If Mary doesn’t stop banging on about shining my shoes, I think I’ll unpropose. Is that a thing? To undo a proposal? To say, sorry, pet, but it’s no more. This thing that has cost us the majority of our life savings? Yeah, it’s off.
Please, as if I would do that.
But I have three more days! My shoes have plenty of time to be bloody shined.
‘Shine them yourself if you’re so bothered!’ I told her this morning as I pulled my blazer over my shoulders.
That’s another thing, kids can be so bloody nosy. Not that I can particularly blame them. I told them I’d be off on Friday for their exam and they freaked out.
‘Well it’s not like I can feed you the answers anyway! You’re all really well prepared.’
‘Is this for your wedding?’
‘How did you know I was getting married?’
‘Mrs. Robinson told us,’ piped up Sarah Thomas.
‘ ‘Oh, are you Miss? That’s so nice,’ said Anna.
Well I didn’t know what to say.
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m getting married on Friday and I am so glad Mrs. Robinson told you all about. Go on now, back to your revision.’
‘What’s he like, Miss?’
‘Who?’ I asked, not used to all those questions.
He? Oh no, what would I say? I can’t lie. But then I can’t be the big lesbian teacher either. I’m not used to people thinking I’m straight. I haven’t been closeted since I was fifteen.
‘It’s a woman, isn’t it?’
‘Shut up, James, course it’s not.’
‘How do you know, Thomas?’
‘Well look at her, she doesn’t look like a lesbian does she?’
‘Do you know who else wasn’t a lesbian? Joseph Stalin. Now come on, heads down, wise up.’
‘Oh miss just tell us his name!’
‘Mary,’ I said, sick of their squabbling.
‘Told you,’ James said, no hatred in his voice at all.
Sarah Thomas, Anna Parker and the rest of the class gawped at me with open mouths.
Move over Stalin, the big lesbian teacher title lies on me.