Natalia's vein pulsed under the increased pressure of Neill's hand enveloping her wrist. A pink hair tie she'd looped there was caught under it, which at one point she felt him flick his fingertip against.
She pulled again out of curiosity, and he pulled back.
'Yah - ah! You stay right there.'
Indirectly from the corner of his eye came that low and husky murmur, as blood tingled in a maelstrom at her fingertips, sending a strange sensation into her knees.
The two other pupils, to whom Neill freely gesticulated with his other hand, had taken the opportunity to query Neill on their coursework worries whilst Coleman was absent, and it seemed as though Natalia was just in line waiting to talk to him too.
Waiting, wondering, Natalia felt as though time itself had frozen; as if she had grown used to being so close to Neill's scent, his body heat, the vibration of his deep voice right next to her, that she was wordless from being lulled into calm, than from surprise anymore.
Finally, the two pupils were satisfied, picked up their stuff and filed out. Natalia exhaled as though for the first time in five minutes. How many thoughts had flown through her head! And yet by the time he finally turned to face her, she felt as if she had barely been able to think at all!
He now spoke in a low and dry, but inviting, crackling voice:
'Now, you.'
Neill stood at around 5 foot 11, not huge, but still tall against her petite 5 foot 6 frame. As she raised her eyes to his, she felt rather like a timid puppy dog slowly wagging its tail in anticipation of words from its master, as her eyes wandered the manly pinpricks of his jaw and cheeks.
He let go of her wrist, but manoeuvred her with his hands on the sides of her arms, crouching his knees down slightly to address her face on, as she now found herself mesmerised by his clear blue irises, encircled with brilliant whites, trained on her.
She swallowed and blinked, trying to appear casual, but really she felt her heart had stopped, waiting for his parting lips to form the words:
'What are you?'
She looked blank. 'What do you mean, sir? I mean, Neill? Sorry, I keep calling you sir - '
'I mean, who are you? You can't be fifteen.'
She laughed nervously. 'Well, er, of course I am.'
He sighed with a little laugh and let go of her arms, stood upright again and adjusted his tie.
'Sorry, I'm coming across as rather enigmatic. I don't quite know what to say or think. Of you.'
She could only sound another tedious 'erm,' raise her eyebrows and give a half-flattered gesture as she too, tried to feign casual body language. She wanted something clever to say, but her tongue weighed like lead.
He cleared his throat. 'Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. With regards to, let's say, home improvements.'
He reached over and flicked her tie. She blinked down surprised.
'These uniforms,' he said, 'what do you reckon to them?'
In a moment she felt her normal speaking mode reactivate; the movement of her face and manner instantly quicken.
'Oh, I hate them,' she said unequivocally.
'Me too, I think they're ghastly.'
'I think most of it is stuck in the Dark Ages. Ties are for businessmen. These jumpers hang like potato sacks, and the shirts make me sweatier than Jack the Ripper.'
He snorted now. 'Well by the sounds of it, you could go trick-or-treating tonight and go down well just like that!'
She raised her eyebrow. 'What kind of treat are you suggesting?'
'The question is,' he chuckled, 'do I call a focus group or just go on the conviction of your words?'
'Call a focus group. I don't want to be responsible for the sartorial satisfaction of thousands of kids for the next three decades,' she remarked, feeling cool and collected again.
'Sartorial,' he murmured as he turned to pick up his bag. 'Don't think I knew that word till I was twenty five. Ok, right you are. I'll select a bunch of pupils and let you know what they think. But only if you agree that once I've got their thoughts, you'll help me make the final decision on the changes. Deal?'
'Sir Neill, is that a bribe?'
'Or I'll just leave you wearing your rapey shirts and potato sacks for the next three decades.'
'I only have eight months left,' she winked.
'Damn!' said he in a comedic tone.
She smiled. 'I don't even know if my miserly mother will want to fork out on a new uniform for the remainder of the time.'
'Then I'll just buy it for you myself.' The bell went. 'Sorry, I used up all your break. Can I make it up to you with a cup of tea again sometime?'
'Biscuits too,' she smiled. 'Oh, and aren't you going to take your... eye candy?' gesturing at the torn out Calvin Klein advert still on the desk.
'I'll leave Kate Moss for Kate Coleman.'
'Would you?'
He laughed as he threw it a cursory glance. 'She's already emblazoned on my retina. Moss, not Coleman,' he glared, as he swung his bag over his shoulder and with a flash was out of the door - holding it open for her behind him - immediately speaking in loud tones to pupils in the hallway outside, as Natalia went one way and he went the other.
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During the next couple of days to follow that extraordinary English class with Neill, Natalia half-expected - or even hoped - he would pop into a classroom to cover a teacher again, but she had to assume it was a rare one-off.
Friday morning's Assembly had become her bolted-on, weekly tonic of sorts, although this Friday morning she was disappointed to find the Deputy Head Mr Dinkey presenting it. Pitifully feeble by contrast to the enormous vigour of Neill, thought Natalia, as heads drooped more than usual, teachers yawned, the vitality ranked overall low whilst Dinkey droned on, in the way the school was BC. Before Charisma. And all Natalia could wonder was... where oh where was Neill?
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Whisking cake mixture in Food Tech in her last lesson, her ears pricked up upon mutterings heard from Mrs Clayton to Miss Francis, who'd dropped by briefly. Natalia turned off the whisk, eyeing its silently dribbling spindles as she strained to pick up the conversation behind her:
'Hang fire on that because Neill says he has plans to change the uniform' - 'Oh?' - 'By the end of November, which I think...' They faded into that low, bird-like twittering that female teachers use to communicate. So changes were really happening! Neill was the real deal, again!
She was just pulling her cupcakes from the oven in the last ten minutes, when there was a knock at the door and a boy from Year 7 appeared, florid-faced as though he'd been running.
'Yes Toby?'
'Mr Neill wants to see Natalia Molova,' he panted.
Natalia's heart rocketed so fast she almost dropped her baking tray.
'Natalia? Head wants you. You'd best put those down to cool.'
'Yeah, yeah,' Natalia discreetly grabbed three cakes in one hand and hurried out and up the stairs to knock at Neill's door.
'Come in Natalia!'
She arrived as florid and breathless as Toby. 'Hi.'
'Hi.'
He was sitting at his desk in front of his computer in a blue shirt and red tie. He glanced at her hand holding the cupcakes.
'These are for you,' she panted as she stepped forward to drop them onto his desk. 'Straight from the oven.' Two were fairly deformed by her grasp.
He looked at her in surprise. 'Goodness. So I was right on time to call you up here?'
She shrugged. 'I didn't have time to cool them and put the topping on - '
'Oh, well, you'd better take them away and sort it out, young lady!'
She giggled at his bemused face.
He reached and chucked one in his mouth, looking back to his computer screen. 'This is very kind, thank you. Are you having one?' he spoke with his mouth full.
'Just one, you have two,' as she reached for it.
'Sit then,' he whined. 'Why aren't you sitting yet?'
'Oh.' She sat down. 'Tea then,' she said slyly, knowing that the rush of adrenalin in her body right now meant no caffeine was needed at all unless she wanted to shoot straight through the ceiling.
He arose, giving her a comical stare in response to her demand, as she smirked back. As he turned to fill the kettle, she gazed at the Yorkshire Evening Post newspaper he had laying open in front of him. Peering closer at the upside-down image she recognised the shape of their school, and the words 'Muslim' and 'row' next to it, as she rotated her head curiously.
'Is that...?'
As the kettle cranked up, he sat back down and turned the paper round to her.
'Seems we've won some publicity for the school.'
She read:
'KILLINGBECK PE TEACHER SACKED OVER INJURED GIRL IN RACE ROW'
She gaped. 'Oh dear!'
'It's all good. Basically says racist Luxton got dismissed. We are a proper school doing the proper thing.'
'Says at the end she's pursuing a legal investigation.'
'Good luck to her,' he said as he casually closed it up and tossed it to the side. 'That video I got of her wasn't pretty. Even I was surprised that it's exposure of an actual bigot. Worst case, I could play it in court.'
She frowned in thought. 'Do you have it? Can I see?'
He clicked on his computer. 'I put it on here for safe keeping. Here,' as he swivelled his screen round to her, and pressed play on a portrait-oriented video with black borders.
'You filmed it the wrong way.'
'Shut up you. Anyway that's what happens when a good, virtuous Headmaster is caught unawares.'
In the video the exasperated voice of Luxton could be heard amidst bumps of wind on the mic. 'Oh good heavens Shaziya! This is why we wear PE kits! Now we need a first aid kit! You can't wear what you wear in - those places - here!'
He flicked it off just as the kettle clicked off. 'See? Now tea,' as he rose.
'Get it up online,' Natalia suddenly said. 'Anonymously on YouTube.'
He turned and squinted back at her. 'To what, make it go viral, as the youngsters say?'
'Make the vile vole go viral,' said Natalia in a low, excited voice. 'Rub her face in it, douse her enthusiasm for legalities when half the country sees it!'
He placed down their teas, looking highly captivated by her as he sat down.
'And Luxton will be wearing a niqab herself just to go out to buy a bottle of milk,' as she picked up and gestured with the milk bottle he'd pushed over for her.
'I like your thinking!' he chortled. 'But it will look like I've put it up?'
'No, a rogue pupil got hold of it, of course,' she said slyly, stirring in her sugar.
'Rogue pupil, as in, you?'
'Whoever,' she shrugged. 'Once in Manchester, there was an anonymous kid who leaked an audio file of two teachers doing it behind a closed door...'
'Oh, I wouldn't mind hearing that? For research purposes obviously - '
'It was somewhere in the news a year ago. Anyway, no-one cared who put it up. Everyone cared for what it contained,' as she poised her lips as elegantly as she could over the rim of her hot tea.
He glanced away and pondered. 'I have a fake email, I'll use that to set up YouTube,' as he typed into the screen, which was still facing both of them.
She peered forward. 'Dr Ploppy Pants?!'
'Don't knock it, he gets me WiFi at Moto services and an extra free main course at Vintage Inns. Right, I'm on YouTube. What now, tech head? Or should I call you Clarkey?'
'Drag the file in there,' she pointed. 'Add a good description and tags. Muslim. Row. Controversy. Racism. Bigot. Fascist. Horror. Scandal. BNP - '
'Hold on, hold on...' as he swivelled the screen back toward him, and spent a few moments typing as she sipped her tea and watched.
The bell went for hometime.
He looked up. 'Oh, cupcake crumbs. I hadn't even told you yet the reason I called you up here.'
'I can get the next bus.'
'Ok good. Right, that's published. Now what, sit back and await Luxton's funeral?'
'Go to the Yorkie Post newspaper website and find the online version of the article. Post a link in the comments.'
He whistled, impressed. 'Good girl!'
There was silence as he clicked.
'Found it?'
'Found it. Added a comment from Livid_Hussain232 about how detrimental zealots like her are to the multiculturalism of thrivingly grim inner-city Leeds.'
'Good man!' she enthused in return.
They sat back grinning at each other. Now they were beyond secret sweets in Sunday Mass, they were legs-up in the pews, quaffing sweet tea.
He flicked his screen off and waved his hand. 'Next executionee is O'Callaghan, your favourite manic-depressive.'
'So she's going?'
'Yep.' His eyes gleamed. 'She's not too happy.'
'She never was. And what reason did you give her?'
'I planted class A drugs in her purse - '
'What!'
'I'm joking. Just class B.'
'Oh, Neill - '
'No. It came down to her own drugs, class C for crackers. I had a good chat with her and just so happened to break her down psychologically. She ended up pouring with tears about her depression and her mass of medication and how she doesn't feel fit to manage her class anymore. Handed her a tissue and her own resignation to sign, it was hilarious. Oh Natalia, you should have been here.'
'Oh, dear!'
'She didn't even want it mentioned to the school, talk about an Irish goodbye! New teacher Miss Pryor starts Monday. She's not so flash, I ran out of budget,' he screwed up his face.
'Not so flash, as in...?'
'She's from Gipton,' he replied.
'I'm from Gipton.'
'Exactly.'
'I just gave you my top-notch PR services - '
'For free, exactly. So, payback. Back to the point of why I called you up. I'm organising school trips and I'm starting with Year 11, as come Spring, you lot will have so much revision on your hands you won't have time for a single slither of fun. Around mid-November, only a couple of weeks to plan it, not long at all! So tell me, Natalia, what would you like to do?'
'Huh?'
'I'm letting you pick the school trip. Where do you want to go?'
She almost coughed up her last mouthful of tea in laughter. 'Are you serious!'
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What does Natalia choose? Read on to Chapter 10, Like a Virgin.
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