Into My Arms Read Online Free Page A

teacher too,’ Hamish responded automatically. And Vanessa was, he thought, but Skye was better. It wasn’t just about showing off; she was passionate about the things she taught, and that made up for her lack of formal qualifications.
    ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’ Vanessa laughed, standing a little too close to him. She wasn’t wearing very much, he noticed, just a crop top and a tiny pair of shorts.
    ‘Did you need me?’ he asked, returning his gaze to the bars and mats.
    ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I want to swap a class next week if I can. Wednesday, at five, the mixed junior development group. I’ve got an appointment I can’t get out of.’
    She expected him to ask her about it, he could tell, but he couldn’t be bothered. All the instructors were casuals, and they were always swapping classes. He’d lost interest in their reasons years ago. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he replied. ‘Can you think of anyone who could take your place?’
    ‘Dan might,’ Vanessa said. ‘He told me he wanted to do more gym stuff . . . or what about your girlfriend?’
    ‘Skye doesn’t have the time now she’s got her arts job as well. That’s her preparation day.’
    ‘Oh, I forgot about that,’ said Vanessa. ‘So she’s not here as often, then. Do you get lonely in that office of yours?’
    Hamish snorted. ‘Not much chance of that. There are always people like you coming in to disturb me.’ Then he softened, and added, ‘I’ll ask Dan about that class, if you like.’
    ‘You’re a sweetheart. I owe you.’ She blew him a kiss and turned to go, but tripped over Jess stretched out on the floor. The dog’s aggrieved yelp made the gymnasts look up, and Skye, spotting Hamish, smiled and waved. Then she held up one finger, as if instructing him to watch, and moved fluidly into a back walkover. A one-handed back walkover, Hamish noted wryly. Not many people could pull those off. He was torn between admiration and annoyance. She couldn’t be told; she always had to prove her point. Beside him, Vanessa rolled her eyes and bent to apologise to Jess.

3
    ‘The word mosaic comes from Ancient Greece and means “of the muses”. Does anyone know what a muse is?’ Skye stood before 5C holding up a green glass tile, the colour of grass after rain. She waited hopefully, but no hands went up. ‘Rowena—you have a shot,’ she prompted.
    Rowena screwed up her face and glared at the desk. She hated answering questions when there was a chance she could be wrong. ‘Muse . . . like amusing? Or music, maybe?’ she ventured.
    ‘Good try,’ said Skye, smiling at her. ‘Music must be from the same word. In Greek mythology, the muses were goddesses or spirits who inspired ordinary people to create something beautiful—poetry, songs or art. Mosaics are an art form that has been around for thousands of years, since well before the time of Christ. Originally they were made of pieces of coloured stone or ivory, even shells, and used on floors, but by the time of the Roman Empire they had started appearing on walls and ceilings as well.’
    Skye glanced at the class, who were fiddling with their sketchbooks or staring out the window. She was losing them. They didn’t care about any of this history—they just wanted to start cutting out tiles and sticking them down. Still, she persisted. To really understand something you had to know where it had come from, how it had been shaped.
    ‘There was a famous mosaic in Greece called the Unswept Room,’ she continued, trying another tack. ‘It was designed for the floor of a dining hall, with tiles—or tesserae, as they’re properly called—placed to look like bits of food and other refuse dropped from the table, then left there. Apparently it was so realistic that guests entering the hall would either wrinkle their noses in disgust or send the servants to fetch brooms.’
    That was better. They were listening to her again, and Skye felt the familiar pleasure of having