Page 3 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

One – Don’t fall in love.

Two – Question everything.

Three – Give back.

Today’s focus was on being ready and willing to welcome Mr Rangan into the school, whatever he might be like. She needed to remember to listen, to understand and to give something of herself to benefit others. She wrote everything down, and then underlined a few words with a green glittery gel pen. When shehad chosen the book, she had deliberately opted for plain black, to avoid distraction and provide herself with a blank slate, quite literally. But she couldn’t resist the glittery gel pens. They made her smile. And she didn’t think they could do her any harm.

She wrote about the past day or so, about all that had happened at school, in yoga. She reflected on her conversation with Rae. She couldn’t help but think back to her younger self. September always seemed to be a time of comparisons – her first day at secondary school, her first day at university, her first day at her workplace a year earlier. A time of new starts. She pictured herself at eighteen, preparing to leave home, readying herself for university with her dad by her side, nursing a broken heart that she didn’t think she could tell him about.

She sighed. Her dad. What would he have thought of the last few years? She felt a lump in her throat, but swallowed it, returning to her journal.

She had started again. She had made things good. Yes, she still needed to do more, but things were so much better now than they had been.

Absentmindedly, Chrissie drew a spiral that took up the corner of the page. She wouldn’t allow her life to spiral again, she knew that for sure. She closed the book, placed her hand on the cover for a moment, and then put it into her bag.

It was an early start, but the brightness of the morning made it worthwhile. There weren’t many people about at half past seven when she left her flat, and she luxuriated in the relative peace. The high street was only a few minutes’ walk away, and there were inevitable delivery vans, buses and cars, but for bustling Kings Heath, this was quiet.

Chrissie got to her classroom before the new teacher, which was her aim. She wanted to get herself organised and ready for the day. She knew she needed to be welcoming to him and make sure everything went well, ready for the children arriving thefollowing day. She smiled to herself and went to the staff room to make a cup of peppermint tea. There were a few staff already there, photocopying, looking at their laptops, making notes. She smiled and helloed her way in and out, keen to get started on the day’s tasks.

She walked back through the doors of her classroom to find that the new teacher must have arrived in her absence – there was a jacket slung over the back of one of the chairs. Mr Rangan was obviously an early bird too, which boded well.

Chrissie could see a figure bent over and peering into one of the cupboards she’d tidied the day before.

“Hi,” said Chrissie, putting on her best welcoming grin.

The figure straightened. He was shorter than Chrissie had expected, his hair shoulder-length and dark. As he turned, Chrissie realised he wasn’t a ‘he’ at all.

“Hi,” said the woman standing in front of her, her mouth dropping open.

If the person in front of her faltered, then something inside Chrissie screamed to a shuddering halt. Visions of a seventies ridge tent in the middle of a lawn sprang unbidden into her mind. Ice-cream. A battered old Discman. She felt herself reel a little and step back, as though she had been physically pushed into the past.

“Nisha?” asked Chrissie, although she already knew the answer. It was pulsing through her veins.

“Chrissie!” said Nisha, smiling broadly, her eyes wide. “I had no idea you worked here.”

She still had the dimple.

“Well, I do,” said Chrissie, immediately wishing she had said something more interesting. She felt like she was watching the scenario play out, rather than being part of it. She rested her hand on a bookshelf, in search of stability, accidentally knockingdown a copy ofThe Day the Crayons Quit. “I mean, I’ve worked here for about a year.”

“You’re a teacher too?” asked Nisha, one hand playing with the strap of her smart watch, her wavy hair falling into her face.

“Ah, no,” said Chrissie, bending to retrieve the book and trying to take a moment to centre herself while she was near the ground. She stood up slowly, hoping not to knock anything else over. “I’m a teaching assistant.” She took a breath.

“Well, what a turnout,” said Nisha, who was looking around the room, as if trying to find an explanation for this unexpected turn of events. Chrissie wondered which class Nisha would be teaching, and where Mr Rangan might be. This was truly awkward, and she was desperate for the moment to end.

“Yes,” said Chrissie. “It’s a surprise. So, what year group are you teaching this year? Or are you doing supply or something?”

“No, I’m permanent,” said Nisha. “I’m teaching Year Four.”

“Oh, I think there’s been a mistake,” said Chrissie, still hoping Mr Rangan would appear at any point. “Mr Rangan is the teacher for Year Four this year. He’s new. Not here yet.” She looked over her shoulder, willing the elusive Mr Rangan to appear.

Nisha pressed her lips together. “Ah. Yes. Well,” she said, slowly, “you’re right, there has been a mistake. Everything was done in a rush. I am, as I’m sure you’ll remember, Nisha Rajan – Ms Rajan. Somewhere along the lines a mistake was made in the documentation. One Asian surname apparently looks and sounds very much like another.” Nisha rolled her eyes. “And in the same mix-up, I also became a ‘Mr’ by mistake.”

Dread gathered in Chrissie’s stomach. “Oh. Yes, I see. How annoying for you.”

Nisha sighed. “To be honest, I’m just grateful I was able to get a job at such relative short notice. Anyway, which class do you work with?”

Chrissie girded her loins. “Er, Year Four. Your class.” Chrissie felt the words echo around the room. Every day for the best part of the next year, they would be working together. She was suddenly aware of her heart beating faster than was healthy.

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