by Gemma Rogers
I winced as I knocked my knee on the car door and swore loudly before checking no one was around to hear me. I opened and closed the door four times, then pressed the key fob another four times. Locking and unlocking, locking and unlocking. My anxiety peaked. I had to regain control. I concentrated on counting the days left, until half-term.
I had a year ten class first thing and we’d reached a pivotal moment where we would be reading the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. The children giggled and it helped to laugh along with them. Trying to explain love to fourteen-year-olds was surreal. Some of them thought they already knew, holding hands in the playground and snogging behind the bike sheds. I didn’t tell them it was only the practice run before they were let loose in the big wide world to get their hearts broken a few times before they found ‘the one’. I certainly couldn’t claim to be an expert on the subject now.
I got through my lessons fine, not daring to switch on the Motorola. I was still too angry to speak to Nicky. We were done. I sought refuge in the staffroom, chatting to Matilda and Susan about their walking holiday in the Lake District booked for half-term next week, which had crept up on us all. Neither of them were married, they had no ties and walking was something they both enjoyed. Susan said that as it was out of season, the holiday was relatively cheap, but they were expecting to have to rough it.
‘We’ve got lots of jumpers and waterproofs, just the walking boots to buy now,’ Matilda said. I could do with a break from life to walk until my feet ached and my head was empty. Susan wanted to curtail lunch, as she had an inspector sitting in on her next lesson.
Most of the teachers were on edge throughout the day, and it showed. Mr Collins, who was usually scruffy, wore an ironed shirt and a bow tie. He jumped ten feet in the air when I knocked on his classroom door to see if the inspectors had been in to see him yet.
One came to me during my final lesson, taking in the classroom and chatting to twelve-year-old Henry, who I’d strategically seated at the front of the class. He was the most articulate boy I’d ever taught, with a limitless passion for reading. I felt like the visit had gone well.
When school finished, I waited for Charlotte to come to my classroom and when she finally arrived, ten minutes after the bell, we drove home. The car park by then was empty and most of the pupils had left for the day. I needed to plan what I was going to teach in my creative writing class the following day. I’d not been on top of it and I felt a twinge in my side at the thought of seeing Nicky.
That morning David had left a note to say he would be home late as he had a video conference with the States again. I hoped that was the case as I couldn’t know for sure. I cooked sausage and mash for dinner, and we ate in front of the television for a change.
Whenever it was just the two of us, I tried to make the effort to watch a movie together or a programme of Charlotte’s choosing. It was lovely to spend a bit of time together. She had two episodes of Love Island season two recorded and we watched them together. I had no idea how raunchy it was, parts were difficult to watch with Charlotte beside me and we both squirmed in our seats a few times.
‘Is this what all of your friends watch?’ I asked, sipping a glass of wine I’d poured, whilst Charlotte fast-forwarded through the break.
‘Yep, it’s so addictive Mum. Everyone loves it. All the men are fit, and some of the girls are proper skanky,’ Charlotte said, absent-mindedly twisting her hair around her finger. It was refreshing to see the double standards were still in full force.
After the second episode was finished, it was approaching ten o’clock and Charlotte and I headed upstairs to bed. I put on my nightie and cleaned my teeth but didn’t feel overly tired. I read some of my book and lay there tossing and turning for around twenty minutes before going downstairs to get a drink. I stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil when the sensor light came on in the back garden and there was Nicky illuminated outside the conservatory door. His scowling face pressed up against the glass. I nearly dropped my mug, catching it as it slipped from my fingers.
He waved and beckoned me outside as I stared, open-mouthed, at the figure looking in. I drew open the patio door, immediately hearing the tapping of rain on the conservatory roof. Unlocking the back door, I pulled it open and, before I could object, Nicky stepped inside, wiping the rain from his face.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ His eyes roamed my body as though he could see beneath the flimsy nightie.
‘What are you doing here?’ I hissed, looking over my shoulder, but the house was dark and quiet.
‘I wanted to see you. Where have you been hiding?’ He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him.
‘Nicky, you have to leave. I told you, it’s over.’
‘You don’t mean it.’ His brow furrowed and he looked almost menacing.
I stepped back out of his reach, crossing my arms over my chest, my flesh a mass of goosebumps. The freezing night air seeped in.
‘I do. I told you. Is that why you gave Charlotte a lift home? Trying to get at me?’
Nicky shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. ‘I thought I was being nice.’
‘Stay away from my daughter, Nicky,’ I warned. My voice sharper than I’d intended. I had to get him to leave. David could come home at any time.
Narrowing his eyes, he stepped towards me, closing the gap between us. I had to force myself not to take a step back. Refusing to be intimidated. This was my house and even though he towered above me, I didn’t waver. Not even when he slipped his hands around my neck.
I tilted my chin up in defiance, even though my knees trembled. The chill in the conservatory leaching to my skin. My insides were like ice and I desperately tried not to flinch as he stroked my collarbone, eyes piercing mine.
‘Are you going to give me detention, Miss?’ he whispered in my ear, trailing his hand down my side and across my behind, taking his time to feel the slippery material of my nightie in between his fingers.
I pushed his hand away and slapped his face. The sound of my palm on his skin echoed against the glass. I recoiled straight away, unable to believe my kneejerk reaction. I clutched my hand, palm stinging, I’d never hit anyone before, but Nicky had the ability to push my buttons.
‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ His lip curled back into a snarl.
I’d overstepped the mark. I could feel myself shaking.
‘Get out.’ The tremor apparent in my voice.
Pulling open the back door, Nicky didn’t take his eyes off me as he stepped out into the garden. The cold air blasted in and I shivered, feeling exposed in my nightie. He let out a mirthless laugh and disappeared into the darkness, out of range of the security light.
How had he got in the back garden? Had he jumped over the back gate? It was always locked at night. What was he doing here, prowling around the house, under the cover of darkness, trying to find a way inside? I shuddered. He was dangerous and unpredictable; I’d been naive, swept along by our affair, choosing not to see what was right in front of me.
I resolved to tell Stella everything when she arrived tomorrow. She would know what to do.
I locked the conservatory door and then the French doors before creeping upstairs, spending ten minutes peeking through my curtains to ensure no one was loitering outside in the shadows before I worked up the nerve to climb into bed. I no longer felt safe in my own home.
25
I woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and patting the mattress beside me as though David was hiding beneath the sheet. A nightmare that Nicky had crept in during the night had left a cold sheen upon my skin. The bed was empty, but as soon as I opened the bedroom door, I was reassured by the loud snoring which came from below.
David must have come home so late he’d crashed on the sofa, a half-full glass of bourbon on the floor. I picked it up and took it to the sink to pour away. Charlotte was already dressed and eating breakfast at the table. She nodded a greeting, as if it was a game to use the
least amount of words possible in the morning.
I toasted a bagel and ate it as I put together my lunch box for the day. Charlotte had school dinners, so I didn’t need to worry about her, but I slipped an apple into her bag anyway, in case she got hungry.
‘I’m picking Stella up after school, she’s coming to stay for the weekend. I bet she can’t wait to see you,’ I said, feeling the ball of excitement growing already at seeing my best friend. ‘Will you be OK to get the bus as she’s not coming in until five? I’ve got Creative Writing.’
Charlotte muttered it was fine and carried on spooning Cheerios into her mouth rhythmically.
The weather was overcast, so I wore trousers and a white shirt with heels. I was on playground duty too so made sure to put my black mac and umbrella in the car.
Tess of the d’Urbervilles was on my mind as I drove to school, my first lesson with the A-level class and I knew the book inside out. It was a going to be a pretty straightforward day as far as lessons were concerned, but I still had to cobble something together for the creative writing class. My dedicated time for lesson planning had been pushed aside for other things, namely Nicky. But not any more.
When I got into the classroom, narrowly missing a downpour, I spied a bright red apple on my desk. It was so perfectly round and shiny, it looked almost fake. Had Nicky left me another gift? The story of Snow White crept into my mind, had he delivered me a poisoned apple? Holding it by its stem, I tossed it into the bin.
The children poured into the classroom before the bell rang with soggy bags and dripping coats, grimacing at the weather. Their mood improved though when I let out a squeal, jumping as a flash of lightning strobed past the window, followed shortly after by a loud clap of thunder.
The children were fascinated by the storm and once I’d done the register, we gathered at the window to watch. The sky was dotted with streaks of light, zipping across the clouds. It was a sight to behold. As the storm continued to rage, the bell rang, signalling the end of form room, and they shuffled out to their classes as I awaited the arrival of my A-level students.
By break time, I was grateful the storm had passed and made my way outside. I enjoyed strolling around to see what the students were up to but, in truth, there was only one student who I was looking out for today.
Nicky was easy to spot. He was always playing football and although my chest tightened the closer I got, I strode past the court, head high and with purpose, deliberately not looking his way. As I passed by, he came to a stop, gazing at me as the ball sailed past him and into the goal he was supposed to be defending.
I carried on, walking past groups of girls and boys, some playing various games and some huddling around phones which hadn’t already been confiscated. I saw Charlotte and Amy sitting on a bench and wandered over to say hello. I never lingered too long, not wanting to cramp my daughter’s style but I was relieved to see she was keeping out of trouble and nowhere near Nicky.
When break finished, I had another lesson before lunch. I’d been worried after last night how Nicky would react when I saw him, half expecting him to turn up at my classroom at some point. My nerves were shot and every scuffle in the corridor made my anxiety rocket. My fingers were sore from repeated drumming on my desk. Although no contact had been made when I walked past him at breaktime, maybe he was beginning to get the message?
All was quiet over lunch too as I planned out the tasks for the Creative Writing students. No messages had been left on the Motorola either. I should throw it away, but I wanted to wait until things were calmer and Nicky had accepted the situation. He was the first student to arrive in the classroom after the bell to signal the end of the day.
‘Hey,’ he said as he walked in and sat in his usual spot in the front row.
‘Hi,’ I replied stonily, as the rest of the class came in. ‘Right, OK, nice to see you all on this glorious day,’ I said loudly, silencing the chatter. ‘What I’d like to do today is talk about characters. Have a think about what books you’ve read or films you’ve seen where a character has stood out. Why did he or she stand out, was it their behaviour? What they wore? How they spoke?’
I saw them all listening attentively, their eyes wide, heads tilted upwards, nodding as I spoke.
‘Can anyone think of one?’ I asked, but the class was silent, still contemplating. ‘OK, so for me I’d say Hermione Granger out of the Harry Potter series. She stands out to me because of the transformation she goes through. She comes across a bit snooty and full of herself, but underneath she’s shy and isn’t sure of the best way to make friends.’
Faye raised her hand to speak and I nodded towards her encouragingly.
‘Voldemort too, Miss, when you see him as a boy, he’s angry as he’s misunderstood and lonely, but even Dumbledore didn’t think he would turn out the way he did!’
‘That’s right. Good example, Faye. Now, I’d like you work in one big group today and talk about a character that stands out to you, whether it’s from a book or a film or programme, write some bullet points about your character.’
I sat behind my desk to do some marking, while keeping one ear on the group. They were talking animatedly about Star Wars at one point when I had to intervene and steer them back on topic. At the end of the class, I joined them, and they each spoke about their chosen character and why they had picked them.
Nicky stared at me; I could feel his eyes boring in to me as the children took their turns.
‘Nicky, how about you?’
‘Have you seen The Graduate, Miss?’
I winced, biting my tongue and tasting blood on the tip. I glared at Nicky and watched as the other students looked at each other, seemingly confused.
‘It’s a film about an older woman who seduces a younger man. It’s old, from the sixties, but a classic,’ he explained.
They all shook their heads, obviously not having seen it. Most hadn’t even heard of it.
‘The main character, Ben, is seduced by an older woman but falls in love with her daughter and eventually they run off together.’
‘Thanks, Nicky, right I think that’s all we have time for,’ I said, cutting him off.
He grinned at me, winking.
I set homework to write a short story surrounding their character, to be handed in next week. Nicky hung back as always, putting his book into his bag deliberately slowly.
‘Have a nice half-term,’ he said as he passed by me.
I wanted to slap the smug smile off his face, but I had to play nice. He had the upper hand.
‘I’m sorry, Nicky, let’s put this behind us,’ I whispered.
He stepped towards me, wrapping his arm around my waist to pull me in close.
‘No, sorry, no not like that. Let’s be friends,’ I stumbled back, out of his grip. He’d got the wrong end of the stick, clearly hoping for a reconciliation. His touch left me cold and I couldn’t believe I was ever infatuated with him. He wasn’t a charmer at all, just skilled in coercion.
‘Make your fucking mind up,’ he sneered as he left.
I felt my eyes prick with threatening tears. I’d been an idiot to offer to smooth things over. He didn’t want to just be friends. I counted in my head as I put my things away, breathing deeply until the unsettled feeling dissipated.
Mr Scott stepped out of his office as I passed, and I turned and waited for him so we could walk to the car park together while I gave him an update on how the creative writing class was going. It was good to think about something other than Nicky. Mr Scott’s enthusiasm was infectious. After we said goodbye and he wished me a lovely weekend, I went straight to the train station.
I found the journey easy and where I assumed there would be traffic, it was clear, and I sailed through, even managing to grab a space outside, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Stella’s train at ten to five. I had fifteen minutes to kill and gave Charlotte a quick ring to make sure she got home OK on the bus, which of course she had, and was exasperated that I felt the need to ring
and check. After I got off of the phone, I sat staring out of my window at the grey sky. Should I come clean to Stella about Nicky?
I was so looking forward to seeing her and enjoying a girly weekend, I didn’t want anything to ruin Stella’s stay with us. David was going to take Charlotte and Amy over to the Spectrum in Guildford and had booked in ice skating, a break for lunch and then swimming whilst they were there. That would keep them entertained for the day. I was sure David would sit in the café glued to his laptop but at least the girls would enjoy themselves. I had planned a morning of shopping and a massage as a surprise treat for Stella, with a night out in Horsham town centre afterwards. Sunday would no doubt be a lazy day before Stella had to get the train back in the afternoon.
Realising it was ten to five, I jumped out of the car and headed up the steps into the station. A swarm of commuters flooded the tunnel, returning from their day in London, and I stood on tiptoes, catching sight of Stella at the end of the corridor dragging her bright red suitcase, which, by the look of it, only had one wheel working.
Once through the ticket barrier Stella dropped the case and I threw my arms around her, squeezing her tight.
‘I’ve missed you!’ I said, my voice breaking and, to my horror, tears materialised from nowhere and spilled down my face.
26
‘I’ve missed you too,’ Stella’s hug enveloped me as I tried to wipe away the tears from my cheeks. ‘Come on, silly, let’s get in the car, I can’t wait to see the house,’ she said, linking her arm through mine and pulling me towards the exit. ‘Bloody suitcase, it’s got a mind of its own,’ Stella swore, laughing as she struggled to control it.
‘How are your parents?’ I asked, always slightly nervous about enquiring on their health.
‘Not bad, there hasn’t been any more naked wandering thankfully. Although I couldn’t find my keys the other day, Dad had put them in the microwave to keep them safe. I almost blew the sodding house up,’ she sighed, noticing the wide-eyed look on my face. ‘Honestly, its fine; you have to learn to laugh. I don’t think about it too much, it’s just one day at a time. Anyway, it’s Robert’s problem for a couple of days.’