Page 5 of Still Falling for You

‘Good.’ He studies my ridiculous outfit before he returns his attention to the paperwork.

I try not to watch his throat as it bobs up and down, but it’s impossible because somehow over the last ten years, he’s become even more attractive, and it makes me angry all over again. He looks like a sexy headmaster while my haircut makes me look like a sodden mushroom. If he wasn’t behaving like a colossal arsehat, I would find it difficult to focus on anything else but the way his physicality fills the room. Instead, I want to wipe that noncommittal expression off his face or skew his tie out of line. I have an inkling it would really vex this new Alex.

‘I have a few questions.’

‘I expected you would,’ I retort before I manage to stop myself.

He frowns but continues, ‘I need to ensure that the information on the ECT portal is up to date and correct. A hard copy of your ECT details will also be filed in the admin office together with all your original induction documents and a signed copy of your contract. I hope that is agreeable,’ he says flatly without looking up for my approval. ‘All my feedback will go directly onto the portal where you will be able to read my comments on your progress but also have access to official reports. On top of that, we’ll schedule weekly meetings where we’ll set targets during your teaching experience at King George’s Academy.’ He says this like it’s a given I will leave the school once my ECT time is done.

He takes his laptop out of his bag and fires it up. In an onslaught of monotone questions, he asks me to confirm mydate of birth, teacher number and national insurance number. The entire time, his eyes are glued to the screen.

He makes a note. Even from this angle, I can see that his handwriting has changed, and the memory of his letters makes an ice cube drop into the pit of my stomach. How is he so composed and detached?

Involuntarily, I notice his bare hand and wonder whether he’s married. Some men don’t wear their wedding rings. Does he have any children? A lot of people my age do. My best friend Catherine has a girl of three and has been happily married for the last six years.

‘The finance office asked me to confirm your address because the one on the system is different to the one you submitted with your signed contract.’ Alex reads out my old address.

His golden eyebrows knit together when he looks up, waiting for me to answer.

I want to bang my head against the table. I had been about to sign the contract for the studio flat when I got the job, and that was the only available address at the time.

‘I no longer live there. I submitted my new address with the contract.’ My answer turns steely because something about his manner puts me on the defensive.

‘Are you likely to move again?’ He doesn’t let the topic go and his expression turns prim. His attitude is giving me chilblains.

‘Did the finance office ask you to ask me that as well?’ I sit up in my chair to make myself taller, trying to communicate the messageyou don’t intimidate me. Instead, I probably look like I need a wee badly.

‘No,’ he snaps, finally putting some emotion into his tone. When he speaks again, he sounds like he’s reciting from a book. ‘The school needs to know whether your permanent address is likely to change again so they know where to send your P40.’ I feel a little embarrassed until he adds pettily, ‘I wouldn’t beasking that question if I didn’t need an answer.’

I refuse to huff, but his presence brings the worst out in me. With a chilly calmness, I state, ‘I don’t expect mycurrent residenceto be changing any time soon.’ I glare at him. I’ve had enough of his hostility. Maybe I should ask him whether he wants me to also send him what I had for breakfast and what socks I’m going to wear tomorrow so he can inform the finance office about that too.

‘I see.’ He scribbles again.

He asks more questions, jotting a few notes down. It doesn’t escape me he subtly leans away when he passes the sheet to me to sign.

After I push the signed form back to him, I can’t stop the shivers that travel down my body that have potentially something to do with the aftermath of getting soaked and spending the last ten minutes in one room with the coldest person I’ve ever met. Goosebumps spread up my arms, and I grit my teeth to stop them from rattling.

‘You should put the air con on to warm up the room,’ Alex says dismissively, giving my arms a sidelong glance.

There’s no way I’m going to admit that I didn’t know until this point I had an air con unit, nor the fact I don’t have the vaguest idea how to operate it. He’s probably dying for me to ask, but I don’t give him the satisfaction.

‘I’m fine.’ I don’t thinkfinehas ever escaped my mouth this passive-aggressively. I could cut slabs of meat with thatfine.

He nods and smoothly moves to the topic of my ECT year. ‘Apart from snapshot visits, I will also formally observe you twice a term. After each term, I will write a report based on your performance and progress against teachers’ standards.’

My teeth make a loud chattering sound halfway through his speech. I snap my mouth shut, but he catches it. His eyes flit towards the air con unit on the ceiling before he continues frostily, ‘You are welcome to read and comment on your progressprior to the official submission. I’ll take your comments into consideration.’ He gives me his iciest look yet, which confirms my suspicions that there’s zero chance of me taking any part in the report writing.

Worry squeezes my insides, and the truth hits me hard. Alex holds my future in his freckled, neatly manicured hands.

‘You are also expected to file evidence of teachers’ standards in your ECT folder. I trust you have one?’

‘I have. I’ve collected and filed some of my evidence from last year. I was told that I can reuse some evidence as long as it doesn’t amount to more than ten per cent.’ I want to show Alex I’m diligent.

‘I’m afraid that won’t do. All evidence needs to be collected this year. The trust’s policy,’ he states in a tone that brooks no opposition. I’m pretty sure that that’s bullshit, but I guess I’ll have to play by Alex’s rules now.

‘Pardon?’ he barks. I must have shared my thoughts out loud.

‘I said not a problem.’

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