The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,3

many nieces do they have?’ His laughing frown made me smile. In fact, I don’t think I could have stopped myself smiling back at him if my life had depended on it.

‘Only me.’

‘That doesn’t count. And I think favourite neighbour probably trumps that.’

‘Favourite neighbour?’ I echoed.

‘On account of I’m quiet, good at carrying heavy things, and excellent at plant-watering when people are away.’

‘So what do you do when you’re not housesitting for your folks?’ I was guessing carpenter or gardener; he looked as if he spent a lot of time outdoors, or maybe he still lived with his parents and didn’t have a job.

‘I’m a primary school teacher. Over in Redlands.’

‘What, St Bernard’s?’ I certainly hadn’t pegged him for a primary school teacher and definitely not at one that was dedicated to special needs.

He nodded. ‘You know it?’

‘I’ve heard of it. I deal with a lot of local schools through my work. Gosh, that must be … interesting. How old are the kids you teach?’

‘Interesting is one way of putting it,’ he said, his smile broad and full of sunshine. ‘But I love it. I have a class of nine. They’re aged between nine and eleven. Key stage 2. Nearly all with some form of autism.’

‘That must be difficult. Coping with all those different needs.’

He looked at me slightly surprised. ‘Most people think it must be an easy gig.’ The light in his eyes dimmed for a second. ‘They assume kids with special needs don’t need an education. Or are too difficult to teach, so I don’t need to bother.’ There was a fierceness in his eyes, and if I hadn’t already been halfway to head-over-heels in something with him, that would have pushed me over the edge.

I beamed at him. I couldn’t help myself. And I suddenly realised that I could be completely open with him, completely honest.

‘And I bet you do bother. A lot.’

‘I do. I love working with my kids. They’re a real bunch of characters and every one of them deserves to have the best chance in life that they can get. It’s my job to make sure I give them that. Some of them are incredibly bright, super talented, but they just don’t have the mechanics to cope with life in the same way that you or I do.’

‘I’m impressed.’

‘Don’t be. I’m lucky. I’m doing a job I love. So what do you do?’

I smiled broadly. ‘I bet some people feel a bit insubstantial when you ask them after telling them what you do.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not a saint or anything. I have good days and bad. And sometimes,’ he paused with another of those charming twinkles, ‘I tell the children off.’

‘Shame on you. Those poor little angels,’ I added in a mockney accent.

‘Angels my arse, not when the little devils decide to superglue my shoes to my socks while I’m wearing them.’

‘I won’t ask,’ I said, giggling now. Honestly, I felt a bit drunk on this smiley warm-eyed exchange; it was going to my head. Although I didn’t feel fuzzy or out of focus. No, I felt sharper and more in tune than I’d ever felt before.

‘Well, if I could wash the shoes and socks together, it’d save a whole heap of time getting dressed in the mornings.’ We both laughed at the ridiculous image, our eyes meeting and then holding for that fraction of a second too long, but then neither of us looked away.

‘I’m Sam,’ he said, holding out a hand, still meeting my gaze, those too-blue eyes dancing with amusement and other lovely things. He was sunshine and happiness and it all seemed to be brimming out of his eyes.

‘I’m Jess. Nice to meet you, Sam.’

‘So what do you do, Jess?’

‘I work for a women’s refuge,’ I said, going on to name the nearest town just off the M1.

‘Wow,’ he echoed my earlier words, ‘that must be difficult too.’

I lifted my shoulders. ‘It has its moments. My job is to help the women – and often their children too – get back on their feet. Most of the time, they’ve fled with nothing. There’s a lot of liaising with schools, social workers, doctors, hospitals and, sometimes,’ the corners of my mouth turned down, ‘the police.’ Not many of the women I worked with ever went through with it and pressed charges; their self-esteem had been too eviscerated for that.

‘Sounds like a tough job. Makes mine look easy.’ The admiration in his eyes made me shrug.

‘Makes me appreciate how easy I’ve had