Page 27 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“Of course,” he said, smiling. “They might have their own Christmas production to perform. It’s a bit short notice. But you never know…”
“Ultimately, the choice is yours.” Harriet appealed to her students. “I can’t force you to do anything, nor would I want to. I am happy to go to the drama department and see if any of your fellow drama students want to get involved. I’m sure the extracurricular drama club would jump at the chance to showcase their skills.”
“Oh, I’m sure the drama club would lose their shit with excitement,” Ricco drawled with a double helping of snark.
“Right!” Carly agreed, giving him a high five. “They’ll be all over this like fake tan. They’re such a bunch of wannabes.”
“So, you don’t want me to enlist at the drama department?” Harriet asked. “You said yourself, we could do with the extra hands.”
“They’ll take over, miss. Like they always do.”
“Yeah!” Ricco was up and out of his chair, spinning on his glitter high-tops. “This is our punishment, and they can’t have it.”
“Yeah!” parroted Isabel.
“Wait, so now this isn’t crap on crackers with a side order of crap?” Harriet inquired.
“Oh, it’s still a crapfest,” replied Ricco. “But it’sourcrapfest.”
“That went better than I expected,” said Ali when the students had gone back to lessons and he and Harriet had sneaked outside so that Ali could vape. “They didn’t even seem too pissed off about spending their Friday night cleaning the theater.”
“It’s amazing what a guilty conscience can do.”
The sky was making a half-arsed attempt at snow, spitting out flakes intermittently. Harriet’s hair was frizzing in the damp air.
“And a spot of bribery,” he said.
“Hmmm.”
Ali’s eyes went suddenly wide, and he stuffed his vape back into his pocket and waved away the popcorn-scented cloud above his head.
“Harriet!” Cornell’s voice boomed across the courtyard. “A word, please.”
“For heaven’s sake, what now?” she muttered as she watched him stride toward them.
“Ali, is it really professional to be flaunting your nicotine addiction in full view of our impressionable students?” he asked when he reached them.
Harriet made a show of looking around the empty courtyard.
“I think he got away with it,” she said.
Cornell glared. “Not the point.”
“I’ll catch you in a bit,” said Ali, sloping back inthrough the double sliding doors, looking like a naughty schoolboy.
“What can I do for you?” Harriet asked. “I’ve got a tutorial in ten minutes.”
“Not here,” Cornell snapped. Melting snowflakes left dark marks on the shoulders of his tweed jacket. “My office. Now.”
“You do know I’m not a student, don’t you?”
“Your behavior often gives me cause to wonder.”
Cornell marched back into the building toward his office. He was annoyingly tall, like a beige flagpole, which meant Harriet had to practically skip to keep up. A vein pulsed purple at the side of his head and his jaw was locked so tight she imagined his teeth squeaking under the pressure. She wondered what could have got him so wound up.
He sat in his chair and swiveled round to face the window, so that his back was to her. Harriet closed the door to his office and took the seat across from the desk. His office was considerably larger than hers, lined with bookcases and choice pieces of antique furniture. It oozed the ambience of a person who feels that their position is secure until retirement.
She shifted in her chair, waiting for him to speak. She could see his fingers tented in the reflection of the window.
