by Gemma Rogers
She’d never missed a curfew or failed to let us know where she was, but she was always glued to the stupid thing. It was like an obsession and David and I regularly commented that we would have to get it surgically removed from her hand. We had a no-tech rule after eight at night, if anything to give her eyes a rest. The phone was placed outside her bedroom door and not to be touched until morning. David regularly checked her apps for anything untoward; he was much more clued up on it than I was.
‘Sure, I’ll drop you into Crawley and see what your dad has planned, otherwise I might do a bit of shopping too.’
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. ‘This isn’t one of those times where you stalk me around the shopping centre, is it? Mum, I’m trying really hard to make new friends and fit in and if they see you creeping about everyone will take the… mickey.’
I laughed, unable to get my head around the fact that I was now the embarrassing parent. I still felt like a teenager myself most of the time.
‘No, of course not, you won’t see me, I promise. Do you need any money for tomorrow?’ Charlotte shrugged, her focus back on her phone.
I gave her twenty pounds when we pulled up onto the driveway and agreed to drop her to the large shopping centre at ten the next morning.
David was still at work, an unread text on my phone to say he would be late home. I asked Charlotte if she fancied a takeaway and was met with a loud shriek, so I ordered pizza. It took ages to arrive but was worth the wait. We couldn’t manage an extra-large pizza between us, so there were leftovers for David.
I sent him a text to let him know and he replied to say thanks, then announced he was going to play golf tomorrow with his boss. Seconds later, another text came through asking if minded. I didn’t have much choice by the sound of it. Sunday would fly by with chores, and the plans I’d made in my head of spending some of the weekend unpacking now looked unlikely. The house would remain unfinished for another week.
When Charlotte appeared the following morning, I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. She looked grown-up in high-waisted jeans and a pretty, embroidered off-the-shoulder top which only just reached her belly button. Her face, however, was plastered with make-up and I couldn’t stop myself intervening.
‘Charlotte, why don’t you let me do your make-up? You look like it’s wearing you, not the other way around,’ I said gently.
Charlotte blinked back tears and I cringed inwardly at my clumsy words. She hardly ever wore make-up, but it was obvious she had a new group of friends that did. I kicked myself that I’d never given her any tips.
‘I can straighten your hair too if you like, we’ve got time,’ I offered.
Charlotte had David’s dark wavy hair, which she hated, so she softened at this and trudged upstairs to the bathroom.
I started with Charlotte’s caked on make-up and once I had removed a lot of the excess with cotton pads, she looked much better. I added a bit of blusher and, after wiping away the thick black eyeliner, used some brown instead to frame her hazel eyes. It didn’t look so harsh. I straightened Charlotte’s long hair next, leaving it sleek with a few curls at the bottom.
She beamed at her reflection in the mirror and gave me a hug to say thank you. It was such a rare occurrence these days, I had to turn my face away, eyes pricking with tears. I squeezed my daughter tight. She was growing up too fast, fifteen already, but I longed to hold on to my little girl forever.
We were running out of time, so I threw on my favourite indigo jeans, and a crisp white shirt. Slipping my feet into ballet pumps, I grabbed the recycling to put in the garage on the way out. Charlotte jumped in my car on the driveway and I pressed the key fob to raise the garage door. When I lifted the lid of the bin to dump the collection of bottles and cans, I spied David’s golf clubs tucked in the corner. If he hadn’t taken his clubs today, then whose was he playing with?
I swallowed, my mouth filling up with saliva. A wave of nausea washed over me. Was he really playing golf?
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and composed a text to David.
Round the course yet?
‘Mum, come on, we’ll be late,’ Charlotte called, interrupting my thoughts.
I pushed down my uneasy feeling and hurried to the car, not wanting Charlotte to see my trembling hands.
In the middle of Crawley town centre was a large shopping centre and I parked in the multi-storey. Charlotte was meeting her friends outside Boots which was on the ground floor. I left her there to wait for them and made her promise to text me once they’d arrived. I wandered into Debenhams, loving the selection of brands in one store: Principles, Coast, John Rocha, and spent the next hour trying on various items, including a purple wrap dress, a pale blue pleated skirt and a pair of shoes. All of which found their way into my basket.
I reasoned if I was going to be left to my own devices, I couldn’t be held responsible for the spending. I felt a pang in my chest when I saw a mustard coat that Stella would love. We’d spend hours shopping, laughing our way around the department stores, trying on whatever we fancied. It wasn’t the same alone. If she was here, I’d be able to tell her about the golf clubs. I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I could ring her, of course, but I wanted to give David the benefit of the doubt before I threw him under the bus. Plus, Stella loved David and I was sure she’d come up with all sorts of reasons why he may have left his clubs at home.
I wandered into the underwear section; it was all so pretty, pastel green and peach, polka dots in pink and cream lace. I felt like a kid in a sweetshop, unable to remember the last time I bought something other than a functional T-shirt bra. Perhaps this was what I needed to inject some passion back into my marriage? I picked up a powder blue lace balcony bra and matching knickers and headed into the changing room.
When I finally left Debenhams, it was nearly lunchtime and I’d spent almost two hundred pounds. I hadn’t bought myself anything in such a long time, I didn’t feel guilty. Continuing on my splurge, I booked a hair appointment at a salon called Rush, just outside of the centre, one that Susan had recommended. My bob was growing out and the greys were peeking through.
Afterwards, my stomach twinged, so I headed back inside the centre and up the escalator to the top floor, where the food court was. When I got to the top, I perused the various options: Burger King, jacket potatoes, and noodles. I couldn’t face any more fast food and by chance saw an outlet advertising baguettes and paninis towards the end of the food court. I ordered a sundried tomato and mozzarella panini and Diet Coke before heading to a corner. The food court was packed, there were hardly any free tables, but I lingered and managed to grab one that had just been vacated.
I unwrapped the panini, steam still rising from the filling and checked my phone. I wanted to see if David had text me back. No texts. Where was he?
I saw in my peripheral vision a pair of beige desert boots approaching my table.
‘Hello, Miss. Mind if I join you?’
I looked up to see Nicky looming over me, a wrapped panini in one hand.
8
‘I’m not sure about this, Nicky,’ I said weakly. I felt my lungs tighten, the panic beginning to rise. My heart grew louder as though someone was turning a dial. It was one thing bumping into a student, but what if someone saw us having lunch together?
‘You worry too much, Miss, what’s the worst that can happen?’ he said, as he slid into the chair opposite.
I shivered at the proximity. He smelt deliciously fresh; a scent that made me think of days spent on the beach at the Witterings. Family days with David and Charlotte. What if she saw us eating together? She was in the centre somewhere with her friends.
Nicky noticed me surveying the faces in the crowd, looking for another free table I could vacate to. The place was rammed. Was it so bad to sit together? What harm could it do?
‘You don’t need to keep watch, Miss.’ I winced, my eyes glancing to the next table, wondering if they’d heard Nicky refer to me as Miss? It was awkward enough
bumping into students outside of school without being addressed so formally.
‘Stop calling me Miss, please, call me Izzy. Obviously at school you’ll still have to call me Miss though.’ I almost said Mrs Cole but for some reason I stopped myself.
‘OK, Izzy, it’s a nice name, short for Isabel I’m guessing?’ he said, taking a small bite of his cheese and ham panini.
I nodded, mine was still too hot. I felt the urge to drum my fingers on the table but distracted myself by tapping my foot instead. I hated having to explain my compulsion to others, most of them looked at me like I was a freak.
‘So, did you get the football boots?’ I asked, remembering our conversation from yesterday and wanting to try and keep the situation as normal as possible.
Nicky shook his head. ‘No not yet, I’ve been at football practice this morning, and I coach the under eights afterwards, so I’ve only just got here. I see you’ve had quite a trip so far though.’ He leaned over and eyed the large Debenhams carrier bag by my feet. It was wide open, and the new blue lace underwear sat right at the top of the bag in full view.
I gasped and pushed the bag under the table out of sight, feeling my face glow crimson.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,’ he said, biting his lip. I watched his complexion redden as he leaned forward and briefly touched my forearm before I pulled away.
I willed my face to resume its normal pallor, which was intensely difficult especially as a second ago he’d touched me like it was the most normal thing in the world.
‘It’s fine,’ was all I could manage and, not knowing what else to do, I took a bite of my panini and sat chewing. The filling scorched the roof of my mouth as my tapping foot went into overdrive.
We sat in silence for a minute, concentrating on our lunch. I struggled to meet his eyes. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Our meeting had been awkward to say the least without him having seen my new underwear to add to it. The panini was difficult to chew. Nicky’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
‘He’s a lucky man,’ Nicky whispered, eyes lowered to the table.
‘Who?’ I choked out, stifling a cough.
‘The man you’ve bought underwear for.’ Any hope I’d had of my face returning to normal went out the window as I felt the flames beneath my skin rise up again.
Nicky met my eye with a genuine smile before looking away. Our eating lunch together no longer felt harmless.
I shook my head, I’d made a mistake. Jumping up to leave, I knocked the table with my thigh. The half-eaten panini still in its wrapper on the table.
As I gathered my bags, Nicky grabbed my wrist to stop me, his fingers hot against my skin.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m not quite sure what’s happening here, but you are a student and I am also happily married,’ I said, wrenching my arm out of his grip, tiny blotches remaining where his fingers had been.
I strode away without looking back. Had I overreacted? I didn’t know but I felt foolish, I was the adult after all, I should have known better. I should have gone with my gut and asked him to sit somewhere else.
I drove straight home after my encounter with Nicky and had to go back out again to collect Charlotte from the cinema. The group of girls had been to see a comedy called Good Boys, all of them managing to get in the fifteen rating. By all accounts, Charlotte had had a fun afternoon with her new friends. I felt relieved she’d had a good time and seemed to be fitting in. They seemed like a nice crowd and I was glad it wasn’t something I’d have to worry about with everything else going on.
David came home for dinner, although he declared he wasn’t hungry. He and the boss had been out for lunch after their round of golf. I prickled at his hug and he asked me what was wrong.
‘Did you not get my text?’ I asked.
‘It came through on the way home. I was driving.’
‘I saw your clubs in the garage. How did you manage to play without them?’
‘Yeah, I completely forgot to take them, but Patrick had a spare set.’ He didn’t hesitate to answer, and I didn’t hear his voice waver at all. If he was lying, he was convincing. I narrowed my eyes, something didn’t sit right.
When he went upstairs to have a shower, I picked up his phone, staring at the blank screen. Did I want to do this? Break the trust by going through his things? I knew it was crossing a line, but I had to know what he was up to or whether I was going mad. I unlocked the screen, grateful the passcode hadn’t been changed and was still the last four digits of his parents’ old home phone number. There was nothing to note in his messages or emails and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I looked at a few other apps but just as I was about end my search, I had an idea. I clicked on the FindMyPhone app, a default app that is preloaded on all iPhones. I tapped Share My Location and selected my telephone number as the person to share it with. I closed down the app, hoping David wouldn’t notice I could now trace him. We’d made sure we both had access to Charlotte’s location as soon as she was given David’s old phone. He’d shown me how to activate it, I wouldn’t have had a clue otherwise. I was probably overreacting, blowing things out of proportion but now I’d know if David wasn’t where he said he was.
On Sunday, I got up early and spent the day indoors, managing to finish the unpacking from the move. There were some decorative jobs David and I wanted done. Parts of the reclaimed oak flooring needed sanding and the butler sink in the kitchen was slightly stained, but the official move was complete. I’d overestimated what we had left to do as a lot had to go into the loft and the empty boxes were now neatly stacked in the utility room waiting to be collected.
Charlotte met up with Amy again, but this time they hung out in Starbucks. Apparently, this was something teenagers did now, which had bypassed me altogether. When I was the same age, it was a bottle of cider at the local park, snuck in after dark. So I was glad Charlotte was settling down; she seemed calmer since meeting Amy. Her new friends at St. Wilfred’s were having a positive effect and I couldn’t deny I was relieved. I didn’t want her to be as wayward as I was, and it was important to me that she felt we were a team at home.
As we’d barely spent any time together as a family over the weekend, we all decided to go for a Chinese on Sunday night. It was a cuisine we all enjoyed and our local one was only a ten-minute walk away. It turned out to be a pleasant evening, as we sat around the table feeling content. The mood was buoyant, even Charlotte laughed at David’s awful dad jokes, but inside there was a knot in the pit of my stomach.
My run-in with Nicky was niggling at me, as it had done, in truth, since I’d left him on Saturday. With the start of the school week approaching, I felt on edge at the prospect of seeing him again. I could have handled things better, not run away like a coward. I found his intense stare overwhelming; attention wasn’t something I was used to receiving. When I’d returned home from the shopping centre, the house had been empty, and I’d stuffed my underwear purchases under the bed. Even though they were a gift for myself and no one else, I’d been unable to look at them since. They were a reminder of an uncomfortable situation that I felt foolish for running away from.
That night I laid in bed, drumming my fingers on the side of the mattress in time with David’s snoring, anticipating seeing Nicky the following day. I wasn’t sure why I was anxious; he was only a boy, and nothing had happened. I probably wouldn’t even see him until the creative writing class on Friday, if he wasn’t too embarrassed to attend, but when Monday came, it seemed Nicky was everywhere I went.
After form room, I visited the school library looking for a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets and saw him, head bowed, searching the bookshelves at the far end of the room. I froze, watching him run his finger across the spines, brow furrowed, searching for something in particular. Should I leave? Scurry away unseen? Watching him deliberate between two books, the concentration apparent in his eyes, it hit me that he was just a student. I had nothing to feel apprehensive about. W
rapping my arms around myself I slipped into the adjacent aisle. It was a good opportunity to clear the air. We were two of four people in the library: Thomas the librarian, and another student at one of the tables, copying sections of text from a book the size of War and Peace.
I crept down the aisle until I was directly opposite and able to see him through the gaps in the shelves. Lines were apparent on his normally smooth forehead and he chewed his lip as he concentrated on reading the titles. I kept my voice low so I wouldn’t be heard by the others.
‘Hi,’ I whispered, clearing my throat when he didn’t look up straight away.
He frowned at me through the space above the books, his expression pinched. Without a word, he lowered his eyes, continuing the search.
I rubbed my clammy palms on my trousers.
‘I’m sorry,’ I continued, figuring it was the best place to start.
Nicky’s shoulders slumped, his bravado slipping for a second.
‘I should be sorry, but, it’s just, you know… you can’t blame me for trying,’ he breathed.
I shook my head, unable to comprehend his audacity.
‘I lost track of time, had to rush to pick up Charlotte.’ The lie came easily, covering my embarrassment for running away and not dealing with the situation at the time.
‘I see,’ he said, lifting his chin. He seemed to see straight through me.
‘How about we start again?’ I offered, unsure whether to state the obvious, that I was married and unavailable, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to say the words. I was assuming that he was interested in me, sure he was flirting, but maybe I’d made a mistake in thinking it was anything more?