A/N:
This chapter is a little bit of a filler. It is long and I do apologise! There are some notes just for people to follow
• Ruby teaches the choir for John Fosters.
• Matt didn't leave and still remains teaching at Waterloo Road.
• Eddie joined John Fosters as head when he left Waterloo Road.
Thank you again for the lovely comments, I very much appreciate them!
The collateral damage of love
Five, Four, Three, Two, One.
The bell rang out harshly battering against the walls of Waterloo Road. It was Friday, and my word was she glad. Taking safety in her office she sat, head back, eyes closed. Yesterday was rough. She'd explored thoughts, feelings and approached things that she thought she'd never be able to talk about ever again. This was exhausting.
Footsteps echoed a few feet away from her desk and her eyes shot open. There he was. Guilt. She didn't want to feel like this anymore.
'I thought we were travelling together today?'. He was agitated and to be honest, she couldn't blame him. She had promised that they would travel together.
'I had paperwork, you know what I'm like, I can't just leave it'. Rachel remained behind her desk and shuffled some paperwork to look as though she'd been busy. He knew, I mean he wasn't that stupid.
'You've been off with me since you got home last night Rachel', there was sadness detected in his voice and she felt even more guilt wash over her.
'I haven't Adam, I'm just tired'. His expression softened at her words, the bags under her eyes were a clear giveaway that she hadn't slept in days and every minute consumed by something or someone.
'You need a break, away from this place'.
'Adam I can't'. That was a lie, she most definitely needed a break and a long one at that.
Raising his hands and sighing, he argued, 'Rachel, you've been complaining you're tired but you won't do anything about it!'. There it was, frustration had echoed through his voice again.
'Adam, please, I just want a weekend at home'. Her eyes grew tired and she couldn't muster the energy to look him in the eye. She knew it was wrong, she was his wife, and she wasn't giving him the love like she had promised.
'I want to help Rachel, let's go away, we don't have to go far, desperation sparked in his voice and he set her hands on her desk to grab some attention. It worked. She raised her head and sternly, like the headmistress she was, she replied, 'Adam I said no-'. It was short and harsh and before she could add anything else, the likes of Steph Haydock made her presence.
'Knock knock, sorry to interrupt 'the private party' but there's something that I need to discuss with you. Bolton smile is giving me cheek and we're not even a few minutes in', resting her hand on the frame of the door, she smirked and watched as Rachel rolled her eyes, as usual.
'Steph, there is no 'private party' here and as for Bolton, you should be able to control him'. Rachel was not in the mood for this. Not Steph. Not Adam. Not anyone.
'Rachel that's harsh'. From the glare that Adam had received, he knew that she would not take his comment lightly, and that she did not, 'Adam, I do not need your input thank you'.
He knew there was nothing he could do, he was wrong, again. Nothing he did was right. Admitting defeat, he muttered, 'Fine'. Storming out of the office, he had hoped that she would run after him.
'Trouble in paradise I see', almost gloating, Steph folded her arms and looked ahead at the woman in front of her. It was getting frosty in such a small and confined space.
'Let's just concentrate on your class, shall we?'
. . .
Marching down the corridor, Rachel had arrived at Miss Haydock's class. 'Bolton, a word outside now please', he shot his head from his desk and followed Rachel outside. The sound of his classmates sniggering could be heard as she forcibly shut the door.
'Right, do you want to tell me why you've been giving Miss Haydock cheek already? Come on, you're better than that', perching her lips together she waited for his excuse.
'Nah miss, I didn't even give her cheek, it was Paul init', he shifted his eyes everywhere but to look at her. It wasn't Paul, it was him, he just didn't fancy the run in with Miss Mason today.
She could, however, read him like a book. Very much like Bolton, she did not fancy an argument and so calmly but with still very much authority replied, 'Look, whether it was you or Paul just behave please. I don't want to hear any more about you today, okay?'.
Shoving his hands in his pockets and finally bringing his eyes to look at her, he muttered every so quietly, 'Yes miss -'.
Matt stormed his way down the corridor–very much like Rachel had done five minutes earlier–and in a frantic and panic state gushed about the choir. 'Rachel, the choir, we don't have enough people for the competition'.
'Competition?', her eyes were a picture, she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. There was no competition as far as she was aware.
'Yeah, you know, the annual competition'. Worry. Matt was such a worrier. His arms were waving everywhere as he flapped about the bloody competition.
Silence.
It hit her. The competition. Waterloo Road. John Fosters. She would be there. He would be there.
Her hand had risen to her chest, and she gulped, 'When?'.
'Two weeks, they didn't think to hold it this year like last year, but apparently they're going to', he watched as panic etched into her brow and she stumbled with her words, 'Er .. sorry Matt, I didn't know .. I er, maybe we just withdraw then?'.
Bolton had been frowning from the corner of her eye and she had almost forgotten that he was still standing there, 'Can't do that miss, the choir competition is well good'.
'Are you volunteering Bolton?'. Matt was serious. Bolton was tone deaf, but he was desperate. With that, Bolton scuffled back into the classroom. He was not singing.
'Sorry Matt, can we talk about this later?', she wanted to run, much like Bolton actually.
'Well Rachel, we have two weeks-'. She was halfway down the corridor as she shouted back at him, 'We'll talk later'.
One, Two, Three, Four, Five.
He sat, the seconds ticking by as the school filled with endless chatter and the robust children scattered across the corridors. He sighed at the thought of the ever so large amount of paperwork on his desk. Paperwork was never his thing; it was hers. Rachel, he had thought about her, again.
His attention drew back to the session the day before and he realised the pain was real. He missed her, tremendously. The pen he was holding almost slipped from his fingertips as he continued to gaze ahead, his figure still hunched over in the chair. He was that transfixed that he almost jumped out of his skin at a voice, 'You okay mate?'. It was Chris.
Clearing his throat, adjusting the paperwork and setting the pen down–who was he kidding anyway-he smiled. 'Yeah, sorry, I was thinking about all this bloody paperwork I have to get done'.
'Ah, it's a killer. Was just wondering if you'd seen the email that came through yesterday afternoon?', resting both hands on the frame of the door, he waited for Eddie's reply.
'The choir? I had a quick look', Eddie wasn't lying, he had looked, just only at the subject line.
'Yeah, it's the competition again. Think you did one with Waterloo Road, didn't you?'. The competition. He'd been such an idiot. If he were to have read the email, then he wouldn't have been in this awkward situation.
He needed to look. He needed to know. Waterloo Road. Would they be there?
Eddie quickly jumped up out of his seat and hastily gathered his composure.
'Er .. yeah, sorry Chris, I've just got to see Ruby about something'.
'I've got a free period second lesson, we can have a quick look at it then', Chris tried to get every word in before Eddie had practically flown into the main corridor.
. . .
Knocking, well almost giving it two thumps in Eddie's case, he found Ruby teaching her year 8's. 'Ruby, have you got a minute?'.
She wiped her hands in her apron and took a quick glance at her appearance. She had fancied Eddie a little and truth be told, she didn't want to greet him with flour on her face. 'Eddie, glad I've caught you, the school choir-'
'Yeah that's what I want to talk to you about. How is the choir looking?'. He thrust his hands into his pockets and awaited her reply.
The choir was drastic. She was struggling, but she would never admit that. Looking down and fiddling with the tips of her fingers she scrambled a few words together, 'Well I mean it's-'.
With an almighty roar, Eddie has stopped her from creating an awkward answer. Finn Sharkey, out of his lessons, again. 'Oi you! Class now! Move!'.
'Me and Chris are having a meeting second period, do you have a class?'
'No but I was-'. He'd cut her off again.
'Great, see you then'. And just like before, he had gone.
Sighing, she looked at him in the distance and muttered 'bye then'.
Eddie rounded the corner only to hear the alert from his phone. Opening the message, he sighed.
Hi Eddie hope u are having a good day, do u fancy dinner out tonight? Think it would be nice for the 4 of us xx
Mel. She was trying, and he had to give her that. He knew he had to keep them together for the sake of Holly. Maybe he would buy her some flowers on the way home? Maybe he would take over duties tonight for Holly. Maybe, just maybe, he might try to make things up to her.
. . .
'Rachel, I really don't think we should withdraw, we need this competition'. She did actually almost feel sorry for Matt as he sat slumped in the chair, but, a competition really wasn't on the top of her agenda as of right now.
'I appreciate that Matt but the matter of the fact is you can't get the pupils'.
Matt winced at her words and pleaded hoping that she would allow them. 'I'll get the pupils Rachel, I just need a few school hours for practising and-'
Throwing her head up at the ceiling, she sighed and finally admitted defeat. 'Fine, I'll give you the hours, but if it's not up to scratch then we'll withdraw, okay?'.
. . .
'So Ruby, the choir?'. In all honesty she really didn't want to answer Chris' question. Shifting her eyes once more, she took a minute to compose and finally gave them an answer, well, she gave them a lie.
'Mmhmm it's er its great'
Eddie had his doubts, the last thing he wanted was pressure on his staff. He leant forward and rested his elbows on the table. He needed to make sure. 'Do you think we'll be ready for the competition? I mean it is last minute', he asked.
'No no, I can do it'. There it was again. She was lying. How on earth she would get this lot ready for the competition she did not know.
. . .
In the space of 5 minutes, Dr Williams had received two phone calls. They were desperate to see him. He didn't know to expect, but nothing could quite prepare him for the secret that would cause a whirlwind of upset. It was going to be the eye of the storm and not even he were ready.
