Reckless

by Gemma Rogers

  ‘Where did you play?’

  I felt David’s arms stiffen for a second.

  ‘Peacehaven.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you had fun,’ I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  David sighed and gave up on his apology, returning to the front room.

  Monday came around again all too soon, but I leapt out of bed when the alarm went off. At least I could keep myself busy, my mind away from home. Our anniversary was on Thursday and I was waiting to see if David would remember. I’d already bought him a card and a sixteen-year-old bottle of single-malt whisky to match our sixteen-year anniversary and hidden them away in my wardrobe.

  I immersed myself in my lessons and Mr Scott paused to watch, eyebrows raised, when he walked past and saw my year nines acting a scene from Macbeth. I’d used my free hour to borrow some costumes from the drama department and print out a scene for a small group to act out. It was a great way to get them to understand the text. Most of them loved it as it was unusual for them to be so active in an English lesson.

  At lunchtime, I had some marking to do so stayed in my classroom whilst I ate a sandwich. Matilda popped her head around the door, an earnest smile spread across her face.

  ‘Knock,’ she said jovially.

  I smiled and waved her in, still chewing.

  ‘Hi, how are you?’

  Matilda perched on the edge of a desk; folders clutched to her chest. Her style was so eccentric, I loved it. She wore her purple Doc Martens with black leggings, a tie-dye tunic and chunky beaded necklace. ‘Good thanks, just checking you’re OK as you weren’t in the staffroom.’

  I lifted the pile of marking, rolling my eyes.

  ‘I’ve got so much marking today, I thought I’d try and get ahead. Still on for a curry this week?’ I asked.

  ‘Absolutely, I think Susan should be too. Wednesday work for you?’

  I nodded enthusiastically. I was looking forward to it.

  Matilda stood and headed for the door.

  ‘Oh, by the way, you’re popular today,’ she said.

  I frowned, no idea what she meant.

  ‘Go and take a look at your car,’ she said with a chuckle as she left.

  I snatched my keys out of my handbag and hurried out of the building towards the car park. My car looked normal from a distance, but I could only see the rear as I’d parked forward facing. When I got around to the front, there was a small posy of flowers tucked underneath one of my window wipers. A pretty arrangement of carnations and gerberas in pink and orange. A card hidden in the middle of the display.

  I looked around the car park before opening it, my ears growing hot. Who had given me flowers?

  The card had one solitary word: Sorry

  I assumed they were from David, although receiving flowers on my car was odd – surely, he would have sent them to our home or to the school office? Either way, it was a lovely gesture and I felt a warm glow spread through me as I carried them back to the classroom, lifting the bouquet to smell the flowers as I walked. Smiling to myself, I glanced over to the tennis court and spotted Nicky. Something about his stance made me stop in my tracks. Pressed against the wire fence, fingers curled through the gaps, he stared openly in my direction. The flowers weren’t from David at all.

  I looked around and could see no one watching, so raised the flowers slightly and nodded towards them in a questioning gesture I hoped he would be able to see. He gave a distinctive nod and my stomach plummeted. I dropped the flowers to my side, holding them by the stems so the blooms were upside down, petals fluttering to the ground as I walked. Intending to throw them into the nearest bin.

  I glared at Nicky, although there was probably too much distance between us to see the irritation written on my face. He clearly wasn’t getting the message.

  11

  On Tuesday, I didn’t see Nicky out of the window at break time and he was nowhere to be seen when the sixth-formers had their PE lesson in the tennis court. The day was uneventful and after netball practice, Charlotte went back to Amy’s house. Louise was going to drop her home later, so I took the opportunity and went for a swim. I hadn’t had the chance to go after work the day before as I’d been cornered by Mr Scott who’d wanted to hear all about the creative writing club and by the time I’d shown him some of the planned assignments, it was gone four.

  Halfway through my target of forty lengths, I paused to have a breather at the pool’s edge. Squeezing the water out of my hair, I took off my goggles and wiped under my eyes in the hope my mascara hadn’t run too much. A group of boys at the deep end were throwing each other around and hooting. I froze when I realised Nicky was one of them, the cold water disguising the goosebumps that had appeared on my arms. He caught my eye and smiled before I looked away. He didn’t seem surprised I was there. Had he followed me here?

  No, why would he do that?

  I sank lower in the water until it covered my shoulders. He wouldn’t come over, would he? In my swimsuit, I felt naked and exposed.

  Trying to ignore the raucousness at the other end of the pool, I carried on with my lengths, failing to keep count, distracted every time he was in my field of vision. When he climbed out of the pool, his green shorts clinging to his thighs, I faltered, swallowing water and coughing as I reached the side. His shoulders were broad, and his smooth chest defined. Lean and toned, the sprouting body hair and middle-aged paunch still a couple of decades away. He towered above his friends by at least a foot.

  When I finished spluttering, I stretched my arms and back, unable to tear my eyes away as Nicky rinsed himself in the poolside showers. He knew I could see him; I was sure of it, deliberately running his hands across his skin in a show meant for me. Then he was gone, headed for the changing rooms, without a single glance in my direction.

  I felt my jaw tighten, my molars clenching as I threw myself into another ten lengths, trying to banish the inappropriate thoughts swarming around my head. Had David ever looked like that? Maybe when we first met, but, to be honest, I couldn’t remember it. I had to concede Nicky was handsome. He knew it though. I could tell in the way he carried himself.

  When I’d left it long enough to be sure he’d gone, I got out of the pool, turning my shower to as cold as I could stand.

  David wasn’t home when I walked through the door, but Charlotte’s school shoes had been discarded in the hallway, so I knew she’d been dropped off already. It would have been nice to have the house to myself. I was worried my improper thoughts of Nicky, his green shorts clinging to him, would be written all over my face. My cheeks reddened as the image filled my mind and I shook my head to clear it.

  In the kitchen, Charlotte hovered over a saucepan bubbling away on the hob. I lay my handbag on the worktop, looking around in awe. Eyes wide, I surveyed the scene: the table was set, napkins and wine glasses had been put out as though it was a special occasion.

  ‘I thought I’d make a start and surprise you,’ Charlotte said, bouncing from foot to foot.

  ‘I am surprised,’ I replied, my voice high-pitched. I squeezed Charlotte to me and kissed the top of her head before she could wriggle away. ‘What are we having?’

  ‘Spaghetti and Caesar salad, is that OK?’ Charlotte asked, chewing her lip.

  A warm glow swept through me. She was growing up too fast. I nodded, wondering if I was being buttered up for something.

  ‘Need any help?’ I asked but was shot a withering look and waved out of the kitchen.

  David strutted in, a triumphant smile on his face, announcing himself loudly. Perhaps he thought we should be grateful he’d made it home for dinner? I nodded at him as we passed and took my wet things upstairs.

  From the bathroom, I could hear David and Charlotte talking. He sounded as surprised as I was that Charlotte was cooking dinner, although the menu might cause him to moan later when we were alone. David was like a caveman and any meal without meat was disagreeable.

  I heard his footsteps on the stairs and busied myself emptyi
ng the washing basket. He leaned through the door to the bathroom. The smell of his new aftershave still fresh, like he’d not long applied it.

  ‘How was your day?’ he asked and kissed my cheek.

  I felt myself stiffen at his touch. I couldn’t help it. Everything about David annoyed me at the moment. It was irrational, but his voice, his face, his mannerisms, all got my back up. An image of Nicky’s smooth chest invaded my mind and I pushed it away.

  ‘Fine. Remember you need to be home by seven tomorrow, I’m going out for a curry with a couple of the teachers.’

  He stared at me blankly and I sighed. I wasn’t sure why I’d expected him to remember.

  ‘I did tell you. Matilda and Susan… The art and maths teachers,’ I said, waiting for the penny to drop.

  David shrugged but nodded; I knew he didn’t recall the conversation. He didn’t remember anything outside of his own bubble.

  ‘Sure, it’s fine, I’ll make sure I’m here.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I replied flatly. My knight in bloody shining armour.

  His phone started to ring, and he turned away to answer it. I leaned in, to try and gauge who was on the other end. I was expecting a woman, but I heard a male voice asking David about derivatives. Had I got it wrong? I’d overanalysed before, thinking something was wrong when it wasn’t. Was I putting two and two together and making five? My anxiety didn’t help, my mind would go into overdrive and I’d conjure up all sorts of scenarios. None of which were likely in reality. But something had definitely changed. Perhaps I needed to bite the bullet and initiate some intimacy between us again. Normally a good tumble between the sheets would sort things, but I was about as enthusiastic about that as I was the weekly food shop.

  That night, I climbed on top of him before he could give me an excuse and it wasn’t long before he was hard and inside me. I closed my eyes and moved rhythmically. David was groaning beneath me, but I was going through the motions. I leant forward and kissed him, pushing my tongue into his mouth, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t get into it. After ten minutes, I began to move faster, knowing David wouldn’t be able to hold off for long. When he was done, I locked myself in the en suite and sat on the toilet, shielding my eyes from the bright light. My mind whirred, thoughts of David with another women forced their way into my head and a crushing sensation enveloped my chest.

  ‘You OK?’ David whispered through the door.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I replied, as light-heartedly as I could manage. I emerged to muffled snores and resorted to earphones when I got into bed, hoping my audiobook would drown him out.

  The next morning, standing in front of the mirror, I struggled to choose my clothes, eventually deciding on the blue pleated skirt. The sun was shining, and it looked like a nice day ahead. I matched it with a cream blouse and heels. A slick of cherry lipstick finished the look.

  Charlotte commented on how nice I looked as we got into the car. She seemed happier since the move, likely due to her blossoming friendship with Amy. A different child to the one who was struggling to fit into the crowd in London. The one that was too easily led, too eager to please her friends and do anything to look cool. Receiving a genuine smile from her was so good to see and I didn’t feel like I was the enemy any more.

  Amy came to meet Charlotte in the car park. She was a pretty girl with long mousy-coloured hair and a large mouth which was almost always formed into a smile.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Cole,’ she said brightly, looping her arm through Charlotte’s.

  ‘Morning, Amy. You must come over for dinner this week if you’re free, or next week. Let Charlotte know what day is best for you and we’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Thanks, Miss.’

  The girls turned and walked towards the playground.

  ‘Have a good day,’ I called after them as I watched them whispering conspiratorially. Oh, to be that age again, young and carefree where your troubles were no more than studying for your GCSEs and which boy you fancied.

  The first lesson of the day was A-Level Literature; they were studying Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. It was one of my favourites, so a pleasant class to teach. The sixth-formers were all keen and listened intently. It was a different feel in the classroom altogether to a younger age group. The students had chosen English Literature, so they wanted to be there.

  I looked around the room, well over half of the class were girls, aged sixteen to seventeen. My thoughts turned to Nicky, as they had done much of last night. These were the girls he would be dating. There were some pretty ones too and I was sure he would be able to take his pick; or maybe he already had? He could have been out with every girl in the room for all I knew. I bit down on my molars, jaw clenched tight, wondering why the thought unsettled me.

  When lunchtime arrived, I wolfed down half a sandwich and went outside for playground duty. The sun was warm, but there was a cool breeze which kept catching my skirt, pressing it against my legs as I walked. I moved in a loop of the grounds, leaving the tennis courts until last, walking straight past the boys playing football, smiling as I went.

  Nicky stepped out from behind a striker, our eyes meeting before my attention was caught by a group of year eleven girls. One of them swearing, hands gesticulating at the other. I intervened and she apologised without argument.

  In my peripheral vision, I could see Nicky waiting to catch my attention, but I pretended I hadn’t seen him and carried on walking; stopping to talk to a group of girls sitting on the grass nearby. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw he was still there, brow furrowed.

  I didn’t want to interact with him, it was best to ignore the attention. I tapped my fingers against my thigh, counting to four in my head, over and over again, as I carried on walking, leaving Nicky behind.

  12

  I had some marking to do when I got home before I got ready for my evening with Matilda and Susan. I’d prepared a lasagne, which was in the oven ready to go for Charlotte and David to share, and was watching the minutes tick by on the clock in the kitchen. Had he forgotten our conversation?

  I opened and shut the dishwasher door. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. My stomach fizzed with anger. I hated being late. Charlotte was old enough to be left by herself, but if I could avoid it, I did.

  David walked in at five to seven, muttering an apology that the traffic was awful, and I left as soon as he arrived, barely acknowledging him. Turning the radio up in my car, it felt good to be out, the sun was sinking slowly, but the wind from earlier had dropped. I arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes later, the traffic was unusually heavy for the time of day.

  Our table had been booked for seven thirty and I was the first to arrive. I was shown to our seats and offered a drink. The restaurant was called Cinnamon and had blacked-out windows, so you weren’t unable to see inside from the street. The interior décor was a dusky pink with minimal lighting and soothing Bangalore music played in the background. Matilda had recommended the restaurant and when her and Susan arrived ten minutes later, the gentleman who was front of house welcomed them like they were old friends.

  ‘Hello, ladies, welcome back – usual?’

  Matilda and Susan nodded, pointing in my direction and the waiter began to make their drinks. The restaurant was over half full, which was always a good sign midweek.

  ‘Hi, Izzy,’ Susan said and leaned awkwardly over the table to give me a hug as I stood. She looked glamourous in black trousers and a sequin embellished blouse. Matilda had toned down the colour combination for the evening, choosing red, in various shades, from top to bottom. The Doc Martens had been switched for red suede pumps.

  ‘I feel like I’m being interviewed again.’ I beamed at them across the table as they sat side by side.

  ‘Well, we’d have you wouldn’t we, Susan?’ Matilda exclaimed.

  The waiter arrived with their drinks, a tonic water for Susan and a pint of Cobra for Matilda.

  ‘Cheers,’ Matilda said, raising her glass, and w
e followed suit.

  A basket of poppadoms arrived at our table and my stomach growled appreciatively. We gave our main course order to the waiter and dug in.

  ‘So, how are you settling in to your new home?’ Susan asked as she spooned some mango chutney onto her plate.

  ‘Great, I love it. The house is bigger than we had before, so I have lots of furniture shopping to do, but it’s beautiful. We lived in a more modern house before, but I fell in love with the cottage in Rusper on sight. It’s so homely and the area seems nice.’

  ‘It’s lovely down that way, I used to ride horses there many moons ago,’ Susan chipped in.

  ‘How are you finding St. Wilfred’s?’ Matilda asked as I snapped a piece of poppadom and put it in my mouth.

  ‘Kids are nice, and obviously the staff too. I think it was a good move,’ I replied once I’d finished my mouthful.

  Matilda told me she’d been at St. Wilfred’s for five years and Susan even longer. It had changed so much apparently in the last two years, since Mr Scott had been appointed head teacher. Previously he had taught English, so it was his favourite subject.

  ‘I didn’t know that, so is that how the position came up? Did he move into the head teacher role?’

  Matilda shook her head mid-mouthful and Susan leaned forward to whisper.

  ‘The last teacher left in a hurry.’ Her eyebrows lifted so high, I thought they might disappear beneath her hairline.

  I mirrored Susan and leant closer, keen to hear what was not to be overhead by the other diners.

  ‘Apparently she had an affair with one of the pupils,’ Matilda hissed.

  I froze, the blood draining from my face. I took a long sip of my lemonade before asking, ‘Who with?’