Derek Brown – or DB, as he was known to the staff and pupils – was a kind man, but he was no public orator. Then he turned to indicate the man standing on his right. ‘And I'd like to introduce our new deputy head, Nathan Finch. Nathan has a wealth of experience in using data for pupil progress, so we are hoping that he will help us to be ready, should we get our visitors in the next few months.’ He made pretend speech marks in the air with his fingers; using the words ‘OFSTED’ or ‘inspector’ in school was akin to saying ‘Macbeth’ in a theatre. ‘Would you like to say anything, Nathan?’

It wasn't what Nathan Finch said that irritated Rory – that was just the usual waffle about looking forward to being part of the team, and that his door was always open. No, it was the way he said it. Touching his cufflinks like James Bond, making eye contact with each and every person in the room, smiling just enough, but not too much. It didn't help that DB was beside him, beaming like he'd just signed Ronaldo to the school football team. Rory could smell change and she didn't like it.

It got worse when he rolled out his agenda for the day. Training? On the first day back? First day of term was for sorting out class lists and books and trying to remember which kids you could trust to sit at the back and which ones you needed right under your nose. As soon as the meeting was over, Rory grabbed her things and made a run for her classroom before DB could catch her and introduce her to Mr Finch. Susie hung behind, clearly hoping for the opposite. She was insatiable.

Pushing open the door to her classroom with her elbow, whilst trying to balance her mug and the pile of papers she had excavated from her pigeon hole, Rory didn't notice Charlie Lewis until she was inside. It was surprising how small a fourteen-year-old boy could make himself, sitting in the back corner so that he couldn't be seen from the corridor. When he saw Rory, he jumped up.

‘Miss, Miss. I know I'm not supposed to be in the building yet, but I couldn't find my tie this morning and Brownie is going to kill me if he sees me without it again. Do you have one I could borrow?’ He took a breath and held his hands together in prayer. ‘Please?’

Rory dropped her papers onto her desk. ‘It’s Mr Brown to you. However, I'm sure I can find you a tie in my infinite drawer of resources. I wouldn't want your death on my conscience at 8.30 in the morning.’ She rummaged around and pulled one out. ‘How’s your mum?’

‘Thanks, Miss! You’re a life saver!’ Charlie struggled to loop the tie around a clean but crumpled shirt. He seemed to have grown upwards in the holidays without filling out and looked like a string bean with spiky blonde hair. ‘Mum’s having a flare. She can’t go to work and she’s really tired all the time. She was sleeping when I left and I didn't want to wake her up to ask about the tie.’

Rory perched on her desk and resisted the urge to help him with the knot. ‘I understand. It must be pretty tough for you both at the moment. You know that my offer of help is open if you need anything, don't you? Are you both eating? Is your mum able to cook at the moment?’

‘Bits and pieces. Mum can’t have much because her Crohn’s is so bad. I made dinner for myself last night. Egg and beans on toast.’ He practically puffed up his chest.

‘Sounds delicious. The Food Tech department would be proud. Now go and run around the playground, or whatever it is you boys do before school starts.