Thank God it's Friday. Feeling tired, spent and emotionally battered, Kate trudges up the stairs to her flat and opens the door. Or tries to, but the key doesn't seem to be working. Terrific.
Stifling a sigh she tries again but the key's stuck fast now and turning it either way just makes it stick a little more tightly. Trying over and over again she feels herself growing more and more frustrated, until finally something snaps inside of her and she slams her bag into the door with a satisfying 'thwack'. Unsurprisingly it doesn't help with the lock situation and she slumps forward, defeated, leaning her forehead against the carved oak door frame and wishing her life was less ridiculous.
"Hello? Everything all right?"
Oh fantastic – Dr Elliot's come to rescue her. This week really couldn't get any better.
Things had been going so well; she'd felt so hopeful until this past weekend, with both her professional and personal lives falling into place. Her girlfriend Julia had been fun and intelligent and interesting (and good in bed) and despite some recent arguments she'd been hoping that their feelings could grow given time. Instead their six-month relationship had come to a very abrupt end, their conversation leaving her with the distinct impression that Julia had found someone else.
Then there was her new job. Modern languages teacher at Sulgrave Heath, the oldest, poshest boarding school in Yorkshire. The job itself was going very well, even if the pupils were as demanding in their own way as her old comprehensive classes. But it was the living arrangements that had been niggling at her for a while now.
She'd been told that there was a chance to live on-site during her interview, and she'd immediately liked the idea – no commute, no need to keep her own car, and a chance to live in one of the most beautiful buildings she'd ever seen.
When they told her that there were only two flats in that wing of the building, with the other flat belonging to the headmistress, there'd been a few alarm bells going off. But then they'd shown her the flat itself and it was so insanely gorgeous she couldn't possibly turn it down. She had asked, with as much tact as she could muster, why another staff member hadn't already been in residence but Dr Elliot had said that most of them were married or had families and couldn't have managed in a one-bedroom home. Which seemed fair enough, of course, although surely there were some single people among the staff…
From the outside the school buildings were stunning, all dreaming spires, pretty courtyards and grand entrances. The two flats were in the east wing of the main building, on the top floor, and the flat for the headmistress even had its own turret which apparently housed the master bedroom.
But it was the inside of the flat that really swayed her: the high ceilings, the tall sash windows, the sculpted coving all around the walls. None of the original features had been lost; she'd never lived anywhere half this beautiful before.
The only obvious drawback was the proximity of her boss. The two flats were reached through the same shared entrance and although Dr Elliot's own front door was down the hall and round a corner they'd clearly run into each other now and again. Her impression of Dr Elliot in the interview had been one of a serious, intelligent, rather intimidating woman who didn't suffer fools gladly, but she'd also seemed like someone who would keep herself to herself. So despite her reservations, she had taken the flat.
And now, as she steeled herself to face her boss in her emotionally vulnerable state, she couldn't help feeling that the worried voice at the back of her mind had been absolutely right; that an intersection of the personal and the professional was never, ever a good idea.
"Are you having a disagreement with your door?" Caroline appears from down the hallway, still wearing her severe black suit and high heels.
"It's fine," she says, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.
"It didn't seem fine when you were attacking it with your handbag."
"I don't usually behave like that."
"Well I assumed that much. What's the problem?"
As Caroline joins her in front of the door she's struck once again by the astonishing air of authority she emanates. She's suddenly a little nervous about being told off.
"I can't get the key to turn in the lock, it's stuck, and I've tried 100 times and I've had a bit of a day of it."
"Here, let me try."
"You really don't have to do-" but her hand is on the key before she can finish her sentence. Something about her unfailingly confident, capable air is rubbing her up the wrong way. Dr Elliot's never locked herself out; she's certainly never been dumped. Dr Elliot has surely sailed through her whole life with consummate ease.
"These locks are from the dark ages, once we get you in here I'll ask the caretaker to put a proper one in for you."
"You really don't have to-"
"I'm surprised you've been OK up to now, actually, when Mr Berton lived here he used to leave it unlocked now I think about it, he relied on the main lock downstairs. You might want to consider doing the same for a few days, as long as you trust me not to steal your sideboard. Ah, got it, there we go."
She opens the door with a satisfied flourish; Kate tries to paint a grateful look on her tired face.
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
"You OK?"
"Fine."
"You're not, are you?" Her voice is suddenly gentle, her expression one of sincere concern; Kate feels tears well in her eyes. "Come with me, come and have a cup of tea."
"No, that's-"
"If you've had a bad day I'd much rather have you in with me than fretting about it alone, especially if it's down to some of my little horrors. I've got pizza if you want some, I was about to have dinner."
"Pizza?"
"Yes. If you'd like."
The beginnings of a smile make themselves known. "You eat pizza?"
Caroline studies her, a slight frown on her face. "Yes. Is that so very…"
"I just, I don't know. Didn't picture you eating pizza. I don't know why."
"Well. All right. But I do. I'll prove it if you like." They smile at each other. "Coming?"
It doesn't really feel like she has a choice.
"Sure, that sounds great. Thanks, Dr Elliot." She follows her down the corridor.
"It's Caroline out of school."
"Caroline."
"And you prefer Kate? You were Katherine on your CV, I think."
"Oh, no, Kate please, I use Katherine for official things but it's Kate in real life."
Caroline opens her front door and gestures for her to come in. As subtly as she can she takes a good look around the living room. Her first reaction is mild shock – it's far more lived in than she'd expected, with rows and rows of books around the walls, the odd pile of papers cluttering the floor and magazines splayed over the coffee table. The décor is simple but pleasant, understated, an oatmeal carpet underneath a light blue, comfy-looking three piece suite, a couple of warm-looking, fluffy rugs, a painting of a seascape on the wall.
"You were expecting cobwebs, I take it?" Caroline says, suddenly stiff and stern. "Dinosaurs? Dodos? A 19th century furnace of some kind?"
"No, no, not at all," she stutters, "I erm-"
A grin appears on her face and Kate's buttocks slowly unclench.
"I know what people think of me, hiding away in my turret. I've heard all the stories. It doesn't help that I never invite staff in here, but I make an exception for anyone living in the other flat because we're bound to see each other and I'd rather you knew I wasn't barking, in case something exactly like tonight happens and we need to be neighbourly. Now, why don't you take a seat and I'll get us some tea. And then you can tell me what's troubling you, if you'd like to, and if it's the gentlemen of 9F we can plot their imminent downfall."
She disappears into the next room before she can reply and she finds herself slightly irritated again; talking to the great Dr Elliot is like having the wind whip around you, with no time to think or speak. Excellent qualities in a headmistress, herding your charges around the place, leaving them slightly breathless in your wake. Not such great qualities in a friend. For five seconds in the hall it had felt like she could actually talk to her; now she's not so sure.
But then, she was never going to be a friend. She'll tell her a heavily edited version of events, thank her for the tea and get out of there. And go back to her lovely, lonely little flat.
"Milk, sugar?" Her voice filters through from the next room.
"Just milk please."
"Do you want the pretentious fancy-pants tea bags that my mother drinks or the proper-tasting normal stuff for normal people?"
Almost against her will a smile appears on her face.
"Normal stuff, please."
"An excellent choice. Make yourself at home, I'll be five minutes."
She takes a seat on the roomy sofa and goes over the events of the day, deciding how much information to give away. It had better be most of the truth – if she pretends that 9F alone had driven her to door-related violence she'll look incompetent. But an edited truth, of course. Sulgrave Heath has undoubtedly got a politically correct discrimination policy hidden away in a cupboard somewhere, but there's no reason to test it out if she doesn't have to.
Five minutes later she's staring into her tea with Caroline sitting across from her, offering her a plate of biscuits. It feels very strange to see her in such a normal environment, with mess and biscuits and a telly in the corner; she's so aloof and reserved at school she's close to robotic. It's a little surreal.
"So. I'm guessing that what I saw earlier wasn't just about a bad day in the classroom."
"You're right, it wasn't."
"Tell me."
"It's nothing dramatic. I got dumped, that's all."
"Oh Kate, I'm so sorry. Was it today?"
"At the weekend. It had probably been coming for a while, if I'm honest, it wasn't exactly a shock."
"Except it still is a shock, even then."
"Yes. It is."
"Had you been together long?"
"About six months. Not long."
"But it's never a pleasant experience."
"No. It isn't."
"Shit."
"Uh…sorry?"
"My biscuit's gone in my tea. Bollocks."
She stifles a bemused smile as Caroline stares helplessly into her tea for a few seconds and then apparently gives it up as a lost cause, looking up at her again. "Was he someone you really cared about?"
"I…did care. I think. I don't know. I was so pleased to get this job, my relationship was going pretty well, I thought I'd got everything sorted. And now…"
"I'm not sure anyone's got everything sorted, Kate. Life's far too complicated for that."
"That's not terribly reassuring coming from you."
Caroline appraises her; she prickles from the attention. "Coming from me? What do you mean?"
With a mild sinking feeling she realizes that she's been lulled into talking to her too freely.
"Sorry, I only meant that you seem to have your life completely under control, you run this place like a Swiss watch, everyone respects you, you've raised two children…I can't open my own front door."
"Nobody's got it all sorted, Kate. If there's anything I know for sure, I promise you that."
There's a look in her eyes now that she can't quite decipher, a shade of melancholy perhaps. And she's right, of course – everyone has their problems. But some have more problems than others.
"It won't affect my work, I'll make sure of it."
Another indecipherable expression flits across her face, but when she says "Good to know," she can actually hear the hurt in her voice; she realizes with a sinking heart that she's implied that the quality of her work is all she cares about. It's all going a bit wrong, she's obviously far too upset to be in her boss's company; time to escape.
"I'm sorry, Dr Elliot, it was lovely of you to invite me in, but I'm more tired than I thought, and it's been such a long week. I'd best just go home I think."
"I understand. I'll get that lock fixed for you as soon as I can." There's no trace of hurt this time, her normal efficient tone fully restored.
"Thank you. And thank you for the tea. Bye for now."
"Bye."
They smile at each other politely but she feels wretched. As she leaves she turns around to try to make amends but Caroline has already started to walk away, heading into the kitchen, and she isn't brave enough to call her back.
Oh well, she thinks. You only have to work with her. Work for her. And live next door to her, of course. But it's not as if you have to be friends.
Returning to her flat she has 10 seconds of panic when she thinks that the lock's got stuck again but then the door opens and she enters the flat in relief. Time to make a long list of Julia's faults, get herself mildly drunk and forget about the intimidating woman next door.