With the Headmaster's Approval Read online

  With The Headmaster’s Approval

  By

  Jan Hurst-Nicholson

  Lust shouts. Love whispers. Only the heart knows the difference.

  Former US naval officer Adam Wild considers himself well equipped to restore discipline to the once prestigious St Mary’s Academy for Girls in northern England - and he’s not about to take No for an answer. Still in love with his late wife, he believes himself immune to the temptations of the female staff.

  Jenna Murray has learned that she is better off without a man in her life - especially this one, who has stolen the headship she feels should have been hers. Not about to go down without a fight, she undermines his authority at every turn, until even the girls sense the underlying emotion in their constant sparring.

  Then Nicole, Adam’s late wife’s kid sister - now all grown up - returns from Africa with a life-threatening condition and a startling request, forcing both Adam and Jenna to re-evaluate their feelings about love.

  Text copyright © Jan Hurst-Nicholson 2013

  Cover copyright © Vanessa Burger

  Edited by Yolanda Perera and Hu Edwards

  (British spelling and phrases)

  www.just4kix.jimdo.com

  My thanks to: Eileen, Tom, Sheila, Kristie, Mary, Christine, Linda, Beth, Michel, Cheryl, Moira, Bill, Rehana, Geraldine, Micki, Natasha, Jack, Hu, Heather, (for the laughs), and the numerous people from my past and present who have unwittingly contributed.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter seventeen

  Chapter eighteen

  Chapter nineteen

  Chapter twenty

  Chapter twenty one

  Chapter twenty two

  Chapter twenty three

  Chapter twenty four

  Chapter twenty five

  Chapter twenty six

  Chapter twenty seven

  Chapter twenty eight

  Chapter twenty nine

  Chapter thirty

  Chapter thirty one

  CHAPTER ONE

  As Adam scanned the morning’s agenda Lisa could hear the chatter of the girls as they filed into assembly. The closed office door muted the sound, but she knew when they entered the hall it would be like the bird house in a zoo. She stood next to his neatly organised desk ready to fill in any details he was unsure of.

  “So, Mrs Stannard is going to introduce me and give a brief explanation, and then I’ll take over?” he asked, looking up at her.

  “Yes, we thought that would be best. It will give some sort of continuity.”

  “And you’ll be ready to prompt me on the agenda,” he said, grinning.

  “Yes, but I’m confident you won’t need me,” she replied with a reassuring smile.

  He glanced at his watch, a slim classic that matched his gold cuff links, picked up the file and rose briskly from his chair, his six foot-four frame towering over her. He fastened the middle button of his suit jacket, a dark blue that together with his pale blue shirt enhanced his fading tan. His broad shoulders filled the jacket to perfection and he could have stepped out of a clothing catalogue if it weren’t for the few stray locks of hair that fell over his brow despite him constantly finger-combing them back.

  “Let’s go. Wish me luck,” he said.

  “Good luck,” she said, wondering if he knew just how much he would need it.

  They crossed the passage to the assembly hall and when he swung the door open for Lisa there was a momentary hush, but as he followed her up the steps and onto the stage a babble of excitement broke out, hushed to silence by the teachers who sat in the aisle beside each class.

  A tight-lipped Mrs Stannard was already sitting behind a table on the stage, framed by the red velvet curtains that hung closed behind her. A lectern stood to the side and behind it sat a nervous senior girl ready to read the day’s religious or inspirational thoughts. Adam pulled out a chair for Lisa and then sat between the two women. Mrs Stannard handed him a copy of the reading that was to be presented by the senior girl, and while he scanned it for its suitability another round of whispering broke out amongst the girls. There’d been rumours about Miss Edwards leaving, but who was this man? Surely he couldn’t be the new head – a man! And why was Mrs Ryan, the secretary sitting with him?

  Finally he nodded to Mrs Stannard who got up to speak and the girls lapsed into an expectant silence.

  “Good morning, girls.”

  “Good morning Mrs Stannard,” they chorused.

  “I hope you all enjoyed the holidays and are now back and eager to work.”

  There were a few mumbled ‘yes, Misses’ before she continued.

  “You’ll be sad to learn that Miss Edwards has taken early retirement due to ill health.” This was no shock or surprise as most of the girls had been aware of her dementia. “No doubt you all know that Miss Edwards has served the school loyally for over twenty-five years and it is a sad loss.” Very few of the girls were listening, some because Mrs Stannard’s voice did not carry well to the back of the hall, despite her encouragement of the drama class to project their voices, but mostly because they were all watching Adam, impatiently twisting his pen between his fingers. “However, you’ll be pleased to hear that Mr Wild has been appointed your new head teacher until further notice.”

  The hubbub of excited anticipation drowned her next words. “Mr Wild will now address you.”

  Adam threaded his way round the table to the front of the stage, his presence and self-assurance immediately commanding their attention and they fell silent. “Good morning, ladies.” The surprise at being addressed as ladies instead of girls was doubled by the realisation that he had an American accent. His deep male voice filled the large hall, so unlike the sometimes timid voices of the female staff.

  “My name is Adam Wild. You may address me as Mr Wild, or Sir.” He waited a few moments before continuing. “Those of you who are no longer looking directly at me, but into their laps, are probably typing my name into the Google search engine of whatever electronic device is taking up your attention. Well I’m going to save you the bother and tell you all you need to know, so please switch them off. And I might add that you won’t find me on Facebook, or Twitter or any of the other similar websites.”

  Lisa felt a slight flush of shame. Googling his name had been the first thing she had done after meeting him.

  He paced the stage waiting for the scuffling of school bags and electronic beeps to recede as the guilty ones switched off their phones and returned their attention to him.

  Hooking his thumb in his trouser pocket he sat on the corner of the table and surveyed them. “Firstly, I want to make it clear that all phones and electronic devices are to be switched off within the school building. You may use them in the schoolyard only. I will be doing periodic checks. If I find a phone switched on I will confiscate it until the end of the day. If it should ring while in my possession I will assume that the call you’re expecting is more important than my instructions and I’ll be obliged to answer the call, or read the text message in order to convey its contents to you. Is that clear?”

  There were a few disgruntled murmurs.

  “I said – Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” chorused the girls
.

  “And there is another new rule. The school gates will be closed at five minutes to nine. If you arrive after that you will have to press the gate buzzer and then report to me with your excuses. No one will be allowed outside the school during school hours without my approval. That is from nine a.m. until four fifteen p.m. – and that includes the lunch break.”

  There were horrified gasps from the girls who had regular lunchtime trysts with boys, and those who preferred crisps and sweets to school dinners. Lisa heard a distinct, “That’s not fair,” from Glenda McKenzie and her cronies, who were the main culprits in lunchtime dates with the boys. Glenda’s face flashed with the vengeance of a teenager thwarted.

  St Mary’s Academy for Girls’ and St Mary’s Academy for Boys were both part of the same building, mirrored, but each with its own separate entrance and attached by a joint kitchen which served meals to the boys’ and girls’ dining rooms. Both schools had the same governing body, but were otherwise autonomous.

  “You will only be allowed out during the lunch break if you can provide a valid reason, accompanied by a note from a parent or guardian, which I will verify with a phone call,” said Adam.

  There were mixed reactions to their new head teacher. The more ‘forward’ of the senior girls did not appreciate having their wings clipped. Others, who normally slouched and wore a permanent look of boredom - the default face of teenage girls - were suddenly sitting up straight and adjusting their clothing to show off their figures to better advantage. But many of the junior girls were hanging onto his every word.

  “It’s going to take me some time to learn all your names, so I have arranged with the art and craft teacher to make name badges. These will be worn inside the school premises, but will be removed or covered when outside the school property. I don’t want any of you receiving uninvited attention.”

  The new head was obviously not going to be the pushover that Miss Edwards had sadly become, manipulated by the girls, and sorry to say, some of the teachers. Adam Wild had been used to barking orders while in the navy, he had set a new tone for the school, but Lisa wondered if there would be an eventual backlash - girls could be manipulative in ways that men sometimes did not recognise.

  Adam’s appointment had also come as a shock to the teaching staff. He’d been sprung on them at a special staff meeting a few days earlier. But Lisa had been privy to the news long before that. As the school secretary she’d been asked to take the minutes at a meeting of the governing board where she’d learned that Miss Edwards’ dementia had been confirmed and they had to get a replacement - fast.

  Too late to advertise the post, there was a proposal that the deputy head take over temporarily. But she was nearing retirement age, and was not firm enough with the girls who were becoming wayward. A board member who played golf with Adam’s father-in-law had learned that Adam was available and after an interview they had appointed him on a one-year contract.

  St Mary’s Academy was funded jointly by business and religious bodies and the women board members, who represented the religious groups, had voiced their doubts and Lisa knew why. If she’d been asked she would have agreed with them. It was not because he wasn’t qualified; it was simply because, as one pursed-lipped board member had baldly stated: “A stallion in the fillies’ stable is asking for trouble.”

  But the women had been outvoted by the men: “He was an officer in the US navy. He knows about discipline. It will be good for the girls.” How naive men could be. But the women had insisted on instilling in Adam that fraternising with the staff would mean his instant removal – and they all knew what was meant by ‘fraternising’. Any hint of impropriety would be a reflection on the school, and could have an influence on the Academy’s funding.

  Lisa’s husband, Neil, had been annoyed that her holiday had been curtailed in order to show Adam the ropes before the school term began, but after he met Adam and discovered a fellow sailor they’d become friends and he’d taken Adam to join the sailing club. Lisa, having spent the past week showing Adam round the school and discussing the curriculum had now become his confidante and he’d confided, “It has to be easier being head of a girls’ school.”

  Lisa, not wanting to disillusion him so soon, had kept quiet.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The staff meeting had been held in the assembly hall where there was a long rectangular table large enough to accommodate them all. There had been disgruntled murmurings from the teaching staff when they’d been summoned to the special meeting, especially when Lisa had not disclosed its full purpose, telling them only that it was about Miss Edwards’ retirement. But when she’d walked in with Adam she would have said they were gob-smacked, if that had been a word in her vocabulary. Impeccably dressed in a navy blazer, blue shirt, and fawn trousers he stood commandingly, and blatantly male, at the head of the table, the tips of his fingers resting on the folder he’d placed in front of him. He gave them a slight smile that barely turned up the corners of his mouth, but lit up his eyes mischievously and greeted them. “Good morning, ladies. I’m Adam Wild, your new Head Teacher.”

  Their faces flashed variously with shock, dismay, hostility, resignation, excited anticipation, and unashamed flirting – emotions none of which had been apparent while Miss Edwards was in charge. How long will it be before jealousy rears its unattractive head, thought Lisa.

  “As you will have recognised, I’m from the US, but I’ve been teaching here for a number of years,” he added. “Perhaps you’d all like to introduce yourselves,” he suggested, sitting down beside Lisa who had her pen ready to take the minutes. She’d offered to give him some background on each of the staff, but he’d refused, saying he’d like to make up his own mind after meeting them.

  Although it would have made sense to go clockwise round the table, or at least begin with the deputy head, Barbara Crook offered, “I don’t mind going first. I’m Barbara Crook, but you can call me Babs,” she began.

  “Is that Miss, or Mrs?”

  “Miss, of course.”

  “Thank you, Miss Crook,” said Adam.

  Lisa smiled. Adam had already got the measure of Barbara Crook. In her thirties and with, by her own admission, a full figure that she liked to compare to Dolly Parton, she taught home economics, and by example – flirting. She’d already checked out his ring finger.

  “And what does your wife think of your working in an all girls’ school?”

  “I’m a widower.”

  There were coos of sympathy, except for Barbara Crook who was already assessing her rivals.

  “I don’t think we need volunteers,” he said. “This is a compulsory assignment. Let’s begin on my left.”

  “I’m Eleanor Stannard. Mrs Eleanor Stannard,” she amended. “I’m your Deputy Head. I also teach English, Geography and Speech and Drama.” Her initial glare of indignation at being passed over as head had dissolved into a resigned acceptance.

  Before Adam could reply Barbara Crook broke in, “Oh, and I teach Home Economics.”

  “Thank you, Miss Crook,” Adam replied, and then turning back to Eleanor Stannard said, “I’ll have Lisa set up a meeting to discuss some changes that I have in mind.” Eleanor Stannard looked a little alarmed, she was a widow looking forward to retirement and set in her ways, changes were not something that sat well with her.

  Smiling encouragingly he awaited the next introduction, focusing the laser beam of his attention on the nervous teacher. Lisa had felt the disarming power of his steady gaze, which made you feel as if you were the only thing in his orbit and he was hanging on to your every word. Was it instinctive, or had he learned that careful listening was a powerful asset where women were concerned?

  But Annette Woolf could not meet his gaze. A spinster in her fifties, she fiddled nervously with the cross she wore beneath her blouse. “I’m Miss Annette Woolf. I teach Religion and History,” she said, as if it were a guilty admission.

  Barbara Crook laughed. “Annette, you sound as if you’re in
an AA meeting.”

  “Thank you, Miss Woolf,” said Adam, ignoring the interruption and turning his attention next to Dee Taylor, who had only recently joined the school. She taught Gym and Sports and had the physique to prove it. She was in her forties with short dark hair and always seemed to be dressed in a tracksuit. She kept to herself and they knew very little about her private life. Barbara Crook however, had hinted darkly about her sexuality.

  “Miss Dee Taylor. Sports, gym, athletics,” she said in a flat emotionless voice.

  They continued round the table.

  A too-thin young woman wearing a long dress and beads and an other-worldly expression gave a sigh followed by a lengthy pause, as if she were booting up her brain, before introducing herself. “Mrs Hayley Price. Art and design.” She had a disconcerting way of answering questions, beginning with an enigmatic smile leaving you unsure if she had heard. When you were about to repeat the question she would suddenly utter a measured and thoughtful reply. This made chatting to her rather tiresome and she tended to be left on the periphery of conversations. She lived in a commune with her artist husband who was waiting to be discovered and therefore did not feel obliged to work, or contribute financially.

  Seated beside her was Lauren Mathews whose husband had gone off with another woman so was off men for good and wasn’t happy to have this one thrust into their midst. She had to admit he was a bit of all right, but Barbara Crook was welcome to try her luck. Men – lying, cheating scumbags, the lot of them. “Mrs Lauren Mathews. Maths,” she said, adding, “Divorced,” in a tone that showed she was relieved to be so, and then quickly nudged her neighbour who was jolted into blurting out.

  “Mrs Kate O’Brien. Music and sex education.” She hated admitting she taught sex education as it always brought knowing smirks, but at twenty-seven she was the youngest of the teachers and Miss Edwards had thought that being closer to the girls’ age they would be more likely to listen to her advice. But newly married herself, and with little experience, she’d found that the girls could probably tell her a thing or two. She spent a lot of time researching things on the internet, and deferring to her husband for advice.