I'll catch up with you in our lesson. We're starting with creative writing and I’m looking forward to seeing what my favourite writer is going to produce.’ When she had asked for Charlie’s class on her timetable again this year, there’d been no argument from the head of the English department. Especially now they were starting their final exam texts: with them being the lowest-scoring class in the year group, they would need English lessons five times a week, meaning Rory would see them more than almost any other class she taught. They were an acquired taste, though.

Charlie grinned and made for the door. ‘Okay. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for the tie, Miss.’ 

Rory sat down at her desk and turned on the computer. Something about Charlie made her want to scoop him up and take him home. What would happen if his mum was admitted to hospital again? Or worse. A fourteen-year-old boy needed his mum. Even a thirty-eight-year-old woman needed her mum. Not that she’d ever admit it to Sheila.

On the screen was the usual deluge of emails about PE kits lost from last year and updates on Fire Procedures and Child Protection. Halfway down the list was one from Belle: a picture of Colin Firth with the message: To cheer you up! Rory smiled. Her daughter knew her well, but it might take more than a picture of Mark Darcy in a tuxedo to stop the sinking feeling that she’d bitten off more than she could chew this time. 

During staff training sessions, the teachers were worse than the kids.

Susie flopped down next to Rory. Penny, the final member of their trio, passed her a cup of coffee; she could always be relied upon to look after them both. Tall and gangly, with dark straight hair, the gentle Religious Education teacher had been adopted by Rory and Susie after she’d discovered her fiancé of three years carrying on with the dog groomer. He’d got custody of the Lhasa Apso. ‘What is this session about?’

‘Marking, ironically.’ Rory sipped the drink Penny had made for her. ‘Although how I’m supposed to make inroads into the Everest of summer homework assignments currently on my desk when I’m sitting here listening to someone talk about it, is anyone’s guess.’ The electrician had been coming tonight with a quote on the rewire. If the house blew up, she was blaming Nathan Finch.

Susie wriggled in her seat. ‘These chairs are so uncomfortable; I’m spilling out the sides. I wish the caretaker would put them a little further apart. Don’t get me wrong, I like you. But I don’t want to rub my hip against yours.’

‘Aren’t we supposed to be starting now?’ Penny’s question was answered when Nathan Finch sauntered up to the front of the hall. The room went quiet almost immediately.

‘Good afternoon, colleagues.’ He paused and smiled at them all. ‘We’ve updated the school marking policy and wanted to share with you some good practise we have seen in other schools, which we are planning on implementing here.’ Without turning around, he clicked the remote in his hand and his PowerPoint presentation came alive behind him.

‘How did he do that?’ breathed Penny, as if he’d just sawn a woman in half. She was only a few years older than Rory and Susie, but she’d started teaching in the age of overhead projectors.

‘I use PowerPoint, too,’ Rory shrugged.

‘But he didn’t even look.’ Penny clamped her mouth shut and sat up straight as Mr Finch looked directly at her. Rory, on the other hand, slumped lower in her chair. Was this how the kids felt?

‘Firstly, we know that marking is a very time-consuming part of your job. You’ll be pleased to know that we don’t want you to mark more…’

‘Well, that’s not physically possible,’ mumbled Susie.

‘…we just want you to mark smarter.’

‘I knew there would be a catch,’ Rory whispered back.

The PowerPoint changed again. Penny looked at him like he’d performed another miracle. Rory shook her head.