They say scars may fade but wounds don't heal, and that was certainly true for Rachel. Brutally burnt when the school caught fire, she initially considered resigning. After all, there wouldn't be much of a school to go back to, and it wasn't as though they needed her there. She'd already planned to quit, and this provided a perfect opportunity
It was Eddie who had convinced her to stay. He'd rallied as many staff and students as possible to sign a 'get well soon' card for her, cornering some of them in the street and shops (although he'd never admit to doing so) and presented it to her while she was still in the hospital. It had taken a couple of weeks to finally agree, but the card showed her how much she was valued at the school.
That was the thing about Waterloo Road. It seemed that no matter how dysfunctional your background, you'd still be accepted. Staff and students alike, nobody seemed to be normal, and that was in part what had endeared Rachel to the job in the first place. She had her secrets, just like everyone else.
Had it only been secrets she'd had to deal with, leaving would have been certain. A new school, a new start, and nobody would know any different. It was the burns, the horrific mark on her neck plunging across her chest that was a painful reminder. Half the time it made her want to leave and never come back, but half the time it made her think about how lucky she was to be alive, and how, thankfully, none of the kids had died in there. The result could have been far more tragic.
A teacher had died at the school, before she'd started there, yet everyone else had carried on. She couldn't be the one to wimp out. It was this which finally convinced her to return. She was the leader of the school, and had to set an example. Any remaining respect that was left for her would be lost if she walked out and left someone else to pick up the pieces.
So she agreed to carry on. Slowly but surely, she learnt how to cope. Appointments at the hospital alternated with visits to a counsellor and inquiries from the police and council. Friends and family popped round to see how she was bearing up, but none of them knew the real reason for the neck-high t-shirts and roll-neck sweaters.
The first time she went back to the school was hard. It was three weeks after the disaster. Eddie had been handling the rebuilding until then, along with constant consultations with the governors. He'd called round to take her there, knowing she wouldn't be able to cope alone. And he was right. She'd crumbled in his arms as the horrors flooded back.
She made a point to visit as often as she could, though. It was something her counsellor had suggested, and it had worked. By the time September rolled around, the school was rebuilt, the staff were back and, from first impressions, didn't hate her, and the students were glad to see her too.
She still had the painful reminder of last term etched onto her neck. She also had a slight phobia of fire. But she had the support of her colleagues and pupils, and it was that which drove her onwards. There was nothing that could stop her now. New school, new policies, new hope.
