Page 1 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
Chapter 1
Wattle Vale
New South Wales, Australia
It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that when people have bad news to share, they never look you fully in the eye. Olivia Bennett saw the way Felicia Morphett’s eyes lowered, the way her artfully made-up face had instantly morphed to sympathy upon Liv’s entry to the principal’s office. “Hello, Olivia. Please take a seat. This won’t take long.”
Her stomach tightened. Uh-oh. That didn’t bode well. Surely if the ever-loquacious principal of Wattle Vale Secondary College had good news, this would take more time than “won’t take long.” Liv willed her face to a look approximating her usual eagerness, even as the desperate flame of hope within wavered. A window revealed the ominous wintry grey of June’s last day, as a eucalyptus tree tossed its leaves in Antarctic-laden winds.
“I’m sorry, Olivia—”
Liv braced as Felicia sighed. No one ever said “I’m sorry” before giving you good news. No one ever said “I’m sorry, but you’ve won a new car!” or “I’m sorry, but it’s not cancer!”
No, “I’m sorry” could only mean one thing.
“—but I’m afraid that we’ve chosen to go with Belinda instead. Your interview was good, but I’m afraid she hit hers out of the park. She’ll move into the permanent history position from next semester.”
Hope—so long her friend—flittered away in a rush of emotion and words she could never say. Felicia seemed relieved, as if she’d finally found a way to get rid of the odd little duck who’d never quite fit in with the militants who patrolled these classrooms. Teachers whose faces wore stress like a crown and whose strained features revealed lines etched by battles with high school students over many years. Teachers who had long ago lost the get-up-and-go enthusiasm that had spurred Liv to establish everything from a history club to a student-led Bible study on school campus during the past six years she’d worked as a casual teacher at Wattle Vale.
Felicia kept on talking, her artificial face—was Doreen right that Felicia had had work done?—pulling into lines of artificial sympathy that matched her artificial words as Liv tried to pull the tattered shreds of dignity around her crumbling mask.
What would she do now? She’d worked so hard, hoping, praying for a miracle to leave the uncertainty of supply teaching and short-term contracts and finally be assigned to a permanent history teaching post in the school’s Humanities department. She’d watched person after countless person promoted to such positions around her, all to no avail. When Doreen Hitchcock, the head of Humanities, had announced they were recruiting for a permanent role and invited the current pool of casuals to apply, she’d taken Liv aside and told her the role was as good as hers if she wanted it.
A wave of unwelcome emotion threatened her composure. Her students might appreciate her compassion for them—various parents might have murmured over the years that Liv put the human into the Humanities department—but just how good was this waterproof mascara?
“Olivia? Are you okay?”
Liv hauled up her chin. She would not let this woman see her upset, see her pain. “I’m fine.” She swallowed, willing her squeaky voice to sound normal. “I guess I’m a little surprised. Doreen told me that I was the preferred candidate for the position.”
“She shouldn’t have done that,” Felicia murmured, glancing at her watch.
There was a lot Doreen shouldn’t have done. Like assured Olivia the job was hers. Like gossiped about their boss. Like pretended to be Liv’s friend. “So, what does this mean for my future here? Will you consider me for any upcoming jobs in English? You know I’m qualified in that too.”
“I, er, of course.”
That hesitation pushed words into her mouth. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like you will.”
“Of course I will. You should know you have been a well-respected member of the staff here for quite some time.”
Liv swallowed a disbelieving chuckle. Since when had she been respected? “So, you definitely will?”
“Yes. You’ll be the first to know.”
The doubt must have somehow made it onto her face, for Felicia said impatiently, “I said I would. Now, please, I have another appointment.”
Liv awkwardly rose from the too-low seat.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Sure she would. Liv dipped her chin, noticing with a flick of satisfaction the way Felicia’s gaze dropped, as if convicted. She held her head high as she walked past the deputy’s office, past the suddenly silent office ladies—so they’d known too?—and blindly made her way up the stairs, barely noticing as students scattered like they recognized the broken shards of her teaching dreams. She grasped the plastic-coated bannister at the top of the stairs to steady herself.
“Hey, Miss, are you okay?”
“Just dandy.” She dredged up a smile for the senior student. “Hey, don’t forget to make some time for fun among all your studying over the winter holidays, okay?”
He promised and wished her a good break too.
“Thanks.”
