Page 47 of Rewrite the Stars
I think of how I got my first job in St Patrick’s and how the principal heaped praise on me at every turnaround, mostly for my music, and how I proud I was to finally make my mark in my family when I’d to follow in such fine footsteps as my big brother and sister.
How dare she hire me for a name I married in to? What an insult to me, my family and my whole being!
Then Jack’s words come back to me. I hear his supportive voice in my mind.
Tell her to shove her job where the sun doesn’t shine if she ever bullies you again, I mean it. You’re better than that. You’re Charlotte Taylor from Loughisland and I love you. Everyone loves you. Don’t ever let her bring you down.
She puts on her glasses, shooting me a glance of disdain.
‘You can go back to class now,’ she says, looking at her computer screen now. She lifts a file and stretches her arm out towards me, without looking my direction. ‘Can you give these to Rosemary at reception on your way past? Actually, never mind, I’ll do it myself.’
I clear my throat.
‘I haven’t finished,’ I say to her, my knees actually knocking under this horrible straight navy skirt I bought just to try and fit into her ridiculous, boring dress code.
‘I beg your pardon?’ she says, taking her glasses off again. Her eyes meet mine.
‘I said, I haven’t finished,’ I repeat.
Here I go.
‘You know, for such an educated woman, you sure do lack soul, as does this excuse for a school you are running,’ I tell her. ‘So, you can stuff your job, stuff your “ings” and your ridiculous standards and your skinny stiff upper lip, Miss Jean Brady!’
‘Mrs Malone!’
‘It’s CharlotteTayloractually,’ I correct her. I never wanted to use my married name in my professional life and I won’t ever again. ‘You’ll be singing my songs one day when they’re on the radio and you’ll be telling people I used to teach here. Yes,usedto because I’m out of here right now. Oh, and tell James Leicester’s glorified babysitter from me to go listen to some of The Beatles or even Guns N’ Roses and let her hair down. Even headbang a bit if she feels like it! She might even learn a thing or two! I’m out of here at long last. Go stick your job and your shit-hole of a school where the sun don’t shine! Goodbye!’
I turn on my prissy kitten heels and march out of her office, down the corridor and into my classroom where I hug Paula and wish her luck.
‘Where are you going?’ Paula asks as the children stare at me open-mouthed.
‘As far away from here as I can find,’ I tell her. Then I gather my belongings, say a quick farewell to the children (it’s not their fault their parents are assholes) and I make my way out to the car where I call Jack and put him on loudspeaker as I reverse out of my parking space and out through the gates of education hell.
‘I did it!’ I say to him, hearing the fear in his voice when he answers. We never call each other during the day unless it’s an emergency so I know I’ve probably frightened him to death. ‘I told the bitch where to go and I’ve left Holy Trinity once and for all.’
‘Jesus, Charlotte, did you really?’ he asks, his voice half trembling, half laughing. ‘Wow, that’s my girl! Don’t let anyone ever walk over you! I’ll see you when I get home and we’ll have a party. You can burn those stupid clothes they made you wear too. It’s their loss, Char!’
I turn down the car windows, turn up the radio and sing my heart out all the way home, thankful as ever that my darling husband understands me the way he does. I’m tired of pretending to be another me just to please everyone else. From now on, I’ll do what’s best for my soul and I’ll never, ever let any notions of pleasing others get in the way.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Oh my goodness, Emily, what on earth have I done? I think I’m losing my mind.’
My sister and I are sitting on top of a powdery sand dune looking out over the picturesque blue seas of Brittas Bay the morning after my resignation. Despite my kick-ass attitude and big display of ‘I don’t care’ the night before, I’m not so confident now with the realization that, for the first time since I graduated, I’m actually jobless.
Jack left for work in the hospital just after six this morning, leaving me plenty of time to roll around our big bed feeling lost and alone in my thoughts. To be honest I’m terrified of what the future holds. I’ll never get another teaching job in Dublin once news travels of how I pissed off Miss Jean Brady and told her to shove her shit-hole job where the sun doesn’t shine. She has friends in high places, or so they say.
‘She’s like the Simon Cowell of teaching, and I’m screwed, Em.’
My ever so supportive sister Emily can’t stop laughing. ‘Do you know how many people would murder their mother for a job at Holy Trinity School, and you tell the principal to shove it?’ she says, with a loud cackle. ‘I bet if you did a survey of teaching graduates and asked them their dream job on the east coast of Ireland, you’d be sure that Holy Trinity would be right up there. But fair play to you, Charlotte, you left in style! She sounds like a right old wagon though so you did the right thing. It’s just so typically you!’
I really wish she would stop laughing. Itwasa little bit funny last night when Jack and I were fantasizing about a voodoo doll version of Miss Jean Brady, but now, in the cold light of day with a long summer ahead and teaching jobs in Dublin being like hen’s teeth, it’s not really a laughing matter at all.
‘I wonder would St Patrick’s have me back,’ I say in a daydream, staring out at the sea. ‘I think I’m in shock. Do I look pale? I really do think I’ve got post-traumatic stress from all this.’
Emily pretends to roll around in the sand now, slapping her hands off her bare legs and then kicking her ankles up in the air. She looks like a baby elephant being tickled but I daren’t say that out loud.
‘Oh, stop being such a drama queen!’ she says when she comes out of her fit of hysterics. ‘You’ll get another job, don’t panic. You’ve always been a lucky sod, so no doubt you’ll come out of this one bigger and better too so no need to fret. Teachers need cover all the time and you might even pick up a maternity leave between now and September, or sick leave or something. You did the right thing, sister. Chill out and enjoy – oh my God I really can’t believe you actually quit!’
