School Reunion Year 1 Read Free Page A

future, sir ,’ she purred.
    â€˜I wasn’t intending this should be a regular thing,’ retorted Knight. ‘You’ve paid the price and that’s an end of it.’
    â€˜No, it isn’t,’ she countered slowly, ‘not if I don’t want it to be. And just think,’ she continued, ‘what it could do to the career of a new and aspiring head teacher to have his private life exposed in one of the Sunday tabloids.’
    â€˜You wouldn’t do that…’ he began, suddenly pale and a good deal less confident.
    â€˜Oh yes I would,’ Penny insisted with a wicked giggle. ‘Believe me, sir, I really would…’

Photo Shoot
    â€˜Oh great! Oh, absolutely bloody wonderful!’
    With considerably more force than was necessary Craig switched off the mobile and tossed it onto a chair. On top of everything else that was going pear-shaped today, now the sodding male model was a no show.
    â€˜Gastric flu?’ he snarled, pacing around the room and addressing no one but the camera tripod. ‘Hangover, more likely.
    â€˜Can you believe it?’ he went on grumbling. ‘First the lift’s out of order so I have to lug all my equipment up three flights of stairs, and then the client decides he’s too busy to art direct: “You can do it, old chap, I’ve complete faith in you, the results have always been splendid before”.’ With cruel accuracy he mimicked the magazine publisher’s Oxbridge tones. ‘“I’ll fax over the shooting sequence and you can drop the film into the office on your way home”. Gee, thanks!’
    Sarcasm may be the lowest form of wit, but then, Craig wasn’t trying to be funny.
    Abruptly he stopped pacing and expelled a deeply exasperated sigh. Ranting was getting him nowhere slowly. What was it those management types were always spouting? We don’t have problems, we have opportunities . Yeah, right, Craig was in a swamp full of alligators up to his armpits, but by keeping calm and using his head he might yet be able to salvage the situation.
    Quite apart from anything else, his cash flow needed an injection of money and this client always paid above the odds. For which, reciprocally, they expected smudges of a very high standard. A fair enough exchange, thought Craig; he was always up for going the extra mile if it kept the customer satisfied.
    Besides which, it was too bloody late for him to do anything else to bring in the shekels, and he’d just spent the last hour setting up the lights and a medium-format camera. Craig sat down and rolled a mild spliff, just sufficient to relax as he didn’t want to lose the plot, and thought hard as he smoked it.
    Okay, there was one possible way, and one way only that he could see of coming out on top; as well as being art director and cameraman he was also going to have to play the male lead. Which meant judicious use of the timer and cable release and keeping his head out of shot. Which in turn would require some alterations to the shooting script. ‘And if there’s any time left I can stick a broom up my arse and sweep the floor behind me,’ he said ruefully, retrieving his phone and dialling.
    Fortunately the client answered at once. ‘Have to be quick, old boy, my plane boards in five minutes and they don’t allow mobiles in the cabin,’ he said.
    Diplomatically Craig refrained from reminding the publisher, editor and owner of Hera magazine, purveyor of CP and domestic discipline scenarios to the discerning, that he was supposed to have cried off to visit an ailing relative. Apparently no one could be bothered to lie convincingly these days, but if he could afford a weekend in Cannes, then good luck to him. Quickly Craig outlined the problem, then succinctly followed through with a possible solution.
    â€˜Hmm, not bad,’ said his distant paymaster. ‘Not bad at all. By keeping the punisher’s face out