Free The Vintage Summer Wedding by Jenny Oliver Page A

remembered, like an object she’d put in a cupboard or on a shelf and forgotten about, something she’d seen so often she no longer saw it.
    Pulling on her cardigan, she crossed the road and when she was by his side kissed him on the cheek.
    ‘Oh!’ He looked up, startled, ‘What was that for?’ he said, as if such casual shows of affection weren’t something they’d done for a while.
    She shrugged. ‘I just, you know—’ Suddenly a bit embarrassed for being so free. ‘Nothing.’
    ‘How was it?’ he asked, glancing from her to the door of the hall.
    ‘Yeah, good.’ She nodded. Wanting to say more, to let everything trip off her tongue about how she’d whipped them into shape, how in one fell swoop she’d stopped the swearing and made them focus on job in hand. How it had felt using skills that she had let hibernate for so long. ‘They’re terrible and there’s just so much work to be done, but it was a good start. I think we’re all pleased.’
    Seb nodded, incredulous but impressed. ‘And you like them? You were OK with them?’
    ‘I wouldn’t necessarily say I like them, but I think we respect each other. I think they’re grateful that I’m here.’ Shielding her eyes from the sun, she gave him a casual shrug and breathed in the sweet smell of the evening sunshine.
    Seb closed his book and draped his arm over her shoulder, ‘Well congratulations.’
    She liked the feeling of his surprise, of his appreciation. ‘Yeah, it was good,’ she said, pushing her shoulders back, flicking her hair out of her eyes. ‘I like to think I made a difference.’
    ‘Well I was certainly wrong, wasn’t I?’ He squeezed her shoulder.
    ‘Yes you were!’ she said with faux put-outness. ‘I think I was pretty good. Made them realise the work something like this takes, how they need to apply themselves.’
    ‘Good work, Anna. See, not so bad here, after all.’
    She almost agreed. It was almost there on the tip of her tongue...
    But then the doors in front of them were kicked open with a bang, and they both turned to see the kids start to amble out of the hall, bags slung over their shoulders, make-up redone, sweaty tops changed, Coke cans in their hands and packets of Hula Hoops.
    ‘That was shit,’ Lucy said, with a flump of her freshly back-combed hair.
    Two at the back turned to look furtively in Anna’s direction while Clara, with the flame beehive, said lazily through a yawn, ‘It was total crap. And I’m fucking knackered. I’m done.’
    ‘It’s like Nazi youth camp,’ Matt said.
    ‘Hey, we should tell Mr Watson next History.’ A fat boy Anna had ignored threw his head back with a guffaw.
    Matt laughed, ‘We could put her up as an example of modern dictatorship.’
    ‘I’m done as well,’ Billy piped up and kicked a stone that Matt caught with the side of his trainer and booted miles ahead.
    Clara swiped him round the head. ‘You have to go, Mum wouldn’t let you quit.’
    ‘That’s just unfair,’ he whined and they all laughed.
    After a pause, Lucy added loudly, ‘It’s cos she’s such a fucking bitch.’ And gave a casual flick of her fringe as her eyes skated sideways to lock with Anna’s.
    As Anna’s lips parted, her mouth just dropping open a fraction, the others giggled but, noticing Seb, their new geography teacher, pulled their heads together as if he wouldn’t be able to single them out individually if they became one giant organism that scuttled off like a crab along the pavement.
    Anna sucked in a breath. The word bitch hit her hard in the stomach. She wanted to go over and grab bloody Lucy by her bloody fringe and tell her she wasn’t allowed to call her a bitch. She swallowed, thought of what she’d said to Seb, of how she thought they had been hanging off her every word. Her little victory popped.
    She felt Seb’s hand on her shoulder and wanted to shake it off. The last thing she could face was his sympathy.
    I don’t care,
she repeated to herself.
I don’t