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It doesn’t take me long to check in my weapon and the various other pieces of equipment we’re required to carry. Telling Ben I’ll see him later, I make my way towards the commanding officer’s quarters. I knock at the door and wait for permission to enter. When I gain it, I’m shocked to see the chaplain there as well.
I stand to attention and salute.
“Sir.” I step forward. “Is everything all right?”
Our commanding officer looks down at the ground and then back up at me.
“I’ve had a call from London. There’s no easy way to tell you this, Landon. Your wife’s been in a car accident.”
I gasp as I struggle to process what he’s said. So many questions run though my head. How serious was the accident? Is Julia in hospital? My thoughts then turn to Noah.
“What about my son?”
“Thankfully, he wasn’t with her at the time.”
Immediately, my brain tries to figure out how I can get back to the UK as quickly as possible. Poor Noah—I’m sure my parents will be with him, but he must be terrified. Julia is an orphan, so she doesn’t have any family on her side to worry about.
“Landon,” The CO places his hand on my arm. “I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, but your wife, she didn’t make it. Julia is dead.”
CHAPTER ONE
SAMANTHA
Ithink this is probably the best class I’ve had since I became a teacher. I’ve been teaching them for three months now, and they’re learning fast and are exceptionally well behaved. They’re also full of spirit and eager to learn. It makes my job worthwhile.
“Miss, can we play with the skipping ropes?” A little blonde girl called Isabella runs up to me as I supervise the children’s morning break.
“Of course.” I point to where the ropes are stored, but she’s one step ahead of me and is already pulling them out of the box.
Isabella is full of energy—she needs to expel a lot of it during playtimes so she can concentrate on her lessons.
I’ve worked at Hadlow Primary for five years now. I was so lucky to get the job here as it’s only ten minutes’ walk from my house. It means I can get home quickly if I’m needed. I live with my mother, who’s suffering from dementia. It seemed to start after my father died suddenly of a heart attack. He was her everything, and she’s never recovered.
My mother has someone who comes in to look after her during the day, but at night, I’m on-call. It’s not always easy, and there are times when I want to curl up in a ball and cry, but then I come to school and see the children, and they make me smile. Even if some of my friends call me insane for wanting to spend my days with nine and ten-year-olds, I know it’s my students that keep me going.
“Miss.” Another energetic child called Chloe bounds up to me. “Can I play with Isabella?”
“Of course, you can. Why don’t you see how many skips you can both do? If you can get to twenty each, I think I might be able to find a little treat when we go back into class.” The two girls start skipping excitedly.
“Fight, fight,” the shout I always dread goes up from the far side of the playground.
Running over I see Luca, one of the meaner boys in my class, on the ground and holding his cheek. But it’s the boy standing over him with a clenched fist who shocks me the most.
“Noah Stewart. What do you think you’re doing?” I shout. He turns and looks at me. His face is full of thunderous rage.
“He hit me, Miss,” Luca protests from the ground. “I didn’t do anything to him.”
“Liar,” Noah growls.
My teaching assistant, Miss Harris, arrives and stands next to me. “Would you mind taking Luca to get his cheek looked at by the school nurse?” I ask.
“Of course.” Miss Harris helps Luca up, and they disappear across the playground into the main reception where the medical office is situated.
“The rest of you go and play. You’ve only got five minutes of your break left. Noah, I think we need to talk.” The other children disappear back to whatever games they were playing before the cry of fight drew them all in. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Noah is a tall boy for his age, but I bend down so I’m a similar height to him. I find this approach works better with children when something is wrong.
“He was being horrible to Kevin, Miss.” Noah’s words are unapologetic as he folds his arms across his chest and pouts at me angrily. Kevin is another student in my class and has special needs. He’s autistic and a little different to the other children, which means he’s often a target of bullying. “Luca’s always being mean to him, and it needs to stop.”
