Page 2 of Lipstick Kiss

Over the past year, he’d come back for odd days here and there, and they spent as much as he could mess about or drinking in the pub. But, from tomorrow onwards, he would be back permanently, and Freya wouldn’t be lonely anymore.

Hefting her school bag over her shoulder, she grabbed her keys from the hook and left her home, making sure the door was secured. Climbing the wide shallow steps to the school, she sighed and straightened her back. Through the two sets of glass doors with leaded windows was Mr Morris, the head teacher at Copper Island High School. Dudley Morris was elderly in years, but not in body. He was quick as a whippet, smart as a tack and mean as a snake. Vicious barbed attacks that were non-specific enough that Freya couldn’t go to the school board. Not that she would. Cynthia Turner headed it up. She didn’t see the point of complaining. Why Mr Morris targeted her was lost on her.

Teachers weren’t begging to work at the school. They were a small island, so they didn’t need many teachers, but required enough to cover classes. Freya was the most recent hire into the school, so Mr Morris had decided she took the slack. It didn’t matter that she got the job years ago. Good for her experience, he said. This meant any teacher who needed a class covering when Freya wasn’t teaching was down to her if she didn’t have a class of her own. Since Christmas, it wasn’t so bad she wasn’t at home, as her best friend Heidi was either helping mums bring their little ones into the world, or she was enjoying being a newlywed and hid away in her cottage up at the Turner estate.

After school, drinks on a Friday had been dropped, and Saturday mornings watching TV slouched on the sofa while they recovered from their hangovers was a thing of the past. When Mr Morris insisted that she covered the evening classes, it forced her to mark books late at night or on weekends.

Fortunately, she didn’t have a relationship to nurture because the man wouldn’t have stuck around with the few hours she had spare a week she wasn’t sleeping.

But then, that was another reason Mr Morris gave her. She was single, and the other teachers were married with children. The more Freya questioned his logic, the more he piled on her, so Freya kept quiet and accepted what he had dished out. She’d gone through the entire school timetable and the after-school classes to brace her for the maximum amount of lessons she could cover on top of her own tasks.

It felt like Mr Morris had done the same.

“Ms Riley,” Mr Morris said as she moved towards where he stood.

There was no option to avoid him as every student and teacher needed to pass that spot to turn left or right to get to the classrooms.

“Good morning, Mr Morris. How are you today?”

“Well, thank you,” he replied, not looking at her.

She’d stopped when he greeted her, but he said no more. Then, shoving the heavy bag further along her shoulder as it started slipping down, she strode away.

“Uh, Ms Riley,” Mr Morris called out.

Freya stopped, dropped her chin to her chest and wished she’d copied the other teachers who wore trainers to work and changed into heels when they arrived. Then, lifting her chin, she pivoted on the spot, narrowly missing astudent as her book bag swung out. The kid deftly swerved out of the way and continued down the corridor.

Walking back to where Mr Morris stood, Freya plastered on a genial smile and waited. When he didn’t speak for a few moments, preferring to squint at the students who were entering the school looking at their phones.

“Did you need me?” Freya asked.

“Not in the slightest,” he said.

She tutted, thinking she’d walked right into that comment.

“I have put the evening class roster up in the staffroom. I thought I’d let you know, as you rarely go in there.”

“I have a lot of classes, so I spend my lunch marking books or preparing lessons. I can’t do that if I’m in the staff room.”

“I don’t care what your reasons are, Ms Riley. Check the roster and be sure to make a note of next week’s extra duties.”

Freya was about to protest after doing the evening classes for three months. The clocks had changed, which meant lighter evenings. Luke was coming home the next day, and she wanted to spend time with him. Plus, she was exhausted and needed to go to bed at a reasonable time for a month.

“Understood, Mr Morris. Is there anything else you need—want me to do?”

“I’ll be sure to let you know if you are required to do anything further.”

Mr Morris had perfected his condescending tone while she was a pupil at the school, but when it was aimed at her, there seemed to be extra venom. Taking his words as a dismissal, she turned back around, juggling her book bag,handbag, and lunch bag as she hurried out of his vocal range and into her classroom.

The bell wouldn’t ring for registration for another thirty minutes. There was enough time to get herself sorted and put her game face on. Any chink in her armour, and the kids would seek it out and prod it until she blew. Seven years of teaching at the school proved she could survive anything the kids could throw at her, but she was battle weary. One more term to go, and then she had six glorious weeks of doing nothing.

The following morning at the crack of dawn, she sleepily drove the buggy up to Edward Hall. Freya parked at the end of the row of cottages and hoofed it to the kitchens in the depths of the mansion. Putting a shoulder to the door to the back entrance, she entered the spotless kitchens and spied Jason and her best friend kissing up against the wall. They were oblivious to her entry.

“Don’t you two ever stop?” Freya called out, unwinding her scarf.

Heidi pulled away from Jason with a grin, pecked his lips, and shuffled out of his embrace. Jason had a stupid look on his face as he straightened his chef whites and then plucked his hat out of his pocket and put it on his head.

“Don’t take your scarf off, lady. We’re going,” Heidi barked out.

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