The Paranoia of a Teacher

At break, in the staff room, her warning, Jesus. She throws her head back,. lips purst tightly, eyes wet at their rims, wide as though she's fighting the impulse to blink. A warning? About what, I say, frowning. Us, she says, breathing heavily, staring at me before wiping her eyes with her hand. Someone, Mr. Roberts, the teacher who spoke to her, wouldn't say who, told him that someone else had told him that they'd heard Ali had been seen with a pupil. It's a rumour mill, she says wearily, like it's not her first time. And evidently it's on the move,