The Newest Member of Staff

Laura Delaney paused on the gravel driveway, staring up at the spirals of the glorious old school building. The place had the feel of an ancient university, or a school for wizards. There was magic and academia in the air. How had she managed to get the teaching job in such a wonderful school? St Patrick’s had such a good reputation across the city, and when she had told family and friends that her first teaching job would be at the prestigious school, they had all been so impressed. It felt like the start of a film, or something. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her, not in the real world.

Whatever she had said to the head, and the board members, on the video interview, it had worked, and a week later, she had been offered the job.

She walked slowly up the steps, and through the double-doors, moving slowly, wanting to savour the moment. This was it. This was her new start, the beginning of something special. 

In the corridor, three children in bottle-green uniforms walked by.

‘Good morning, Miss.’ they called in unison.

Laura smiled to herself. Miss? That was the first time pupils had called her that. It was official. She was now Miss Delaney, the new teacher. 

‘Good morning, children.’ she replied.

She turned a corner, the long corridor stretching out ahead, wooden floors and high ceilings. The corridor was full of children, bustling along, chatting and laughing loudly, as children do. These pupils were dressed in black blazers and grey V-neck jumpers. 

Laura wandered along the grand corridors, taking in her surroundings, as though she was visiting a museum. Children in black blazers swarmed all around. She managed to find the staff room, and gently knocked on the door, before entering.

The large open room was full of tired looking staff members. They winced in the harsh daylight spilling in through the large windows, drinking tea and coffee, lounging in the padded chairs. They were clearly taking a much needed break before class started.

A woman in her fifties came over, sipping a mug of coffee. Laura recognised her from the virtual interview, as the head teacher of the school, Suzanne Carrington.

‘Good morning, Mrs Carrington. I’m Laura.’

‘Of course, we’ve been expecting you. And when were in the staff room, you can call me Suzanne.’ she smiled.

Laura was shown to her classroom. Room seventeen was on one of the upper floors, at the top of a sweeping stone staircase. When she entered the room, the pupils, sitting in rows, stopped chatting, all eyes on their new teacher. She placed her bag on the desk, and introduced herself to the class. She spoke with a confidence she did not quite feel.

When she had applied for the job, her father had given her one piece of advice. 

‘Kids are like dogs. They can sense fear, so never show them you’re afraid.’

Taking his advice on board, she spoke with the authority of someone who had been in front of a class, hundreds of times, instead of this being her very first teaching assignment. 

Laura quickly settled into her role in the school. She really felt at home with the children, wandering the dark, wood-panelled corridors. She knew most of the other teachers, to chat to, and had her own seat and tea-cup in the staff room. Most of the children, including her own class, wore the grey blazers and grey jumpers. Every now and then she would pass the younger children in their green uniforms. It still made her smile when the little children would bid her good afternoon and call her Miss. She would walk away smiling, bless them. 

She was on her way to the staff room when she hears pupils talking noisily from a classroom. They were laughing and shrieking, having clearly been left unattended. Laura did what she was supposed to do. Peering through the frosted glass in the door, she would see the outline of children in green. She marched into the classroom, ready to tell the children to sit in silence until their teacher arrived. 

She gasped, and looked around in disbelief. The room was empty. She had been quite sure the racket had been coming from this classroom, and could have sworn she saw children, mind you, the frosted glass was thick. Laura left the room, walking quickly, telling herself that the ancient school building must have been playing tricks on her. Who knew how acoustics worked in such an old building. 

As she reached the staff room, a little girl in green walked by.

‘Welcome to St Gilbert’s, Miss.’

Laura smiled, thank you, and rushed off to get a cup of tea. A sit down, a chat with her colleagues, and a cup of tea would sort her out.

The next day something occurred to her. The child in the corridor yesterday, had welcomed her to St Gilbert’s, but the school was St Patrick’s. Perhaps the younger pupils were part of another school, sharing the same site. The old premises were certainly large enough. Perhaps two schools were using the building. On her morning break, Laura made a cup of tea, and took the chair next to Suzanne, the head teacher. 

‘Is there a school here called St Gilbert’s? I’ve heard people call it that.’ Laura asked.

‘St Gilbert’s was what the school used to be called, the school that was here before.’

‘And the children in green uniform?’

‘They were the pupils at St Gilbert’s. Have you been looking at the old photos in the main corridor?’

‘Sorry, how do you mean?’

‘There is no St Gilbert’s, anymore, no green uniforms. Most of the pupils of St Gilbert’s died in the flu epidemic of 1918. St Patrick’s opened on this site in 1977, with a new black and grey uniform. It didn’t seem right to carry on under the old branding. The old green uniform and the St Gilbert’s name was laid to rest, with those poor children.’

Panic and confusion gripped her. That just didn’t make any sense. She had seen the children in green every day since she’d arrived. Those boys and girls had been the most welcoming. Was this school haunted? Was she imagining things? Were the kids playing a prank on her? Maybe they did this stuff to all the new members of staff, maybe Suzanne was in on the joke.

Before Laura could speak, Suzanne changed the subject, her tone suddenly stern and business-like.

‘You haven’t forgotten I need your reports first thing in the morning, have you?’ 

‘No, I haven’t forgotten.’ Laura lied. ‘I’ll have them on your desk first thing.’ 

The panic of running behind with the first reports, put the strange goings-on out of her head. She couldn’t be late, she had to meet that first deadline. As the buzzer sounded for the end of class, and the end of the school day, the pupils grabbed their bags and filed out of the school. Laura wouldn’t be leaving just yet. Just as she had given her pupils homework, she had work to do of her own. She grabbed the stack of forms, one for each pupil, and set about filing in the reports. As the hours went by, she worked on and on, late into the night. 

As eleven o’clock approached, she was almost done. She knew that apart from the caretaker down in his room, she was alone in the school. She rushed through the last few forms, and with a sense of satisfaction, signed off the last of her reports. All done, ready to be handed in the following morning. She shrugged into her coat, and slung her bag over her shoulder. She closed her classroom door behind her and looked up and down the empty corridor. Dark wood-panelling stretched away in each direction, dark starless skies outside. She reached the top of the vast stone staircase. 

Just as she was about to step down onto the steps, she heard a voice. A child’s voice called out, Miss Delaney. Laura half-turned to see who had called her. At that moment, she felt small hands pushing her. As she was falling, tumbling, she could see pupils in green uniforms at the top of the stairs. Then she hit the bottom of the staircase with a thud. 

Laura stared down at her own body lying crumpled and lifeless at the bottom of the stairs. She looked around her. The corridor was suddenly full of pupils in green blazers. Sunlight spilled through the windows. A hand-bell was being rung from somewhere. A little boy dressed in green smiled at her.

‘Come on, Miss, class is about to start.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom