One Night...Nine-Month Scandal

‘Is there a fire, Miss Jenkins?’ A pair of worried eyes stared at her—little Jessie Prince who always worried about everything, from spelling tests to terrorists. ‘You were running. You always tell us we’re not supposed to run unless there’s a fire, Miss Jenkins.’

‘That’s right.’ Fire, and men you never wanted to see again. ‘And I wasn’t running, I was, er, walking very quickly. Power walking. It’s good for fitness.’ Was he still outside the school? What if he waited for her? ‘Open your English books. Turn to page twelve and we’ll carry on where we left off. We’re writing our own poem about the summer holidays.’ Maybe she should have just handed him the ring, but that would have meant revealing the fact she was wearing it round her neck, and there was no way she was giving him the satisfaction of knowing what it meant to her. The only thing she had left was her pride.

There was a rustle of paper, a hum of low chatter and then a loud commotion at the back of the class.

‘Ow! He punched me, miss!’

Kelly lifted her hand to her forehead and breathed deeply. Not now. Discipline problems were the last thing she needed. Her head throbbed and she felt sick. She desperately needed space to think, but if there was one thing teaching didn’t give you it was space. ‘Tom, come to the front of the class, please.’ She waited patiently while he dragged his feet towards her sulkily, and then crouched down in front of the little boy. ‘You don’t just go around punching people. It’s wrong. I want you to say sorry.’

‘But I’m not sorry.’ He glared at her mutinously, his scarlet cheeks clashing with his vivid hair. ‘He called me a carrot-head, Miss Jenkins.’

Finding it almost impossible to focus, Kelly took a deep breath. ‘That wasn’t nice, and he’s going to apologise too. But that doesn’t change the fact you punched him. You should never punch anyone.’

Not even arrogant Greek men who left you on your wedding day.

‘S’not my fault I’ve got a temper. It’s cos of my red hair.’

‘It’s not your hair that punched Harry.’ How had she been supposed to know he was the one who had bought the ring?

A child behind her piped up. ‘My dad says if someone is mean to you, you should just thump them and then they’ll never been mean to you again.’

Kelly sighed. ‘Alternatively we could all just try and think more about each other’s feelings.’ Raising her voice slightly, she addressed the whole class. ‘We need to understand that not everyone is the same. We need to show tolerance: that’s going to be our word for the day.’ She stood and walked to the front of the class, feeling twenty-six pairs of eyes boring into her back. ‘T-o-l-e-r-a-n-c-e. Who can tell me what it means?’

Twenty-six hands shot up.

‘Miss, miss, I know—pick me, pick me.’

Kelly hid a smile. It didn’t matter how stressed she was, they always made her smile. ‘Jason?’

‘Miss, that man is at the door.’

Twenty-six little necks craned to get a better view of their visitor.

Kelly glanced up just as Alekos yanked open the door and strode into the room.

Mute with horror, she just stared at him, registering with numb despair the sudden increase in her pulse rate. Was this how her mother had felt about her father? Had she felt this same rush of excitement even though she knew the relationship was hopeless?

Alekos changed the atmosphere in a room, Kelly thought dizzily. His presence commanded attention.

There was a discordant scraping of chairs and desks as the children all stood up and Kelly felt a lump in her throat as she saw them looking at her for approval. When she’d first taken over the class, they’d been a disjointed rabble. Now they were a team.

‘Well done, class,’ she said huskily. ‘Lovely manners. Everyone gets two stars in their book.’ It comforted her, having them there. It gave her strength to turn and face Alekos as he strode towards her. ‘This isn’t a good time. I’m teaching.’

‘It’s a perfectly good time for me.’ His eyes clashed with hers; Kelly felt her face turn scarlet and her legs tremble violently as she remembered the passion they’d shared.

She held onto her composure for the benefit of the twenty-six pairs of watching eyes. ‘We have a visitor—what didn’t he do?’

‘He didn’t knock, Miss Jenkins.’

‘That’s right.’ Kelly conjured a bright smile, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. ‘He didn’t knock. He forgot his manners and he broke the rules. So he and I are just going to pop outside so that I can give him a little lesson on the behaviour we expect in our classroom, and you’re going to finish writing your poem.’

She turned to leave the room but Alekos closed his hand around her wrist, dragging her against his side as he faced the goggle-eyed children.

‘Let me teach you all a really important life lesson, children.’ His Greek accent was more pronounced than usual, his eyes dark, as he surveyed the class with the same concentration and focus that he undoubtedly brought to his own boardroom. ‘When something is important to you, you go for it. You don’t let someone walk away from you, and you don’t stand outside a door waiting for permission to enter. You just do it.’

This unusually radical approach was greeted with stunned, fascinated silence. Then several little arms shot into the air.

Alekos blinked. ‘Yes, you?’ Rising to the challenge, he pointed to a boy in the front row.