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So if she truly was thinking about starting something, and she might not be, then she’d first have to wriggle underneath that shell and pry pieces off. A job she wasn’t sure she wanted. Or that Ava wanted her to do really.

Hell, what did Ava want? There was a question.

For a few seconds in that cupboard Hope could have sworn that Ava wanted her. Now though, all Ava looked like she wanted was a glass of wine and a lie down. Which perhaps wasn’t unusual given that Fay and Allen Buxton were the last in a long line of parents.

“All in all, Clara has made satisfactory progress,” Ava was saying.

“What about the nativity play?” asked Fay.

Hope rolled her eyes and then saw Ava looking at her in confusion. “It’s far too early to be casting that now, Fay,” she said equably.

“It’s something to keep in mind though, isn’t it?” asked Fay anxiously. “Because Clara was so good as Mary last year in lower infants and, well, she has her heart set on doing it again. Just something to think about.”

“I’m not at all sure we’re having a… a nativity play,” Ava stepped in.

“Oh, but you have to,” said Allen. “It’s part of our cultural heritage, you can’t not have a nativity play.”

“We have at least two non-Christian children in the class,” Ava said. “Perhaps more, I don’t investigate that sort of thing. I’m not sure a nativity is appropriate.”

Allen sighed and rubbed his nose. “I suppose,” he said.

“It’s something for us all to think about,” Hope said brightly. She stood up which prompted everyone else to stand up.

“Yes, well, thank you Ms. Stanford,” Allen held out his hand and Ava took it.

“We’re certainly glad that Clara has such an… unusual teacher,” added Fay.

They waited until the parents were out of the room before Ava collapsed into her chair. “What do you think that meant? Unusual teacher?” she said.

“Probably exactly that,” said Hope easily. “Not the norm. You know, you being American and everything.”

“Is this nativity thing required?” asked Ava.

“No idea. We can run it past Lowell. It’s tradition, but there’s nothing wrong with subverting tradition if that’s what you’re into.”

Ava grunted and stretched out her legs, lifting her arms and yawning and looking far more human than Hope had ever seen her look before. Her shirt lifted, baring a sliver of pale skin that caught Hope’s eye and made her stomach contract.

She tore her eyes away. Maybe Ava did want something. Maybe Ava wanted the same something as she did.

Outside it was dark, the classroom lights streaming through the windows, and in the corridors was the soft hum of parents chatting to each other. The school was a different place at night. A quieter, more relaxed place.

“So, um, that’s us done,” Hope said casually. Maybe now was the time for that drink. She could ask, couldn’t she? If she decided to.

“Not quite.”

Hope frowned. “No, I’m sure the Buxtons were the last.”

“Not quite,” Ava said again. She sat up straighter, crossing her legs again. “There’s you.”

“Me?” Hope laughed. “But I’m here all day, I know how Alice is doing, you don’t need an appointment with me.”

“Don’t I?” asked Ava. She tapped her pen on her desk. “Alice is certainly a bright child. She’s meeting every milestone and exceeding the averages in every classroom skill that we have. You should be proud of her.”

“I am,” Hope said, sitting down in her own small chair again.

“Yet being a fully developed child is so much more than just succeeding intellectually, isn’t it?”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”