Page 2 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

When she opened her eyes Mrs Hemingway was standing in the doorway. “Indeed, Miss Anderson. I often feel the same way at this time of day.” Chrissie snapped to attention, no mean feat in her tiny chair.

“Sorry, I was just taking a moment,” said Chrissie.

“I’d say taking moments like that when you can is a wise move.” Mrs Hemingway walked towards Chrissie, pulled up a tiny chair and sat beside her. Somehow she managed to remaindignified – or at least more dignified than Chrissie. “As you know,” she said, “this will be Year Four’s classroom this year, and you have a new teacher. It’s all been a little last-minute after Mr Sykes’ unexpected retirement.” She grimaced at Chrissie, who wasn’t sure how she should react. “Because we had to leave it so late to recruit our new teacher, he wasn’t able to be here today, as you can see.”

Chrissie nodded. She could see.

Mrs Hemingway continued: “But he will be here tomorrow, thank goodness. It does mean you’ll both have to work swiftly on any displays for the children in time for the first day of term, though.”

Chrissie had already thought this through, hence her work to get everything else as close to ready as possible for the new classroom. She was keen to get away to her yoga class and re-centre herself in preparation for tomorrow’s new arrival. She hoped that whoever he was, he’d be good to work with. She’d adored working with Dan Harvey last term and was sad that the inevitable annual reshuffle meant she would be with someone new.

“Mr Rangan comes highly recommended from a London school, and has excellent experience. I’m sure you will be able to welcome him and get him settled in quickly,” said the head teacher.

“It will all be fine,” replied Chrissie. “It sounds like he won’t need too much help from me.” She looked around the room, beginning to think through how she would apply her creative abilities to the classroom displays.

“Jolly good,” said Mrs Hemingway, her voice warm, the blue plastic beads from circa 1987 clacking around her neck. She was the kind of woman who seemed ageless. She could be anything from mid-forties to mid-sixties. “You’ve become such an asset to the school, Miss Anderson. It’s only been a year, but alreadyI can see other teaching assistants looking to you for guidance.” She smoothed her skirt, stood up, gave Chrissie a firm nod, and left the room.

Chrissie wondered what Mr Rangan would be like. There was a knot of apprehension in her stomach. He had been recruited at relatively short notice. What was the likelihood that he would actually be outstanding – either by Ofsted’s standards, or Chrissie’s? Teachers with stunning resumés and terrible skills were a well-known phenomenon – how else would a school ensure the swift departure of a team member they wanted to say goodbye to? She sighed to herself. Pondering on it wouldn’t help.

Once she was confident that all the equipment was ready, Chrissie looked up at the clock. It was past four. Time to get going. She gathered her possessions and pulled a light cotton scarf around her neck. She left the school and was soon on Kings Heath High Street. It was buzzing with adults taking children to buy new shoes, stationery and clothing. There was a long queue outside the school uniform shop, a line of stressed parents and bored-looking children. A few children waved at Chrissie, shouting out “Hi, Miss, see you at school!” She smiled warmly and waved, but she knew better than to stop and talk. There would be plenty of time for that at school, and this was her time now.

As she approached the village square, two number 50 buses parked up at the bus stop nearby, she felt herself begin to relax. This was where she could come to release the worries of the mundane world.

The community centre beside the church in the heart of Kings Heath was slightly shabby, but it was home to Chrissie’s yoga class. The range of abilities in the class was wide, but it was a warm, welcoming space, and the teacher made everyone feel at home. Rae had a way of making them all feel like yoga was for them, while bringing a sense of calm to their class.

Chrissie breathed into downward dog. This was the last vestige of her old life, the only part she hadn’t discarded for her own wellbeing – and that of those around her. Rae’s down-to-earth nature had made yoga a safe place for her again. There were no smells and chimes and none of the ideological chatter that had taken her to a dark place before, and for that she was grateful. She had learned the hard way that there was no simple answer to life, no matter how confidently someone tried to explain it.

The cat, cow, cat routine eased her hips after all the crouching and organising cupboards during the day. The warrior poses helped her feel strong, prepared, capable.

“And now,” said Rae, “I want you all to gently lie down on your mats, breathing deeply, and take that shavasana that you have worked for over the last forty-five minutes or so.” Chrissie could hear the sounds of people exhaling, relaxing, letting go. Shavasana, or corpse pose, was always the highlight of any class. It meant lying still on your back with your eyes shut. Chrissie had often wondered at the fact that you could lie down anywhere, at any time, but it would never feel as good as the moment when you’d finished a yoga class and were lying still like this.

Chrissie exhaled, her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of her body stopping after the exertions of the class. Newcomers were often shocked by how strenuous yoga could be. Her face felt warm, and there was a sheen of perspiration on it. Her legs welcomed the break, and she sensed she was regaining some energy and spark after her long day at work.

“And slowly, in your own time,” said Rae, their voice barely above a whisper in the silent room, “I want you to come to a sitting position. Yes, that’s right. Bring your palms together and in front of your face and be grateful to yourself for giving your body this session to strengthen and grow. Namaste.”

“Namaste,” said Chrissie under her breath.

Once the class was done, mat rolled up and socks and shoes back on, and feeling lighter and more centred than she had earlier, she smiled and offered to help Rae tidy up.

“Thanks, Chrissie,” said Rae, their short curly hair slightly damp from the exertion of the class. Somehow they’d managed to demonstrate and talk the class through all the movements, and end up significantly less sweaty than Chrissie was, though. “Cup of tea?”

They parked themselves on the side in the suitably municipal kitchen, complete with labels for each cupboard shelf. Sipping from light green institutional teacups, the two of them exchanged stories about their respective days.

“It sounds like you’ve found your feet at the school,” said Rae, nodding their head in the direction of Chrissie’s workplace.

“Yes,” Chrissie agreed, smiling and remembering Mrs Hemingway’s words. “I really think I might have.”

“You should be so proud of all you’ve achieved,” said Rae, nudging Chrissie’s elbow. “Think about where you were. I remember how pale and quiet you were when you first came to my class. Now look at you.” They smiled broadly. “Positively blooming.”

“Thanks, Rae. Well, I do really have you to thank,” said Chrissie, her voice quiet, mindful that while Rae knew some of the story, they didn’t know everything, or how quite bad things had got in the last few years. They didn’t know how much Chrissie had lost, and how much she had to atone for. “You met me where I was and helped me make sense of a few things. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come back to yoga, but here we are. Thank you.”

“You did it,” said Rae, “I just get the pleasure of witnessing you.” They smiled.

Chapter Two

It was the day before the start of term and the sun was shining, echoes of summer still in the air. Chrissie sat at the small desk in her living room, looking out at the tree that stood between her window and the road. In front of her was an A4 hardbound journal, black and well-thumbed, with many pages already full.

Chrissie opened it and started to set out her intentions for the day, always keeping her three rules at the forefront of her mind – the rules she had set down for herself to ensure she didn’t fall back into the chaos her life had become. She had come up with them as guiding principles to keep order and sanity in her life. But more than that, they were there to stop her from hurting anyone ever again:

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