I supposed to say to that statement of fact?
‘In the state sector.’
He saysstatelike it’s a dirty word. My eyes narrow.
‘Correct.’
‘You’ll find Hampton Park very different.’ He raises his irritatingly shapely eyebrows in a challenge.
No shit, Sherlock. I don’t grace his statement with a reply. His interview technique isrubbish. I’m tired of responding to non-questions. Instead, I hold eye contact and wait for him to tire of stating facts. He probably expects me to be intimidated. To roll over.
Not happening, pal.
He presses on. Elodie: one. Inquisitor General: nil.
‘You’ll find we dive much more deeply into our topics than the national curriculum allows state schools to do. Will that be a problem?’
Would you look at that? A real, live question. I knew he could do it. Closed-ended, but we all have to start somewhere.
‘I don’t see why it would be. It’s actually one of the reasons I’m excited to experience teaching at a private school.’
‘You feel confident you have the knowledge to accommodate classroom exploration of the subject matter at hand beyond the required syllabus?’
Jesus Christ.
‘Of course. I’d consider it a welcome opportunity to read more deeply around the various periods. You have a lot more freedom on that front than state schools do. My area of expertise is actually sixteenth-and-seventeenth century British history—the Tudors and early Stuarts, really—so I’m particularly qualified to lead on that period, and?—’
He butts right in, and he actuallyholds his hand up, like I’m in danger of vaulting over the desk between us to make my case. ‘I take care of that period around here, thank you.’
What the actual fuck?
Possessive, much?
I have to focus hard to stop my mouth from curling up into an amused smile. Snark is about as unhelpful right now as it is tempting, because I need this job.
‘Okay—understood, Mr Vaughan?—’
‘Charlie.’
‘Charlie.’ My cheeks warm a little. For God’s sake. Get it together, Elodie. ‘So, what periods do you require help with, exactly?’
‘All. The lower years will cover everything from Ancient Egypt through to the Cold War, at a superficial level, obviously. The GCSE syllabus is fairly broad. And I teach the Sixteenth Century History A Level classes for both Lower and Upper Sixth, but we require someone to take the Nineteenth Century class.’
The nineteenth century.
Kill me now.
I’ve focused on early modern history my whole academic career. It was the age of personal monarchy, of larger than life characters imposing their personality quirks on everything from culture to law. It was messy and irrational and can’t-make-it-up crazy.
The nineteenth century, by contrast, was a mish-mash of pale, male and stale government institutions and dominated by economic history—the Corn Laws and, of course, the Industrial Revolution.
All super-important and, in my opinion, deathly boring.
But did I mention I need this job?
