Welcome, I’m Alex! This blog is dedicated to my writing, being slightly unhinged about my love for Cillian Murphy and Jack Lowden, and a whole variety of silly stuff that makes me laugh.
I love to chat and my ask box and DMs are always open. However, I’m the far side of 40 and my writing is nsfw, so I have a strict no minors policy. If you are under 18, I respectfully ask you not to follow or engage with my work.
If you enjoy my nonsense you can buy me a coffee - Ko-Fi
I mainly write for:
-» Peaky Blinders (range of characters),
-» Emmett from A Quiet Place 2,
-» Cillian Murphy
-» Slow Horses / River Cartwright
All stories have their own warnings section and your consumption is your responsibility. Anything marked with 🔞 contains smut. If you think I have missed something from my warnings please do let me know (nicely!).
Writing Request Status: CLOSED ❌
I also dabble with dividers, banners and blogs themes. Read the request guidelines HERE.
Banners Request Status: OPEN ✅
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i love how weird kids are. they make up the most bizarre stuff when left to their own devices and it's never what an adult would naively predict a kid would do in their imaginative play
my friend's 5 year old recently got a toy veterinary medicine set - it's super cool, like one of those mini play kitchens a lot of kids have, but it's set up to pretend to be a vet (it's this thing) - it has stuffed animals and things to weigh them, give them medicine, take x-rays, write on their charts, etc.
so this kid, who is five and to my knowledge has no experience in the administrative bureaucracy of modern healthcare, puts a stuffed pig named Piggy on the exam table. she pretends to draw blood from Piggy using a fake syringe, and the blood goes into a toy test tube vial that she calls "the resulter"
i'm playing with her, right, so i'm like, awesome, what are the results of Piggy's blood test? and she says "we have to send it to the scientists." so we send the vial to the scientists (put it in her bedroom) and when we get back to the vet playset i'm like awesome what did the scientists say? and she says they have not gotten back to us yet
so she rolls her eyes, exasperated, and says we have to call the scientists. she pretends to call them. apparently, they tell her that Piggy's blood test is "at the bottom of the list" and "we have to WAIT." she frowns. we wait a bit longer and call them back. they tell us it will be a while! she says we should go ask the scientists in person so we go back to her bedroom and she inquires at this imaginary lab, at which point the scientists yell at her and tell her now they will make us wait even longer!
keep in mind she is 100% directing this play. she is making all this up. she is fully in control of this game, and she has decided that what we are going to pretend is that we are dealing with this exhausting nonsense, not actually treating Piggy.
finally the blood tests come back. they are inconclusive. the scientists do not know what is wrong with Piggy. the little girl walks back to the stuffed pig on the exam table, sighs deeply, and says in a very serious voice "we can never help you."
i'm obsessed with this kid. when given complete control over a make believe scenario, instead of becoming the heroic rescuer administering effective cures, she is instead a beleaguered vet making multiple calls to an overworked lab only to be left unable to help her patient.
AU where James, a truck driver, finds Rose in middle of the road. Her backpack and an old map were their only possessions that day.
"Where to, sweetheart?" he asked.
"Wherever you're going," she replied.
If you missed the post don't worry, but early today I posted that last night I dreamt that James was a truck driver. The dream was kinda sad, but I changed the angst for something more adventurous and fluff. But I simply couldn't leave the idea of James driving a truck 🫠.
Welcome back sports fans, I hope you’re ready for a whole lot of YELLING! As ever, I live for your reactions so if you enjoy, please do let me know - comments are love 🤍 Thanks as always to my beta reader and bestie in crime, @peakyscillian for all her help! xx
Summary: After the disastrous end to their weekend, Steve and Bella return to school. But if they thought things were bad already, they are about to get much, much worse.
Warnings: themes of drug addiction and infidelity.
Word count: 10,894 PART 8 | SERIES
9. Resignation
It took a long time for you to recover enough to be able to tell Celia what had happened with Steve. You hated smoking in the house - it always reminded you of your mother - so, wrapped in coats against the coolness of the evening, you sat in the back garden and smoked your way slowly and deliberately through an ill-advised chunk of your remaining cigarettes, while giving her the edited lowlights of the day, your words coming in fits and starts as waves of emotion stole your ability to speak time and again.
"Fucking hell…" Celia murmured as you finally lapsed into an exhausted silence. "I can't believe… but he's a headmaster?? How is that even possible?"
You shrugged, lighting a fresh cigarette, offering the dwindling pack to her, which she declined with a flick of her scarlet manicure. "He's not completely wrong when he says it's under control, I suppose. He knows how much he can take without anyone being able to tell. Even I couldn't tell…"
"But still…" Celia shook her head with a sigh, reaching for the packet after all, sparking one to life. "Did you really mean it about handing your notice?"
Nodding tightly, you sucked hard on your cigarette, holding onto the smoke until it burned.
"I can't stay there, not after this," you whispered, the words cloudy in front of you. "How am I supposed to go to work with him every day after..?" A sob caught in your throat and you covered your mouth with your hand, shoulders shaking. Celia dragged her seat even closer, wrapping her arms around you.
"You shouldn't have to lose your job because he's a fucking druggie. You should report him," she mumbled against your hair.
"I can't do that to him," you hiccuped. "I love him."
She pulled back, covering your free hand with hers, studying you as she smoked.
"But what are you going to do?"
You'd been asking yourself that since the M4 when the doubts about your circumstances had begun to whisper in the back of your head. But unfortunately you hadn't yet managed to come up with a compelling response.
Avoiding her worried eyes, you tapped your ash into saucer on the table. "I don't know," you whispered.
***
Lying in bed that night, Helen's soft, rhythmic snores beside him, Steve wasn't sure which was worse: the fact he'd come home higher than he'd ever been around his family, or the fact that Helen hadn't even seemed to notice. She'd wrinkled her nose at the vague smell of smoke on his clothes and he'd fumbled an excuse that people had been smoking in the conference he'd told her he was at. Another event to promote what they were doing at Stanton.
I can't do this…I'm sorry…
Your words plagued him as he lay in the dark. He couldn't stop picturing the look in your eyes in the moment you had decided it was over. Like you'd looked into him and knew he was beyond help. Or worse: that you had finally understood that he didn't deserve your kindness, or your love. Not after what he'd done.
But it still burned all the same. As the excessive amount of oxy he'd taken in the car began to wear off and the pain seeped back in, the aching loss of you was raw in his chest. How was he supposed to just carry on like everything was normal? How was he supposed to be without you? The very idea of it sent something like panic flickering through him, not as intense, but not unlike the feeling that morning when he couldn't find his pills.
My resignation will be on your desk in the morning…
It had barely been a year but he couldn't remember what life at Stanton had been like without you. Being without you, being without being able to hold you, to touch you, was going to be bad enough, but how was he supposed to keep turning up at work without knowing you were there?
And there were the lads to think about too. For all their teenage bravado, he didn't like to think what the damage it would do to them if you left suddenly. They trusted you, relied on you.
No, it simply couldn't be allowed to happen. He had to change your mind. If not about him, at least about leaving Stanton, for the sake of the boys.
And if you were still there, then at least maybe…maybe…there was a chance for him too.
Pressing his fingers deep into his eyes, he tried to block out the events of the day. If he tried hard enough, maybe it would all just turn out to have been a bad dream. Maybe he was about to wake up beside you in Wales and everything would be how it was supposed to be. He'd roll over and there you'd be; lying on your side with that sleepy smile you gave him in the mornings, before reaching out to tuck yourself against his chest. The warm weight of your body on top of him in the soft silence of morning, movements slow, unhurried, because you had all the time in the world.
Despite the pain in his back, and the misery of facing life without you, he was hard as a rock. Sliding out of bed, he padded towards the door, intent on taking care of the problem in the spare room.
"Y'ok?" Helen mumbled, and he shifted so she wouldn't be able to see the tent in his underwear, even though he knew she probably couldn't anyway in the dark.
"Just my back playing up after the drive," he whispered. "Go back to sleep, I'm fine."
***
The next morning you were like a zombie. Despite your exhaustion from the day you'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, finally giving up the fruitless attempt at sleep to write your resignation letter. Trudging into the building, it was like a lead weight in your bag. Or perhaps more accurately, like a time bomb primed to explode. Pausing outside the office, you gripped the handle and sucked in a deep breath to steady yourself. But he wasn't there, just like he said he wouldn't be, and you couldn't decide if it was actually a relief or not.
"Busy weekend?" asked Amanda as you practically downed a full mug of the terrible staff coffee, immediately filling it again. "How was your sister?"
If you didn't know better, you'd have described her tone as 'pointed'. But perhaps she was just narked that you'd had a whole weekend to yourself when she'd been left to manage the lads without Steve to share the load.
"Yeah, just… a lot. It was hard work. She was ok though. How was it here?"
"Oh you know, idyllic," Amanda yawned, pouring coffee for herself. "Can we have a word later on?"
"Uhh…" you stammered, anxiety bubbling in your stomach, "yeah of course. I don't think I have a free period until after lunch though."
She waved this away airily but her eyes were steely. "Not to worry, I'll find you."
***
The building hummed with the usual sounds of Stanton when Steve got there shortly before lunch. Down the corridor he could hear you raising your voice, laughter punctuating what was probably an attempt to restore order. The office was empty when he let himself in, but his relief at this fact was fleeting when he saw the envelope on his desk, his name in your neat, cursive handwriting. Bag thumping to the floor, he eyed it as he rooted automatically in his desk drawer for the box he'd so foolishly left behind for the weekend. Popping out a pair of tramadol, he threw them back, before eyeing the little pack of oxy.
If he was going to get through this, he thought, he needed all the help he could get, and one tiny white pill followed the other two a moment later.
Dropping down into his chair with a sigh, he lifted the envelope carefully, turning it over between his hands, as if weighing its contents. For a second he considered just tearing it up and denying all knowledge of its existence, but it would be no good. You'd just write another one. Tearing it open, bracing in the same manner one might when ripping off a plaster, he unfolded the single sheet of paper that nestled within.
Dear Steve,
It is with regret that I must give notice of my intention to leave Stanton Manor due to unforeseen family matters. I appreciate my contract requires one full term's notice and I do not wish to put you, or the students, in a difficult position. However, my personal circumstances are complex and urgent, so if it was possible to enable me to leave more quickly, I would greatly appreciate you help in doing this. I will, of course, be available until a replacement can be found.
I'm deeply sorry for the difficulties this will bring. My time at Stanton has been the highlight of my career so far and I will carry it with me always.
Yours,
Staring at the page, he found himself somewhat caught by surprise in seeing your real name signed across the bottom. As if this was all happening to someone else, that this letter was from some other, unfamiliar, woman. Not you. Not his Bella.
Letting the page fall to the tabletop, he covered his face with his hands, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare he'd somehow stumbled into.
"What's that?"
Amanda's voice made him jump, spinning the chair towards her as she closed the door. "Nothing," he said quickly, stuffing your letter quickly back into the envelope. "Is everything alright?" he added, frowning when she twisted the lock. It was a rare occurrence that they kept the office just for themselves.
"Good weekend away with Helen?" she asked as if he hadn't spoken, coming to rest against the side of the conference table, her arms folded.
"I…uhh… yeah, not bad. Y'know what those things are like. Loads of people you only ever see at weddings, christening and funerals."
"Still," she said, her eyes trained on him with an unusual and uncomfortable intensity, "nice to get away just the two of you, without the girls."
He swallowed. "Yep… yeah. Makes a change." Clearing his throat, he forced a chuckle and immediately wished he hadn't, the sound ringing hollowly between them.
"Yes, always nice to have an excuse for a dirty weekend," she continued, laughing when he inhaled sharply. "Don't look so shocked, isn't that what it was?" Her lip curled without amusement as she slowly set a little tape recorder on the table beside her.
Cold trickled down his spine. "It's not really something I'd want to—"
"No, me neither," she snapped before he could finish. "But unfortunately I wasn't given the choice."
Pressing play on the device beside her, a voice filtered reedily into the room, immediately recognisable as yours:
"You're such a weirdo. Why can't you just leave her a written list like normal people?"
Why did he remember you asking him that..? When had you..?
"How dare you, a simple list can't possibly convey my many, many, important and detailed thoughts."
He was sitting right here, making a tape for Amanda and you came in and... oh… Oh, FUCK!
"Faster though."
"Amanda…it's not…"
There was a strange thud and when they carried on, the voices had retreated but were, unfortunately, still entirely audible.
"I prefer taking it slow." On the recording, you let out a light hum he knew so well, and he pushed himself out of his chair, face burning.
"Alright, that's enough…"
"That's a shame…because I was kinda hoping you might be interested in something hard and fast."
His past-self groaned from the tape recorder and he lunged to switch it off but Amanda got there first, glaring at him furiously.
"You unbelievable fucker," she hissed.
"It's not…I can explain…"
"I don't think you need to fucking explain why you - a forty-eight year old man - might want to fuck our very lovely English teacher, Steve. It's fairly fucking self-explanatory."
Pinching the bridge of his nose he avoided meeting her thunderous stare.
"The bigger question is why someone as clever as her would risk her whole career for the sake of sleeping with her boss."
"It's not like that…" he mumbled.
"You were with her this weekend weren't you? All that fucking song and dance about her sister moving house… it was all just cover so she could get the weekend off so you could have a fucking dirty little weekend, wasn't it?"
Hanging his head, he didn't reply and she banged the tape player off the table, making him jump.
"Wasn't it!!"
"Yes," he whispered.
"How long has it been going on for?"
He shuffled his feet, not looking at her.
"Answer me!"
"Since the Christmas party."
She gasped, clutching her head between her hands.
"Since Christmas!? Jesus fucking Christ, Steve!"
"We didn't mea—"
"How could you do something like this to Helen?? To your family??"
Caustic laughter began bubbling up within him, rising higher, forcing its way out against his better judgement.
"Do you think this is fucking funny?!"
But he didn't reply, mirth still spilling out between his lips.
"How can you stand there and fucking laugh when your wife—"
He slammed his hand so hard on his desk the pain ricocheted from his palm to his shoulder to his spine.
"My wife wouldn't even notice if I brought Bella home and fucked her in front of her," he hissed. "I could go home tonight and tell her everything and she'd barely fucking look up from whatever else she was doing. So don't you stand there and fucking judge me when you don't know a single fucking thing about my marriage!"
Amanda stepped closer, glowering at him as she slapped away the finger he had pointed at her and prodded him firmly on the chest.
"Said exactly like a man who's trying to justify sleeping with another woman. I don't care how disinterested your wife might be in you - you don't get to go around fucking whoever you like. And especially not when the whoever you like also happens to be our fucking employee! You could lose your fucking job! You both could! And then where would we be?!"
Grabbing the envelope from where he'd dropped it when she arrived, he shoved it at her.
"You don't need to worry, it's already over," he snapped.
"What's this?" she asked even as she tugged the letter from inside and unfolded it. Eyes scanning quickly down the page, she looked up, open-mouthed.
"Are you fucking joking me? She's leaving?!"
He dropped heavily into his seat, scrubbing a hand down his face as he nodded.
"And all this guff about family trouble is just a lie, is it?"
"I think so, yes."
"Fucking hell…" Your letter crumpled slightly in her fist. "Fucking hell, Steve! She's the best fucking teacher we've had here and you just had to go and fucking ruin it, didn't you?! Christ, I could kill you with my own hands. Do you have any idea what this'll do to the boys?!"
"I tried to change her mind…"
Amanda scoffed, stuffing the letter back into the envelope. "Not hard enough, clearly."
"I'll talk to her again later, it's all happened very suddenly."
"No, she can answer to me about this."
"Amanda, just leave it. Let me talk—"
But it was already too late, the lock clicking as she flung open the door, storming off down the corridor just as the bell rang for lunch.
***
"Just a second!" you shouted, having to raise your voice over the scraping of chair-legs against the wooden floor of your classroom. "Take one of these on your way out and I want answers on my desk on Friday."
The boys groaned in near-unison but you stood by the door with the pile of handouts and refused to let them pass until they'd taken on.
"Oi!" you said, grabbing Riley by the collar as he tried to bounce out past you without a copy.
"Bellaaaa…" he whined but you blocked the doorway, holding out the page towards him.
"Fucking hell, Riley, just take it before Jamie eats all our lunches," grumbled Benny, still stuck behind him with a few of the other lads.
With a huff that suggested you'd asked him to sit down and pen his own hit Shakespearean play, Riley took the page and you smiled as if the ordeal hadn't happened.
"Friday, ok? You know where I am if you have questions."
The others filed past, taking their sheets with only minor grumbles of discontentment and as they disappeared towards the dining hall you leaned against the door frame, eyes slipping closed in exhausted relief at having made it through class.
"Bella!"
Amanda's sharp tone startled you into straightening up, seeing her marching towards you.
"Everything ok..?" you stammered, walking backwards and she shooed you into the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Is everything ok? Is everything OK!? What the fuck do you think you're playing at!"
"I— what?? I don't know—"
"Oh don't give me all that wide-eyed innocence shit," she snapped. "I know you've been fucking Steve."
You froze, half-formed words still on your lips.
"Don't insult me by trying to deny it."
"How did you..?" you breathed, panic crackling up your spine, tightening around your chest like a band.
She slapped a small tape recorder down on the nearest desk.
"Maybe next time you sleep with your boss on school property, you should make sure he's not fucking recording it."
You stared at the little device in horror. "No…"
"Trust me, yes. I've heard things I will never be able to unhear."
You sat down - involuntarily - on the nearest chair, your legs turning to jelly.
"How could you?? He's your boss. He's married!"
"I don't—" You studied your hands, fingers twisting together in your lap, you head cloudy with shock. "It wasn't supposed to be…"
"Wasn't supposed to be what?"
"Nothing," you murmured.
"Did you even think about the fact he has a wife? A family??"
"Of course—"
"How could you be so selfish."
Your head snapped up, the clouds parting to allow angry to ride in between them. "Right, I see. I'm the whore, aren't I? I did think about his family but y'know what? They aren't my family. I didn't make him do anything he didn't want to. If he chose to cheat on his wife with me, that's his business."
She stared at you, mouth agape. "You can't really think that. You're better than this."
"Apparently I'm not."
She shook her head, brows drawn. "No... no. You're not this stupid. I know you and you love this job, you wouldn't risk it over something so trivial. So come on, tell me: what did he promise you?"
"Nothing." You cleared your throat roughly. "I am that stupid. It was just sex… and now it's over."
"He told you he'd leave her, didn't he??"
You shifted in your seat and she sighed heavily.
"Oh Bella…"
"It doesn't matter. It's over," you mumbled.
"Yes, so I gather." She set your resignation letter on the desk beside you. "But only cowards run away from their mistakes, Bella."
You stiffened. "I am not a fucking coward."
"Really? Because this looks a lot like a little girl running away from her problems to me."
"Fuck off, Amanda! You have no idea what you're talking about. I'm doing this for the best."
"The best for who though, Bella?? What's for the best for the lads who depend on you every day, eh?? If you had any guts, you'd stay and face the mess you've made. At least until the end of the school year."
"The mess I've made?? So it's not his fault at all then, is it?? After all, he's only the one who's older and more senior than me at work. Yes, I can see how you'd think the power all lies with me."
Amanda faltered, dropping into the chair at the desk across from you. "He's been through a lot these last few years."
"That doesn't make this just my fault. He's a fucking adult, Amanda. He made his choice. Which, by the way, included him pursuing me."
"I'm sorry…" she sighed, rubbing tiredly at her forehead. "For what it's worth, I'm livid with him too."
You chewed at the side of your thumb, eyeing her carefully. "Are you going to tell the Trust?"
She studied you and you struggled not to squirm under the scrutiny.
"No," she said eventually. "You're both so fucking stupid I could kill you, but telling tales to those twats won't fix anything. But you can't just leave, Bella. We need you."
"I'm sorry, I know it's terrible timing…but I can't stay here. Not now."
"If you weren't prepared to handle it like adults if it ended, why did you start it at all?"
Her words stung like a slap and your retaliation was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.
"You really don't know him at all, do you? How much of a fucking mess he is?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Covering your face with your hands, you groaned quietly.
"Bella?"
"I just mean that he's not alright. He's not coping."
"His back—"
"Is an excuse," you said firmly. "I'm not saying he's not in pain - he undoubtedly is - but it's more than that, isn't it?"
She avoided your eyes. "We're all under a lot of strain…"
With a frustrated huff, you got up, unable to keep still a moment longer.
"He's drowning, Amanda. He's drowning right in front of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Can't you see it?? What am I saying… I couldn't see it and it was right in front of my face. But you've known him years, surely you can see that he's not ok??"
"How can you expect him to be ok after what he went through, Bella? Of course he's not ok. And this place puts us all through hell, but none moreso than him. But he gets on with it, like we all do. Because he has to."
You stared at her, fingers curling into your palms as you fought to keep your voice steady.
"But he's not just getting on with it, Amanda. You have to open your eyes and really see him. He's—"
You cut yourself off, chewing your lip and she frowned.
"He's what?"
"I—" You silenced yourself, fingers to your lips. "No, I shouldn't. It's not mine to tell. You'll have to ask him."
"Tell me right now or I'll go and report you both for fucking on school property."
You stared mutinously at her but her stony expression remained unmoved.
"Bella."
"Fucking… alright fine!" You threw up your hands in defeat. "You want the truth? Fine. He's an addict, Amanda."
Her mouth dropped open. "You fucking what?? No he's not."
"Yes. He is."
"Bella, my love, listen to me. I know it looks like he takes a lot of pills but—"
"Yeah! He does! You think it looks like a lot?? You don't even know the half of it! And they don't even all come from his fucking doctor! So don't talk to me like I'm five years old, Amanda, it's insulting. Particularly because when I actually was five years old, I probably already knew more about addiction than you do sitting there today."
She followed your pacing with a narrow-eyed stare, forehead puckered in confusion.
"What do you mean they don't come from his doctor? Where the fuck else would they come from??"
Coming to an abrupt stop, hands on your hips, you fixed her with a withering look. "Where do you think those kinds of drugs come from when they don't come from a doctor? The magic opioid fairy?"
"No…" she whispered. "That's no possible. None of this is possible… you're…" She floundered, shaking her head, eyes darting as she appeared to struggle to find the words. "Are you making this up because he finished things with you? You want him to get fired, is that it??"
It was your turn to stare incredulously. "You think I'm lying?? You think I could lie about something like this just because what? Because I'm a bitter little bitch? A woman scorned?? Are you serious??"
"I don't know, Bella. Are you?" she asked coldly.
"Fuck you, Amanda! Get out of my classroom! I've done things I'm not proud of but I own those, and I'm not going to let you sit there and accuse me of telling lies. Why don't you go and ask him about yesterday, when I had to go and score him drugs because he left his stash at home. Why don't you ask him where he gets his oxycodone from. All those fucking pills in his desk. Then we'll see who's fucking lying around here!"
You stalked to the door, dragging it open, and waited for her to leave but she didn't move from her seat.
"Close that."
"No, we're finished here. You don't get to call me a liar and then we just carry on."
"How long has he been…" She trailed off, eyes on the open door, the racket from the boys echoing from the dining hall, the familiar sound jarring in the tension of the room. "Please, Bella. I apologise."
Slowly, you let it swing shut again, the usual sounds of Stanton disappearing once more.
"I'm not sure. A long time, I think. The more he takes, the more he needs to feel normal."
"Are you saying he's high at work?"
You watched your fingers twist together, guilt beginning to twinge in your guts as the anger subsided, but there was no going back now.
"I'm not sure he's ever not high."
Amanda swore softly, covering her face with her hands.
"But he's high-functioning," you continued. "It's not like he's getting off his face. The fact that none of us could tell shows he has it vaguely under control." You swallowed, the irony of his words coming out of your mouth in his defense not lost on you. "I only knew there was a problem because I spent more time with him than any of us ever do. And he got sloppy around me. He's very, very good at hiding it."
"You swear to me you're telling the truth?"
"I wouldn't lie about something like this. I—" You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to continue. "Addiction has been a problem in my family since I was born, Amanda. This isn't something I'd ever joke about. And for the record, he didn't break up with me out of some chivalrous attempt at saving his marriage, I ended it. Because of all this. Because he won't even admit he has a problem and I can't try and fix another addict, I just don't have it in me."
Amanda pushed herself to her feet with a small groan of exhaustion and slowly made her way to you, resting her hands on your shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Bella. Truly."
You shook your head briefly, curling your nails into your palms as you pushed down the ball that was building in your throat.
"What are you going to do?" you asked hoarsely.
"I'm going to make him tell me the truth."
***
The moment Amanda left the room he threw back another pair of tramadol, tucking the slim packet of oxy into his shirt pocket. Really, he should stop her confronting you. He could leave the room right now and catch her, tell her to leave you alone. That this was his mess, his mistake, not yours.
Instead, he slipped back into his chair and stared, unseeing, at the stack of paperwork that was waiting for his attention. The minutes ticked by and she didn't return. He should go and help with lunch duty, give Owen and Andy a break but he couldn't seem to move. Had it not been for the fact he had a science lesson to teach after lunch, he might have stayed, rooted to his office chair, for the rest of the day.
The afternoon passed blurrily; Jamie was being particularly disruptive but he hardly did anything to stop him, and sensing his weakness, the others joined in, the class falling apart completely about twenty minutes before the bell rang. Admitting defeat, he sent them back to the common room and left the building, making a bee-line for his car.
Tucked underneath the passenger seat was the small cardboard box you'd given him yesterday.
Gathering it up, careful not to jostle its precious glass cargo, he draped his jacket over it and went back into school, slinking in through the caretakers entrance, well away from the busy mayhem of the boys. Following the corridors down to the laundry room, he let himself in and rested against the closed door.
The last time he'd been in here was with you and the memories hit him so hard in the chest that he could scarcely breathe. He could practically smell you, feel the plush heat of you pulsing around his fingers, the taste of your skin as he dragged his tongue over your neck and your hands locked in his hair.
With effort, he propelled himself back into motion, scanning the room for a suitable hiding place, eyes alighting on the tumble-dryers to the left of the door. An alcove was blocked in by the ancient machines, creating a small void behind them. Leaning over, trying not to topple headfirst into the space, he peered down in the gloom and cobwebs, spotting what had once upon a time been a mop-bucket but had long since ceased in providing viable service. Well now he had a new commission for it; flipping it over, he set the little box on top.
He couldn't just leave it like that though, out in the open for anyone to find. Hauling himself back to his feet, he pinched a hand towel from the racks above and leaning over again, his back making its displeasure known, gently dropping it on top of the box. Cocking his head, he took in the tableau; to the casual observer it would look as though the towel had simply fallen off the machine and been forgotten to time.
Nodding quietly to himself, he pushed himself vertical once more and dusted down his shirt. The little packet of oxy crackled cheerfully in his pocket and before he knew that he'd done it, a little pill was sailing down his gullet, bound for his bloodstream.
Oh well, too late to take it back now.
Heading back up to the main part of the building he heard the commotion before he got there.
"Where the fuck have you been?" snapped Amanda, holding Tarone by the scruff of his jumper, blood seeping from a cut above his eye.
"I— I just…what's happened?"
"Jamie lamped him with a textbook. He nearly took his fucking eye out."
"Which textbook?"
Amanda fixed him with a cold stare and he cleared his throat.
"I'm taking him to get fixed up, you can deal with Jamie. They were supposed to be with you anyway."
"Yep…yeah, ok."
"And I need to speak to you later."
"Ooooh, Steve's in trouuuuble," Nabz teased in a sing-song voice and the other lads who were still hanging around - never ones to miss the aftermath of a brawl and see someone who wasn't them getting told off - laughed and joined in.
He coughed again, his guts slithering at her tone, and nodded. "Right. I'll see you in a while."
She disappeared with a still dripping Tarone, the boys continuing their impression of jeering budgies.
"Alright, give it a fucking rest!" he shouted and, to his immense surprise, they stopped. "Jamie, get the fuck up to your room, I'll be up in a minute. The rest of you have places to be, so move it."
The room cleared with only a minimal rumble of complaining and as they disappeared to their various classrooms, he rested his forehead against the doorframe and sighed heavily.
"Steve?"
He looked round to see Owen hovering in the corridor near the office.
"You alright, boss?"
"Yeah… yeah I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile. "I'm just going up to deal with Jamie. Can you tell Sarah to just hang on in the kitchen and I'll be down as soon as I can?"
***
"Bella..? Are you alright?"
Shy's soft voice made you jump and you grabbed another tissue from the box on your desk, dabbling hurriedly under your eyes.
"No— I mean yes, I mean… I'm fine. What do you need?"
He frowned at you, still lingering nervously in the doorway. "We have tutorial time?"
Fuck…
"Of course we do, sorry," you said, blowing your nose quickly and trying to pin a smile to your face.
"We don't have—"
"Ah no - no way you get out of it that easily."
He cracked a lopsided smile and sloped into the room, taking the empty seat beside your desk.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm fine."
"Why was Amanda yelling at you?"
Closing your eyes for a second, you wished the floor would swallow you whole. When you opened them, he was staring expectantly at you.
"She wasn't yelling at me."
"Sounded like she was."
"Oh you know Amanda, her bark's worse than her bite."
"She sounded pretty pissed off."
"Well, working with you lot will do that to a person," you shot back, forcing a chuckle and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, books out, let's make a start."
"Have you listened to the tape yet?" he asked quietly as he dragged his battered copy of Shakespeare out of his backpack.
"I have! It's great! Thanks again for making it for me."
"Are you lying?" His eyes gleamed teasingly.
"Do I look like I'm lying?"
He shrugged, fiddling with his headphones that hung around his neck. "Thought it might be too hardcore for you."
You shook your head, shuffling papers on your desk. "I'm not as pathetic as I look, y'know. Now come on, let's talk about Hermia and Lysander."
***
Steve had successfully managed to avoid Amanda until the boys went for dinner but with Owen and you there he had no excuse when she appeared at his elbow and drew him away to the office.
Once again the door was locked.
"Good news is it?" he muttered darkly, settling in his chair, bouncing a tennis ball repeatedly off the floor.
"Stop that," she snapped and he did.
"Amanda, whatever she's told you—"
"How many pills have you had today?"
He sat back in his seat. "What?"
"You heard me. Answer the question."
"The same I always have. What's this about?"
"Where do you get the oxy…oxydone? Oxy…something 'own'?"
"I don't even know what that is, Amanda."
She shook her head at him. "You're lying, Steve."
"How am I lying?? You don't even know the name of the drug you're asking me about!"
"Show me your pills."
"Why?" he snapped, his heart beating much too fast, hammering against his ribs so hard it was a wonder she couldn't hear it. "Why are you suddenly so interested—"
"Since you had Bella meeting with a fucking drug dealer to get your fix!"
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dryer than the desert. "Is that what she told you?"
"Unlike you, she had no reason to lie about that."
"Unlike me?? Jesus fuck, Amanda. How long have you known me?? How long have we worked together? Do I look like a fucking smackhead to you??"
She stared at him, unmoved. "If you've nothing to hide, show me your pills."
"Amanda, c'mon…" he said, almost laughing with the absurdity of it all.
"Fine," she snapped, marching over to where he sat and dragging open his desk drawer, rifling through its contents.
"Oi!" He was on his feet in a heartbeat, trying to move her without actually manhandling her. "It's none of anyone's fucking business!"
But it was too late; she'd found another little packet of oxy buried under some permission slips.
"Oxycodone! That's exactly what she said you'd have," she crowed, waving them in his face.
"Having fucking painkillers isn't a fucking crime! I'm in pain!"
"And you didn't these from some scumbag drug dealer in town then?"
"Bella's having you on, Amanda. We broke up and she's afraid you'll tell the Trust and she'll be out of a job—"
"She's already fucking quit!"
"But if the Trust found out we'd been sleeping together - on school property no less - they'll probably make sure she doesn't get a very good reference, won't they?"
"Tell me what happened yesterday."
"Nothing happened…"
"Well something must have happened otherwise you two wouldn't have gone from sneaking off for a dirty weekend to having split up in the space of forty-eight hours."
He sat down again, pulling a hand down his face with a heavy sigh.
"Alright, ok. We had a fight. And I'd stupidly forgotten to bring enough medication to last the weekend so I was awful to her because I was in agony. She finished with me and she's angry, so she's making things up to get back at me."
"I thought you just said she was worried I'd tell on her? Now she's making things up to get back at you? You want to get your story straight, mate."
He swallowed, feeling colour climbing from his collar to his cheeks.
"I don't know why she's saying it, I'm just guessing."
"Just tell me the truth: where did you get these?" she said, shaking the flimsy little slip of plastic at him.
"From my GP," he replied, holding her eye.
"And you promise me that's the truth? You promise me you don't show up here high every single day?"
"I take the pills I need to get by," he replied sharply. Which wasn't technically a lie.
"And those pills are the ones your doctor says you should be taking every day, are they?"
"Amanda, I can't even believe you're asking me this. We're friends. You really think I'd have been able to lie to you for what? Fucking, years?? Do I look high to you?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you're telling the truth then that means Bella is lying and I'm not sure I believe that she was."
"She comes from a family of addicts and drug dealers. Trust me, she's got all the experience she needs to make it sound believable."
Amanda rubbed tiredly at her forehead. "She was very convincing."
"Well then I suppose it all comes down to who you're going to believe. The woman you've known for less than a year who has a much more colourful background than we knew when we hired her or me, who you've known for over a decade."
She nodded slowly, eyes cast down, turning the little packet over and over between her hands.
"You're right," she said, slowly looking up at him, her eyes cold. "I believe her."
He froze, the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding still trapped in his lungs.
"No…" he mumbled finally, the word spilling out of him in a desperate low rush of air. "No. You can't seriously— Come on, Amanda, this is ludicrous."
"After everything you've been through, I can see how you might have got here."
The air cracked with his cold burst of laughter. "This is a nonsense!"
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it actually makes a lot of sense."
"I'm not a fucking drug addict, Amanda!!"
"Then tell me once and for all: what happened yesterday? Did you ask her to get you drugs?"
"No!" he said firmly, dropping into his seat, head in his hands. "No."
"Steve…"
"I forgot my pills, alright?! We were in the middle of fucking nowhere in Wales and I'd left my pills here. I was a mess and there was nowhere we could go to get replacements that would give me them, or not take twelve fucking years to do it, and I'd promised Helen I'd be home."
"Jesus fucking christ," she muttered, pulling up her own chair.
"We had no other choice. Bella's brother is a dealer for some nasty piece of shit from round where she grew up and she called him and asked him to help. Just as a temporary fix." His fingers locked together in his hair, his eyes screwed shut against the memory of you by the river, tears rolling down your face. "And she's convinced I have a problem so she broke things off afterwards."
"And that's the first and only time you've been to a dealer to get pills?"
Tugging hard on his hair, he didn't reply.
"Steve?"
"I have it under control."
"Fucking look at me and say that again."
Lifting his head slowly, he met her stony stare. "I have it under control, Amanda, I promise you. You've never worried about me like that before, have you? Have I ever seemed like I'm not myself?"
She got up, pacing restlessly around the room, whispering curses as she moved.
"Amanda…"
"Don't! Don't say another fucking word. Don't even breathe!" She whirled around to face him, pointing an accusing finger. "You sat there and said that girl was a fucking liar! How dare you!! She puts herself on the fucking line for you - she's leaving a job she fucking loves because of you!"
"It's not—"
"I said shut up!" She covered her face and let out a furious groan. "I can't even fucking look at you. I should report you to the Trust right this fucking minute."
He stood, light-headed with panic, taking tentative steps, his hands stretched out towards her. "Please, Amanda… please. I'll lose my job. I'll never get another one, not with that on my record. My kids…"
She glared at him, eyes burning. "Don't you fucking dare bring your kids into this. You've been cheating on their mother for months and you clearly didn't stop to consider the damage that would do to your kids if it came out."
"This isn't having an affair though…I'll never work again if you tell them. How'll I look after them?"
They stared at each other, the silence as taut as every sinew in his body.
"Please," he begged in a whisper.
Finally, her shoulders slumped and she covered her face with her hands for a moment, a great sigh sliding from her but he held his breath.
"Fine," she said wearily, dropping her hands to look at him. "I won't do anything tonight. But I want to sleep on it. I can't believe you've put me - all of us - in this position. You're a fucking selfish prick."
"Thank you," he grovelled, shame oily in his throat. "Thank you. I understand, I'm so sorry—"
"Bella was right to break it off with you." His apologies dried on his tongue and he stared slack-jawed at her as she headed for the door, turning the lock. "She deserves much better than you."
Wrenching the door open, she disappeared back out into the building, the noise of the lads rushing into the space she'd left behind. Wilting down into his chair, he cradled his head in one hand, the other rooting into his breast pocket before a small, white pill landed on his tongue. For a second he paused, allowing the acrid chemical taste to fill his mouth before, finally, he swallowed.
***
"You told her about the pills??" asked Celia when you related the conversation later, a bottle of wine and a fresh packet of cigarettes between you. Even though spring was allegedly coming, the weather had turned even colder, a frosty wind driving horizontal rain towards your windows and you'd lifted your self-imposed 'no smoking in the house' ban, just for the night.
Or maybe the week.
"I had to. She said she'd report us for the affair if I didn't," you replied glumly, the guilt weighing heavily in your stomach. You'd heard them yelling at each other in the office that evening as you passed to leave for the day, their shouts only just drowned out by the hollering coming from the common room as the lads played a particularly vicious table-football tournament after dinner.
"What do you think she'll do?"
"I don't know… they've been friends a long time but something like this? I'm not sure. She might be forced to tell the Trust." You hunched forwards, hissing a curse as your free hand pushed into your hair. "I shouldn't have told her."
Celia reached across to squeeze your arm. "You did the right thing, darling. He's working with kids while out of his tree, I'm not sure he shouldn't lose his job."
"He's not out of his tree," you argued, warming under her disapproving stare at your defense of him. "He's not… he's not ok, but he's functional. No one's in any danger under his care." You reached for a new cigarette, flashing it to life. "The only person he's a danger to is himself."
"Oh well I suppose that makes it all ok then," she replied, rolling her eyes as she tapped ash into the saucer between you. "What are you going to do, Frenchie? I completely understand wanting to get out there, but how are you going to afford to stay here without a job..?"
Under the table, your knee jigged anxiously. "I'll figure it out."
"I mean, I can help for a bit. I could still pitch in for next month—"
"No, no, no, I can't let you do that. You and Mark need to save for the wedding."
"It's ok, we can—"
"No, Cee," you said firmly, gripping her hand. "Please. I'll be fine. I have some savings, and Ash will be here—"
"Ash?? You mean the lad who's only allowed to move in if he stops selling drugs? What kind of money do you think he's going to have??"
"I don't know!" You tugged your hand free of hers, pushing it through your hair again, with a sigh. "I don't know. But I do know that I can't stay there until I find something new. I'll stack shelves or whatever if I have to until I find another teaching job. Me and Ash both will."
Celia spluttered a giggle at this and you smiled; you weren't looking forward to breaking that particular piece of news to your baby brother.
"But, look, it's not immediate crisis stations, I'm not leaving just yet. I have to work at least some of my notice and I promised I'd wait until they'd found someone new."
"Just promise me you'll ask for help if you need it, ok?"
Taking the hand she had stretched towards you, you smiled and nodded, with the absolute certainty that you never would.
***
It was inevitable that you'd have to face him after your betrayal, but you had hoped you might at least make it to break-time before the shouting started.
"Bella, can you hang on a minute?" he said briskly as the morning meeting broke up and you all prepared to go your separate ways to man the barricades.
Or, teaching, as it was more commonly know.
Amanda was the last to leave, catching your eye as she lingered in the doorway; apart from the basic necessities of setting everyone up for the day, she and Steve had barely exchanged one word since you'd arrived.
It clicked shut and you were left alone with him. If this had been last Tuesday, you'd have been taking the opportunity for a sneaky fumble on his desk.
But not today. Today he was standing, taut with rage, his eyes like two chips of ice.
"You fucking told, Amanda?!" he hissed.
You were forgoing with pleasantries then apparently.
"She made me."
He scoffed derisively. "'She made me," he mimicked in a mean, high voice. "You're not usually this fucking pathetic, Bella, own your fucking actions."
"What? Like you do, you mean??" you shot back, voice raising. "You're the one who gave her a fucking tape of us having sex!"
He glanced at the door. "Keep your fucking voice down, someone will hear you."
"She said she'd report us to the Trust if I didn't tell her, so yeah, I did tell her. And frankly, I should have told her anyway because you need fucking help, Steve."
"Oh I see, throw me under a fucking bus to save your own skin, is that it? Jesus christ, you really aren't who I thought you were."
Hurt, frustrated tears pressed behind your eyes and you balled your hands into fists.
"Yeah?? Well same here, I suppose."
You stared furiously across the room at each other, the air thick between you.
"Is she going to tell them?" you mumbled, caving first.
"I don't know," he replied flatly, raking a hand through his hair. "She wanted to sleep on it."
"She won't tell," you said with more confidence than you felt. "You're her friend. She hates the Trust… she'll come round. You just need to take more care of yourself."
"What do you care about the care I take of myself," he spat, but his face spasmed guiltily a second later when you just stared silently at him.
"Of course I care," you said quietly.
"Not enough to stay though. I got your letter."
"Yeah, I know."
"You don't have to do this. We can make it work."
You raised a brow at him. "You mean like today? Because I'd not say we're getting off to a very promising start."
"That's not fair and you know it."
"We can't do this Steve," you sighed, "it won't work."
"But you're not even giving it a chance," he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. "You can't stand there and tell me that on Saturday you were in love me and ready for us to be together - for me to leave my wife - and today you feel absolutely nothing."
"That's precisely why it won't work!" you exclaimed and his eyes flicked nervously towards the door. "I can't stay here and watch you self-destruct because I care about you too much to do that. But I can't stay here and stop you from self-destructing because…well, you know why."
"I am not self-destructing," he replied hotly, glowering when you simply snorted in reply. "I'm not! I was doing fine - you didn't even know there was anything to worry about until—"
"So you finally admit there is something to worry about."
He narrowed his eyes. "No. Look, I understand why you'd think that but I told you. I have it under control. So what that I need a bit of extra help? Do I look out of control to you?"
"No, but—"
"See! I'm fine, Bella. You have nothing you need to do for me except love me."
You cocked your head at him. "I thought this was just about me staying at Stanton?"
"I— yes, it is. Of course it is."
"Because it's over, Steve. I can't come back from what I had to do for you on Sunday."
"I understand… just please, don't leave…"
"How can you ask me to stay?" you said softly. "Can you honestly say that would be any good for either of us?"
He closed the space between you, hovering just out of reach but close enough you could feel the warmth of him spilling towards you and everything in you yearned to pull him closer.
"I don't want to come to work everyday and you're not here," he mumbled.
"You lived without me for ages before I got here."
A half-smile tugged at his lips. "You know it's not the same now."
"No," you murmured, dropping your head to avoid his eyes.
"And the lads really need you, Bells. They'll be lost without you."
"You'll get someone else. Someone good."
"But we don't want someone good, we want you," he replied and when you looked up he was smirking slightly.
"Fucker."
"I'm not sure that's really how you're supposed to speak to your boss."
"Yeah, well you're probably not supposed to go on dirty weekends or score him drugs either."
Pink tinged his cheek as he bit the end of his tongue. "Probably not, no. Definitely not something we can put in the 'essential criteria' section of the job ad anyway."
Despite yourself, you laughed and he reached for you, solid fingers warm on your neck, thumb tracing a path across your cheek.
"Don't," you whispered.
"Stay. Please?" he replied, not moving his hand, the familiarity of his touch causing an unbearable pressure to build in your chest until you had to step back to put space between you.
"I can't. This - that - is why. We can't go back, not after everything. It'll be better for us both when I'm gone."
His hands curled into themselves at his sides until his knuckles turned white, his eyes no longer filled with cold fury, instead their soft blue was filmed to glassy pools. Clearing his throat roughly, he nodded.
"We'll get started with the recruitment on Monday. Take the weekend and think it over. Make sure it's right."
***
He was pulled from pillar to post all morning and it wasn't until well into the afternoon before he managed to get Amanda on her own, spotting her having a smoke out near the lake. Seeing him coming, she shook her head and tuned away.
"Amanda…"
"Oh do fuck off, Steve. I'm trying to have two sodding minutes of peace before I have to go back in there."
Huddling deeper into his coat, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Please, I'm sorry, but I need to know what you're going to do."
She turned towards him, drawing slowly on her cigarette. "And you don't think hounding me about it might make me less inclined to cover for you?"
"Mate…"
"Don't you 'mate' me. Not when you're asking me to lie for you. Twice!"
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, staring at the ground, last year's leaves still damp and mulchy underfoot.
"Yeah, me too," she sighed, dropping the end into the leaves and squishing it with her toe before picking up the butt. "I can't believe you'd keep something like this from me. Sleeping with Bella I can understand, but this?? I could have helped you. Does Helen know?"
He shook his head quickly. "I took too much on Sunday after Bella—" he cleared his throat roughly, "—Helen didn't even notice."
"And how often do you take too much?"
Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he smiled wryly. "I don't. That was a one-off. It was a very… testing day."
"We have a lot of very testing days here. How can I trust you when you've lied to me for so long?"
"I'm not lying to you, I swear on my girls."
"Don't… don't do that. Don't use them when you can't—"
"I mean it, Amanda. I promise you - I'm always careful. I'd never put anyone any risk. I'm not even taking that much more than I have done in the past, right after the accident."
"Steve, you were practically bed-ridden for months after the accident, this isn't the same. There was nothing and no one you could hurt being on that much morphine back then."
"I swear it to you: I'm fine. I'm not doping myself up to the eyeballs, I'm taking enough to let me do what I need to do. To do this, here, with all of you."
She compressed her lips, arms wrapping around her middle, though whether in comfort or against the cold he couldn't say.
"I want to know every time you take something from now on. All of it out in the open. And I want you to start reducing down to whatever your doctor thinks you should be taking."
"My doctor doesn't—"
"Don't argue with me! If something happens and the Trust finds out about this and it comes out that I knew and covered it up - which it will because it always does - then we're both for it. I am not going down for you, do you hear me? I am not going to let you ruin the career of everyone here who works so fucking hard to keep this place afloat because they'll be tainted by association with you. So I won't rat you out, but you're going to get yourself help. Get yourself back on the straight and narrow and so help me, Steve, if you ever do something like this again, I don't stay quiet."
"Ok," he mumbled, dizzy with relief. "Thank you. I'll do my best."
She nodded firmly and let out a deep breath. "Right, I have to get back."
"Can I have one of those before you go?"
Squinting at him, she pulled the packet out her coat pocket, plucking the lighter from inside it. "Have you been drinking?"
"What?? No—"
She cracked a smile as she handed him a cigarette and let him light it.
"You going to take up smoking instead?"
"You gonna report me for that?" Her amusement dried up in an instant and he stammered an apology.
"Too fucking soon, Steven."
Heat climbing his face, he nodded and she set off back towards the school.
"Oh, and Steve?"
He turned towards her, cigarette poised halfway to his lips. "Yeah?"
"You ever fucking sleep with one of our staff again and I'll cut it off, do I make myself clear?"
He cleared his throat and tried to force a chuckle. "Abundantly."
"Good," she snapped, marching on on her, and he turned slowly back towards the lake releasing long sigh of relief, the smoke mingling with the iron-grey skies above.
***
Wednesday's nightshift was unbearable. The freezing weather howling through the crumbling old building and all the boys were grumpy and unpleasant with the cold, complaining about how it whistled past the old single glazing in their rooms. It look an age and extra cups of tea and hot chocolate to get them to settle down for the night. Exhausted, you traipsed downstairs where Owen was locking up.
"Are they all in or do you need me to go and bash heads?" he asked with a grin.
"Finally," you yawned. "I'm going to make a brew and then turn in, do you want one?"
"Please, it's fucking baltic in here."
He followed you into the kitchen, grabbing mugs as you filled the kettle.
"Did you hear Steve and Amanda knocking seven bells out of each other on Monday?"
Setting it on the burner, you hoped he didn't see how your hand wobbled.
"Yeah, I heard them as I was leaving."
"What d'you think's going on?"
"No idea," you replied quickly, fetching tea bags from the enormous caddy on the side.
"Andy reckons they've been having an affair. Trouble in paradise and all that."
You spluttered a laugh. "Seriously??"
"I don't see it myself." In the distance the office phone began to ring. "Who the fuck calls a school at half eleven at night," he muttered. "I'll get it, you make those."
The kettle was slowly burbling towards the boil when you heard Owen shout your name.
"Bella!" he shouted again and you set off at a jog, almost colliding with him in the hall.
"What's the matter??"
"The hospital's on the phone for you."
"The hospital..?" A cold fist wrapped around your heart and you dashed towards the office. You were always telling Gran she needed to be more careful in the cold.
"Hello??"
"Hello? Is that…umm… Birdie?"
You swallowed. "Yes, that's me. What's happened?"
"I'm Suki from the Royal. We've had an Ashley admitted to A&E, he asked us to call you."
"Ash?? No you mean my Gran? Nellie Jennings?"
The woman on the other end of the line paused. "Your Gran? No, I'm calling about Ashley, Birdie. He says he's your brother? He's hurt."
You sat down heavily in Steve's office chair, clutching the phone.
"Ash? What's happened?"
"We're not sure exactly but it looks like he's been beaten up. He's sustained some quite severe injuries and is bleeding internally. We need to take him up for surgery shortly."
"Surgery…" you whispered.
"I'm sorry, I know this will be a shock."
"Please tell him I'm on my way."
"Of course."
You mumbled goodbye and the line went dead. Looking up, your thoughts swirling too quickly to catch, you saw Owen hovering at the door.
"Is everything ok?"
"No… I have to go to the hospital. My bother's been in an accident."
"Just go, I'll look after things here."
Dragging your hands over your hair you blinked hard, trying to get control over you racing heart and thoughts.
"No, if something happened…"
"It's fine, I'll call Steve."
"I'm not allowed to leave you on your own, Owen."
"Bella, go and get your stuff and I'll call him now."
His instructions finally gave you a purpose and direction and you took off upstairs to get your bag, stuffing your belongings back into it from around the little staff bedroom. As you clattered back down the corridor towards the stairs, Shy's bedroom door cracked open.
"Bella?"
"Go back to bed, Shy."
"Are you ok?"
"Just do as your told!" you shouted and his eyes widened, the door slamming shut a second later.
But you didn't have time to think about that now, racing down the stairs two at a time.
"He's coming. He said to sit tight."
"I need to call my Gran," you said, pulling on your coat.
"Bella…" Owen gently rested his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, look at me."
"He's got internal bleeding," you whimpered, tears beginning to slip down your cheeks. He bundled you into a bear hug and held you tight.
"Just take a breath, ok? Come on, do it with me. Nice and slow in… good girl. And out again… that's it, nice."
With each shaky breath your heart rate began to slow and he pulled back, smiling at you.
"Call your Gran, Steve'll be here in a minute."
Dialling with a shaking hand, you let the line ring and ring but there was no answer. Hoping that meant she was already on her way to the hospital, you called Celia instead.
"Hello?"
"Mark?"
"Alright French." You could hear Celia's mutter of surprise in the background and the phone being dragged away from him.
"Frenchie? What's the matter? Aren't you at work?"
"Cee, it's Ash. Something's happened to him… I don't know… he's in hospital. He's going for surgery." The tears began to leak from your eyes again. "I can't leave here until someone comes to replace me."
"Fuck that! I'm on my way to get you. Don't move, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
***
Both Steve and Celia must have committed a plethora of traffic violations to reach you in the time they did, both screeching into the car park within in minutes of each other. Steve got there first, rushing into the hall where you were waiting, clutching a soggy tissue, your bag at your feet.
Without thinking you rushed to him, letting him wrap you in his arms.
"Shhhh… hey hey, don't cry, it's ok. What's happened??" he soothed into your hair, stroking your back.
"Her brother's been rushed into A&E. It sounds bad," said Owen and when you peeled yourself away from Steve he was looking between you with undisguised interest.
Another thing you didn't have time for tonight.
"I have to go," you mumbled. "Thanks for taking over."
"No, I'll take you there myself. Owen'll be fine, they're asleep."
"But the protocol says—"
"Fuck the protocol, Bells," said Steve, catching your face between his hands and you covered them with your own. "I'm taking you, let's go."
"She's not going anywhere with you."
Celia marched in, somehow looking as shiny and put together as she always did even though she must have been half-way to bed when you called. If looks could kill, Steve would have been dead on the spot with the daggers she was shooting him.
"Cee," you murmured, rushing to her and she hugged you.
"Come on, darling, let's go," she said, ushering you towards the door, stopping to grab your bag that Owen proffered towards her.
"I can take her—"
She whirled towards Steve, stepping closer, tall enough that he had to lift his chin to meet her eye.
"You stay the fuck away from her, do you hear me? You've done more than enough damage already."
"Cee," you whispered, shivering at the main door.
"I'm sorry, Bells," Steve said hoarsely as Celia stalked towards you, slipping an arm around your shoulders. "I hope he's ok. Will you let us know in the morning?"
You looked back towards him just before you left, standing there with Owen behind and undoubtedly some awkward questions to answer, when a shadow moved in the background.
"Shy?" you mumbled, but the flash of green hoodie was gone almost as quickly as you'd seen in.
"Come on, French, we need to go," Celia said, gently tugging you by the arm and you let yourself be led out the door and into the freezing night air.
Eeeeeep! How we doing team?? Come scream at me in all the usual ways. If you need inspo, Laura’s primary comment during beta reading was ‘SHUT UP STEVE, DICKHEAD’ 😂 It’s hope you enjoyed as much as she did 🤭 xxx
trees are very 🥺 because sometimes i’ll stand under the shade of a tree and look up at it and it’ll sway its branches about in the wind and i’m like oh my God i’m alive and YOU’RE alive. we are alive together and made up of the same starry stuff and standing right next to each other in this moment on this earth. do u feel it when i reach out and press my hand to your trunk? can you hear me? i think you’re so neat. and then the sunlight filters through its leaves just so and that lovely green color leaves me dazzled. it’s just very nice to be an alive thing next to a different sort of alive thing
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
you have to make friends online so you can see stuff that reminds you of the kinks and fetishes they have and you can think of them fondly with a little wistful sigh
given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that
Welcome back sports fans, I hope you’re ready for a whole lot of YELLING! As ever, I live for your reactions so if you enjoy, please do let me know - comments are love 🤍 Thanks as always to my beta reader and bestie in crime, @peakyscillian for all her help! xx
Summary: After the disastrous end to their weekend, Steve and Bella return to school. But if they thought things were bad already, they are about to get much, much worse.
Warnings: themes of drug addiction and infidelity.
Word count: 10,894 PART 8 | SERIES
9. Resignation
It took a long time for you to recover enough to be able to tell Celia what had happened with Steve. You hated smoking in the house - it always reminded you of your mother - so, wrapped in coats against the coolness of the evening, you sat in the back garden and smoked your way slowly and deliberately through an ill-advised chunk of your remaining cigarettes, while giving her the edited lowlights of the day, your words coming in fits and starts as waves of emotion stole your ability to speak time and again.
"Fucking hell…" Celia murmured as you finally lapsed into an exhausted silence. "I can't believe… but he's a headmaster?? How is that even possible?"
You shrugged, lighting a fresh cigarette, offering the dwindling pack to her, which she declined with a flick of her scarlet manicure. "He's not completely wrong when he says it's under control, I suppose. He knows how much he can take without anyone being able to tell. Even I couldn't tell…"
"But still…" Celia shook her head with a sigh, reaching for the packet after all, sparking one to life. "Did you really mean it about handing your notice?"
Nodding tightly, you sucked hard on your cigarette, holding onto the smoke until it burned.
"I can't stay there, not after this," you whispered, the words cloudy in front of you. "How am I supposed to go to work with him every day after..?" A sob caught in your throat and you covered your mouth with your hand, shoulders shaking. Celia dragged her seat even closer, wrapping her arms around you.
"You shouldn't have to lose your job because he's a fucking druggie. You should report him," she mumbled against your hair.
"I can't do that to him," you hiccuped. "I love him."
She pulled back, covering your free hand with hers, studying you as she smoked.
"But what are you going to do?"
You'd been asking yourself that since the M4 when the doubts about your circumstances had begun to whisper in the back of your head. But unfortunately you hadn't yet managed to come up with a compelling response.
Avoiding her worried eyes, you tapped your ash into saucer on the table. "I don't know," you whispered.
***
Lying in bed that night, Helen's soft, rhythmic snores beside him, Steve wasn't sure which was worse: the fact he'd come home higher than he'd ever been around his family, or the fact that Helen hadn't even seemed to notice. She'd wrinkled her nose at the vague smell of smoke on his clothes and he'd fumbled an excuse that people had been smoking in the conference he'd told her he was at. Another event to promote what they were doing at Stanton.
I can't do this…I'm sorry…
Your words plagued him as he lay in the dark. He couldn't stop picturing the look in your eyes in the moment you had decided it was over. Like you'd looked into him and knew he was beyond help. Or worse: that you had finally understood that he didn't deserve your kindness, or your love. Not after what he'd done.
But it still burned all the same. As the excessive amount of oxy he'd taken in the car began to wear off and the pain seeped back in, the aching loss of you was raw in his chest. How was he supposed to just carry on like everything was normal? How was he supposed to be without you? The very idea of it sent something like panic flickering through him, not as intense, but not unlike the feeling that morning when he couldn't find his pills.
My resignation will be on your desk in the morning…
It had barely been a year but he couldn't remember what life at Stanton had been like without you. Being without you, being without being able to hold you, to touch you, was going to be bad enough, but how was he supposed to keep turning up at work without knowing you were there?
And there were the lads to think about too. For all their teenage bravado, he didn't like to think what the damage it would do to them if you left suddenly. They trusted you, relied on you.
No, it simply couldn't be allowed to happen. He had to change your mind. If not about him, at least about leaving Stanton, for the sake of the boys.
And if you were still there, then at least maybe…maybe…there was a chance for him too.
Pressing his fingers deep into his eyes, he tried to block out the events of the day. If he tried hard enough, maybe it would all just turn out to have been a bad dream. Maybe he was about to wake up beside you in Wales and everything would be how it was supposed to be. He'd roll over and there you'd be; lying on your side with that sleepy smile you gave him in the mornings, before reaching out to tuck yourself against his chest. The warm weight of your body on top of him in the soft silence of morning, movements slow, unhurried, because you had all the time in the world.
Despite the pain in his back, and the misery of facing life without you, he was hard as a rock. Sliding out of bed, he padded towards the door, intent on taking care of the problem in the spare room.
"Y'ok?" Helen mumbled, and he shifted so she wouldn't be able to see the tent in his underwear, even though he knew she probably couldn't anyway in the dark.
"Just my back playing up after the drive," he whispered. "Go back to sleep, I'm fine."
***
The next morning you were like a zombie. Despite your exhaustion from the day you'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, finally giving up the fruitless attempt at sleep to write your resignation letter. Trudging into the building, it was like a lead weight in your bag. Or perhaps more accurately, like a time bomb primed to explode. Pausing outside the office, you gripped the handle and sucked in a deep breath to steady yourself. But he wasn't there, just like he said he wouldn't be, and you couldn't decide if it was actually a relief or not.
"Busy weekend?" asked Amanda as you practically downed a full mug of the terrible staff coffee, immediately filling it again. "How was your sister?"
If you didn't know better, you'd have described her tone as 'pointed'. But perhaps she was just narked that you'd had a whole weekend to yourself when she'd been left to manage the lads without Steve to share the load.
"Yeah, just… a lot. It was hard work. She was ok though. How was it here?"
"Oh you know, idyllic," Amanda yawned, pouring coffee for herself. "Can we have a word later on?"
"Uhh…" you stammered, anxiety bubbling in your stomach, "yeah of course. I don't think I have a free period until after lunch though."
She waved this away airily but her eyes were steely. "Not to worry, I'll find you."
***
The building hummed with the usual sounds of Stanton when Steve got there shortly before lunch. Down the corridor he could hear you raising your voice, laughter punctuating what was probably an attempt to restore order. The office was empty when he let himself in, but his relief at this fact was fleeting when he saw the envelope on his desk, his name in your neat, cursive handwriting. Bag thumping to the floor, he eyed it as he rooted automatically in his desk drawer for the box he'd so foolishly left behind for the weekend. Popping out a pair of tramadol, he threw them back, before eyeing the little pack of oxy.
If he was going to get through this, he thought, he needed all the help he could get, and one tiny white pill followed the other two a moment later.
Dropping down into his chair with a sigh, he lifted the envelope carefully, turning it over between his hands, as if weighing its contents. For a second he considered just tearing it up and denying all knowledge of its existence, but it would be no good. You'd just write another one. Tearing it open, bracing in the same manner one might when ripping off a plaster, he unfolded the single sheet of paper that nestled within.
Dear Steve,
It is with regret that I must give notice of my intention to leave Stanton Manor due to unforeseen family matters. I appreciate my contract requires one full term's notice and I do not wish to put you, or the students, in a difficult position. However, my personal circumstances are complex and urgent, so if it was possible to enable me to leave more quickly, I would greatly appreciate you help in doing this. I will, of course, be available until a replacement can be found.
I'm deeply sorry for the difficulties this will bring. My time at Stanton has been the highlight of my career so far and I will carry it with me always.
Yours,
Staring at the page, he found himself somewhat caught by surprise in seeing your real name signed across the bottom. As if this was all happening to someone else, that this letter was from some other, unfamiliar, woman. Not you. Not his Bella.
Letting the page fall to the tabletop, he covered his face with his hands, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare he'd somehow stumbled into.
"What's that?"
Amanda's voice made him jump, spinning the chair towards her as she closed the door. "Nothing," he said quickly, stuffing your letter quickly back into the envelope. "Is everything alright?" he added, frowning when she twisted the lock. It was a rare occurrence that they kept the office just for themselves.
"Good weekend away with Helen?" she asked as if he hadn't spoken, coming to rest against the side of the conference table, her arms folded.
"I…uhh… yeah, not bad. Y'know what those things are like. Loads of people you only ever see at weddings, christening and funerals."
"Still," she said, her eyes trained on him with an unusual and uncomfortable intensity, "nice to get away just the two of you, without the girls."
He swallowed. "Yep… yeah. Makes a change." Clearing his throat, he forced a chuckle and immediately wished he hadn't, the sound ringing hollowly between them.
"Yes, always nice to have an excuse for a dirty weekend," she continued, laughing when he inhaled sharply. "Don't look so shocked, isn't that what it was?" Her lip curled without amusement as she slowly set a little tape recorder on the table beside her.
Cold trickled down his spine. "It's not really something I'd want to—"
"No, me neither," she snapped before he could finish. "But unfortunately I wasn't given the choice."
Pressing play on the device beside her, a voice filtered reedily into the room, immediately recognisable as yours:
"You're such a weirdo. Why can't you just leave her a written list like normal people?"
Why did he remember you asking him that..? When had you..?
"How dare you, a simple list can't possibly convey my many, many, important and detailed thoughts."
He was sitting right here, making a tape for Amanda and you came in and... oh… Oh, FUCK!
"Faster though."
"Amanda…it's not…"
There was a strange thud and when they carried on, the voices had retreated but were, unfortunately, still entirely audible.
"I prefer taking it slow." On the recording, you let out a light hum he knew so well, and he pushed himself out of his chair, face burning.
"Alright, that's enough…"
"That's a shame…because I was kinda hoping you might be interested in something hard and fast."
His past-self groaned from the tape recorder and he lunged to switch it off but Amanda got there first, glaring at him furiously.
"You unbelievable fucker," she hissed.
"It's not…I can explain…"
"I don't think you need to fucking explain why you - a forty-eight year old man - might want to fuck our very lovely English teacher, Steve. It's fairly fucking self-explanatory."
Pinching the bridge of his nose he avoided meeting her thunderous stare.
"The bigger question is why someone as clever as her would risk her whole career for the sake of sleeping with her boss."
"It's not like that…" he mumbled.
"You were with her this weekend weren't you? All that fucking song and dance about her sister moving house… it was all just cover so she could get the weekend off so you could have a fucking dirty little weekend, wasn't it?"
Hanging his head, he didn't reply and she banged the tape player off the table, making him jump.
"Wasn't it!!"
"Yes," he whispered.
"How long has it been going on for?"
He shuffled his feet, not looking at her.
"Answer me!"
"Since the Christmas party."
She gasped, clutching her head between her hands.
"Since Christmas!? Jesus fucking Christ, Steve!"
"We didn't mea—"
"How could you do something like this to Helen?? To your family??"
Caustic laughter began bubbling up within him, rising higher, forcing its way out against his better judgement.
"Do you think this is fucking funny?!"
But he didn't reply, mirth still spilling out between his lips.
"How can you stand there and fucking laugh when your wife—"
He slammed his hand so hard on his desk the pain ricocheted from his palm to his shoulder to his spine.
"My wife wouldn't even notice if I brought Bella home and fucked her in front of her," he hissed. "I could go home tonight and tell her everything and she'd barely fucking look up from whatever else she was doing. So don't you stand there and fucking judge me when you don't know a single fucking thing about my marriage!"
Amanda stepped closer, glowering at him as she slapped away the finger he had pointed at her and prodded him firmly on the chest.
"Said exactly like a man who's trying to justify sleeping with another woman. I don't care how disinterested your wife might be in you - you don't get to go around fucking whoever you like. And especially not when the whoever you like also happens to be our fucking employee! You could lose your fucking job! You both could! And then where would we be?!"
Grabbing the envelope from where he'd dropped it when she arrived, he shoved it at her.
"You don't need to worry, it's already over," he snapped.
"What's this?" she asked even as she tugged the letter from inside and unfolded it. Eyes scanning quickly down the page, she looked up, open-mouthed.
"Are you fucking joking me? She's leaving?!"
He dropped heavily into his seat, scrubbing a hand down his face as he nodded.
"And all this guff about family trouble is just a lie, is it?"
"I think so, yes."
"Fucking hell…" Your letter crumpled slightly in her fist. "Fucking hell, Steve! She's the best fucking teacher we've had here and you just had to go and fucking ruin it, didn't you?! Christ, I could kill you with my own hands. Do you have any idea what this'll do to the boys?!"
"I tried to change her mind…"
Amanda scoffed, stuffing the letter back into the envelope. "Not hard enough, clearly."
"I'll talk to her again later, it's all happened very suddenly."
"No, she can answer to me about this."
"Amanda, just leave it. Let me talk—"
But it was already too late, the lock clicking as she flung open the door, storming off down the corridor just as the bell rang for lunch.
***
"Just a second!" you shouted, having to raise your voice over the scraping of chair-legs against the wooden floor of your classroom. "Take one of these on your way out and I want answers on my desk on Friday."
The boys groaned in near-unison but you stood by the door with the pile of handouts and refused to let them pass until they'd taken on.
"Oi!" you said, grabbing Riley by the collar as he tried to bounce out past you without a copy.
"Bellaaaa…" he whined but you blocked the doorway, holding out the page towards him.
"Fucking hell, Riley, just take it before Jamie eats all our lunches," grumbled Benny, still stuck behind him with a few of the other lads.
With a huff that suggested you'd asked him to sit down and pen his own hit Shakespearean play, Riley took the page and you smiled as if the ordeal hadn't happened.
"Friday, ok? You know where I am if you have questions."
The others filed past, taking their sheets with only minor grumbles of discontentment and as they disappeared towards the dining hall you leaned against the door frame, eyes slipping closed in exhausted relief at having made it through class.
"Bella!"
Amanda's sharp tone startled you into straightening up, seeing her marching towards you.
"Everything ok..?" you stammered, walking backwards and she shooed you into the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Is everything ok? Is everything OK!? What the fuck do you think you're playing at!"
"I— what?? I don't know—"
"Oh don't give me all that wide-eyed innocence shit," she snapped. "I know you've been fucking Steve."
You froze, half-formed words still on your lips.
"Don't insult me by trying to deny it."
"How did you..?" you breathed, panic crackling up your spine, tightening around your chest like a band.
She slapped a small tape recorder down on the nearest desk.
"Maybe next time you sleep with your boss on school property, you should make sure he's not fucking recording it."
You stared at the little device in horror. "No…"
"Trust me, yes. I've heard things I will never be able to unhear."
You sat down - involuntarily - on the nearest chair, your legs turning to jelly.
"How could you?? He's your boss. He's married!"
"I don't—" You studied your hands, fingers twisting together in your lap, you head cloudy with shock. "It wasn't supposed to be…"
"Wasn't supposed to be what?"
"Nothing," you murmured.
"Did you even think about the fact he has a wife? A family??"
"Of course—"
"How could you be so selfish."
Your head snapped up, the clouds parting to allow angry to ride in between them. "Right, I see. I'm the whore, aren't I? I did think about his family but y'know what? They aren't my family. I didn't make him do anything he didn't want to. If he chose to cheat on his wife with me, that's his business."
She stared at you, mouth agape. "You can't really think that. You're better than this."
"Apparently I'm not."
She shook her head, brows drawn. "No... no. You're not this stupid. I know you and you love this job, you wouldn't risk it over something so trivial. So come on, tell me: what did he promise you?"
"Nothing." You cleared your throat roughly. "I am that stupid. It was just sex… and now it's over."
"He told you he'd leave her, didn't he??"
You shifted in your seat and she sighed heavily.
"Oh Bella…"
"It doesn't matter. It's over," you mumbled.
"Yes, so I gather." She set your resignation letter on the desk beside you. "But only cowards run away from their mistakes, Bella."
You stiffened. "I am not a fucking coward."
"Really? Because this looks a lot like a little girl running away from her problems to me."
"Fuck off, Amanda! You have no idea what you're talking about. I'm doing this for the best."
"The best for who though, Bella?? What's for the best for the lads who depend on you every day, eh?? If you had any guts, you'd stay and face the mess you've made. At least until the end of the school year."
"The mess I've made?? So it's not his fault at all then, is it?? After all, he's only the one who's older and more senior than me at work. Yes, I can see how you'd think the power all lies with me."
Amanda faltered, dropping into the chair at the desk across from you. "He's been through a lot these last few years."
"That doesn't make this just my fault. He's a fucking adult, Amanda. He made his choice. Which, by the way, included him pursuing me."
"I'm sorry…" she sighed, rubbing tiredly at her forehead. "For what it's worth, I'm livid with him too."
You chewed at the side of your thumb, eyeing her carefully. "Are you going to tell the Trust?"
She studied you and you struggled not to squirm under the scrutiny.
"No," she said eventually. "You're both so fucking stupid I could kill you, but telling tales to those twats won't fix anything. But you can't just leave, Bella. We need you."
"I'm sorry, I know it's terrible timing…but I can't stay here. Not now."
"If you weren't prepared to handle it like adults if it ended, why did you start it at all?"
Her words stung like a slap and your retaliation was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.
"You really don't know him at all, do you? How much of a fucking mess he is?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Covering your face with your hands, you groaned quietly.
"Bella?"
"I just mean that he's not alright. He's not coping."
"His back—"
"Is an excuse," you said firmly. "I'm not saying he's not in pain - he undoubtedly is - but it's more than that, isn't it?"
She avoided your eyes. "We're all under a lot of strain…"
With a frustrated huff, you got up, unable to keep still a moment longer.
"He's drowning, Amanda. He's drowning right in front of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Can't you see it?? What am I saying… I couldn't see it and it was right in front of my face. But you've known him years, surely you can see that he's not ok??"
"How can you expect him to be ok after what he went through, Bella? Of course he's not ok. And this place puts us all through hell, but none moreso than him. But he gets on with it, like we all do. Because he has to."
You stared at her, fingers curling into your palms as you fought to keep your voice steady.
"But he's not just getting on with it, Amanda. You have to open your eyes and really see him. He's—"
You cut yourself off, chewing your lip and she frowned.
"He's what?"
"I—" You silenced yourself, fingers to your lips. "No, I shouldn't. It's not mine to tell. You'll have to ask him."
"Tell me right now or I'll go and report you both for fucking on school property."
You stared mutinously at her but her stony expression remained unmoved.
"Bella."
"Fucking… alright fine!" You threw up your hands in defeat. "You want the truth? Fine. He's an addict, Amanda."
Her mouth dropped open. "You fucking what?? No he's not."
"Yes. He is."
"Bella, my love, listen to me. I know it looks like he takes a lot of pills but—"
"Yeah! He does! You think it looks like a lot?? You don't even know the half of it! And they don't even all come from his fucking doctor! So don't talk to me like I'm five years old, Amanda, it's insulting. Particularly because when I actually was five years old, I probably already knew more about addiction than you do sitting there today."
She followed your pacing with a narrow-eyed stare, forehead puckered in confusion.
"What do you mean they don't come from his doctor? Where the fuck else would they come from??"
Coming to an abrupt stop, hands on your hips, you fixed her with a withering look. "Where do you think those kinds of drugs come from when they don't come from a doctor? The magic opioid fairy?"
"No…" she whispered. "That's no possible. None of this is possible… you're…" She floundered, shaking her head, eyes darting as she appeared to struggle to find the words. "Are you making this up because he finished things with you? You want him to get fired, is that it??"
It was your turn to stare incredulously. "You think I'm lying?? You think I could lie about something like this just because what? Because I'm a bitter little bitch? A woman scorned?? Are you serious??"
"I don't know, Bella. Are you?" she asked coldly.
"Fuck you, Amanda! Get out of my classroom! I've done things I'm not proud of but I own those, and I'm not going to let you sit there and accuse me of telling lies. Why don't you go and ask him about yesterday, when I had to go and score him drugs because he left his stash at home. Why don't you ask him where he gets his oxycodone from. All those fucking pills in his desk. Then we'll see who's fucking lying around here!"
You stalked to the door, dragging it open, and waited for her to leave but she didn't move from her seat.
"Close that."
"No, we're finished here. You don't get to call me a liar and then we just carry on."
"How long has he been…" She trailed off, eyes on the open door, the racket from the boys echoing from the dining hall, the familiar sound jarring in the tension of the room. "Please, Bella. I apologise."
Slowly, you let it swing shut again, the usual sounds of Stanton disappearing once more.
"I'm not sure. A long time, I think. The more he takes, the more he needs to feel normal."
"Are you saying he's high at work?"
You watched your fingers twist together, guilt beginning to twinge in your guts as the anger subsided, but there was no going back now.
"I'm not sure he's ever not high."
Amanda swore softly, covering her face with her hands.
"But he's high-functioning," you continued. "It's not like he's getting off his face. The fact that none of us could tell shows he has it vaguely under control." You swallowed, the irony of his words coming out of your mouth in his defense not lost on you. "I only knew there was a problem because I spent more time with him than any of us ever do. And he got sloppy around me. He's very, very good at hiding it."
"You swear to me you're telling the truth?"
"I wouldn't lie about something like this. I—" You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to continue. "Addiction has been a problem in my family since I was born, Amanda. This isn't something I'd ever joke about. And for the record, he didn't break up with me out of some chivalrous attempt at saving his marriage, I ended it. Because of all this. Because he won't even admit he has a problem and I can't try and fix another addict, I just don't have it in me."
Amanda pushed herself to her feet with a small groan of exhaustion and slowly made her way to you, resting her hands on your shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Bella. Truly."
You shook your head briefly, curling your nails into your palms as you pushed down the ball that was building in your throat.
"What are you going to do?" you asked hoarsely.
"I'm going to make him tell me the truth."
***
The moment Amanda left the room he threw back another pair of tramadol, tucking the slim packet of oxy into his shirt pocket. Really, he should stop her confronting you. He could leave the room right now and catch her, tell her to leave you alone. That this was his mess, his mistake, not yours.
Instead, he slipped back into his chair and stared, unseeing, at the stack of paperwork that was waiting for his attention. The minutes ticked by and she didn't return. He should go and help with lunch duty, give Owen and Andy a break but he couldn't seem to move. Had it not been for the fact he had a science lesson to teach after lunch, he might have stayed, rooted to his office chair, for the rest of the day.
The afternoon passed blurrily; Jamie was being particularly disruptive but he hardly did anything to stop him, and sensing his weakness, the others joined in, the class falling apart completely about twenty minutes before the bell rang. Admitting defeat, he sent them back to the common room and left the building, making a bee-line for his car.
Tucked underneath the passenger seat was the small cardboard box you'd given him yesterday.
Gathering it up, careful not to jostle its precious glass cargo, he draped his jacket over it and went back into school, slinking in through the caretakers entrance, well away from the busy mayhem of the boys. Following the corridors down to the laundry room, he let himself in and rested against the closed door.
The last time he'd been in here was with you and the memories hit him so hard in the chest that he could scarcely breathe. He could practically smell you, feel the plush heat of you pulsing around his fingers, the taste of your skin as he dragged his tongue over your neck and your hands locked in his hair.
With effort, he propelled himself back into motion, scanning the room for a suitable hiding place, eyes alighting on the tumble-dryers to the left of the door. An alcove was blocked in by the ancient machines, creating a small void behind them. Leaning over, trying not to topple headfirst into the space, he peered down in the gloom and cobwebs, spotting what had once upon a time been a mop-bucket but had long since ceased in providing viable service. Well now he had a new commission for it; flipping it over, he set the little box on top.
He couldn't just leave it like that though, out in the open for anyone to find. Hauling himself back to his feet, he pinched a hand towel from the racks above and leaning over again, his back making its displeasure known, gently dropping it on top of the box. Cocking his head, he took in the tableau; to the casual observer it would look as though the towel had simply fallen off the machine and been forgotten to time.
Nodding quietly to himself, he pushed himself vertical once more and dusted down his shirt. The little packet of oxy crackled cheerfully in his pocket and before he knew that he'd done it, a little pill was sailing down his gullet, bound for his bloodstream.
Oh well, too late to take it back now.
Heading back up to the main part of the building he heard the commotion before he got there.
"Where the fuck have you been?" snapped Amanda, holding Tarone by the scruff of his jumper, blood seeping from a cut above his eye.
"I— I just…what's happened?"
"Jamie lamped him with a textbook. He nearly took his fucking eye out."
"Which textbook?"
Amanda fixed him with a cold stare and he cleared his throat.
"I'm taking him to get fixed up, you can deal with Jamie. They were supposed to be with you anyway."
"Yep…yeah, ok."
"And I need to speak to you later."
"Ooooh, Steve's in trouuuuble," Nabz teased in a sing-song voice and the other lads who were still hanging around - never ones to miss the aftermath of a brawl and see someone who wasn't them getting told off - laughed and joined in.
He coughed again, his guts slithering at her tone, and nodded. "Right. I'll see you in a while."
She disappeared with a still dripping Tarone, the boys continuing their impression of jeering budgies.
"Alright, give it a fucking rest!" he shouted and, to his immense surprise, they stopped. "Jamie, get the fuck up to your room, I'll be up in a minute. The rest of you have places to be, so move it."
The room cleared with only a minimal rumble of complaining and as they disappeared to their various classrooms, he rested his forehead against the doorframe and sighed heavily.
"Steve?"
He looked round to see Owen hovering in the corridor near the office.
"You alright, boss?"
"Yeah… yeah I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile. "I'm just going up to deal with Jamie. Can you tell Sarah to just hang on in the kitchen and I'll be down as soon as I can?"
***
"Bella..? Are you alright?"
Shy's soft voice made you jump and you grabbed another tissue from the box on your desk, dabbling hurriedly under your eyes.
"No— I mean yes, I mean… I'm fine. What do you need?"
He frowned at you, still lingering nervously in the doorway. "We have tutorial time?"
Fuck…
"Of course we do, sorry," you said, blowing your nose quickly and trying to pin a smile to your face.
"We don't have—"
"Ah no - no way you get out of it that easily."
He cracked a lopsided smile and sloped into the room, taking the empty seat beside your desk.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm fine."
"Why was Amanda yelling at you?"
Closing your eyes for a second, you wished the floor would swallow you whole. When you opened them, he was staring expectantly at you.
"She wasn't yelling at me."
"Sounded like she was."
"Oh you know Amanda, her bark's worse than her bite."
"She sounded pretty pissed off."
"Well, working with you lot will do that to a person," you shot back, forcing a chuckle and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, books out, let's make a start."
"Have you listened to the tape yet?" he asked quietly as he dragged his battered copy of Shakespeare out of his backpack.
"I have! It's great! Thanks again for making it for me."
"Are you lying?" His eyes gleamed teasingly.
"Do I look like I'm lying?"
He shrugged, fiddling with his headphones that hung around his neck. "Thought it might be too hardcore for you."
You shook your head, shuffling papers on your desk. "I'm not as pathetic as I look, y'know. Now come on, let's talk about Hermia and Lysander."
***
Steve had successfully managed to avoid Amanda until the boys went for dinner but with Owen and you there he had no excuse when she appeared at his elbow and drew him away to the office.
Once again the door was locked.
"Good news is it?" he muttered darkly, settling in his chair, bouncing a tennis ball repeatedly off the floor.
"Stop that," she snapped and he did.
"Amanda, whatever she's told you—"
"How many pills have you had today?"
He sat back in his seat. "What?"
"You heard me. Answer the question."
"The same I always have. What's this about?"
"Where do you get the oxy…oxydone? Oxy…something 'own'?"
"I don't even know what that is, Amanda."
She shook her head at him. "You're lying, Steve."
"How am I lying?? You don't even know the name of the drug you're asking me about!"
"Show me your pills."
"Why?" he snapped, his heart beating much too fast, hammering against his ribs so hard it was a wonder she couldn't hear it. "Why are you suddenly so interested—"
"Since you had Bella meeting with a fucking drug dealer to get your fix!"
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dryer than the desert. "Is that what she told you?"
"Unlike you, she had no reason to lie about that."
"Unlike me?? Jesus fuck, Amanda. How long have you known me?? How long have we worked together? Do I look like a fucking smackhead to you??"
She stared at him, unmoved. "If you've nothing to hide, show me your pills."
"Amanda, c'mon…" he said, almost laughing with the absurdity of it all.
"Fine," she snapped, marching over to where he sat and dragging open his desk drawer, rifling through its contents.
"Oi!" He was on his feet in a heartbeat, trying to move her without actually manhandling her. "It's none of anyone's fucking business!"
But it was too late; she'd found another little packet of oxy buried under some permission slips.
"Oxycodone! That's exactly what she said you'd have," she crowed, waving them in his face.
"Having fucking painkillers isn't a fucking crime! I'm in pain!"
"And you didn't these from some scumbag drug dealer in town then?"
"Bella's having you on, Amanda. We broke up and she's afraid you'll tell the Trust and she'll be out of a job—"
"She's already fucking quit!"
"But if the Trust found out we'd been sleeping together - on school property no less - they'll probably make sure she doesn't get a very good reference, won't they?"
"Tell me what happened yesterday."
"Nothing happened…"
"Well something must have happened otherwise you two wouldn't have gone from sneaking off for a dirty weekend to having split up in the space of forty-eight hours."
He sat down again, pulling a hand down his face with a heavy sigh.
"Alright, ok. We had a fight. And I'd stupidly forgotten to bring enough medication to last the weekend so I was awful to her because I was in agony. She finished with me and she's angry, so she's making things up to get back at me."
"I thought you just said she was worried I'd tell on her? Now she's making things up to get back at you? You want to get your story straight, mate."
He swallowed, feeling colour climbing from his collar to his cheeks.
"I don't know why she's saying it, I'm just guessing."
"Just tell me the truth: where did you get these?" she said, shaking the flimsy little slip of plastic at him.
"From my GP," he replied, holding her eye.
"And you promise me that's the truth? You promise me you don't show up here high every single day?"
"I take the pills I need to get by," he replied sharply. Which wasn't technically a lie.
"And those pills are the ones your doctor says you should be taking every day, are they?"
"Amanda, I can't even believe you're asking me this. We're friends. You really think I'd have been able to lie to you for what? Fucking, years?? Do I look high to you?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you're telling the truth then that means Bella is lying and I'm not sure I believe that she was."
"She comes from a family of addicts and drug dealers. Trust me, she's got all the experience she needs to make it sound believable."
Amanda rubbed tiredly at her forehead. "She was very convincing."
"Well then I suppose it all comes down to who you're going to believe. The woman you've known for less than a year who has a much more colourful background than we knew when we hired her or me, who you've known for over a decade."
She nodded slowly, eyes cast down, turning the little packet over and over between her hands.
"You're right," she said, slowly looking up at him, her eyes cold. "I believe her."
He froze, the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding still trapped in his lungs.
"No…" he mumbled finally, the word spilling out of him in a desperate low rush of air. "No. You can't seriously— Come on, Amanda, this is ludicrous."
"After everything you've been through, I can see how you might have got here."
The air cracked with his cold burst of laughter. "This is a nonsense!"
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it actually makes a lot of sense."
"I'm not a fucking drug addict, Amanda!!"
"Then tell me once and for all: what happened yesterday? Did you ask her to get you drugs?"
"No!" he said firmly, dropping into his seat, head in his hands. "No."
"Steve…"
"I forgot my pills, alright?! We were in the middle of fucking nowhere in Wales and I'd left my pills here. I was a mess and there was nowhere we could go to get replacements that would give me them, or not take twelve fucking years to do it, and I'd promised Helen I'd be home."
"Jesus fucking christ," she muttered, pulling up her own chair.
"We had no other choice. Bella's brother is a dealer for some nasty piece of shit from round where she grew up and she called him and asked him to help. Just as a temporary fix." His fingers locked together in his hair, his eyes screwed shut against the memory of you by the river, tears rolling down your face. "And she's convinced I have a problem so she broke things off afterwards."
"And that's the first and only time you've been to a dealer to get pills?"
Tugging hard on his hair, he didn't reply.
"Steve?"
"I have it under control."
"Fucking look at me and say that again."
Lifting his head slowly, he met her stony stare. "I have it under control, Amanda, I promise you. You've never worried about me like that before, have you? Have I ever seemed like I'm not myself?"
She got up, pacing restlessly around the room, whispering curses as she moved.
"Amanda…"
"Don't! Don't say another fucking word. Don't even breathe!" She whirled around to face him, pointing an accusing finger. "You sat there and said that girl was a fucking liar! How dare you!! She puts herself on the fucking line for you - she's leaving a job she fucking loves because of you!"
"It's not—"
"I said shut up!" She covered her face and let out a furious groan. "I can't even fucking look at you. I should report you to the Trust right this fucking minute."
He stood, light-headed with panic, taking tentative steps, his hands stretched out towards her. "Please, Amanda… please. I'll lose my job. I'll never get another one, not with that on my record. My kids…"
She glared at him, eyes burning. "Don't you fucking dare bring your kids into this. You've been cheating on their mother for months and you clearly didn't stop to consider the damage that would do to your kids if it came out."
"This isn't having an affair though…I'll never work again if you tell them. How'll I look after them?"
They stared at each other, the silence as taut as every sinew in his body.
"Please," he begged in a whisper.
Finally, her shoulders slumped and she covered her face with her hands for a moment, a great sigh sliding from her but he held his breath.
"Fine," she said wearily, dropping her hands to look at him. "I won't do anything tonight. But I want to sleep on it. I can't believe you've put me - all of us - in this position. You're a fucking selfish prick."
"Thank you," he grovelled, shame oily in his throat. "Thank you. I understand, I'm so sorry—"
"Bella was right to break it off with you." His apologies dried on his tongue and he stared slack-jawed at her as she headed for the door, turning the lock. "She deserves much better than you."
Wrenching the door open, she disappeared back out into the building, the noise of the lads rushing into the space she'd left behind. Wilting down into his chair, he cradled his head in one hand, the other rooting into his breast pocket before a small, white pill landed on his tongue. For a second he paused, allowing the acrid chemical taste to fill his mouth before, finally, he swallowed.
***
"You told her about the pills??" asked Celia when you related the conversation later, a bottle of wine and a fresh packet of cigarettes between you. Even though spring was allegedly coming, the weather had turned even colder, a frosty wind driving horizontal rain towards your windows and you'd lifted your self-imposed 'no smoking in the house' ban, just for the night.
Or maybe the week.
"I had to. She said she'd report us for the affair if I didn't," you replied glumly, the guilt weighing heavily in your stomach. You'd heard them yelling at each other in the office that evening as you passed to leave for the day, their shouts only just drowned out by the hollering coming from the common room as the lads played a particularly vicious table-football tournament after dinner.
"What do you think she'll do?"
"I don't know… they've been friends a long time but something like this? I'm not sure. She might be forced to tell the Trust." You hunched forwards, hissing a curse as your free hand pushed into your hair. "I shouldn't have told her."
Celia reached across to squeeze your arm. "You did the right thing, darling. He's working with kids while out of his tree, I'm not sure he shouldn't lose his job."
"He's not out of his tree," you argued, warming under her disapproving stare at your defense of him. "He's not… he's not ok, but he's functional. No one's in any danger under his care." You reached for a new cigarette, flashing it to life. "The only person he's a danger to is himself."
"Oh well I suppose that makes it all ok then," she replied, rolling her eyes as she tapped ash into the saucer between you. "What are you going to do, Frenchie? I completely understand wanting to get out there, but how are you going to afford to stay here without a job..?"
Under the table, your knee jigged anxiously. "I'll figure it out."
"I mean, I can help for a bit. I could still pitch in for next month—"
"No, no, no, I can't let you do that. You and Mark need to save for the wedding."
"It's ok, we can—"
"No, Cee," you said firmly, gripping her hand. "Please. I'll be fine. I have some savings, and Ash will be here—"
"Ash?? You mean the lad who's only allowed to move in if he stops selling drugs? What kind of money do you think he's going to have??"
"I don't know!" You tugged your hand free of hers, pushing it through your hair again, with a sigh. "I don't know. But I do know that I can't stay there until I find something new. I'll stack shelves or whatever if I have to until I find another teaching job. Me and Ash both will."
Celia spluttered a giggle at this and you smiled; you weren't looking forward to breaking that particular piece of news to your baby brother.
"But, look, it's not immediate crisis stations, I'm not leaving just yet. I have to work at least some of my notice and I promised I'd wait until they'd found someone new."
"Just promise me you'll ask for help if you need it, ok?"
Taking the hand she had stretched towards you, you smiled and nodded, with the absolute certainty that you never would.
***
It was inevitable that you'd have to face him after your betrayal, but you had hoped you might at least make it to break-time before the shouting started.
"Bella, can you hang on a minute?" he said briskly as the morning meeting broke up and you all prepared to go your separate ways to man the barricades.
Or, teaching, as it was more commonly know.
Amanda was the last to leave, catching your eye as she lingered in the doorway; apart from the basic necessities of setting everyone up for the day, she and Steve had barely exchanged one word since you'd arrived.
It clicked shut and you were left alone with him. If this had been last Tuesday, you'd have been taking the opportunity for a sneaky fumble on his desk.
But not today. Today he was standing, taut with rage, his eyes like two chips of ice.
"You fucking told, Amanda?!" he hissed.
You were forgoing with pleasantries then apparently.
"She made me."
He scoffed derisively. "'She made me," he mimicked in a mean, high voice. "You're not usually this fucking pathetic, Bella, own your fucking actions."
"What? Like you do, you mean??" you shot back, voice raising. "You're the one who gave her a fucking tape of us having sex!"
He glanced at the door. "Keep your fucking voice down, someone will hear you."
"She said she'd report us to the Trust if I didn't tell her, so yeah, I did tell her. And frankly, I should have told her anyway because you need fucking help, Steve."
"Oh I see, throw me under a fucking bus to save your own skin, is that it? Jesus christ, you really aren't who I thought you were."
Hurt, frustrated tears pressed behind your eyes and you balled your hands into fists.
"Yeah?? Well same here, I suppose."
You stared furiously across the room at each other, the air thick between you.
"Is she going to tell them?" you mumbled, caving first.
"I don't know," he replied flatly, raking a hand through his hair. "She wanted to sleep on it."
"She won't tell," you said with more confidence than you felt. "You're her friend. She hates the Trust… she'll come round. You just need to take more care of yourself."
"What do you care about the care I take of myself," he spat, but his face spasmed guiltily a second later when you just stared silently at him.
"Of course I care," you said quietly.
"Not enough to stay though. I got your letter."
"Yeah, I know."
"You don't have to do this. We can make it work."
You raised a brow at him. "You mean like today? Because I'd not say we're getting off to a very promising start."
"That's not fair and you know it."
"We can't do this Steve," you sighed, "it won't work."
"But you're not even giving it a chance," he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. "You can't stand there and tell me that on Saturday you were in love me and ready for us to be together - for me to leave my wife - and today you feel absolutely nothing."
"That's precisely why it won't work!" you exclaimed and his eyes flicked nervously towards the door. "I can't stay here and watch you self-destruct because I care about you too much to do that. But I can't stay here and stop you from self-destructing because…well, you know why."
"I am not self-destructing," he replied hotly, glowering when you simply snorted in reply. "I'm not! I was doing fine - you didn't even know there was anything to worry about until—"
"So you finally admit there is something to worry about."
He narrowed his eyes. "No. Look, I understand why you'd think that but I told you. I have it under control. So what that I need a bit of extra help? Do I look out of control to you?"
"No, but—"
"See! I'm fine, Bella. You have nothing you need to do for me except love me."
You cocked your head at him. "I thought this was just about me staying at Stanton?"
"I— yes, it is. Of course it is."
"Because it's over, Steve. I can't come back from what I had to do for you on Sunday."
"I understand… just please, don't leave…"
"How can you ask me to stay?" you said softly. "Can you honestly say that would be any good for either of us?"
He closed the space between you, hovering just out of reach but close enough you could feel the warmth of him spilling towards you and everything in you yearned to pull him closer.
"I don't want to come to work everyday and you're not here," he mumbled.
"You lived without me for ages before I got here."
A half-smile tugged at his lips. "You know it's not the same now."
"No," you murmured, dropping your head to avoid his eyes.
"And the lads really need you, Bells. They'll be lost without you."
"You'll get someone else. Someone good."
"But we don't want someone good, we want you," he replied and when you looked up he was smirking slightly.
"Fucker."
"I'm not sure that's really how you're supposed to speak to your boss."
"Yeah, well you're probably not supposed to go on dirty weekends or score him drugs either."
Pink tinged his cheek as he bit the end of his tongue. "Probably not, no. Definitely not something we can put in the 'essential criteria' section of the job ad anyway."
Despite yourself, you laughed and he reached for you, solid fingers warm on your neck, thumb tracing a path across your cheek.
"Don't," you whispered.
"Stay. Please?" he replied, not moving his hand, the familiarity of his touch causing an unbearable pressure to build in your chest until you had to step back to put space between you.
"I can't. This - that - is why. We can't go back, not after everything. It'll be better for us both when I'm gone."
His hands curled into themselves at his sides until his knuckles turned white, his eyes no longer filled with cold fury, instead their soft blue was filmed to glassy pools. Clearing his throat roughly, he nodded.
"We'll get started with the recruitment on Monday. Take the weekend and think it over. Make sure it's right."
***
He was pulled from pillar to post all morning and it wasn't until well into the afternoon before he managed to get Amanda on her own, spotting her having a smoke out near the lake. Seeing him coming, she shook her head and tuned away.
"Amanda…"
"Oh do fuck off, Steve. I'm trying to have two sodding minutes of peace before I have to go back in there."
Huddling deeper into his coat, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Please, I'm sorry, but I need to know what you're going to do."
She turned towards him, drawing slowly on her cigarette. "And you don't think hounding me about it might make me less inclined to cover for you?"
"Mate…"
"Don't you 'mate' me. Not when you're asking me to lie for you. Twice!"
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, staring at the ground, last year's leaves still damp and mulchy underfoot.
"Yeah, me too," she sighed, dropping the end into the leaves and squishing it with her toe before picking up the butt. "I can't believe you'd keep something like this from me. Sleeping with Bella I can understand, but this?? I could have helped you. Does Helen know?"
He shook his head quickly. "I took too much on Sunday after Bella—" he cleared his throat roughly, "—Helen didn't even notice."
"And how often do you take too much?"
Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he smiled wryly. "I don't. That was a one-off. It was a very… testing day."
"We have a lot of very testing days here. How can I trust you when you've lied to me for so long?"
"I'm not lying to you, I swear on my girls."
"Don't… don't do that. Don't use them when you can't—"
"I mean it, Amanda. I promise you - I'm always careful. I'd never put anyone any risk. I'm not even taking that much more than I have done in the past, right after the accident."
"Steve, you were practically bed-ridden for months after the accident, this isn't the same. There was nothing and no one you could hurt being on that much morphine back then."
"I swear it to you: I'm fine. I'm not doping myself up to the eyeballs, I'm taking enough to let me do what I need to do. To do this, here, with all of you."
She compressed her lips, arms wrapping around her middle, though whether in comfort or against the cold he couldn't say.
"I want to know every time you take something from now on. All of it out in the open. And I want you to start reducing down to whatever your doctor thinks you should be taking."
"My doctor doesn't—"
"Don't argue with me! If something happens and the Trust finds out about this and it comes out that I knew and covered it up - which it will because it always does - then we're both for it. I am not going down for you, do you hear me? I am not going to let you ruin the career of everyone here who works so fucking hard to keep this place afloat because they'll be tainted by association with you. So I won't rat you out, but you're going to get yourself help. Get yourself back on the straight and narrow and so help me, Steve, if you ever do something like this again, I don't stay quiet."
"Ok," he mumbled, dizzy with relief. "Thank you. I'll do my best."
She nodded firmly and let out a deep breath. "Right, I have to get back."
"Can I have one of those before you go?"
Squinting at him, she pulled the packet out her coat pocket, plucking the lighter from inside it. "Have you been drinking?"
"What?? No—"
She cracked a smile as she handed him a cigarette and let him light it.
"You going to take up smoking instead?"
"You gonna report me for that?" Her amusement dried up in an instant and he stammered an apology.
"Too fucking soon, Steven."
Heat climbing his face, he nodded and she set off back towards the school.
"Oh, and Steve?"
He turned towards her, cigarette poised halfway to his lips. "Yeah?"
"You ever fucking sleep with one of our staff again and I'll cut it off, do I make myself clear?"
He cleared his throat and tried to force a chuckle. "Abundantly."
"Good," she snapped, marching on on her, and he turned slowly back towards the lake releasing long sigh of relief, the smoke mingling with the iron-grey skies above.
***
Wednesday's nightshift was unbearable. The freezing weather howling through the crumbling old building and all the boys were grumpy and unpleasant with the cold, complaining about how it whistled past the old single glazing in their rooms. It look an age and extra cups of tea and hot chocolate to get them to settle down for the night. Exhausted, you traipsed downstairs where Owen was locking up.
"Are they all in or do you need me to go and bash heads?" he asked with a grin.
"Finally," you yawned. "I'm going to make a brew and then turn in, do you want one?"
"Please, it's fucking baltic in here."
He followed you into the kitchen, grabbing mugs as you filled the kettle.
"Did you hear Steve and Amanda knocking seven bells out of each other on Monday?"
Setting it on the burner, you hoped he didn't see how your hand wobbled.
"Yeah, I heard them as I was leaving."
"What d'you think's going on?"
"No idea," you replied quickly, fetching tea bags from the enormous caddy on the side.
"Andy reckons they've been having an affair. Trouble in paradise and all that."
You spluttered a laugh. "Seriously??"
"I don't see it myself." In the distance the office phone began to ring. "Who the fuck calls a school at half eleven at night," he muttered. "I'll get it, you make those."
The kettle was slowly burbling towards the boil when you heard Owen shout your name.
"Bella!" he shouted again and you set off at a jog, almost colliding with him in the hall.
"What's the matter??"
"The hospital's on the phone for you."
"The hospital..?" A cold fist wrapped around your heart and you dashed towards the office. You were always telling Gran she needed to be more careful in the cold.
"Hello??"
"Hello? Is that…umm… Birdie?"
You swallowed. "Yes, that's me. What's happened?"
"I'm Suki from the Royal. We've had an Ashley admitted to A&E, he asked us to call you."
"Ash?? No you mean my Gran? Nellie Jennings?"
The woman on the other end of the line paused. "Your Gran? No, I'm calling about Ashley, Birdie. He says he's your brother? He's hurt."
You sat down heavily in Steve's office chair, clutching the phone.
"Ash? What's happened?"
"We're not sure exactly but it looks like he's been beaten up. He's sustained some quite severe injuries and is bleeding internally. We need to take him up for surgery shortly."
"Surgery…" you whispered.
"I'm sorry, I know this will be a shock."
"Please tell him I'm on my way."
"Of course."
You mumbled goodbye and the line went dead. Looking up, your thoughts swirling too quickly to catch, you saw Owen hovering at the door.
"Is everything ok?"
"No… I have to go to the hospital. My bother's been in an accident."
"Just go, I'll look after things here."
Dragging your hands over your hair you blinked hard, trying to get control over you racing heart and thoughts.
"No, if something happened…"
"It's fine, I'll call Steve."
"I'm not allowed to leave you on your own, Owen."
"Bella, go and get your stuff and I'll call him now."
His instructions finally gave you a purpose and direction and you took off upstairs to get your bag, stuffing your belongings back into it from around the little staff bedroom. As you clattered back down the corridor towards the stairs, Shy's bedroom door cracked open.
"Bella?"
"Go back to bed, Shy."
"Are you ok?"
"Just do as your told!" you shouted and his eyes widened, the door slamming shut a second later.
But you didn't have time to think about that now, racing down the stairs two at a time.
"He's coming. He said to sit tight."
"I need to call my Gran," you said, pulling on your coat.
"Bella…" Owen gently rested his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, look at me."
"He's got internal bleeding," you whimpered, tears beginning to slip down your cheeks. He bundled you into a bear hug and held you tight.
"Just take a breath, ok? Come on, do it with me. Nice and slow in… good girl. And out again… that's it, nice."
With each shaky breath your heart rate began to slow and he pulled back, smiling at you.
"Call your Gran, Steve'll be here in a minute."
Dialling with a shaking hand, you let the line ring and ring but there was no answer. Hoping that meant she was already on her way to the hospital, you called Celia instead.
"Hello?"
"Mark?"
"Alright French." You could hear Celia's mutter of surprise in the background and the phone being dragged away from him.
"Frenchie? What's the matter? Aren't you at work?"
"Cee, it's Ash. Something's happened to him… I don't know… he's in hospital. He's going for surgery." The tears began to leak from your eyes again. "I can't leave here until someone comes to replace me."
"Fuck that! I'm on my way to get you. Don't move, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
***
Both Steve and Celia must have committed a plethora of traffic violations to reach you in the time they did, both screeching into the car park within in minutes of each other. Steve got there first, rushing into the hall where you were waiting, clutching a soggy tissue, your bag at your feet.
Without thinking you rushed to him, letting him wrap you in his arms.
"Shhhh… hey hey, don't cry, it's ok. What's happened??" he soothed into your hair, stroking your back.
"Her brother's been rushed into A&E. It sounds bad," said Owen and when you peeled yourself away from Steve he was looking between you with undisguised interest.
Another thing you didn't have time for tonight.
"I have to go," you mumbled. "Thanks for taking over."
"No, I'll take you there myself. Owen'll be fine, they're asleep."
"But the protocol says—"
"Fuck the protocol, Bells," said Steve, catching your face between his hands and you covered them with your own. "I'm taking you, let's go."
"She's not going anywhere with you."
Celia marched in, somehow looking as shiny and put together as she always did even though she must have been half-way to bed when you called. If looks could kill, Steve would have been dead on the spot with the daggers she was shooting him.
"Cee," you murmured, rushing to her and she hugged you.
"Come on, darling, let's go," she said, ushering you towards the door, stopping to grab your bag that Owen proffered towards her.
"I can take her—"
She whirled towards Steve, stepping closer, tall enough that he had to lift his chin to meet her eye.
"You stay the fuck away from her, do you hear me? You've done more than enough damage already."
"Cee," you whispered, shivering at the main door.
"I'm sorry, Bells," Steve said hoarsely as Celia stalked towards you, slipping an arm around your shoulders. "I hope he's ok. Will you let us know in the morning?"
You looked back towards him just before you left, standing there with Owen behind and undoubtedly some awkward questions to answer, when a shadow moved in the background.
"Shy?" you mumbled, but the flash of green hoodie was gone almost as quickly as you'd seen in.
"Come on, French, we need to go," Celia said, gently tugging you by the arm and you let yourself be led out the door and into the freezing night air.
Eeeeeep! How we doing team?? Come scream at me in all the usual ways. If you need inspo, Laura’s primary comment during beta reading was ‘SHUT UP STEVE, DICKHEAD’ 😂 It’s hope you enjoyed as much as she did 🤭 xxx
Oh no way! I didn’t see this the other day! Thank you for pointing it out cos how could I miss this special b(orz)oi! 🥹 The ultimate ally, and important member of the community 🏳️🌈 xxx
