Another one-shot from me because I am a commitment -phobe!
Thank you again for your comments on my last one, they mean the absolute world!
Taken a different approach with this one, bear in mind the POV it is written from when you read it!
BBC own characters and rights, words are my own.
Notes: Canon. Set S4 Ep10
I. To the Mercy of the Wind
A lesser known fact about Waterloo Road Comprehensive, is the unobstructed view the south facing windows of the staff room have of the school grounds. A certain teacher finds themselves in the right place at exactly the right time.
"Oho. Here we go…"
It wasn't like her to be here after hours. Least of all on the last day of term. First out the classroom, first in the pub, it had been this way since she was a NQT.
The coach had long since left. The simmering tension from the earlier sporting excitement had fallen spectacularly flat. All pupils, discounting that oddball Ryan, had scarpered for the fortnight. And of course, even now, she can already smell the nice, warm bottle of house red waiting behind the bar...
Yet something this afternoon had held her back…
Stephanie Haydock was nothing if not a bloodhound for a good les commérages.
And she now had even more reason to believe that the simmering tension from Smilies' earlier fight was not the only sort she could smell in the school today.
With an inconspicuous hand on one blind slat, she has a front seat, bird's eye, business class view of the school grounds and car park.
And quite possibly a VIP ticket to the biggest romantic denouement in the school's history.
"Wait. Tell me what you heard again?"
A sly smile crosses her features and reflects in the window, as does he, craning his neck from the kitchenette at the back of the room. Funny; her boy, Mr Wilding had quite enjoyed sticking his nose in the air and feigning nonchalance when faced with her excitement about the whole saga. Yet still, here he was, hanging around for no particular reason, just like her. She knew deep down that he loved a scoop or some good dirt as well as she did.
And dirt was certainly not in question here. She had heard it echoing through the corridor mere minutes ago. The hysterical wailing of Prissy Madam's sidekick. She had frozen to eavesdrop, finding that the adult learning classroom, which stood between her and freedom for the holidays, was still very much occupied. As tempting as the pub and karaoke had seemed, she had instead charged back upstairs to scream about her discovery with her partner in grime.
Okay! I know that I was wrong! But I'm not the only one who's been lying here, am I, Eddie?
"I 'erd it. Clear as day. With me own ears. I'm telling you an ultimatum was coming."
She hadn't waited to find out. If she knew her boss, the woman would've bolted from the pressure cooker of a classroom at the first available chance. She was slimy like that, Steph thought to herself; the first to initiate confrontation but couldn't for the life of her handle it when the shoe was on the other foot. Typical Mason.
Matt, engaged now, listens with mouth agape, corners slowly rounding up with joy as he realises the implications. He walks towards her, where she stands beckoning at the window, intrepidly; as if approaching the lip of an active volcano.
Steph, however, is anxious to share the unfolding events with her counterpart, excited for him to look down with her and face the molten drama priming itself below, she signals for him to hurry.
"What?!"
"Rachel and Eddie!"
It has felt like a lifetime, she has watched them simply stare at each other. She thinks it must feel a damn sight longer for them. She's never liked the woman, but notorious Miss Mason looks so washed out and gaunt she wonders if the hotness from her Deputy's sharp stare will tear through her, as if she were a piece of discarded, weather-beaten litter, abandoned in the playground and left to the mercy of the wind.
Eddie Lawson is attractive, she'll admit. In a rough, un-ironed sort of way. He wouldn't have had to ask her twice for an extra management meeting, though he never did. She would perhaps also have been less bitter had it been him that had stripped her of her managerial, well-paid, position...or if he had stripped her of anything, in any position. His downfall of course was his terrible taste in women.
Poor little Rachel...Steph narrows her eyes through the cloudy glass. There are several emotions etched on her face; confusion being the main one, as she allows her hair to tangle across her face and slams shut her car door. Despite the wind, which always seems it's most fierce in the valley of the school grounds, she doesn't appear to have blinked at all, as if in spite of the agony, the awkwardness of it all, she cannot bear to look away.
Perhaps the only thing they will ever have in common. Because if she is honest, nor can Steph.
"Little madam. Look at her. Spent the last two months huffing around here with a face on her, finally gets what she wanted and now look!"
Anger? Hurt? Her face is scrunched up as if she had been crying. She is staring at him now, wide eyed, as if she were waiting for something. To be hurt? Perhaps good old Eddie wasn't just her bit of rough...and if Steph could feel the emotion radiating from the headmistress from here, he sure as hell could too.
Steph and her willing companion simultaneously and audibly gasp as finally, painfully, Eddie steps towards her. He is painfully slow, tentative, almost like Matt had been when approaching the window. Were all men this scared of women? It was as if Rachel herself were on fire. No one dares to move, only Eddie, slowly making his way over to their boss and her gaudy car, as if he were battling to reach her against the wind. The French teacher again, narrows her eyes down on her nemesis, delighting in what she sees. Because under her expensive, conservative clothes, it would appear that Rachel Mason's chest was heaving. Haydock grins.
"You and Grantley owe me fifty quid."
"Not yet we don't…"
Eddie has stopped dead in front of her now and they continue to gawp stonily at each other. Momentarily, Rachel's face is concealed again by a flurry of auburn hair. Tousled and abused by the weather, it has lost its shine and poise and in turn seems to have lost Rachel her elevated, devine status. Perhaps for the first time since that painfully awkward morning in the assembly hall at the end of last year, she looks young and vulnerable. Fallible and not at all menacing. Like an ordinary girl, waiting to have her heart broken. Haydock would bet that never since the fact has anyone been allowed to see her like that. Until now. In front of him. Paralysed, she doesn't even have the ability to tuck her own hair aside. Steph momentarily considers that these idiots have been left in charge of an entire school.
And that is when he raises out a hand, quite calmly, quite purposefully, and gently brushes her hair from her face. Yet there must still be something of magic that remains, about her boss. Because when her face is visible again, the look she gives him could melt ice.
Steph can sense Matt edge closer to her and he murmurs, "I don't feel like I should be watching this."
"Oh come on. When's she ever cared about your privacy?"
"Quite a lot actually. Besides...feels a bit like watching your parents get it on."
Steph chuckles, enjoying every second. Matt wasn't wrong, but there was something endlessly fascinating - if a tad cringe - about the pair of them. From the way they used to jump apart last term when unexpectedly joined in the office, or how from the very start, even when they professed not to like each other, they always sat together at lunch, and passed each other knowing looks over the meeting table. Be it infatuation or love, Steph was sure it was of the purest kind; innocent, childlike almost.
That said, she would put bets on who would be next to be caught with their knickers round their ankles in the girls toilets at break. And it wouldn't be a student.
Because this little tryst was going to end in a kiss. She was sure of it.
Very highschool, very tacky, she watches critically as their heads pull closer to one another. It is perhaps the closest this run-down school would ever get to a fairytale. It is the look that passes between them, the wind that picks up around them. it is addictive, infectious, and she almost can't wait for the inevitable fireworks that will light up the sky on mouth impact. They would drown in each other and everything would be right within the Waterloo scheme once again. She thinks her boss was just about to close her eyes when the Maths teacher's hand drops to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, as he turns his head and whispers something in her ear. Steph could almost launch herself through the unopened window in order to hear the words that are shared. Or perhaps to roar at Eddie, idiot, you had her in the palm of your hand!
As Eddie withdraws, the look between them is maintained for a moment more.
And then, just as quickly as it had all came about, it is over. The heat suddenly dissipates, but it does not escape Ms Haydock's notice that the Ice Queen herself does not quite re-freeze over. A handbag is readjusted on her shoulder with a sharp nudge, and then she is marching back towards the main doors of the school, determined looking, if not a little shell-shocked. Eddie watches longingly, useless sod, before stalking back in after her.
Back in the body of the staff room, Mr Wilding lets out a long exhale he hadn't known he was holding.
"Wow. What in the hell was that?."
Her companion's voice brings Steph Haydock back to her senses. It takes a few blinks to moisten her eyes again. It does not go unnoticed too that she has to clear her now dry throat and constricted throat before she finally speaks.
"You tell me, you're the drama teacher."