The minibus pulled up in the car park and, as per usual, the students were loud; so much noise. Robert Sinclair had just parked up and was eager to get inside before getting caught up in the rabble. Chelsea spotted him getting out of his car. Too late – the pupils were off the bus.

‘Sir, your car’s a piece of shit, how can you drive around in it? It’s like a pensioner car. There’s no way I would be seen driving about in that old banger.’

Sinclair sighed, a few minutes earlier and he would have avoided all this. But there was no way Chelsea was going to get away with embarrassing him in front of everyone.

‘Right, Chelsea, what do you drive?’ She walked over to his car and kicked his tyre.

‘I don’t drive, sir, I’m a kid, durrrrr.’

‘Exactly. You don’t even have a car, so when you do have one then you’ll understand how much they cost to run. It gets me to work and that is all that matters.’

Chelsea was unruffled, the rest of the students in her thrall as usual. ‘Oi, you lot, get a look at sir’s motor. Tell him it’s a rust bucket. I would rather walk than drive about in that shed. Sort it out and get something decent. I mean, look at the way you dress, you’ve not got nothing going for you, sir.’

The students were sniggering as they started to walk into the building. Sinclair shook his head. Best to ignore her, to walk away before he said something he would regret. He looked down at his old tan shoes and his black trousers. Maybe she had a point, he could do with a shopping trip to revamp his wardrobe. Damn you, Chelsea. He was annoyed he’d let her get to him. It wasn’t like she had anything much going for her. She wasn’t academic and he’d have put good money on her landing herself in jail when she was older. He knew they were meant to find the good in every student, but on days like this, he had no time for her, none whatsoever.

The students gathered in the main hall as they did at the start of every school day. As the kids found their seats, Donny answered a call from Susan.

‘Hi babe, morning assembly in a minute, I’ll bell you later.’ There was clearly something up – he could tell just by a few words. He ended the conversation quickly, before he got drawn into an argument, and strode into the room.