Chapter 2

TWO

Zoe

There is one thing they don't tell you when you become a teacher, which is that in all your years of teaching, you will be exposed to a ridiculous amount of cake and biscuits. I don't quite know where it all comes from. Half the time it's someone's birthday but most of the time, we seem to mark special occasions with baked goods – everything from the end of a half term to someone being promoted. Mandy is now assistant deputy pastoral care leader. Someone bake some brownies!

I look down now at the Tupperware in my hands that contains jam and coconut confections. It's the first day of term in a new school year. I'm not sure what I've done but I hope I haven't missed an email about a promotion. I look up at Ed in the middle of this crowded staff room, buzzing with activity as we all brace ourselves for the school year ahead.

‘WHO CHANGED ALL THE PASSWORDS?' I hear someone scream from the corner. Well, it wasn't me. But I suspect it's the same person who keeps stealing the staff milk. Oh, it's good to be back.

‘You've made me cake?' I ask Ed. Ed does this. He's chief star staff baker. I think someone in textiles made him an apron once.

Ed looks slightly flummoxed. ‘I did. It's the same recipe as my wedding cake. Mia said you told her you liked the cake, so I thought… you know… since what happened… it's like a welcome back to school gift, to cheer you up…' he tells me awkwardly.

I pause and look down at the Tupperware in my hands. Crikey, he's made me divorce cake, hasn't he? Oh, Ed. He comes to hug me which is a very un-Ed kind of move and a few teachers surrounding us stop in their tracks. Ed is hugging. Something must be wrong. Jen from modern languages stands there, her mouth agape. As Ed backs away, she also comes in for an embrace.

‘Hi, Jen, good summer?' I say, trying to joke, the container of cake still in my hands. I know she's had a good summer because of the bronze tan and the fact she's still wearing open-toe sandals.

‘Something's wrong. What's happened?' she enquires, a concerned look on her face. Christ, I knew I'd have to say something eventually, but I thought I'd have time. But that's the problem with a staff room. Your business is never quite your own. The cake and the hugging has attracted a small crowd of six teachers, waiting. I don't even know one of them. I think they're new. Is this really how I'm going to introduce myself to you? Hi, Zoe Swift. I teach maths and I'm one of the school's official fire wardens. I'm also soon-to-be divorced and my husband is a cheating prick. Welcome!

‘Are you leaving? You better not be leaving,' says Drew, the head of maths. We know he's the head of maths because Drew has a tie with mathematical symbols that I hope he doesn't wear outside of this school.

‘I… just…' I mumble, trying to move away from Jen's embrace. I glare at Ed. You started this with the cake .

‘I'm not leaving here,' I say. Drew sighs, relieved. I take a deep breath. ‘I've left my husband, though. Actually, no, he left me. Less leaving, I told him to leave. Over the summer.'

The teachers surrounding me are all silent. This feels like the time Maxine from art stood on a stool in the middle of the staff room and told us she'd left her husband for a woman, but this didn't mean she was bisexual. We didn't know what it meant either or why she stood on a stool.

‘Brian?' Drew asks, aghast. ‘You and Brian? But you've been together for…'

‘Since we were twenty, so you do the maths… Which is funny as we teach maths.'

Ed forces a laugh at my very lame joke. It's Drew's turn to grab me now. Lovely Drew who similarly has been married for an age to Louise. Brian and I used to go round to his house and socialise. Louise always made a very good moussaka, and she knew how to leave people to dress their own salads.

‘You should have messaged us,' he says.

‘All the staff?' I say, confused. The only time we ever copy all the staff in an email is when a student goes missing.

‘Well, me, at least,' he says despondently. ‘When?'

‘Over the summer. I won't go into too much detail…'

Yet everyone stands around me, Jen especially which makes me think she wants that detail. It's too early for all of that. Plus, we have registration in twenty minutes.

‘Am I allowed to say I'm slightly relieved? I thought you seemed stressed at the end of the summer term, and looked like you'd been crying yesterday during INSET, so I thought you were ill. At least you're not ill,' Jen says, chirpily. Drew rolls his eyes. Jen is like this. Even when the children have set off a fire alarm, blocked another set of toilets and are fist-fighting by the school gates, she'll stand there and tell us things could be worse. Yes, Jen. At least I'm not dead. What is one level above dead? Comatose? Just putting one foot in front of another, like some sort of love-crushed zombie. That said, I thought the concealer had been doing me favours with the dark circles under my eyes. Obviously not.

‘Not ill…' I mumble.

Jen hugs me again. ‘I need to go but let's have a cuppa later, yeah?' she says, the pity in her eyes piercing through, making me feel about a foot tall. The other teachers disperse (including the newbie) who are likely carrying this new staff gossip to their corners of the school. This is where it starts. If I could, after the summer I've had, I'd have just sat in a dark room and not come back here, shrouded myself in the shame of being dumped, single, alone. But needs must. I need the money to carry us through these few months of uncertainty while Brian makes a case for selling our family home. I need to try and show the kids I am fine. I need work to be a distraction from the fact a marriage I thought was strong and stable and forever was basically not. Drew and Ed stand there, still not quite knowing what to say.

‘I literally said just give her the cake…' a voice says from behind us. It's Mia. Mia is different to Ed – she hugs everyone without notice or care and it's one of the things I admire about her. She bundles me into her arms. ‘How are you, love?'

There's no sense of pity or curiosity there, either. It's a feeling she's here out of kindness and concern. More of this, please.

‘I gave her the cake but then I thought she needed a hug. You told me to hug more,' Ed tells her, confused.

‘Well, yeah. But give the girl some warning you're going to get in her space,' she tells her new husband, putting an arm around his waist. His arm goes over her shoulder, and she grabs at his hand hanging there. It's that sort of natural body contact you have with someone you feel completely at ease with. That's what love looks like. I remember that feeling. I hope they hold on to it for as long as they can.

‘Well, I'm here. I didn't think I'd be capable of this a fortnight ago but here I stand, ready to teach,' I say, punching the air. I wish I'd said that with more enthusiasm, without feeling like my spine and shoulders are filled with jelly.

‘Zoe, we can talk about a reduced schedule if that would help? If anything gets too much…' Drew says, kindly. ‘I wish you'd said something before.'

‘God, no… we're short staffed enough as it is. I'll be fine,' I tell him.

‘Please, John from History had a full week off when his hamster died,' Mia says. ‘Take the time.'

‘I'll let you know if I need it, Drew. Thank you,' I say, turning to Mia. ‘But… be honest. Do I look awful? I know I've lost a bit of weight, but do I look ill? Jen says I looked ill.'

‘Jen is wearing a gingham maxi dress. She looks like she's going to teach on a prairie,' Mia says. Ed shifts her a look that says I need to hug more, you need to bitch less . Mia replies with a cheeky if contrite smile. ‘You look like you're knackered.'

And with just one word, Mia sums up all that feeling perfectly. I wrap an arm around her.

‘Thank you for the cake, lovely Ed,' I say, nodding to him.

‘He made that especially. I hope you're sharing,' Mia says.

‘My husband left me for one of my best friends, so no…'

Mia cocks her head to one side to see me derive some humour from something so bleak, a reassuring look that tells her I might be alright in all of this. Maybe.

‘Well, how about an easy period two?' Drew tells me. ‘I've been asked to settle in a new cover teacher, starting today. Maybe he can come in on your lesson, observe, he can help you out.'

I shrug my shoulders. ‘I guess. We will mainly be giving out books and sticking. I'm not sure how much he'll get to observe.'

‘He'll get to see one of my finest control thirty kids who haven't been in a classroom since July. He'll see plenty.'

Drew smiles at me. We've been down this street before, we've encircled the block several thousand times but it's kind of him to still have such unerring faith in me.

‘Oh, I think we know him,' Mia suddenly says, excitedly, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. ‘Did that sub start today?'

‘Yes. Mr…' Drew checks a register in front of him. ‘Jack Damon.'

Jack

‘Sir, are you new, Sir?' a young lad asks me. I am not quite sure what to say. This boy looks about fifteen but the sort who knows the lay of the land in a place like this. If I say yes, he may use this against me. I feel like I need to gain his approval. I can't show fear. Do I fist bump him? Or maybe I shout at him for wearing trainers. My hands remain in my pockets. Shoulders back. Don't let him smell the first day fear radiating off me. He can tell I'm wearing a shirt straight out of the pack, can't he? I should have hung it up.

‘How did you know?' I ask him, tentatively.

The young man swings his Vans rucksack over his shoulder, clocking my staff lanyard. ‘It's the new style lanyard, innit? See?' he says, tapping his forehead.

‘Like a modern-day Sherlock Holmes,' I comment.

‘Man's got powers of reduction, innit?'

A girl next to him cackles, hitting him across the head. ‘It's deduction, you muppet.' She looks me up and down and I put my hands over the mugshot to hide my very awful picture. It was taken by Claudia in the office. The one from the wedding who I think holds a grudge because I never returned to the dancefloor at that wedding. She just pushed me against a wall today. She didn't even say ‘cheese.' I saw a flash and felt my nostrils flaring.

‘Well, maybe you could do a new kid a favour?' I ask them. ‘I need to get to the maths block.' Please don't send me to the bins.

‘I guess you're not a geography teacher then?' he jokes.

That was actually quite funny, so I laugh at my own expense. ‘No. But I don't get this numbering system. I'm supposed to go to X5?'

‘Yeah. It's over next to the sports hall, through the second courtyard,' he tells me. ‘X classrooms on the bottom floor, Y floors on the top.'

‘Like the maths, innit?' the girl interrupts. ‘Someone thought that was funny.'

‘Is it not funny…?' I ask.

‘No, it should all be Z classrooms because maths makes me sleepy, you know?' the boy says, laughing and clapping at his own humour.

I laugh. That was good. The girl is less impressed, and I quite like her for it. ‘Do you have names?'

The boy suddenly looks affronted. ‘Am I in trouble for dissing maths?'

‘No.' I put a hand out to shake his. He looks at it instead. ‘I was actually going to say thank you for helping me and that it was nice to meet you…'

‘Bobby,' he says, still looking at my hand, wondering if it's a trick or not.

‘I'm Keziah.'

They stare at my hand then just flick nods at me. Did I win them over? Possibly not. I'm working against a school bell now and a sea of children all moving in different directions. I should have spent last night studying the maps in my orientation pack. I hope those kids gave me good info. We'll know in five minutes when I'm not in the maths block but staring into the canteen.

‘KEEP TO THE LEFT, PLEASE!' a voice booms from somewhere. I can't even see where it came from. It could be played over a loudspeaker for all I know. I feel like I'm on the Tube with a thousand people who are all a foot smaller than me, all keeping left, all getting nowhere. Come and work at our school, Ed and Mia said. They joked it was like a circus, but I thought clowns and ringmasters as opposed to Piccadilly. However, it was a conversation that came at a perfect time. I had to admit the call centre was a little dull and uninspiring, and I'd spent many a day wondering where the breeze was going to take me next. It turns out it would take me here: Griffin Road Comprehensive.

I don't notice her at first. I think it's because I'm still preoccupied by the sheer number of children in this place but also because I'll all too aware of my dodgy timekeeping. I get to the maths block, noticing all those children slowly disappearing into other rooms, desperately trying to read the number plates off the doors. X2, X3… Is it organised like house numbers? I burst into X5 just as the classroom door is about to close.

‘I'm so sorry, I got lost. This is X5, yes?' I mumble, taking off my bag.

‘It is, Mr Damon. Welcome.'

I look up to see her face. You. I know you. My expression softens, a wave of relief overcoming me to see someone familiar. ‘You… Zo— Swift?'

‘ZoSwift? Yes, I believe that's my new pop name.' This raises a laugh from some of the kids, smaller versions of Bobby from before. I realise I'm just stood in front of the board, possibly staring in surprise. She looks less fancy without her wedding garb; tortoiseshell glasses are perched on her nose, her hair tied back from her face. She wears a jumper with wide leg trousers, Doc Martens, big earrings and bracelets up one arm. It's still stylish, cool and she exudes that warm energy I remember from the wedding. She's not going to be the sort who screams and throws pens at people. I hope. ‘Would you like to take a seat, Mr Damon?'

‘Sure thing. Where do you want me?'

‘Maybe at the back? Terrill, do you mind having a partner for today?' Terrill doesn't look overly thrilled. I think he was hoping for a table to himself.

She smiles and walks up to me, putting an arm to mine and I exhale gently. ‘Good to see you again, Jackers,' she says quietly. I laugh to myself as she signals to the back of the room. I do as I'm told, navigating the many desks, tripping over someone's PE kit as I do so. I really am making quite the entrance.

‘Year Eight, this is a new member of staff and he's just going to observe our lesson today so be nice…'

‘How, Miss?' a voice pipes up.

‘Oh, I don't know, Harry – don't stare, let him use your calculator?' A murmur of a laugh tells me Zoe knows how to work this room. She looks comfortable here. There's no fear, this is her natural habitat.

‘Do you not have your own calculator, Sir? That means you get an equipment detention,' the young lad replies.

‘I do not…'

A once silent, well-behaved class dip into a collective ‘Ooooh' and all their gazes fall on me.

‘A detention?' I ask Terrill as I sit down next to him, getting a notebook out of my bag.

‘Yeah, you have to stay here with Miss, after school.'

‘That's not so bad,' I say, watching Zoe as she sifts through the room, crouching down to explain something to someone. You can see how that child appreciates the personal approach rather than being shamed for not understanding.

Meanwhile, Terrill gives me a look like I've just passed wind. This one will be tough to crack.

‘Well, can I borrow your calculator?'

‘I guess.'

‘And what are we learning today?' I ask him.

‘We're chatty chatty at the back there. Are you settled in yet, Mr Damon?' I hear a voice command from the front of the room. She's not angry per se; rather, I think I see a glimmer of a smile that she's having to reprimand the other adult in the room.

‘Yes, Terrill was just letting me use his calculator so I can avoid a detention,' I reply, putting a thumb up to the air.

‘Well done, Terrill.'

‘Can I give him an achievement point for sharing?' I say. The class giggles. Terrill looks pleasantly surprised.

‘That's up to you. Mr Damon?'

‘Yes, Miss?'

She smiles. ‘You're still chatting…'

The class laughs. I nod and take out a pen, watching as she asks a girl in the front with impeccable French braids to hand out some worksheets. She's polite with her and lends a glue stick to another, joking that it's her favourite glue stick and she wants it back. When she talks, they're all quiet, they listen and it's like some sort of teaching magic. She doesn't talk down to them, she commands the respect naturally. I need to work out how she does that. I write the word RESPECT in my notebook and draw a bubble around it. I notice Terrill looking over at my page.

‘Find out what it means to me…' he sings under his breath.

I laugh, perhaps a little too loudly.

Zoe looks up at me. ‘I didn't realise bar charts were that funny, Sir.'

Terrill glares at me. If I dob him in now, I'll never crack him.

‘I'm just excited, Miss. You know… it's maths!' I exclaim, a little enthusiastically. These kids will now go round the school and tell their mates about some excitable twat who was sitting in on their lesson.

‘Well, I am glad. Just… keep it down.'

I'm glad she doesn't ask me to leave the room. Terrill side-eyes me. I think we may be friends now. He could have quoted the Notorious B.I.G. song to me and I would have got that as well, though. I'm down with the youth. I follow Zoe around the room again, watching the way she asks kids how they are, if they understand the work. It's all that warmth which radiates off her. I felt that from the moment I met her, when I shook her hand and she wrapped a hand around mine. Almost a sign, like I could feel safe with her. But every so often, she breathes in deeply and exhales and I also see a person changed. A look in her eyes, as if for a moment she's a bit lost and has to re-centre herself.

I remember that look. I remember it from that courtyard at the wedding when it felt like something inside her broke, like the calm serenity inside her was shaken up into a frenzy. After her daughter rang, I ordered us an Uber like I'd promised. I'm not sure why I went in the Uber with her, but I made sure she got home to her kids. She sat there glassy-eyed during that whole trip, the confused driver looking back at us every so often, trying to work out the dynamic. I think he thought we'd had a fight. I hope he didn't think I was the cause of the fight.

‘Shit. I forgot my coat,' she said, at one point.

‘I can go back and get it. I'll ring the hotel,' I told her. And then she grabbed my hand. Her skin was still soft, but her fingers were taut like wire.

‘That's very kind. This is very kind of you. I'm so sorry. I hope you'll go back to the wedding. Enjoy the rest of your evening.'

I just sat there thinking, why are you thinking about me? In this very moment, your world is falling off a cliff and you're thinking about whether I might want to dance and eat a bit more cake. It was good cake, but I can get Ed to bake me cake any time.

‘Are you OK?' I asked softly.

She didn't say a word. I don't think she could. I imagine she was still processing it all. I was trying to piece it altogether. So, Brian is the husband. He's not in Glasgow. He's been papped at a hotel with someone she knows. A friend? That's not good. That's bloody awful. I would not have handled that well. But she didn't break there. She just held on to my hand in the back of that taxi.

‘It's the house with the blue car in the front drive, red door…' she told the driver and the car pulled up slowly. ‘Here…' She went into her clutch to find her wallet. ‘Let me offer you some money for the ride.'

‘Don't be silly. It's on me. Get inside to your kids.'

‘Thank you, Jack,' she replied. She remembered my name, and said it so sincerely.

I put a hand on her arm. ‘Take care, Zoe. Please look after yourself. You don't deserve this.'

I don't know why I ended it like that. I should have ended on ‘take care' or something generic and safe like ‘good night' but it felt important to say that. It felt important to tell a person I thought was good that they don't deserve to be hurt, that despite all the love they put out into the world, when something bad happens to them, it's not because they didn't try.

She looked at me and for the first time that evening, a tear rolled down her cheek that she wiped away hurriedly. She smiled and let go of my hand and then exited the car, running lightly down the path towards her front door.

‘Are we going back to the wedding?' the Uber driver asked me.

‘Yeah, just wait a minute, mate,' I told him. I waited until I saw her figure through the glass panels of the door, her kids wrapped around her. She was where she needed to be. ‘Let's go back to the wedding.'

‘You alright, mate? Did she just dump you? I wasn't quite sure what was happening?' he asked. ‘It's why I turned up the radio. We can stop for some chips if you've been dumped.'

I met his eyes in the mirror, half-laughing, half in shock. ‘Nah, man. We're not together.' I like how he thought chips were the answer, though. ‘She just got some bad news.'

‘Oh. Shame, she seemed nice.'

‘She did,' I answered. ‘She really did.'