I expelled a heavy breath, the weight of the room catching up with me. ‘I’m sorry, it’s been completely my fault.’
Phil leaned back and looked at me over the top of his glasses. The only noise in the room was the squeaking of the springs in his chair and the metronomic ticking of a clock. There was a noticeboard next to his desk bursting with family photos, and a shelf above that adorned with award statues.
‘Marcus, do you have anything you’d like to add? Perhaps we don’t quite need Eleanor to throw herself under the bus this morning? Would you like to help her out from under the wheels?’
Marcus gawped about like a fish out of water for a moment. ‘No, no, I just—’
‘I’ve had a lot going on in my life,’ I blurted, surprised at my own candour. I certainly hadn’t planned on milking excuses from my situation. In fact, I was happily silent about everything. Yet, here I was. ‘I’ve been desperately trying to catch up with where Cathy was with her work, all while getting reacclimatised with the job. It’s been a lot busier than I thought, plus trying to organise the Book Fair and …’
‘And, and, I thought it might be more helpful to give Miss Manning the space and support she needed to settle in to her job properly before overwhelming her with too much change.’
Now it was my turn to stare. I couldn’t believe he was going to try and jump in and score points when at least two-thirds of us in the room knew the real reason for this mess. I wasn’t about to sit about while he rolled his tongue about his cheek pocket.
‘If you must know,’ I sighed, ‘I’m in the process of getting a divorce. So, between settling in and getting that sorted, it’s all been a bit hectic. I should be free at the end of this week to start working on things. I believe we still have plenty of time.’
‘Heaps of time,’ Marcus echoed. ‘Sorry … a what?’
Phil’s head ping-ponged between the two of us.
‘I’m getting divorced,’ I grumbled. ‘Not that it’s anyone’s business.’
‘Are you okay?’ Marcus crossed his leg over his knee.
‘Like you care,’ I bit.
‘All right, you two.’ Phil flung himself forward and flashed his computer mouse about on its mat. ‘We’re going to meet next Monday morning at this time, and you’re both going to tell me what you’ve agreed on and locked in a venue. For two geniuses like yourselves, I’m sure it won’t be too hard. I want invites sent out by next Thursday. I’d do it myself, but that’s beside the point of the exercise, isn’t?’
‘Last year we used the school gymnasium,’ Marcus offered, more of a mumble than anything. ‘We could do that again. I can take Eleanor through and show her what we did last year, how everything was set up.’
Phil rested his chin in the palm of his hand and offered a happy sigh. ‘At last, a breakthrough.’
‘Wednesday right after school good for you?’ Marcus asked.
‘Me?’ I asked.
‘Yes, you.’
‘I’ll see you there.’ I stood and left the office.
* * *
‘Chairs on desks!’ I called. ‘Make sure you pick up any rubbish and toss it in the bin on the way out. Does anyone need to borrow anything before the bell?’
Too late.
The end of the day chimed loudly across the library and down corridors, only momentarily drowned out by the scuffling of rubber stops on laminate and the shuffling of shoes out the door.
‘Miss Manning, I want to borrow some books!’ Harper, who was quiet, but read books like some people ate chocolate, waved a small stack above her head.
‘Come on over!’ I enthused.
I was already in a hurry. Penny wanted to go out for dinner, Marcus wanted me to meet him in the school gymnasium, and all I wanted to do was go home, return my lawyer’s phone call, and see what the issue was. In a moment of weakness, I’d left a message on her answering machine, asking if she could try and secure my piano. Music had once been such a large part of my life and I missed it dearly.
Harper tapped on the desk and angled herself towards the computer screen while we waited for it to load.
‘The computer’s tired.’ Her feet dangled as she leaned further forward.
‘Like all of us.’ I smiled at her. ‘What are you reading this week?’
‘I have some Street Cat Named Bob.’ She presented the cover to me. ‘And The Hundred and One Dalmatians.’
‘I loved that book when I was your age.’ I flipped through the illustrations of spotted dogs, delighted when the computer screen finally came to life. ‘Do you prefer the cartoon movie, or live action?’
‘Definitely the cartoon’ she said with a heavy sigh. ‘You know, I read it last month. I liked it so much I want to read it again.’ She bounced excitedly against the counter as I scanned her school card and her books and sent her on her way for the afternoon. ‘Thank you, Miss Manning.’
‘You’re welcome!’ I called to the back of her head as she zipped out the door, backpack bouncing along behind her.
My office phone was already ringing, Mick, Roger, and Tony had already peeled through the library towards the staffroom. Tony had a question about a class set of books, but I didn’t have time to stop and chat. I promised I’d see him the next morning, grabbed my bag, threw it over my shoulder, and did the quick-step to the gymnasium.
After yanking at the door, I skipped along the small hallway and past change rooms that hadn’t been there in my time. The bounce of a ball got louder as I approached and, stepping out onto the court, I found Marcus shooting hoops on his own.
‘Sorry,’ I gasped, slightly out of breath. ‘I’m not doing this on purpose.’
Marcus passed the ball to me. ‘As much as you don’t want to talk to me, Manning, we have to do this.’
Manning? Since when had I become my last name?
‘I’m not doing this deliberately.’ My handbag slipped from my shoulder and I kicked my shoes off. ‘I had a class, one of the girls wanted to borrow books. It’s not all about you and your ambitions. I said I was sorry.’
Hands on his hips, he watched as I shuffled across the court in my socks, pulling them up with every second step I took. He lunged as I dribbled the ball past him. I ran to the other end of the court where I took a shot. It had been years since sport was something I’d practised regularly, but the instant skip in the heart was exhilarating, if only for the chance to try and show him up. My aim missed, and the ball hit the wall and rolled towards Marcus.
‘And another thing,’ I continued. ‘It’s not me ignoring you. You’ve been ignoring me.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He waited.
‘You waltz on in with your class and barely say a word to me,’ I said. ‘I have no reason to come to your classroom and interact with you, so it’s hardly fair to say this is all me.’
‘Really? Because I’m sure I tried to sit with you at lunch yesterday, and you walked away.’
‘I was done eating,’ I spat. ‘And maybe I didn’t feel like sitting with you. Maybe I’m still swamped with work.’
‘Diddums.’ He offered me a look of mock sympathy, complete with pout. ‘You know, I tried picturing you as a small child while we were getting chewed out in Phil’s office the other morning. I tried to imagine you in there being disciplined for something, but I just couldn’t.’
‘Really? Because the last time I saw the inside of that room as a kid, I’d lobbed a football through his window.’
Standing on the free throw line, trying to hold his laughter in, he took a shot. It circled the hoop and dropped in. ‘Ha!’
‘There are precisely two walking, talking Ellie archives at this school. Actually, three or four when you think about it, and you’re having trouble picturing me? You’re obviously not very good at doing your own homework, Mr Blair.’ I scooped up the ball from the floor and began dribbling away from him.
‘Really?’ He jogged towards me as I rounded the outer edge of the court, slipping past him towards the centre line.
‘C
orrect me if I’m wrong, but I’d only need to ask Patrick about you, wouldn’t I? He’s your best friend, isn’t he? I could ask him out to lunch. We could go on a date.’
‘He is,’ he deadpanned. ‘And you won’t.’
I took the shot and, laughing, thrust my hands above my head as the ball slipped straight through the centre of the hoop. ‘See, not difficult.’
Marcus snatched the ball up. ‘What if I just wanted to ask you the questions?’
‘Then open your big mouth and ask me.’ I reached for the ball, but all he had to do was hold it above his head and it was well and truly out of reach. I jumped once, and barely grazed the bottom of the ball with my fingertips. I could climb him, I thought, but that may have been a bit too close for comfort.
‘All right, smart ass. I get the ball in the hole—’
‘Don’t put balls in holes.’ I shook my head.
He grinned. ‘I get this in from here, and you answer my questions.’
‘Can we just do what we’re here to do?’ I asked. ‘I have a hot date with my cousin tonight.’
‘Look at you, living on the edge,’ Marcus teased. ‘And with your cousin. Kinky librarians.’
I watched him, arms outstretched and ball above his head, as he lined up and took the shot. The ball hit the edge of the backboard and bounced off on an angle. I jogged across the court and scooped it up before sitting on a sideline bench.
‘So, in here?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘That’s normally what we do. By the time you get parents, ex-wives, husbands, new partners, siblings, the milkman, and grandparents in, it becomes a bit of a tight fit, so it’s easier to hold the event in here. We present some awards, do a few speeches, wish the kids well, stuff everyone with cake and send them home.’
‘And that’s it, is it? All this for, “Okay, let’s hold it in here”?’
‘Pretty much,’ he said.
We sat in silence for a few moments, as close as two people could get without sitting on each other’s laps. A grey gymnastics horse, which was doing its best impersonation of an elephant, judged us silently from the corner of the room as the afternoon sun shone a warm yellow through the skylights. As our breathing slowed to normal, Marcus reached for his back pocket and produced a small white card.
‘I don’t need your business card.’ I pushed his hand away. ‘I know where to find you.’
‘Can you just look at it?’ he urged. ‘Please?’
This time, I took it and read the name aloud, ‘Sasha Sedgeman, divorce and family law.’ I offered him a confused look. ‘Why are you giving me this?’
‘She handled my divorce,’ he admitted, elbows resting on his knees. ‘It was very clean and clear-cut, and I would recommend her in a heartbeat. Not that I hope to ever have to use her again.’
I sank back into the brick wall behind me, cool relief washing over me. Or, maybe it wasn’t relief, but maybe something more like connection. Whatever it was, I continued to stare at him for a moment, at the lines and bevels of his face, the slight upturn of the nose, the crinkle of the eyes, and I wondered what was happening behind the eyes that wouldn’t meet mine.
Finally, he looked back over his shoulder at me. ‘Not that I’d care, right?’
I swallowed down my embarrassment. ‘She’s great, isn’t she?’
‘She is.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I think so,’ I answered. ‘It’ll be over soon. Friday is D Day.’
‘If you need anything, or have any questions, just ask. It won’t go anywhere.’ He zipped his mouth and tossed the invisible key. ‘Seems to be a bit of a habit for us.’
The elephant trumpeted, and we continued to ignore it. It didn’t help that I could feel the warmth of him as he pressed up against my side, or that he was close enough that I could just drop my head on his shoulder and take a quick kip. More than anything, I needed to silence the elephant, and we couldn’t go on like this if we had to organise an event.
‘I hate the word “whatever”,’ I admitted.
‘You don’t say.’
‘It was my husband’s favourite word. It was humiliating and made me feel like garbage, as if he were telling me that anything I thought didn’t matter, especially when he used it around friends.’ Admitting that felt like a weight off my shoulders, something that had been fighting for release for weeks.
‘I had a feeling there was more to the story than you were letting on,’ he said quietly.
‘You did?’
He sighed. ‘You just had this look in your eyes. You were on the verge of something but were holding back. I am so incredibly sorry. I should have been more careful with my words. It certainly wasn’t my intention to upset you.’
‘It’s fine. It’s not your fault.’ I shook my head. ‘You weren’t to know. I should have explained myself properly the other week.’
‘And you’re right. I have been avoiding you.’
I said nothing.
‘At least tell me he didn’t leave you because he thought you were boring,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘Because two boring people organising one of these things is bound to be a mess.’
‘Actually, I left him.’ I turned the card over in my hands. ‘After he slept with my best friend.’
‘He’s obviously a beacon of originality,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ I gave in and placed my head on his shoulder. ‘I’m glad I’m here. I think it was the world’s way of telling me I needed to shake things up.’
He turned his head briefly towards me. ‘That’s exactly how I felt.’
In that moment, the room felt so soft, so comforting, that the only thing I could hear was the chirping of birds outside and my heartbeat in my ears. It reminded me of summer afternoons spent bobbing about in a pool, letting the water push me along as I lay on my back.
‘You’re incredibly boring, and far too dedicated to your job. I can’t see us having children while you’re so obsessed with teaching. I need somebody fun, Marcus,’ he mimicked, spitting the last few words out like a sour lemon.
His words jumped about in my head, Scrabble letters looking for homes, and I was unsure which point to tackle first. In the space of five minutes, and with a little bit of courage, I’d uncovered a very big shared current. Even though Marcus hadn’t endeared himself to me initially, it wasn’t completely his fault if I hadn’t explained myself properly.
‘I feel like I need to point out that being a dedicated teacher is imperative in this profession, and a decent indicator of how you are with children,’ I said.
‘No,’ he gasped. ‘Surely not?’
‘One of our friends was keeping tabs on me to help them organise their rendezvous,’ I said. ‘Every time I was out for the day, especially on weekends, it was on.’
‘That explains the salty, pickled onion vibes.’
My cheek still resting on his shoulder, I laughed. ‘That’s not what you were saying the other night.’
For once, I think I’d stumped him. He bumbled about, shuffling his feet, twiddling his thumbs, but remaining resolutely silent.
‘So, is basketball your thing?’ I asked, desperately hoping to sweep any other thoughts aside.
‘Nah.’ He straightened his leg and rolled his foot about. ‘Football is more my thing.’
‘Football?’ I asked.
‘Call it a childhood fantasy come to life.’ He smiled shyly.
I groaned. ‘That’s right, Spring Carnival.’
‘I do hope my number one ticket holder will be there with bells on.’
‘Cheerleader outfit, pom-poms, and ponytails,’ I teased. ‘Got a whole routine organised.’
‘Now, why weren’t you wearing that Friday night?’ he teased.
I slapped at his chest. ‘I’m going home. Tell Phil it’s locked in.’
Chapter 11
When I was younger, I was either sitting at my grandparents’ piano, or I had my head in a book. I lived for the annual Scholastic
Book Fair, that one day of the year when my school turned into a bookstore. It was part of the school’s Spring Carnival and, each year, Dad would pack me up with a few small notes so I could wander around with a scrap of paper trying to budget in as many books as I could for my money. As an adult, it gave me life to help other kids chase the rainbow.
Organising this year’s event was the best kind of distraction when I was otherwise busy counting down the hours to my divorce. Knowing that the phone call was coming at some stage that day was surprisingly nerve-wracking, so keeping myself wildly busy helped calm that part of my brain right down to a barely audible whisper.
While others were preparing cake stalls, haunted houses, and sausage sizzles, I was wiping down tables, stacking chairs, and making sure the displays were worthy of their own social media accounts. And, yes, I slapped every available hashtag on them, too. As it turned out, chasing the high of the Book Fair was an old habit that died hard – and for some parents, too.
All it took was one, just the one parent, to break the levy. It was the 8.15 a.m. ‘Can I just come and browse?’ that led to sales, orders, and look-up requests from past catalogues after Little Kimmy flushed her much-loved copy of The 13-Storey Treehouse. I wasn’t complaining, not by a long stretch. Also, the Treehouse books were great.
Classes began filtering through from the first morning bell. Younger grades first, much the same was as it had happened for me. Get them in early, then get them out to enjoy the carnival atmosphere before the older kids came in and crushed them.
A huge part of the carnival was the interschool friendly football match. Teachers from both our school and the local P-12 College, a new school up in the hills, pitched a team. Locals came to watch for a gold coin donation, and the proceeds were split between the two schools.
‘Is this a big deal?’ I asked. ‘The game, I mean.’
Penny answered with a delighted laugh. She’d rung to confirm my place at the Annual Football Picnic. Did I want to join other teachers and spectators in watching upwards of thirty teachers run around, some of them in short shorts? Late-night memories of Marcus didn’t need highlighting or adding to, especially when I was trying to forget all about him, but there were a whole lot of other men to look at. In particular, teachers not from our school, so I promised myself I’d keep my eyes on them instead.
Lessons in Love Page 10