Chapter Text
Mary felt like the new kid in school all over again, and it was a feeling she had grown so accustomed to that it was almost a comfort in itself. The silhouette of Juniper College loomed above her, sparkling in the early September sunlight, and she found herself captivated by the stained glass of the highest windows. It was unlike any school she’d seen before, except perhaps for Hogwarts, if she needed a comparison. It was grand, set in acres of fields and sported a healthy company of sheep nearby, she noticed, when she’d driven round the back to the staff car park.
Now she was procrastinating stepping inside, because she would need to be approachable and likable then, and she needed to prepare. So she stood in the morning chill, taking deep breaths and staring at the stained glass until she hopefully felt ready to begin her life anew.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” came a voice behind her and she startled, turning quickly, “Oh- and sorry to startle you too. Are you looking for reception?”
The voice belonged to a man around her age, who surely couldn’t be a student or a parent. Fellow teacher, she concluded, hoping she hadn’t looked completely foolish gazing up at the building in front of a new colleague.
“Sorry, no, I’m- well, yes I suppose I am. It’s my first day, is that where I should start?” she picked at the skin next to her thumbnail. Kind eyes. Nice smile. Great hair. Her mind was cataloguing details of him without her express permission.
“Ah, you’re the new history teacher, right?” he said, reaching out an eager hand for her to shake. She tried not to shake too hard, nor too weak, and failed at both somehow. There was a pause that almost turned awkward until he blinked and pulled away, “I’m English myself, Tom Hayward.”
“You’re…English?” she asked, brow furrowed. She could have guessed that information from his accent alone, the kind of soft Northern that could either be Yorkshire or Lancashire. Tom cleared his throat and let out an awkward chuckle.
“No, uh, sorry. I teach English, is what I meant. I’m an English teacher. Poetry, really, but only the sixth formers get specialised lessons,” he was animated as he spoke, but he paused and winced, “And I’m babbling. Sorry.”
Mary glanced down at her feet to prevent any sort of embarrassing blush coming over her. Somehow the rambling had made him more charming, which was just annoying really. Still, she felt her usual wit return to her.
“It’s kind of you to stumble over your words just to make me less nervous,” she said, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. He looked puzzled, then caught on.
“Ah, you know, just doing my job as unofficial welcoming committee,” he smiled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Oh! Mary Bennet. Nice to meet you, Tom.”
And she stuck her hand out to shake his. Again. Just as she was about to take it back and offer up a self-deprecating joke before she turned into a puddle, he laughed and shook her hand again. Vigorously.
“Two handshakes, just how I like it. I can take you to reception if you like?”
“Please,” she said, gesturing for him to lead the way. She picked up her bag that she’d rested on the floor for a moment and wrapped it over her shoulder again, “If you don’t, I fear I’ll stay here the rest of the day.”
Tom laughed and glanced up at the stained glass she had been admiring. His face grew soft.
“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?” his said softly as they began to walk inside, “I understand the appeal.”
Mary wasn’t sure what to say to that. How long had he been watching her to know she was staring at the stained glass? The thought made her hand tighten around the strap of her bag. When she didn’t respond to him beyond a small nod, he continued.
“It must be weird replacing a teacher a week into the new year. Have you done an induction or anything?”
Ah. Back to the terrible nerves it was. Kind eyes, nice smile, great hair had distracted her for all of two minutes, but now she had to face facts. She was beginning a new job at a new school without the summer to prepare beforehand that everyone else starting fresh would have. And she was inside the building now.
“No,” she said simply, hoping to conceal her terror, “I’ve only been here once before, for the interview. The Head of History said I’d be able to use whatever lessons the previous teacher had planned for at least the first few weeks before I get sorted, but…”
She trailed off. Tom glanced back from where he had been leading her up a staircase.
“But…?”
“Well…what if their lessons are rubbish?” she said quietly, gratified that Tom chuckled delightedly rather than frown, “I mean, there must be a reason this teacher quit only a week into the year. And what if the students are horrible? Or-”
“If I may cut in,” he said, in what may have been the most polite way she’d ever been interrupted, “You don’t need to worry about the kids. I mean, they’re awful, but only in the way all teenagers are. How long have you been teaching?”
“Ever since I graduated,” she said, then remembered he didn’t know a thing about her including her age, “So six years.”
“Oh, this will be a piece of cake, trust me,” he said knowingly, holding a door open for her and insisting she walked through first, “Between us, you’re replacing some newly-qualified guy who didn’t understand my Four Georges reference when I made it at all.”
“Oh. Four Georges reference?”
“His name was George so, you know. Four Georges joke. Not my finest, I’ll admit,” he turned to her with a sheepish grin that suggested he might actually have been rather proud of that joke at the time.
“In that case, I’ll make sure no Bloody Mary jokes go over my head.”
Tom stopped, and Mary wondered if she’d made some sort of error, but he was laughing when he turned to her. She then noticed the desk beside them. They’d reached their destination, of course, even if she been too preoccupied to realise.
“I like you better than George already,” Tom said cheekily, then pressed his lips together with distaste, “Though that’s a low bar. Anyway, we’ll be classroom neighbours so I’ll see you in a bit, once you’re sorted. Find me if you need anything!”
He’d begun a backwards walk away and it felt like she was having a safety net taken out from under her, even though said safety net was a man she had met three minutes ago.
“Thank you!” she called, slightly uselessly as he’d already been swallowed up by the crowd of early students who’d just arrived on a bus. Classroom neighbours. The thought sent an unwelcome flutter through her chest.
She was here to start fresh on her own, after all, not attach herself to the first friendly face she saw.
“Mary!” came a more familiar kind voice, “You made it, thank you so much for coming.”
Madeleine Gardiner was the epitome of elegance as she breezed out from behind the reception desk, clearly having been waiting. She held out her arms to hug Mary and then seemed to think better of it, squeezing her elbows instead.
“Madeleine,” Mary greeted her aunt, using her first name for the first time in her life, “Thank you so much for this. Although I must admit I’m still worried you kicked someone out of a job for me.”
Madeleine laughed and waved her away.
“Nonsense, Mary, but if I had it would have been worth it. I know you moved here to get away from everything and didn’t intend to find a new job quite so soon, so really you’re helping us out by signing on!”
Mary shook her head. She had never gotten used to her aunt’s insistence on complimenting her, thanking her, treating her with the utmost kindness. Although her and her husband Ed had invited Mary to stay with them many times over the last few years, she’d only taken them up on the offer a handful of times. Her mother often needed her. Although, she was trying very hard not to think of her mother today.
“Well, we can be grateful to each other then,” Mary stated, leaving no room for argument, “I’ll be even more grateful if I can see a curriculum of some sort, too.”
Luckily, Madeleine knew her favourite niece well and presented her with a thick binder, ring-bound with coloured tabs. Mary lit up.
“Your wish is my command, my dear. The history department weren’t best pleased when I asked for an overview of their first six weeks in such detail but they’ve no idea it was for you, so don’t worry. And they have no idea of our…relation, either, as you requested.”
Mary breathed a silent sigh of relief. As much as she was abundantly proud to be related to Mr and Mrs Gardiner, she didn’t want the kids to have immediate teasing fodder nor for the teachers to be worried about special treatment. Madeleine had reassured her that nobody would care, but she wasn’t convinced.
She’d have liked to hug her aunt at that, but it would have been counterintuitive. Instead, she tried to put all her love and appreciation into her smile for her aunt, and she was grateful to receive a blinding smile in return.
“I should probably go and study this for fifteen minutes before my first lesson,” Mary scrunched her nose at the thought. Her aunt, to her amusement, simply laughed.
“Mary! You’re not teaching today! You thought I’d invite you here and throw you directly into the deep end?”
“Well, I…” Mary stumbled, because she truly had thought that. She’d spent the weekend hyperventilating about it. Madeleine looked like this thought was positively hilarious.
“Look, I’ll show you to your classroom, where you will remain studentless for the first two days so that you can figure this out. And if you need help… well, did I see you talking to dear Mr Hayward on your way in?”
There was something in her aunt’s voice that Mary didn’t like one bit. Something that always lingered in Madeleine’s tone when she thought she knew something others didn’t.
“Uh, I met Tom yes. His classroom is next to mine?”
Madeleine twinkled as she nodded. Rather than say anything else, Madeleine motioned for Mary to follow her and led her to the new classroom, though that same twinkle remained in her eye all the way through the corridors.
“Here we are. This is yours-” Madeleine pointed to the right and then to the left, “-and this is Tom’s. I’ve got to rush off to a meeting but I’ll see you in the staff room at lunch, yeah?”
Her aunt was already leaving, one last elbow squeeze later and Mary called after her.
“Okay, but- where’s the staffroom?”
“Just ask Tom!”
Mary huffed. She glanced to her left despite herself, peering through the narrow window in the door to see whether Tom was inside. If he was, his desk wasn’t in view from the door. Before she could be caught searching for him, she clutched the binder to her chest and entered her own classroom, banishing thoughts of kind eyes, nice smile, great hair to the wind.
The room was cosier than she expected, with tables set out for around 25 students at a glance. She knew moving to a more prestigious school would mean smaller classes, but it was still a pleasant surprise to find no gum on the top of the tables, even if there were a few rogue pieces underneath them when she bent down. A few displays remained, peeling off the wall slightly, but there was decent space for her to make the classroom her own in the coming weeks. She made her way to the desk, put the binder down and heaved into the spinny chair with a sigh.
The smell of tea reached her nose and she narrowed her eyes as she searched for the source. It didn’t take long; a mug stood proudly in the middle of her desk, sporting a picture of Wordsworth with sunglasses on and curly font that read I put the lit in literature. She giggled and it was too loud in the empty room. Now she had noticed it, she also noticed the two packets of sugar beside it and a post-it note stuck to the desk.
I wasn’t sure how you took your tea, but I’m sure I’ll know soon! Welcome to Juniper :)
She was under no illusions as to who had made her the tea or written the note. Carefully, she folded up the post-it note and tucked it into the top drawer of her new desk, then emptied both packets of sugar into the mug and took a sip.
Then she opened the binder, and got to work.