‘So you call yourself a man, do you, Scott?’ Xander muttered to himself in his office next day. ‘Even a mouse knows what to do when it finds itself in bed with another mouse it likes on bloody Valentine’s Day.’
While the night he’d spent with Nell had been reassuringly free of axe murderers, it had been quite depressingly free of anything else either. Specifically, anything bedroom-related that wasn’t sleep.
‘This is kind of nice,’ Nell had whispered when they’d climbed under the duvet spread over her air mattress together, Nell looking adorable in her giraffe pyjamas, Xander still fully clothed. And she’d snuggled into him like all his dreams were finally coming true, gazed up at him with those gorgeous green eyes while all the curves he’d fantasised so many times about kissing and caressing into fits of sexual ecstasy were pressed right up against him, and his heart – not to mention other parts of his anatomy – had leapt.
‘Yeah,’ he’d said. ‘It is nice. Night, Nell.’
Then he’d kissed the top of her head and – oh, couldn’t he just punch himself? – he’d bloody well gone to sleep. Or rather he’d pretended to go to sleep, lying there hard and frustrated while Nell had drifted off in his arms.
She’d wanted him to. He knew she’d wanted him to. So why the hell hadn’t he?
He groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Mrs Rhodes popped her head around the office door. ‘Would you like a coffee, Alexander?’
‘No. I don’t deserve coffee.’
‘OK then.’
‘Actually, could you bring me one of those planks they give self-flagellating monks so I can bash myself in the face with it a few times?’
The secretary looked puzzled. ‘Well, I could take a look in the art cupboard…’
‘It’s fine. Never mind.’
‘I’ve got a message for you from Miss Shackleton, by the way.’
Xander’s head shot up. ‘Have you? What?’
‘She wants you to trot along to Reception and join them for their last fifteen minutes today, if you’ve nothing more urgent on. Something she wants to show you.’
‘Right. Yes, I can do that. Did, er… did she say anything else?’
‘No, that was all. Give us a bell if you change your mind about the coffee, won’t you, pet?’
When the clock hit quarter past three, Xander headed to the Reception classroom, wondering what it was Nell wanted to see him for. He had the vague idea he owed her an apology, although he wasn’t sure apologising to women for not making a pass at them was really a thing you were supposed to do.
When he reached the classroom there were a couple of kids outside – Morgan Hancock, Jolene’s little lad, and Milly Madeleine.
‘Hi guys,’ he said. ‘What’s up, have you done something naughty?’
Milly shook her head. ‘We’re head Oompa-Loompas,’ she told him proudly. ‘Miss picked us ’cos we got the last two Star of the Weeks.’
‘Did you? Well done.’
‘Only we’ll be orange when we do it properly,’ Morgan said. ‘This is just for practice.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Xander glanced down. ‘Do Oompa-Loompas normally hold hands?’
Milly giggled. ‘No, that’s because Morgan’s my boyfriend,’ she whispered. ‘But shush ’cos Miss Shackleton doesn’t know.’
‘I’ve got four girlfriends now,’ Morgan announced, looking pleased with himself. ‘Milly’s got one other boyfriend and a girlfriend so I’m winning.’
‘Wow, impressive,’ Xander said. ‘I haven’t even got one girlfriend. Any tips?’
Morgan looked thoughtful. ‘Well, girls sometimes like it when you kiss them,’ he said. ‘But you’re s’posed to ask first in case they don’t.’
Xander nodded. ‘That’s good advice. Where do I go now then?’
‘We have to take you into the chocolate factory,’ Milly said.
‘OK, Oompa-Loompas, lead on.’
He followed the two of them into their classroom, where a painted card archway bearing the name ‘Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory’ had been set up. Nell, who was standing next to it wearing a top hat, nodded solemnly to him.
‘Welcome, Golden Ticket-holder, to our chocolate factory.’
There were giggles from behind the arch.
‘Um, thanks for having me,’ Xander said.
Milly tugged at his sleeve. ‘Come on, Mr Scott.’
He headed through the archway, where the other Reception kids were lined up in two rows.
‘OK, you lot, now,’ Nell whispered, and they launched into a verse of ‘The Oompa-Loompa Song’. A snaking twist of brown sugar paper ran down the back wall and across the floor, where it was dotted with toy boats, representing Willy Wonka’s famous waterfall and river of chocolate. All around the classroom, painted candy canes, chocolate bars and Golden Tickets decorated the walls. Even Oinky, the school guinea pig, had a little paper top hat on as he watched proceedings in a bemused sort of way from his cage.
‘Guys, this is just amazing,’ Xander said when the kids had finished singing. ‘Did you make all this yourselves?’
The kids nodded, beaming at him.
‘I painted the letters on the arch!’ Robbie Doneen called out, his hand shooting into the air. ‘Miss Shackleton said I could ’cos I was neatest.’
‘I noticed how neat they were straight away,’ Xander said. ‘Well done, Robbie. And all of you. I’m super impressed.’
‘This is our game for the fete,’ Nell said. ‘People pay fifty pee to come into the chocolate factory and win a prize.’
‘How do they win?’
‘Here.’ She led him to a brown inflatable paddling pool at the end of the chocolate river. ‘Fifty pee please, Sir.’
‘Oh. Right.’ He fumbled in his pocket and handed over a fifty-pence piece.
‘Olivia, do you want to come and show Mr Scott what to do?’
The little girl came skipping over.
‘It’s dead easy,’ she told him. ‘You just have to put your hand in the chocolate pool and try to find a Golden Ticket. If you find one, you win a Wonka Bar. If you get a plain not-gold one, you win a candy cane.’
‘So it’s a prize every time?’ Xander said. ‘Sounds like a bargain.’
He bent to rummage in the paddling pool, pulled out a ticket and unfolded it.
‘Aww. Just plain, I’m afraid,’ Nell said. ‘But you still get a candy cane.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll let you save it for me till World Book Day.’
The bell rang for the end of school.
‘OK, everyone, coats on and lined up by the door,’ Nell called out. ‘Nobody leaves this room until someone’s here to collect them.’ She hastily gathered up the bits and pieces of their chocolate factory and either hid them under her desk or turned them to face the wall so the surprise wouldn’t be ruined for mums and dads.
‘So what’s in the Wonka Bars?’ Xander asked Nell as they went to stand behind her desk. ‘Because as I remember it, visiting the chocolate factory didn’t work out so well for four out of five Golden Ticket-holders.’
She laughed. ‘It’s just a Dairy Milk. We made special wrappers for them though.’
‘So much for not doing anything big, eh?’
‘Oh, but they’ve had so much fun making it all. We’ve got some good lessons lined up for the day too. I’m going to get them designing their own magical sweets; that should fire up their greedy little imaginations.’
‘It’s great, Nell. You’ve done a fantastic job, all of you.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘Nervous?’
He stared at her.
‘About World Book Day,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ He ran a finger under his shirt collar. ‘Well, yes, but I think I’m managing to keep a lid on it.’
‘I heard the governors weren’t too happy.’
‘If by the governors you mean Ryan Theakston, you’re right. But he’s grudgingly agreed to support it.’
‘What’s his problem with it?’
‘Mainly that it wasn’t him who came up with the idea, I think.’ The kids had all disappeared with their parents now. Xander turned to face her. ‘Nell, about yesterday – last night.’
‘Oh yeah, I wanted to say thanks for that. Looking after me in my hour of need.’ She smiled shyly up at him. ‘And, er… for being such a gent. You know, when you could see I was frightened. Some men might have taken advantage, but not you.’
‘Right. Um, no problem.’
OK, now he felt worse. Because he wasn’t a gent, was he? He’d definitely wanted to make a move. Cowardice rather than gallantry had stayed his hand.
‘So does that offer to help with the house still stand?’ Nell asked. ‘I’m going to pick up a lock from the hardware shop after work. I don’t know how much you know about doors, but I could use a hand fitting it.’
She was still looking up at him, just as she had when they’d been cuddling in bed together. His eyes locked into hers, and Xander was swept with a sudden, overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, like he knew she’d wanted him to last night.
There was a knock at the classroom door. He turned away, remembering where he was.
‘Come in,’ Nell called, looking a little flustered herself as she patted her hair into place.
Mrs Rhodes peeped around the door. ‘Ah, Alexander, there you are. You’re not going home yet, are you?’
‘Not for a little while, why?’
‘Mr Theakston called. He says he’s stopping by in half an hour and he wants to see you as a matter of urgency.’
‘Oh, peachy,’ Xander muttered.
When Ryan arrived, Xander was at his desk. He’d hurried back to his office to notch the height up on his swivel chair, so he could feel a bit more like Alan Sugar in The Apprentice and a bit less like a schoolboy called to the head’s office for a bollocking. He, Xander, was on the head’s side of the desk and Ryan could just bloody well remember that.
‘Ryan. Good afternoon.’ Xander rose to shake hands in that subtly hostile way where you grip just a bit too hard for a bit too long. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today.’
‘Yes. Well I wasn’t expecting to be here today, not after the chat we had so very recently about you making sure I was kept in the loop on this World Book Day thing,’ Ryan said, scowling as he helped himself to a seat.
Xander frowned. ‘Eh? But I sent you an update last week. The Reception kids are turning their classroom into a chocolate factory, we’ve got the Year 5s doing snozzcumber and frobscottle tasting, the Year 4s have made a Giant Peach bowling game—’
‘But you left out one key fact, didn’t you? Which is that this fete will be taking place in lesson time.’
‘What? No I didn’t. I told you that right at the start, I’m sure.’
Ryan flicked an invisible speck of dust from his shirt collar. ‘I’m sorry, Xander, but we can’t afford to take a whole afternoon out of the children’s learning time for frivolities.’
‘It’s not frivolity, Ryan, it’s literature. Anyway, we’re not taking a whole afternoon. The fete starts at two thirty and finishes at four thirty. That’s only an hour out of scheduled lessons.’ Xander frowned. ‘And you had no problem taking a whole day’s worth of lesson time away from us so you could get the staff pointlessly carrying bloody eggs around Cavendish Hall, did you? Without consulting me, I might add.’
Ryan cleared his throat. ‘Yes, well, be that as it may, I’m afraid there’ve been complaints.’
‘From who?’
‘From parents. They’re concerned about the amount of time their children are missing this term, what with the training day and now this.’
‘Which parents? Nobody’s complained to me. All the parents I’ve spoken to have been very supportive of our World Book Day plans.’
‘I’m not at liberty to say which parents. Suffice to say, there are some.’
‘And when did you get these complaints, Ryan?’ Xander demanded. ‘Recently?’
‘That’s right.’
‘OK, well the newsletter announcing the date and time of the fete went out weeks ago. So that seems like a bit of a delayed reaction from these parents, doesn’t it?’
Ryan glared at him. ‘Are you calling me a liar, lad?’
‘I’m not calling you anything.’
That was completely untrue. In his head Xander was calling Ryan all sorts of things, top of the list being that he was a puffed-up, interfering, micro-managing, egomaniacal, spiv-moustached tosser. But he was pretty sure he’d managed not to say any of that out loud.
‘Right, well, I’m afraid I’ve really been left with no choice,’ Ryan said. ‘I’m sorry, Xander, but we’re going to have to shut the whole thing down after all.’
‘What? No! No, you can’t do that!’
‘The children can still run their games and things during the dinner hour if they like, for the staff and pupils. But this fete nonsense has to stop. I’ll leave you to make the announcement after the holidays.’
‘Ryan, no! Seriously, if you’d seen how hard they’d all worked… the Reception kids have made this whole waterfall and an archway and everything, and there was a song they’d learnt, it was amazing—’ He stopped, narrowing his eyes. ‘Hang on.’
‘What?’
‘Why so sudden, Ryan? Why today?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘This isn’t about the fete at all, is it? Did Jeremy Illingworth happen to speak to you?’
‘That’s… none of your business.’
‘He did, didn’t he? He told you he was planning to retire, and that he’d like me to be his successor.’ Xander laughed. ‘This isn’t about the fete, it’s about me. You don’t think I’m up to the job and you’re trying to undermine me. Make me look weak in front of the staff and parents.’
‘Rein in the ego, eh, son? I told you, we’ve had complaints.’
‘I’m the head. If people have complaints, they can bring them to me. I run this school.’
‘Jeremy’s the head,’ Ryan snapped. ‘You’re the acting head, that’s all, so you can drop the delusions of grandeur.’
‘Exactly, I’m the acting head. That means it’s my job to act like the head in Jeremy’s absence, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s your job to do as you’re told.’
Xander thought back to the Reception kids earlier – their happy, excited little faces as they’d shown him everything they’d worked so hard to make and learn – and clenched his fists under the desk.
‘Ryan, tell me this,’ he said. ‘Can you make me shut this down?’
‘I’m asking you to shut it down.’
‘But can you make me? Do you, as chair of the board, have the power to overrule the headteacher on this matter?’
‘Young man, I am the elected representative of the board of governors.’
‘That’s not answering my question.’
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps not. But I have the power to make life very difficult for you if you refuse to cooperate.’
‘How, by relieving me of my command?’ Xander demanded, standing up and leaning his fists on the desk. ‘This is mutiny, Mr Theakston. I’ll see you hanging from the highest yardarm in the British fleet.’
‘Eh?’
‘It’s a literary reference. Mutiny on the Bounty. Join us on World Book Day, you might find out more.’
‘Look, can you cut out the pirate crap?’ Ryan demanded.
‘You started it. A school is like a ship, right? And I’m the captain. Which makes you a mutineer, I’m afraid, Theakston.’
Ryan stood up too. ‘The fact is, Mr Scott, you just don’t have the authority to run an event on this scale.’
‘Well, I’m the head so clearly I do,’ Xander said, smiling brightly. He was awash with testosterone now and he was rather enjoying the sensation. ‘Or are you sacking me? Because I’m pretty sure you don’t have the authority for that.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. No one’s getting sacked.’
‘OK, good to know. In that case, perhaps you can let me get on with doing my job.’ He sat back down and tapped at his computer to wake the screen up. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot to do. We’re having a fete here in a few weeks, you know.’
Ryan pointed a finger at him. ‘You know why the governors wanted you for this job, Xander?’
‘Because everyone else had already turned it down?’
‘No. Well, yes. But mainly because we thought you were the company man, a safe pair of hands. We thought we could count on you to follow orders.’
‘Yeah, I bet you did. Like Karl Dönitz, right?’
‘Who?’
‘He was the leader of the Third Reich. Look, get out, can you? I’ve got a school to run here.’
Ryan leaned forward, lowering his voice. ‘Son, you do not want to take me on. You haven’t got the balls for it.’
‘Yes. Well, thanks for that.’ Xander didn’t look at Ryan as he tapped out fake emails on his keyboard. ‘Like I said, I am very busy. I’m sure you can show yourself out.’
‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ Ryan said as he stood to leave.