Never Too Late

GOOD night, Miss Bailey. Thanks.” “Good night, Mrs Lawson, and well done, Keisha. Excellent work.” Lydia watched Keisha and Mrs Lawson walk away, chatting animatedly as they left the classroom.

Keisha had done well this term and her worried mother had been greatly relieved to hear Lydia’s glowing report.

They’d had a difficult time of it following the father’s departure to live with another woman, but the little girl had proved surprisingly resilient.

Instead of her schoolwork suffering, her marks had actually improved, possibly due to the easing of the tension at home.

Whatever it was, Lydia was glad to finish her last parents’ evening on a high.

Except that she wasn’t quite finished yet. She still had Kevin Dane to see.

Not for the first time, she wondered what she could do to help bring the little boy out of his shell.

When she spoke to him without the presence of other children he was a chatty, sweetly comical child, but as soon as anyone else came in, he clammed up.

Even his nicest classmates, like Keisha, couldn’t bring him out of himself.

The ten-year-old was fairly new to the school, having started midway through the term.

It was often tricky for late arrivals to come into a group, with all the friendships and minor animosities already established.

A voice cut across her thoughts. Drama teacher Polly Clark was peering round the door.

“Hey, Lydia, nearly done. A few more days and you’re officially off the hook.”

Lydia sighed.

“Retirement sounds wonderful when it’s on the horizon, but now it’s almost here I’m not so sure.”

“No more early mornings or weekends swallowed up with marking, no more Ofsted worries? I’d swap places in a heartbeat.

“Take yourself off on a cruise, or a trip on the Orient Express. You’ve earned it. How many years is it now?”

“Thirty-two. Actually, cruising isn’t on my bucket list – I get seasick on a paddle-boat.

“But I do rather fancy doing a hot-air balloon flight. And a safari holiday might be nice.” She grinned.

“Mind you, knowing me I’d probably chicken out and end up booking a week in Blackpool.”

“You could do worse,” Polly said. “Cass and I went last year and had a fabulous time.

“Anyway, whatever you end up doing, enjoy.”

She waggled her fingers and disappeared, her heels tapping along the corridor.

Lydia sighed. It wasn’t until she had actually voiced those misgivings that she realised the truth.

With retirement now within touching distance, she really wasn’t looking forward to it at all.

For three decades teaching had been her life, giving her a sense of purpose, the satisfaction of knowing she was making a difference.

To have it taken away from her was daunting.

It was fine for those with partners to share their days, like Polly and Cass.

Lydia had never found the person she wanted to be with for the rest of her life.

The chances of it happening at this late stage seemed remote.

There was a tap on the door and she looked up to see a dark-haired man hovering on the threshold.

The presence of Kevin at his side told her this must be Mr Dane.

“Hello, come in,” she greeted them. “Sit down.”

Kevin came in, looking solemn, followed by his father.

The man was dressed in charcoal slacks and a white shirt, although judging by the way he fiddled with his tie she suspected he would have been happier in jeans and a T-shirt.

He looked young to be the father of a ten-year-old, Lydia thought. He could barely have been out of his teens when Kevin was born.

“Good evening, Mr

Dane,” she said, as they took the seats on the opposite side of her desk.

“Kevin has done well in his first few weeks here. I’m pleased with his progress.”

She slid Kevin’s coursework books towards him and he opened the top one.

“As you can see, his Geography marks are good, and he also shows aptitude in English, Maths and Music.

“Socially, he could perhaps be a little more involved. but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

Being the new boy isn’t always easy.”

She winked at Kevin, who gave a tremulous smile before dropping his gaze to his knees.

Again, she couldn’t help wondering as to the cause of his insecurity.

She let a few minutes pass while Mr Dane read. Finally, he closed the last book.

“Well, it all looks great to me,” he said. “Well done, Kev, I’m impressed.”

Lydia nodded.

“So, is there anything you’d like to ask?”

He pushed the pile of books back across the desk, then sat back.

Intelligent grey eyes met hers and she suddenly had the oddest feeling that this wasn’t the first time they had met.

He chuckled.

“Do you remember me, Miss Bailey?”

She inclined her head, still trying to place him.

“Ollie Dane,” he supplied. “Eighteen years ago I was the bane of your life.”

Her eyes widened.

This was Oliver Dane, or Dane the Pain as many of the teachers had dubbed him?

It gave Lydia no pleasure to admit it, but he was one of the few pupils she’d been glad to see the back of when he moved on to senior school.

Sullen, insolent, apathetic, he’d slouched at the back of her class, intent on absorbing nothing.

She had known in her heart that this boy would have the police knocking on his door before he was very much older.

His mother had come to see her more than once, despairing of her wayward son and convinced that she was somehow to blame as she struggled to raise him alone.

Lydia, too, had found it hard not to see it as a personal failure when he resisted all their attempts to help steer him in a more positive direction.

“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed now. “Ollie, how lovely to see you again, and with a son!”

He scratched thoughtfully at his cheek.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But people change, and in my case that’s a lot due to you.

“All that advice, that conviction that I was worth something – it stayed with me, seeping in without me even knowing it.”

Lydia was about to deny her part in his reformation when he put up a hand.

“It’s true, Miss Bailey. Whatever nonsense I threw at you, you batted it back at me with patience and a smile.

“No matter how insufferable I was, you hung in there.”

“You had your moments, I’ll admit,” she conceded, “but I always felt there was more to you than met the eye.”

A wry shake of the head. “Not for a long while. I ended up in juvenile detention. Shoplifting and damage to property.

“Well, they called it damage. It was actually graffiti – pictures, not tags.

“Still, they didn’t like it. When the shopkeepers refused to sell me any more spray-cans I took to thieving them. Without paint I couldn’t create, you see.

“Not that I’m excusing it. It was wrong and that’s that.”

Lydia shot Kevin a glance, wondering how much he should hear.

Ollie caught her look.

“It’s OK, Kev knows it all. Even if I hadn’t told him, one of the kids at his last school, a copper’s son, made sure he and everyone else knew every detail.

“Lots of kids have parents who’ve done stuff they’d rather forget, but it was Kev who was for ever having the sins of his father rubbed in his face.

“He was coming home miserable and I couldn’t say much, because most of it was true.”

He laid a hand on Kevin’s arm and gave it a squeeze.

“Is that why you hold back from joining in,

Kevin,” Lydia asked gently. “You think the children will be nasty to you?”

He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“Well, I promise that won’t happen; I won’t let it. What sort of things do you like doing? Sport, maybe, or computing?”

When Kevin didn’t answer his father stepped in.

“He loves to sing. And dance. Heaven knows where he gets it from – Fran’s tone deaf and I have two left feet.”

Her brain suddenly fired. “What about the choir? Mr Connaught’s always looking for new members.

“And, if you like dancing, Miss Johns told me just this morning that she wants to start an afterschool dance class. Ballroom, Latin, street.

“I can ask her about it, if you like.”

Kevin looked at his father, who widened his eyes and gave an encouraging nod.

“All right,” Kevin said after a moment. “Thank you.”

“Good, that’s settled. As for you, Ollie, I’m so glad things worked out for you. Your mum must be delighted.”

“She is,” he agreed. “And loving being a granny.”

“I bet. She’s a lovely lady.”

“Who didn’t deserve all the grief I gave her,” he said with feeling.

“Still, with her support and Fran’s bullying tactics, I finally got myself on track.”

“Mum’s working tonight,” Kevin put in, “or she’d have come, too.”

“It’s fine,” Lydia said, “maybe next time. Where did you and Fran meet, Ollie?”

He snorted with laughter. “I was doing community service, scrubbing my own graffiti off the library wall. I’d painted a bookshelf over the entrance one night, with the titles all mixed up.

“‘A Tale Of Two Hobbits’, ‘Catcher In The Pi’, ‘Of

Mice And Omen’, silly stuff like that.

She had the feeling that this wasn’t the first time they’d met

“This girl with spiky red hair came out to watch me.

“When I gave her the evil eye, she grinned and said it was a shame it was going because the picture had attracted loads of new members.

“That’s when I realised I might be on to something.”

“Dad’s a proper artist now,” Kevin said proudly. “As well as wall art he does drawings for books and magazines. He’s brilliant.”

Lydia smiled. This was the Kevin she knew from their chats: unselfconscious, bubbly and fun.

“Well, you can’t ask for a better endorsement than that.

“I wonder . . . we have a ‘What I Do’ day coming up soon where parents come in and talk to the class about what their job involves.

“Would you consider coming and telling the children a bit about yourself, Ollie?”

He sat back, as if to distance himself from the idea, but Kevin swivelled in his seat.

“Do it, Dad. Why not? You’re always telling me to go for it. You should, too.”

“Only if you’ll join the choir.”

Kevin did an eye-roll.

“I’ve already said I would, duh.”

Lydia bit back a smile and made a mental note to speak to the

two teachers in the morning.

Ollie slapped his thighs and stood up, the rebel of 18 years ago a distant memory.

“Well, we won’t take up any more of your time, Miss Bailey. Thank you – for everything.”

She shook his outstretched hand.

“You are most welcome. By the way, Kevin, Keisha Lawson wants to join the choir, too.

“Would you mind looking out for her for me? She could do with a friend right now.”

“Sure. I like Keisha, she’s cool. I’ll tell her about the dance class, too.”

“I knew I could rely on you. Goodnight, see you tomorrow.”

Long after they’d left, Lydia sat on, memories drifting through her mind like the chalk motes that had filled the air during her early days of teaching.

Until this moment she had been dreading retirement, feeling that the line could not be satisfactorily drawn, that there was a loose end that needed tying off.

Thanks to Ollie, she could now draw that line.

She gave a contented little sigh and began to gather up her things.

“Lydia, have you got a moment?”

The mellifluous voice was unmistakeably James Connaught’s and she looked up to see the music teacher’s broad, upright figure filling the doorway. Her heart gave a tug.

“Of course, James. I wanted to see you anyway. I have two new recruits for the choir. Kevin Dane and Keisha Lawson.”

She lifted her coat from the back of the chair and went to join him.

He took it from her and held it while she slid her arms into the sleeves.

“Great, although it’s Marion Meade you’ll need to speak to now. She’s taking over from me.”

“You’re stepping down?” she asked in surprise, as they ambled along the corridor.

Two years ago he’d confessed to her over a drink one night that the choir was the only thing keeping him going since the death of his wife.

“I lost her to Alzheimer’s long ago, Lydia, but I miss her presence, you know?”

She’d patted his hand, understanding.

She’d lost her father and the pain was the same, whether parent or spouse.

“I’m taking a leaf out of your book and retiring,” he said now. “I’ve decided. It’s time I took that trip.”

“To Africa, you mean? The safari?”

“Yep. If I’m ever going to see those lions I should do it now, before I’m too old and creaky to run!”

She was tempted to say it was her dream, too, but curbed her tongue.

It would be easy for her meaning to be misconstrued.

“The thing is, Lydia, I’m told that you want to do a safari, and a balloon trip, too.

“Did you know they do them over the Serengeti?”

She came to an abrupt halt, staring up at him.

“You’ve been speaking to Polly. Oh, I’m going to murder that girl.”

His hazel eyes twinkled. “She’s newly-wed and all loved up; wants everyone to be as happy as she is.

“Anyway, the point is, I wondered if you would consider going with me? After all, we’ve always got on well, haven’t we?”

Lydia felt her skin tingle. That much was true.

What he didn’t know was that she had been secretly carrying a torch for him for years.

“Well, I, er . . .”

She paused, hoping he wouldn’t guess the reason for her hesitancy.

Then she heard a voice in her head: Ollie’s voice.

“Go for it, Miss Bailey.

It’s not too late: it never is.”

She looked up at James and smiled.

“That sounds wonderful. I’d love to.”

“Good,” he enthused, “because I’ve already got some brochures.

“We can go and look at them over a drink, if you like?”

He crooked an arm in silent invitation and she slipped hers through, excitement bubbling inside her.

Perhaps retirement wasn’t going to be so shabby after all.

The End.