Page 51 of Autumn in Sycamore Park
Amy sauntered off through the staffroom front door into the corridor, just as Rick came stumping in through the back. He looked at the stack of photocopies on the copier tray, then raised an eyebrow at Jennifer.
‘Trying to lose your job?’
Jennifer narrowed her eyes. ‘I have passion,’ she said. ‘And I have drive. Who would fire me?’
Rick smirked. ‘Having a license doesn’t mean you can drive, and I’m yet to see any evidence of passion. But, if you want to come over to mine this weekend, I’d be willing to give you an interview.’
‘Will your other woman be there? The one I spoke to on the phone?’
Rick’s face flushed so quickly it was as though Jennifer had slapped him. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Your—’
‘Quick! He’s coming!’ Amy shouted, as she ran back into the staffroom, crashing into a printer near the front and nearly knocking it off its table. As she turned to right it, her sleeve caught on a jar of pens on the edge of Downton’s desk, sending them clattering to the floor. As the headmaster stepped into the room, looming over Amy, Jennifer jabbed at the copier’s reset button, trying to get the print run to stop early. As the last sheet jetted out, she grabbed the cluster of prints and tried to stuff them into her desk drawer, only to trip on Rick’s crutch.
‘Watch where you’re going,’ he said, as two hundred sheets of paper plumed like confetti, then spread out across the desks and the floor, covering everything in requests to lobby the local council over the proposed waterworks and cutting down of Big Gerry, signed by Headmaster Greg Downton.
‘What’s this?’ Downton said, picking up a sheet of paper that had landed with a corner in Old Don’s half full coffee mug, collecting a grey-brown skin of gunk for its troubles. Downton’s eyes narrowed, then he looked up at Jennifer.
‘My office. Now.’
Jennifer closed her eyes. Through a haze of frustration, she heard Amy crying, and Rick offering her a new job as a live-in concubine.
She didn’t really open her eyes until Downton’s door had closed and the creak of his leather chair came from across his large, oak desk. He was sitting there, one leg over the other, peering at the letter through his glasses, frowning as though the type was still too small to read.
‘You’ve got two on each page,’ he said, not looking up.
‘I thought I’d cut them in half to use less paper,’ Jennifer croaked. ‘Save the school some money—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Downton waved a hand. ‘You’ve done a decent job of forging my signature.’
‘I scanned it from another letter, and pasted it in as a Jpeg.’
Downton looked up, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. ‘Perhaps you’d be better suited to working in computer programming. I’m sure they have courses you can take in Belmarsh. You do know this is fraud? That I could have you arrested for identity theft, and not only would you never work as a teacher again, but you would probably get at least twenty years in maximum security, solitary confinement. If you were lucky. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
Downton chuckled. ‘However, I don’t think it’s necessary to go that far. Jennifer, your heart’s in the right place, but you’re a total idiot sometimes. Why on earth didn’t you wait until I was out on business? Or just ask?’
‘Because I didn’t think you’d agree.’
‘I actually feel it’s quite a noble cause. That tree has stood for a thousand years—’
‘About three hundred.’
Downton shrugged. ‘Once you’re past living memory, it doesn’t matter that much, does it?’
‘It’s the fourth oldest sycamore in the UK.’
‘Who cares? It’s old, that’s all that matters. If you’d asked, I’d have let you put a message on the school website. You know most of those letters won’t ever make it home, don’t you? They’ll either get made into planes and tossed at the back of Old Don’s head, or left to sit screwed up at the bottom of schoolbags for all eternity.’
‘I have to do something.’
‘I understand. So, send out your letters, and let’s hope they make a difference.’
‘So you’re not going to fire me?’
Downton narrowed his eyes. ‘You were our only applicant for Mrs. Goldsmith’s position. If I fire you, I’d have to teach that unruly lot myself until we found someone else, and that’s not going to happen.’
