Harry and Bertie

Chapter 5

A few hours later Bertie left Harry's house, only to turn around and knock again. He opened the door and leaned against the jam.

"Are you ever going to leave?"

She ducked her head and blushed, "I realised that I never even asked the question I came to ask..."

"And what would that be," he drawled.

"What are we doing here?" She pointed back and forth between them.

Harry furrowed his brows, "You mean between us?" Bertie nodded. "Well, I thought we were having some fun...you know, getting something we both need."

"Oh, ok...," she looked disappointed and then smiled, "right. Good. Well, I'll just be off then."

"Good night, Bertie," he said warmly.

Bertie walked down the road and turned to look back as he was closing his door. 'Fun. Huh. What the hell does that mean?'

She was still pondering that question the next day. She sat behind her desk, keeping an eye on the children seated across from her. Bullies. Each of the children were worrying themselves in some way, one was twisting her hair around a finger, the oldest boy was tapping his knee...Her phone buzzed.

"Right, Daniel Miller, in you go." She pointed to the Headmistresses office.

5 minutes later Daniel Miller's parents barged into her office.

"Where is he?" Daniel's mother was a tall woman with shoulder length hair and long false nails. Natasha Miller (nee Hindman) was the same age as Bertie, they had been in the same classes all through school. It was not difficult to see that the proverbial apple had not fallen far from the tree. Her husband was a twee little man, quiet and prone to gawking. "Roberta Welland!" Bertie burned inside, 'That name!' "Where is my son?"

Bertie turned a pleasant face to the woman, "Natasha, dear, he is just in with Theresa now. It shouldn't be much longer." She rose and came around her desk, "Please sit. Would you like some tea?" 'With arsenic?' she thought.

"No!" She waved a hand in the air as her husband tried to speak. Bertie smiled and prepared a cup of tea for him. 'Poor dear.' He smiled, grateful for her understanding, and nodded his head.

Bertie returned to her desk and started typing.

"I understand that you have taken up with that new Londoner."

Bertie's fingers halted as she slowly turned her head toward the woman. "Taken up with? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, we all saw you at church...still in the same clothes...Delores Turnbull saw you leaving Sleepy Cottage late yesterday afternoon and you were still in the same clothes..."

"Natasha Hindman-"

"That is Miller."

"Miller, then, I would thank you and Delores Turnbull to mind your own business. I will," she air quoted, "take up with whomever I please."

"Really? Maybe a slut-"

Her husband gasped, "Nat!"

"Maybe a slut should not be interacting with the children of the district!"

Somehow Bertie managed to keep her head, "Perhaps you should bring that up with Theresa, some other time. Today the issue is your son, who does not seem to understand the concept of 'to each his own'." Mr. Miller tried to keep his lips from twitching.

Bertie's phone buzzed; she lifted the receiver and spoke to the headmistress, "Yes. Yes. I will send them in."

She walked to the headmistress' door and opened it, "Please, come this way."