Two weeks later it feels like things are looking up. The pupils settle down as they get used to her and begin to trust her, the caretaker puts a shiny new lock in for her and she finds that she misses Julia far less than she'd expected. It had been a fun six months but it had never been a meeting of souls, and she was honest enough with herself these days to know that what she wanted was someone to love, not someone to warm her bed at night.

To her surprise, it's the conversation with Caroline that's really bothered her. She'd handled it badly and the memory of the hurt she'd inflicted had kept coming back to her. It had been a real shock to find that she was so sensitive and she hated to hurt someone who had genuinely tried to help her. They'd spoken about professional matters at school over the past few weeks but she hadn't come close to seeing her as relaxed as she'd been that day in her flat.

And having had time to get to know the other staff members she'd found out that Caroline had been completely serious when she said she never invited staff into her home. Clearly she was a very private person – and Kate was glad that she'd instinctively kept their little tea time chat a secret – but she'd been shocked to find out how little her employees knew about her.

There were the two sons, of course, one in the sixth-form at Sulgrave and one a boarder at St Gregg's, apparently because of its superior rugby programme. A husband called John was mentioned now and again, a man who occasionally showed his face at school events but was mainly invisible. Some sort of writer apparently, although no-one seemed to have read anything that he'd written. And when it came to Caroline herself she heard the same things over and over again. The PhD from Oxford, the schools she had worked at, the temper that scared the life out of even the surliest teenager – she wasn't looking forward to seeing her in a rage for the first time – but no-one could tell her what she did at the weekends or who her friends were. It was all very…fuzzy.

What she did know was that she'd been granted a very rare glimpse of a very private woman and she'd made a total hash of it. So one Friday morning she summons her courage and pushes a note underneath her door:

Dear Caroline,

You were very kind to me over my embarrassing door situation and I would like to return your kindness. If you are free then there will be home-made pizza and normal tea served in my flat at 7.00pm tomorrow. If you would like to come please use the space below to list anything and everything that you would like to appear on your pizza.

Yours,

Kate

Eight hours later she climbs the stairs and spots a piece of paper tacked to her door, her heart beating a little faster at the sight.

Dear Kate,

Many thanks for your invitation which I would be very pleased to accept. I would like whatever you are having on your own pizza. Or if that is overly polite and actually not at all helpful, I would like mushrooms, sweetcorn and peppers. I'll look forward to it.

Yours,

Caroline

Good. OK, that's good. She hasn't made anything worse and she can fill her full of pizza, make polite conversation and then they'll be back on an even keel.

A day later and her optimism has rather worn off. Any conversation that was remotely personal was going to involve talking about relationships, and she didn't want to risk another awkward encounter. So that meant avoidance and misdirection, which she hated. Maybe they could talk about work the entire time. That might be best.

The pizza's in the oven when there's a knock on the door. She briefly checks her reflection in a mirror and then, after a small pause for a deep breath, opens the door… and almost does a double take. The woman standing in front of her is about two inches shorter than usual, the high heels replaced by flat, casual shoes. The business suit has been exchanged for worn-looking blue jeans and a soft, deep blue jumper that brings out the colour of her eyes. It's like meeting Dr Elliot's twin sister. She feels an unmistakable – and unnerving – spark of attraction which she does her best to ignore.

"Hi, Caroline. Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me. You opened your door successfully," Caroline says seriously, but there's a twinkle in her eye.

"That only happened the once, I'll have you know. And Nigel fixed it for me."

"Good. Here, this is for you."

She hands over a bottle of wine.

"Oh, wow, this is…this is a £50 bottle of wine! I can't accept this."

"Did you make the pizza I asked for?"

"Uh, yes, of course."

"Then of course you can accept, going to all that trouble. And I plan to drink half of it myself. Can I-"

She gestures towards the flat and Kate realizes that she hasn't even invited her in yet.

"God, sorry, come in, come in. Dinner'll be about 15 minutes."

The meal goes very well. Caroline is extremely complimentary about the pizza, the wine tastes like nectar, and they talk easily about the long history of the school and its famous alumni. When they've finished their meal they take a seat on the sofa and she decides they've both drunk enough wine to cope with a more personal conversation.

"So…tell me about you. How long have you been married?"

"Oh, forever. A hundred years, a thousand, something along those lines."

"Hmm," she says, smiling. "And he's a writer? John, is it?"

"John, and yes, he's a writer and he does some part-time teaching at York university, he has a flat there."

"What does he write?"

"Novels. Lots and lots of novels."

"Really? That's very impressive."

"You clearly haven't read them."

She laughs. "They must be good if they got published."

"Believe me, that's not how it works."

She thought she was joking at first but now she's not so sure; there's a bitterness in her tone that brings her up short. Better change tack.

"And Lawrence is away at St Gregg's?"

Her face lights up immediately. "Yes, he is, he's a rugby fanatic and he was desperate to get on the team there, they've got a wonderful rugby coach. And it's very possible he was desperate to get away from his mother of course, but I think that's only natural at his age. Plus I think it's good for him to be away from home, he's had to grow up a bit in the past year without his Mum to bail him out all the time. William could have gone away too but he prefers it here, he's technically a boarder anyway as he lives in the dorms but he likes to come and see me at the weekends and Lawrence comes home at least twice a month and at holidays. They're both doing absolutely brilliantly. Sorry, I don't mean to boast."

"You're their mum, you're supposed to boast. I don't know William very well yet but he's exceptional at French, very fluent."

"He's always been good at languages. Near the top of the class do you think, or…"

"No doubt about it, top three at a minimum."

"Splendid, that's splendid. I'm very proud of him."

"You should be."

She's almost glowing with pride; it's quite touching.

"And how have you been, after…what happened, the ending of your relationship?"

"Oh, OK, pretty good in fact. It wasn't as if we'd been married for a few millennia."

"Very funny. Seriously, though? You're all right?"

"I am. Really, Caroline, it hurt at the time but she wasn't-"

She cuts herself off abruptly. There's silence for a long moment; she should never have drunk all that wine.

"She wasn't…what?"

Mustering all her courage she braves a look at her face but she can't read anything there apart from polite interest. But that silence had spoken louder than words; you don't sit there in stunned silence if you're comfortable around gay people.

"Wasn't the love of my life."

"No, well, that does make it a bit easier. I'm glad to hear you're feeling all right."

More silence.

"Look, Caroline, if this is going to be a problem I'd rather know about it now."

"Why would it be a problem?"

"Because you're sitting there in shock."

"I am not. I was giving you the space to finish your thoughts. It's 2015, do you honestly believe I'm so unworldly I'd be speechless when presented with a lesbian?"

And now she's speechless herself. She's done it again, exactly she same as last time – presumed the absolute worst of her. Where on earth is it coming from? She usually gives people the benefit of the doubt, but she seems to be so intimidated by Dr Caroline Elliot that she can't see her as a decent human being.

"I'm sorry. I'm really am. I've just had some bad reactions in the past, and I think…well, it's a very traditional school and you never quite know…sorry."

"Look, I understand that you might have encountered prejudice in the past. But let me make it quite clear that if you're ever subjected to even the merest hint of bigotry at Sulgrave Heath you are to come straight to me and I will make quite sure that the perpetrator wishes that they'd never been born. There was a regrettably lax attitude to homophobic bullying before I became headmistress but it will not be tolerated on my watch, not among the students and certainly not among the staff."

Kate stares at her in shock. Where on earth did that come from? Is it possible that William's gay, or even Lawrence?

"Thanks Caroline, I really appreciate that."

"You haven't experienced it already, I hope?"

"Oh no, no, I mean most people don't really know about me yet, but everyone seems very nice."

"You know Mr Jackson is gay, maths and physics? He won't mind me telling you, he's very open about it."

"I didn't know that, no."

"And Miss Everson, history and peripatetic flute? She married her partner a few months ago."

"No, um, I didn't, I didn't know that either."

"Why are you smiling?"

"Oh nothing, really, I mean I'm glad that I'm going to be OK here, but…it's the way you describe people. Am I Miss McKenzie, modern languages and sixth-form choir?"

"You certainly are. Isn't that how everybody talks?" She's relieved to see a smile on her face.

"Not exactly. Nothing wrong with it, mind you. Quite useful, really."

"When you spend as much time as I do fiddling with timetables you tend to talk in subject specialties. I mean it, Kate, you promise you'll report any problems?"

"I will. I promise."

"Good."

They sit in a comfortable silence for a little while, finishing off their wine, Kate wondering whether Caroline really did have a personal interest in gay rights. William was a quiet, sensitive boy, it was very possible that he was gay, but she shouldn't stereotype – maybe it was his rugby-loving brother instead. Maybe Caroline just cared about the issue, but she'd sounded so…vehement. Either way, it was nice to know that she was going to be accepted and that she had an ally if things ever turned sour.

"I'd better make a move," Caroline says eventually, "I don't want to take up all of your Saturday night."

"Oh, you don't have to," she says politely, pleased to find that she'd quite like her to stay.

"No, it was a lovely evening but I don't like to outstay my welcome. Thank you again for the pizza, you're a very good cook."

"Thank you for the lovely wine. And for your support."

"Of course."

She sees her to the door.

"Perhaps we could do this again sometime?" says Caroline.

"I'd like that," she says, although she can't tell whether Caroline really means it or if it's standard politeness.

"Good. Bye now."

"Bye."

She closes the door, feeling much better than she had a few hours ago. The food had gone down well, they'd had a relaxed and pleasant evening and she'd even come out of the closet. Mission accomplished.

And when a return invitation never materializes, she doesn't really mind. Under the circumstances it was surely better to keep a little distance between them; Caroline undoubtedly felt the same way. Besides, there was that unexpected spark of electricity to consider. An attraction to a beautiful woman was only natural, but it wouldn't do her any good to end up with a full-blown crush. As long as they were 'neighbourly', as Caroline had put it, that would be absolutely perfect.