The Reunion by R J Gould Page A

don’t you?” Mary continued, her tone implying it was he who had
raised the post-its controversy.
    There was a timid knock on the door. It was Dorothy. “There’s
a phone call for you, David.”
    “Not now, Dorothy. I’ll call whoever it is after this
meeting.”
    “I think you should take this one.” Dorothy was frowning
and nodding intently.
    “Excuse me Mary, I’ll be back very soon.”
    David returned a couple of minutes later. “Mary, I’m ever
so sorry, I’m going to have to pop out. Something’s cropped up with one of my
children at school. I’m sure it won’t take long, can we meet this afternoon?”
    Mary looked at him in disbelief. “I appreciate family
concerns can be important, but you can’t constantly put them ahead of work
matters.”
    ‘She is a fucking bitch…’ he hummed inside his
head.What a cheek, twice hardly constituted constantly. Over his many
years of service at the local authority he had rarely missed a day’s work. “Yes,
you’re quite right and I do apologise,” he said as he edged out of the door.
    When he arrived at Rachel’s school the receptionist
escorted him to the Head’s office. It had a relaxed and welcoming feel to it
with the walls jam packed with children’s art work. Oriental and African
artefacts were strewn across two coffee tables, one in the middle of the room
and one by a window overlooking a neat quadrangle with sturdy wooden benches
and tables. A white dish on the nearest table caught David’s eye. Across its
centre was a brightly coloured dragon, the tail extending beyond the edge of
the plate and running on underneath. David recognised these items from the
termly school newsletters which had photos of teachers being presented with
gifts by foreign dignitaries during the annual exchange visits to an English
speaking college in China and a school in rural Madagascar.
    David rather liked the Head. John Edwards was a tall lean
man with a sweep of sandy brown hair across his brow. He wore horn-rimmed
spectacles that made him look full of wisdom. He was tapping his fingers on a large
desk covered with papers. As David walked towards him, Mr Edwards sprang up and
strode across the room to greet his visitor with a firm handshake.
    “Do sit down,” he said, directing David to a drab beige
armchair that had seen better days. Mr Edwards sat next to him on a matching
seat. On the coffee table between them were three delicate enamelled boxes
adorned with colourful paintings of pagodas and trees with twisted branches.
    David looked up and Mr Edwards began. “We have a problem
with Rachel. She was caught smoking this morning when she should have been in
class and that’s the second time within a few days. When Miss Franks told her
off I’m afraid she called her a f…ing bitch. It’s unacceptable and I see no
option but to suspend her.”
    “I agree that sort of behaviour is disgraceful, Mr
Edwards, but there are extenuating circumstances. You see, my wife walked out
on us last Saturday and Rachel has reacted with considerable anger. That’s no
excuse for her smoking or her rudeness, but I’m sure you accept it at least to
some extent explains things.”
    “I’m sorry to hear your news, Mr Willoughby, and yes, of
course something like that is going to affect behaviour.” He looked down at a
sheet of paper with handwritten notes. “However the first smoking incident took
place before last weekend and my staff have been complaining about her
insolence for quite a while. Apparently today she announced she’s quitting the musical,
too.”
    “Well, she hasn’t mentioned that to me. Look, I accept
your dissatisfaction, but I’m worried about the effect a suspension might have
on Rachel. You see the situation with my wife is particularly severe. She’s in
a relationship with a family friend, someone we’ve known for years. And Rachel
was very fond of Jim Wainwright, she trusted him implicitly.” David was
surprised to see the headmaster reddening,