The Secret Letter

I nodded, pleased she’d got on board so fast.

‘And I absolutely love the idea of bringing the kids and the elderly people together.’

‘I don’t think that will be a money-making idea really but it will prove we’re important in the community, which is also part of the plan.’

‘And the after-school club will do both,’ Paula said triumphantly.

‘I hope so. I’m surprised you don’t do one already.’

She grimaced. ‘Like I said, we got a bit stuck in our ways. We’d need someone to run it though.’

‘I had an idea about that, too.’

‘You’re on fire today.’

I grinned. ‘What about Sophie Albert?’

Paula clapped her hands. ‘That’s a fabulous idea. She knows all the kids anyway, and she’s got her DBS checks because she’s often helping out at school things.’ She thought for a moment. ‘And I think I’d ask Celeste to coordinate from our side. She’s very organised and she is keen to have a new challenge. Might encourage her to stay.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘That’s sorted then. I’ll chat to Celeste and Sophie. Could you and Pippa take on the afternoon teas for the elderly people? Maybe speak to some daycentres or whatever? If they work well with the little children, we can extend it to the older ones.’

‘On it,’ Paula said.

I ran my fingers through my hair. ‘I just hope it works,’ I said. ‘Denise seemed to think it was a start rather than a solution. She sounded quite downbeat about it all.’

‘I really believed that once we had you at the helm we’d be fine,’ Paula said, almost to herself.

‘I did worry that this was because of me. That the axe is falling while I’m here, because of what happened,’ I admitted out loud for the first time, my mood going from positive to negative in record speed.

‘At your old school you mean?’

I nodded.

‘Absolute rubbish,’ Paula said firmly. ‘They were fully up to speed with everything that happened when they offered you the job.’

‘I s’pose,’ I muttered.

Paula fixed me with the stern glare that made unruly children quake. ‘You need to stop feeling guilty about something you didn’t do.’

‘I s’pose,’ I muttered again.

There was a pause. I played with the edge of the desk, wondering what to say next.

‘What did you mean when you said interest?’ Paula said.

‘Pardon me?’

‘You said we had to prove the school was of special interest. What kind of interest?’

‘Well, Denise suggested historical, because I mentioned how old it was,’ I said. ‘But anything I suppose.’

‘Right,’ Paula said, fire in her eyes.

‘Do you have an idea?’

‘What about Esther?’ she said, gesturing to the photograph on my wall.

‘I’m a step ahead of you there. But that’s not going to work.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because,’ I said. ‘I googled old butter-wouldn’t-melt Esther Watkins and discovered she was a criminal, that’s why.’

Paula stared at me. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Google doesn’t lie.’

She raised an eyebrow at me.

‘Okay, Google sometimes lies, but the dates match up. I’m pretty sure it’s the same woman.’

Paula didn’t speak; she just looked so upset that I felt bad all over again.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘Let me do a bit more research. Maybe it’s not her. It does sound pretty unlikely.’

‘It does, doesn’t it?’

‘Why would a middle-class schoolteacher go to prison?’

‘Exactly.’

Paula looked at her watch and grimaced. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘Keep me posted on anything you discover?’

‘I will.’

Looking harassed, she hurried out of my office, leaving me alone. I looked out of the window at the autumn sunshine. All my best thinking used to be done while I was out walking. And when Grant’s actions made my whole life fall apart, I’d power my way round the commons of south London, working out solutions in my head. I’d go for a walk, I decided, and perhaps inspiration would strike.

As I left the school grounds, and pulled on my denim jacket though, I realised I was stumped. Back in London, I’d head to Wandsworth Common, or Tooting Common and follow the path round. But here in the countryside, I realised, I had no idea where to go. There was so much open space but I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to walk there. Surely the fields all belonged to people? Were there footpaths across them? How would I know? What if there were animals? I wasn’t keen on animals – I mostly just liked them from a distance. Especially scary ones like bulls.

Behind the playground was a patch of waste ground with the remains of a building on it and a broken fence. I’d seen teenagers out there in the evening, chatting and watching stuff on their phones, but it didn’t look like somewhere I wanted to be.

Beyond that was a neatly hedged field. I eyed it suspiciously. I couldn’t see a bull, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one there.

Making up my mind, I crossed the road and headed instead to the park. It was only small, with a couple of football goals, and a little fenced-in play area, but I could walk round that without fear of being gored and hopefully clear my head a bit.

I’d only gone a little way round the edge of the park when my energy deserted me and I sat down on a bench, watching the kids running round the play area. I was at a loss about what to do for the best. The ideas we had were good but I wasn’t stupid. I knew they were a drop in the ocean compared to our falling admissions and the squeeze on education budgets. It seemed like an impossible task to save Elm Heath Primary, but it also seemed really important.

The old me would have relished this challenge. She’d have swooped in like a super-teacher, told everyone what to do to improve results and foster a growth mindset in all the pupils, and then swooped off again. But my confidence in my own abilities had deserted me, and this was all just too … huge.