Déjà-Vu

Chapter One

"Hey, over here!"

Connie hitched the carry strap of her brand new briefcase further up her shoulder and looked around. The girl who'd called out was looking straight at her.

"Don't sit there," the girl said, "that's Gerald's seat. Trust me, you don't want to start off your first term here like that."

She was definitely talking to Connie. Connie pointed an index finger at herself, her eyebrows raised in a silent question. The girl nodded and beckoned, gesturing to an empty seat next to hers.

"I see no-one bothered to tell you the first two days are 'own clothes'," said the girl, waving a tanned, flip-flopped foot at Connie for emphasis.

"No," said Connie, looking round the staff room, "although I soon worked it out. I'm feeling distinctly over dressed."

She unbuttoned the neatly fitted, grey suit jacket and flopped into the spare seat, crossing her legs demurely in her smart pencil-skirt. She slid the briefcase under her chair and turned to the girl.

"I'm Connie, by the way."

"I know," the girl replied, then, at Connie's surprised expression, "you're on the agenda." She read from the sheet of paper in her hand. "Item number two - New staff: Mark Bostock, Head of Maths - that can't be you, Reverend Derek Thomas, Chaplain - also definitely not you, Sonja Patel, Physics teacher - unlikely, Connie Bentley, NQT French - bingo! I'm Em, by the way, Miss Slater, English teacher and tennis coach. They wouldn't normally allow that in a boys' school but I was Olympic squad in 2004 so they made an exception. Nice to meet you, Miss Bentley."

Connie shook hands, grinning.

"Nice to meet you too. So what happens on these first two days, then?"

"You should have one of these in your pigeon hole?" Em waved the sheet of paper.

"I've got a pigeon hole?"

"Yes, I'll show you later. Don't worry; we can share for now. Basically, it's meetings until lunchtime, lunch in the dining hall and then the afternoon's yours for personal preparation. We usually knock off around three and head down to the Van Cat to console ourselves with a lovely glass of Felix's finest Pinot Grigio. Two more, please, Mr. Smith, milk no sugar for me and..." she looked enquiringly at Connie.

"Same, thanks," said Connie.

"Milk no sugar times two, please, babe."

A large, bear-like man deposited four coffees on the table and held out a paw for Connie to shake.

"Hi, I'm Tom. You must be Connie? Nice to meet you. Yours is the one on the left, by the way," he added, taking a coffee for himself.

He had a full beard and a mop of dark brown curls.

"This is Tom Smith, Games teacher and rugby coach, or as the boys prefer to call him, Slapper Smith," said Em.

Connie looked shocked.

"Not to his face," laughed Em, "but there are four Mr. Smiths on the staff so to simplify matters, the boys have developed a 'secret' nickname system for ease of identification." She made speech marks in the air with her fingers as she spoke. "Tom here has a new girlfriend every four to six weeks, hence 'Slapper'. Then there's 'Shirker' Smith, Pat, in the History department. He managed to go a whole term without marking a single exercise book. 'Stinky' Smith, Erik, well he's in your department, he teaches German and Russian. I think you'll find that one's fairly self-explanatory," she grinned, "and that leaves Lily."

"Lily?" frowned Connie.

"Yeh, Dave, from the Chemistry department. The boys are convinced he's a drag artist in his spare time because he plucks his eyebrows."