1 Chapter 1
1: Anika
Looking up from the ground, it hadn’t seemed that high but now, standing on the edge, the drop is positively dizzying. The topmost tree branches are several feet below me, the rich patchwork of leaves swaying restlessly in a breeze that, alarmingly, is growing stronger.
“It’s a bit gusty but you’ll be fine once you get going,” says my instructor, correctly reading my hesitation. “All set?”
I nod as confidently as I can and lean back, grasping the rope tightly. Looking straight ahead—not down—I ease the thin line through the cleat and drop an inch, gasping as my feet slip on mossy wet rock.
“You okay?”
Heart hammering, I muster a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Try that again and let the rope take your entire weight this time. It’s perfectly safe, remember?”
Yes, I remember and I understand that the ropes are rigged so they can’t slip, but my terrified brain isn’t listening to reason. You’re going to diescreams in my head. In my peripheral vision, I see Anika wave from below. I’d love to wave back but my hands are welded to the rope. Oh, Anika…How did she talk me into this? I’m an “indoor” girl who’s scared of heights. Abseiling off a viaduct isn’t something I should be doing.
Of course, it’s not too late to change my mind, I’m not committed yet. Should I leave this particular adventure for another day? I make the mistake of looking down and my head spins.
“Come on, Lauren, you can do it.”
Anika’s voice cuts through my fear. I draw breath, hold it…exhale slowly. “If I give up now, I’ll never do it.”
“What’s that?” asks the instructor.
“Nothing. Talking to myself.”
“Right. When you’re ready.”
Okay, I’ve got this.Quivering, I cautiously slide the rope through the cleat. My pulse races as I drop.
* * * *
Anika intimidated me at first. She was the real deal: a teacher highly regarded by staff, pupils, and parents. On Saint Joseph’s website, students described her as “an excellent teacher who went the extra mile” and I believed them. Everyone spoke well of her. At thirty-two—six years my junior—she was Head of English and running a department whose exam results far exceeded expectations for a school like Saint Joseph’s. Most impressive.
Both nervous and excited to meet her, I was shown into her office at exactly three o’clock. First impressions were good. She greeted me with the warmest smile that dimpled her cheeks and creased the corners of her dark brown eyes. With radiant caramel skin and wavy raven locks tied back in a loose pony tail, she looked younger than thirty-two and undeniably attractive.
Stomach churning like a washing machine on spin cycle, I reached across the desk to shake her hand.
“Do take a seat, Miss Willis…Lauren? Tell me why you want this job.”
Straight to it, no small talk. I shifted awkwardly, unnerved by Anika’s confidence: her unwavering smile, the bold floral scarf draped around her neck, and smart pin-striped navy jacket. She epitomized authority.
“Miss Willis?” She flipped back her ponytail and I thought I smelled lavender.
Sitting up straight, I spewed out my well-rehearsed response, practiced over and over in front of a mirror. I talked about wanting a new challenge and needing a change from Lindhurst High. “A large inner-city school is exactly what I’m looking for,” I said. Lies, all of it. Lindhurst was a small school in a wealthy area with students who wanted to learn. It presented challenges of an academic kind but little else. Why would I willingly leave that?
“Very good. I can see you’re committed.”
“I am.”
Lies.Committed to running from my old job, nothing more. I didn’t want to work at Saint Joseph’s. But I needed to—hadto.
“And you’ve mentored challenging pupils?”
I nodded. “Oh, yes.”
True, I had overseen mentoring sessions but to call any child at Lindhurst challengingstretched the truth. I was sure any “issues” I’d handled would pale into insignificance when faced with the problems I’d likely encounter at this school.
“Your results are good. The kids like you, too.” Anika smiled. “I checked.”
Really?My cheeks grew hot. I hadn’t expected her to ask my students for a reference. That wasn’t standard practice.
“I talked to some of your year thirteens. They think the world of you.”
“Good to know.”
Stomach tightening, I waited for her to ask the next logical question: why was I leaving before my students’ exams? I didn’t want to answer that.Couldn’tanswer that. Anika’s gaze wandered over my face and her eyebrows twitched. She inhaled as if preparing to speak, then looked away. She typed something on her laptop then clasped her hands together.
