The Three Rs by Ashe Barker Read Free Book Online

something else I can do? I don’t see myself behind a desk.”
    “And I didn’t see myself standing quietly by while most of my fucking business was whipped out from under me and handed to some bloody stranger. It seems we all have to adapt, Miss Fischer. How much notice do you need to give at the school?” His tone has hardened again, his words clipped and cold.
    “What? And stop swearing at me.”
    He ignores my complaint. “How much notice do you need to give? I want you starting here as soon as possible.”
    “But I can’t. I’ve already told you that. I have a flat here, in Bradford. Berwick is miles away.”
    “About two hundred miles, I’d say. Too far to commute, I agree. Especially as I gather you don’t have a car.”
    Naturally not. How would I ever manage to pass my driving test? I’d never get past the written bit.
    He continues, neatly re-arranging my whole life as though I have no say in any of this, “You’ll need to move to Berwick. I’ll sort out some accommodation for you. You need to talk to your boss at the school and then get back to me with your start-date here. Is that clear?”
    “I-I… Yes.” I feel as though I’ve been hit by a steam-roller, all my objections crushed. My answer was whispered, as my head now whirls with all the awesome potential for disaster. A strange town, strange bus routes, knowing no one. No Sally or Wendy to ask when I need help. It’s going to be a nightmare.
    And, just possibly, this could be the most wonderfully exciting, life transforming thing to ever happen to me since my bone marrow transplant. And I know I’m going to Berwick.
    “Good. Talk soon then, Miss Fischer.” And with a sharp click the line goes dead. He’s gone.

Chapter Four
    A week’s notice. That’s all the school is entitled to. They pleaded with me to stay longer, until the half-term break perhaps which was only three weeks away. I could have told Cain I couldn’t up sticks and move to Berwick until the school holidays, insisted I was contractually committed or something, but I don’t feel comfortable lying to him. He was quite explicit regarding his actions if he were ever to find out I’d been untruthful regarding my prior knowledge of his uncle’s intentions, so I don’t expect he’ll be any more tolerant over this. I explained to Dave, apologetically but firmly, that I could only work until the end of the following the week. So now, just ten days after first meeting Cain Parrish, I’m at my flat, watching out of my living room window as I wait for his van to pull up outside.
    I phoned him later that day, after I’d spoken to the school, and told him I could start work a week on Monday. I said I’d come to Berwick the day before, on the Sunday. I intended getting there by train, but he insisted on coming to pick me up, and said he’d drive down to Bradford on the Saturday to help me pack up any stuff I insisted on bringing with me. It seems there’s a small flat over the firm’s office. It’s furnished and Cain says I can have the use of it until I decide where I want to live longer term. I’m assuming I’ll be coming back to Bradford eventually, so I’m reluctant to give up my tenancy here, but I may need to. There’s no point, after all, paying rent for an empty flat. And it could be as much as five years, unless I can find a way out of this.
    I spot the van driving up the central avenue toward my block right at the top. I recognize the red and gold lettering on the side, though I can’t actually make out what it says. The firm’s name, no doubt, but there looks to be more than that. I feel a biting frustration that I can’t read it for myself, a frustration that’s been growing and eating at me for the last several days with a ferocity I’ve never been particularly aware of before now. I simply accepted my ‘problem’ and worked around it. Now I resent it, and I resent the limits it places on me. And most of all I resent the humiliation I know is in