In Loco Parentis by Nigel Bird Read Free Book Online Page A

dawn.

back to school
    I always go back a couple of days before school starts up again.
    It’s not that I’m keen to do the work. More that I want to be prepared for what lies ahead.
    This time I’ve another agenda, a need to find out what Des saw outside King Dick. Make sure the caretaker gossip he’ll be spreading around when we start back won’ be about me.
    The sun’s burning hot and I’m not in the mood to do much other than sit at the top of the lawn outside my new classroom and sip coffee.
    Des ambles up the lawn with his shirt off. His chest hair looks like a carpet. Shame he isn’t so well covered up top.
    â€œAll right, Joe?” he asks, taking a seat at the other side of the picnic bench.
    â€œDes.” I nod back as he puts down a huge bunch of keys and a can of Red Stripe on the table.
    I try to read him behind his 1970s cop-show shades, but they’re too dark to penetrate.
    â€œLunch time,” he says, in case I might care. I don’t. “Been away?”
    â€œPreston.” Money’s been tight since I bought the flat. Seemed like the right thing to do with the inheritance when it came through. Doesn’t feel like it any more. “You?”
    â€œLanzarote.” He strokes his arm and I try and think of a compliment to go with his tan.
    â€œYou got yourself a nice tan.”
    â€œCheap at half the price.”
    He’s a good man. Does his job and more besides. Deserves to get away every now and then like the rest of us.
    â€œAnd the horses?” It’s the easy way out. I let him ramble about doubles and trebles, combinations and near missed until even he’s bored.
    â€œBest get on,” I say. “See what the damage is.”
    â€œIt’s a good job you came in early.” He walks off down the lawn, the keys swinging in his hand.
    Business as usual I reckon. Not a whiff of suspicion.
    When I go into the room, I realise what he meant about me getting in early.
    How the previous teacher got away with it, I’ve no idea.
    We all knew she was cracking up. Teachers have a nose for such a thing. It comes with practice.
    The smell’s like that of a petting zoo, straw and piss and rodents.
    The deceptive tidiness of the place is exposed as soon as I look in the trays.
    In the first, no label and no clue, I find letters of assorted size and material. Nothing wrong with that per-se, but the pellets of mouse crap won’t be any use to the kids. At least I know where the smell’s coming from. It’s the same in the dressing-up box, the Lego, construction and the pastels drawers.
    And I hate mice.
    Before I can control my thoughts, I’m picturing rats scuttling about. Long tails and furless. Pink alien bodies under the floorboards.
    I want to get out.
    Only thing that kept me here is the reassurance of my Doctor Martens.
    Time to see Des, pick up a cartload of disinfectant, some rubber gloves and maybe one of those beers he keeps in the fridge.
    Make a mental note - if I get any animals for the class, they’re going to be able to live underwater.

come on in the water’s fine
    Standing in the cloakroom, I can hear the voices of parents and kids in the entrance.
    It’s a huge beast of a door, built as if it might be to protect us from invaders.
    I feel sick, really sick. Put my hands on the wall and take a breath.
    It’s difficult to tell what’s causing it. Could be the fact that I didn’t get to sleep until half four. Maybe it’s the whisky that was supposed to help me drop off.
    It’s probably just the fear. The fear that I’ve forgotten what to do, that I can’t stand up in front of anyone and put on my performance, that they’ll run rings round me when they come in and everyone will know I’m no good and should be drummed out of the profession as soon as they can find a drummer.
    Lorraine comes over and puts her hand on my back. Gives it a quick rub.
    Sue does