‘Hello. You’re a bit early. Miss White has got one more before you.’
He nods but stays put. ‘Your eye’s healing nicely. You can hardly see it now,’ he says. ‘I’m still mortified by what I said the other day.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. That was nothing compared to what the children said.’
‘Can I buy you a coffee sometime? To say sorry.’
Heat flashes to my cheeks. ‘Oh, I––’
‘Miss Lawrence!’ barks Mrs Taylor, suddenly at my side. ‘Sorry to interrupt but I need your help with something.’
‘Now?’
‘No, no. Pop to my office when everyone’s gone.’
‘At seven-thirty?’
‘Shouldn’t take long. You’re such a whiz at PowerPoint.’ She turns and heads back to her office.
Mr Harding arches an eyebrow. Either he’s surprised at my PowerPoint genius or he’s waiting for me to answer hisquestion. ‘Mizz Lawrence,’ he says, imitating Mrs T. ‘I can see now isn’t a good time. Have a think about it. I’ll pop back and see you after this.’ He smiles. He has nice teeth.
There are more parents coming in behind him. ‘Hello, what class are you here for?’
I deal with a flurry of arrivals and before I know it, the bell rings and the parents from Mr Harding’s time slot are filing out of the hall. I haven’t worked out what I’m going to say yet. Florence’s mum sashays towards the exit. She stops in front of me and waits for him to catch up.
‘So, you’re picking her up at six tomorrow. Don’t be late,’ she says and strides off.
Out of the corner of his mouth he tells me, ‘I’m never late.’
I laugh.
‘So, coffee?’ he asks.
‘Well…’ I begin, ‘sorry, I don’t even know your name…’
‘Harding, Will Harding,’ he says in a James Bond voice. ‘And your name’s Emily, right?’
His name is Will.
I lose my train of thought. He’s waiting for me to confirm my name, which makes me look crazy. ‘Yes, Emily. How did you––’
‘Your colleague in the office told me.’
I squirm in my seat. ‘Right.’
‘And it’s at the bottom of the emails you send out.’
‘Of course…’
‘So, coffee Emily?’
I was almost going to say yes. What was I thinking? ‘Thanks for the offer,’ I say. ‘But I’m with someone actually…’
His eyebrows slide towards each other. He’s confused or annoyed. ‘Oh? Your colleague told me you were single.’
‘I am, well I was. It’s just… it wouldn’t be a good idea. You know, not very… professional.’
‘O-kaaay.’ He’s annoyed, definitely annoyed.