There was a strange atmosphere in the staffroom. Subdued, as if someone had died. Or maybe it was because so much had happened to me since Friday that the staffroom felt foreign – like it belonged to my nice, comfortable old life, not the dark and dented new one.

I turned my mug right side up and dropped a teabag into it. Flicked the kettle on.

‘Anyone else want a brew?’ I said.

I looked around at my colleagues in the room. Some standing, some sitting, some holding exercise books, or sheets of paper, or just a cup of tea.

All eyes were on me.

‘What?’ I said, to the room in general.

Jenny Lucas, who taught French and German, caught my eye and spoke in a quiet voice.

‘Joe, Darth Draper wants to see you.’

For all of our piss-taking, Carl Draper was assistant head in charge of pastoral and disciplinary issues, and I couldn’t remember ever being called into his office before in the nine years I’d worked here. Maybe he’s heard about me and Mel and wants to offer me some time off to sort my head out.

Unlikely.

More likely was that someone had spotted me out and about yesterday, when I was supposed to be off sick, and he was going to give me a dressing-down for it. Draper was the head teacher’s hatchet man, who gave out bollockings on the head teacher’s behalf.

At that moment I could not have been less bothered about getting on his bad side.

‘What does he want to see me about?’ I said.

‘He didn’t say. He came in here first thing looking for you, then put his head round the door a second time just now. Seems keen to have a word before first period.’

‘Right.’ I flicked the kettle off.

‘Are you OK?’ Jenny said.

‘Yes. Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m OK?’

She gave me a sad little smile as if she didn’t believe me.

‘Just asking, that’s all.’

‘I’m fine.’

Draper’s office was on the executive corridor, which was home to the head teacher and his senior management team. Draper was both younger and more senior than me. Since hitting my mid-thirties there seemed to be an increasing number of people who fell into this category, in all walks of life.

He glanced at me as I walked in, indicated a chair in front of his desk with a quick nod. He was a short man with sandy, slicked-back hair and a smile that never reached his eyes.

‘Joe. Hi. Have a seat.’

‘I was told you were looking for me, Carl.’

‘Yup. Won’t be a second.’ He continued typing, eyes on his monitor.