Page 1 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

Chapter 1

I ENTERED THE CLASSROOM, trying to ignore the gnawing pain in my abdomen. The students evidently hadn’t missed me. The rowdy bunch of teenagers stared out the rain-swept windows or messaged on their phones. Some of them only ever read words on a screen.

‘Before my time away from school, class, I set you reading to do. A short book on the early Roman emperors. Who completed the assignment?’

Four kids put up their hands. My mouth tightened. They were the same kids who always did the homework. No one else read it.

‘Why should we have to read about dead people?’ Chantelle called, making a derisory face. ‘It’s not relevant to us, is it? The world’s different now.’

‘Human behaviour hasn’t changed much over time,’ I said, but the cacophony of kids hooting and agreeing with the protesting girl, and the cascade of high-fives, drowned me out. They were playing up more than normal on my first day teaching after my hysterectomy.

Bryan—one of my smartest and most troublesome students—stood. ‘I wanna make history, not read about people who died two thousand years ago.’ He laughed and held out his phone. ‘I’m writing an AI app to predict social trends.’

The other students became more raucous, laughing and shouting encouragement.

Control of the class slipped away from me like dropping the reins on a runaway horse. The usual anxiety lines creased my forehead. Soon, the familiar headache, never far away, would stab behind my eyes.

This couldn’t go on. I’d taught in schools for twenty years, and in my mid-forties, I should be right on top of a bunch of misfits like this, stuffing ancient history into their minds like beans into a beanbag. And for much of those twenty years, that’s exactly what I’d done. But in the past few months, my customary self-assuredness with teaching had evaporated.

Why? I shook my head. Stress from the hysterectomy? Or accumulated overwork or tension at home? Maybe a change or a break would help.

The time recovering from the operation didn’t count as a break.

Bryan swaggered to the front of the class, uninvited. He had two rings in his left ear and jerked his jaw in my direction. ‘Have a look, Heather,’ he said, shoving the phone at me. ‘My AI app predicts a rise in the popularity of AI apps. It’s cooler than that old history.’ He flipped his fingers at the Early Roman Emperors sitting on my desk.

Giving them their way today might mean they’d be more settled next time. They were too far gone today for me to settle them into any routine lesson. None of them would listen if I tried to give a lesson—they’d use their phones or talk. History lessons weren’t any use on social media, they’d say.

I gritted my teeth.

‘You know what? Why don’t you talk about your app to the class? Explain how it’s going to predict historical trends.’

Bryan stared at me as if I was kidding. I wasn’t. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yep. Go for it.’ It might even get them interested in studying actual history.

‘Sick.’ He grinned and turned to face the class. ‘Who wants a copy of the app?’

The class cheered as I made my way out of the room, leaving them to their discussion. They’d made it clear AI apps were more relevant to them than the lessons of ancient history.

In the hallway, I took a few deep breaths to quell my anxiety. Sweat dripped down my neck, my heart raced, and my forehead tightened with the strain.

Something had to change. Fast. The operation had taken so much out of me, leaving me self-conscious, moody, irritable and fatigued. And I’d returned to work before I’d recovered. The problem with my handling of the class was I had post-op brain fog. and everything was more difficult as a result.

A hand settled on my shoulder. I cringed. Graham, the other history teacher in the school, stepped in front of me. At least ten years younger and twenty kilograms lighter than me, he tended to sneak up on me before I could avoid him.

‘You’re back! So soon.’ He smirked, his eyes gleaming.

‘Can’t keep away, that’s all.’ What does he want?

‘Nice hairstyle.’

‘It’s a French twist.’ I crossed my arms. Get to the point!

He released my shoulder. ‘Great to see you. I guess you’re not getting out much, what with your...’ He gestured to my nether regions. ‘You know.’

‘Yeah, it’s quiet nights in for me at the moment.’ I grimaced. He had me trapped.

‘Well, look... you could really help me out here, Heather. I have a lot of assignments to mark, and things are a bit busy for me at the moment, so I wondered...’

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