Reckless

by Gemma Rogers

  Not only the corridors, but from my very own classroom. It was Amelia, the girl in year eleven. The one Matilda had said was pregnant. I couldn’t make out whether she had a bump or not, it was too dark. It hadn’t taken Nicky long to replace me. Perhaps he hadn’t? Perhaps he’d been seeing her all along and her baby was his? I felt a twinge of jealousy and a pang of self-pity as I looked first at Nicky then at David. Thankful for the darkness to hide my damp eyes. Wasn’t I enough for one man?

  33

  On Sunday morning, we sat around the kitchen table, Charlotte was finishing her geography homework and David was working on his laptop, tapping away furiously on the keys. Radio Two played in the background and Lionel Ritchie was singing about Sunday mornings. I was trying to plan my lessons for each year group for the upcoming term, but I couldn’t concentrate. Seeing Nicky and Amelia together had niggled at me. Not because I felt any love was lost between us, it was a fling and nothing more, but I couldn’t help wondering if Amelia was pregnant, could the baby be Nicky’s?

  ‘I need to go into town.’ I stood from the table abruptly.

  David raised his eyebrows, but it was Charlotte who spoke first.

  ‘Bring back some Millie’s Cookies,’ she said, without even looking up from her books.

  I rolled my eyes at David.

  ‘I need to get some books on this list I haven’t read,’ I explained.

  ‘Marathon reading session today?’ David asked and I nodded, grimacing.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ I said, grabbing my bag and hurrying out to the hallway to put my coat and boots on, before David could suggest we all went together.

  I drove a little way down the street, pulled over and dug out the Motorola. It had been switched off all weekend and once turned on, the beeping of messages coming through seemed to go on forever. Looking at the texts in my inbox, Nicky had sent one every day. First apologising for storming off, then each one becoming more desperate to get in touch. My heart raced. Why hadn’t I thought to send a text? What if he came to the house again?

  Have managed to get out, got to go into town. Will park in the mall. Text if you can make it.

  There wasn’t much battery left and I made a mental note to charge the phone when I got home. Putting it on the passenger seat, I drove to the shopping centre. The rain was heavy and my windscreen wipers were on double speed as I drove to the top of the car park. The roof was partly empty, mostly because it wasn’t undercover. No one wanted to get wet when there were spaces on the lower floors out of the rain.

  When I parked, I checked the phone, no response yet. Sending another text to let Nicky know I’d parked on the roof of the car park, I slipped the phone into my pocket and made a dash across the concourse towards the stairs. I went straight to the bookshop, cursing under my breath that I could only remember the titles of the books I needed and not the authors. However, the shop assistant happily looked them up for me. Within minutes, I was walking out of the store with the books in a brown paper bag.

  I had no idea where Millie’s Cookies was, but if I went home without them Charlotte would be grumpy. Anyway, cookies on a Sunday morning was a fantastic idea. Charlotte definitely had my genes.

  I found the pillar that listed a directory of all the shops and where to find them. I had to go to the second floor for Millie’s Cookies so took the escalator, checking my phone again, but there was no text waiting for me. I could smell the shop before I saw it and my tummy grumbled. Choosing a selection box, I paid, deciding not to hang around any longer. Perhaps it was good that Nicky hadn’t responded? Maybe it meant that he had moved on? I’d see him at school tomorrow at some point and we could talk then.

  Even from the top floor of the shopping centre, there were another four flights of stairs to climb before I reached the roof of the car park. Gasping for breath at the top, I flung open the heavy metal door and saw Nicky was parked right next to me. I ran across the concrete, puddles splashing my jeans and pulled open his passenger door, climbing in.

  His face was like stone, cold and hard, staring straight ahead out of the windscreen.

  ‘Where have you been? I’ve been texting and calling.’ His voice low and calculated. It put me instantly on edge.

  ‘David had some time off. I haven’t had a chance.’ I was interrupted by Nicky smashing his fist on the dashboard, the sound reverberating around the car. I recoiled, my hand on the door handle instinctively, ready to get out.

  ‘I don’t want to hear about him,’ Nicky snapped, louder this time.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  ‘Are you fucking him?’ he snarled.

  I felt my hackles rise, anger igniting in the pit of my stomach. ‘It’s none of your damn business what I do with my husband.’

  He launched at me, pushing his tongue into my mouth, his hand holding the back of my head so I couldn’t pull away. He thrust his free hand down to my waistband and tried to undo my buttons. What the fuck was I doing there? I had to get out. I placed both hands on his chest and shoved him backwards. He released his hold, pulling back to stare at me, eyes devoid of emotion.

  ‘Get in the back,’ he said, his tone flat. It was a command not a request.

  ‘What?’ I challenged.

  Nicky didn’t respond, instead he nodded towards the back seat, waiting for me to comply. Was he trying to humiliate me? It was the same when he’d been at the house, in my bedroom, marking his territory.

  ‘Go fuck yourself, Nicky,’ I spat, swinging the door open and narrowly missing my car. He tried to grab my arm as I left, but I snatched it out of his reach, slamming the door behind me.

  I scrambled for my keys and got in my car as quickly as I could. Locking the doors and starting the engine. Tears erupted down my cheeks as I drove, my tyre scraping the curb. It was the final straw. There was no hope for any civility between us. We were done.

  ‘We’re late,’ I shouted as I tore down the hallway, banging on Charlotte’s door on Monday morning. I’d spent much of the previous evening in turmoil, regretting ever meeting Nicky. David and I talked things through, although I followed Stella’s advice and didn’t reveal my affair. We had a long heart-to-heart about the baby; he didn’t realise how devastated I was, and in pushing him away, he’d had to grieve alone. I realised how selfish I’d been and we both agreed to work on getting our marriage back to a good place.

  As I drove to school, Charlotte was grumpy. She didn’t do mornings as it was, especially one where she was being driven to school thirty minutes after she’d woken up. I had managed to get away with a bit of dry shampoo in my hair and a quick throw-on outfit of a pair of black trousers and a red blouse. It would have to do. I’d need my free period to apply some make-up in the toilets, otherwise I might scare the kids.

  34

  ‘Morning,’ I greeted my form room a lot more brightly than I felt. Although I was tired, I was pleased David and I had turned a corner last night. Before our heart-to-heart, I’d cooked a lovely roast lamb dinner and we’d shared a bottle of wine as we talked, once Charlotte had gone upstairs. When we finally fell into bed after midnight, both tipsy and emotionally exhausted, a goodnight kiss had developed into something more and I’d let it. I wanted to put our infidelities behind us and move on.

  ‘I hope you all had a lovely half-term. Let me do the register and you can tell me what you got up to.’

  I called out each name in turn to tick them off of my list and the children talked about their week off until the bell rang out, signalling their first lesson. One had been to a trampoline park and unfortunately now had his arm in a cast. The rest of the class gathered around to sign it.

  When they left, I leaned back in my chair with a sigh. Out of the two books I’d brought in town yesterday, I’d ploughed through one already and was starting the other. So far, I wasn’t overly keen on either of them and if I was getting bored with the storyline, I knew a bunch of fifteen-year-olds would too. It reinforced my choice of books for each year gro
up.

  My year-nine class was fun. I began by reading my favourite part of Macbeth, using my cackling witch voice.

  Round about the cauldron go;

  In the poison'd entrails throw.

  Toad, that under cold stone

  Days and nights has thirty-one

  Swelter'd venom sleeping got,

  Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

  Double, double, toil and trouble;

  Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

  The children loved it, and it seemed they were still in the mood for Halloween fun. I split them into groups, and they recreated their own spooky verses in Shakespearian English.

  The next class dragged as the students were sluggish and unenthusiastic. By lunchtime I needed a lift. I had a quick walk around the playground to get some much-needed fresh air and joined Susan and Matilda in the staffroom where they were eating their sandwiches.

  ‘Hi, how are you? Good week off?’ Matilda boomed when I joined them.

  ‘Good thanks, never long enough though, right? How about you two?’

  They’d been on their walking holiday to the Lake District and it had rained for most of the week. Susan regaled how many of the fields had been waterlogged and some areas had to be evacuated as there was localised flooding.

  ‘Oh, hi Izzy, I’ve got some post for you, I’ll drop it in shortly,’ Ruth the secretary said as she left, carrying a cup of what looked to be soup.

  ‘OK thanks,’ I called after her.

  ‘Fancy a curry this week? Seems like it’s been ages,’ Matilda said, shovelling a handful of crisps into her mouth.

  ‘Sure, why not. Same time, same place?’ Susan nodded, as Matilda now had her mouth so full, she couldn’t speak.

  Ruth came back handing me a white A4 envelope with my name on it.

  ‘Here you go,’ she whispered so as not to interrupt us, and turned on her heels.

  Susan started talking about the accommodation on their holiday, as I pushed my finger underneath the flap to pull it open. The sheet of paper inside was dark, a grey image. I blinked quickly, a cold sweat beginning on the nape of my neck. It was a black and white photo printed on paper, the photo Nicky had sent to the Motorola. The picture of his naked torso and large erection, zoomed in and enormous on an A4 page. My stomach rolled and I thrust the paper back into the envelope and jumped up.

  ‘Bad news?’ Matilda nodded towards the quivering envelope in my hand.

  ‘No, no. I just need to go and see Charlotte about something,’ I muttered, my voice shrill and hurried out of the staff room.

  Back in my classroom, I stared out of the window into the playground, to see if I could see Nicky, but he was nowhere to be found. What was he thinking?

  What if someone had seen? It was a ridiculous and childish practical joke, definitely not funny. I felt twitchy, my muscles ready to spring into action. I spent five minutes tearing the photo into tiny unrecognisable pieces and hiding them at the bottom of my bin. Was Nicky threatening me or playing games?

  The assembly in the afternoon was long and the hall was freezing. I sat stoically on the stage. Nicky was at the back of the hall, staring intently at me. When I accidentally locked eyes with him as I scanned the room looking for Charlotte, his expression was blank. Was he trying to unnerve me?

  I ignored him, silently grinding my teeth. Who did he think he was? He had no hold over me. If he went public with our affair, I’d deny everything.

  I’d been stupid and reckless to get involved with him in the first place. All because he’d played to my insecurities; he’d flattered me and I’d lapped it up. I’d been weak but I wouldn’t be any more.

  With my resolve strengthened, I left the assembly, my head high, to teach my final lesson of the day. Thankfully, Nicky didn't come to my classroom after school while I waited for Charlotte. Perhaps my lack of reaction had sent the message that I was done entertaining him? Hopefully now he’d back off. We drove home, revelling in the mundane Monday afternoon. There was a lot to be said for normality. Charlotte disappeared to her room as usual to FaceTime Amy, which she often did after school.

  David sent a text to say he would be home for dinner, so I began putting together a beef and ale stew. Pleased he’d stayed true to his word and was coming home earlier than before. It felt cold and wintery and when we were all huddled around the table dipping French bread in our bowls everyone agreed it was a good choice. I looked around the table at David and Charlotte as we talked about the weekend just gone. My whole world was sat right there, and I couldn't believe I could ever have risked hurting them. What a fool I’d been to want anything more.

  After dinner, David loaded the dishwasher and I carried on reading my book in the bath. I knew I wasn't going to choose it as the fiction text for that year group but wanted to finish it none the less. When I got out, I could hear Charlotte on the phone to Amy, clearly excited about something as her voice was an octave higher than usual. Edging closer to the door, I could hear they were talking about a boy. I rolled my eyes and went back to my bedroom to put on my pyjamas. I didn't want to be that parent who gave their child no privacy although after what happened at Charlotte’s previous school, I couldn’t help but keep a close eye on her. David and I had managed to avoid boys so far, but it was going to happen sooner or later.

  ‘Hey,’ David said, opening the bedroom door.

  I sat on the edge of the bed removing my mascara.

  ‘I think Charlotte might be on the verge of getting a boyfriend.’ I laughed at the colour draining from David's face.

  ‘I'm not ready,’ he whimpered dramatically and slumped beside me.

  ‘Well, it's coming, so you’d better get prepared.’

  David gave me a kiss on the cheek and stood.

  ‘Guess I’d better go and polish the shotgun then.’ He winked.

  When I arrived at school on Tuesday, a present lay waiting for me. On my desk were a bunch of red roses and even though there was no card I knew immediately they were from Nicky. Without a second glance, I swept them into the shallow bin, their heads poking out of the top accusingly. I moved the bin out from under my desk, ensuring it was in full view of the corridor should he walk past. The message would be clear enough.

  After lunch he walked past, I knew he would at some point. I was marking homework in the few minutes before the bell rang. I saw him stop for a second out of the corner of my eye before carrying on along the corridor. I clenched my jaw, the anger from Sunday still fresh in my mind. Later, I checked the Motorola, but no messages came through when I switched it on.

  Feeling restless, I went for a swim after school, as Charlotte had another friendly netball match, using the repetitive lengths to clear my head. I swam solidly for forty-five minutes and my legs were weak when I got out of the pool to shower. I arrived home minutes before Charlotte pushed open the front door, her cheeks a rosy red.

  ‘Wow, you're home quick. Did you win?’ I said, talking to Charlotte's back as she hurried upstairs.

  ‘Yeah we won, and I got a lift,’ she called before slamming her bedroom door. Teenagers, they were on a whole other planet. Trying to communicate with them should be a course taught at the Open University.

  When Wednesday afternoon came around and I still hadn't heard anything from Nicky, I began to get worried. The fact he hadn’t been in touch was making me uneasy. I had no doubt he could be dangerous and an accusation would be enough to end my career. He held all of the cards and I had no idea after the photo stunt whether he was planning something. Another prank?

  I was looking forward to the curry with Susan and Matilda to distract me, but even as I left the house to get into my car, I searched the street for any sign of him lurking nearby. When I arrived at the curry house, my stomach growled as the smell wafted along the pavement outside. My lunch hadn’t been particularly appetising, and I’d left most of the dry ham sandwich in my lunchbox.

  Matilda and Susan were already sat at the table and, as I sat, the waiter delivere
d poppadoms. I didn't waste any time diving straight in.

  ‘I tell you, it's awful. Girls of fifteen shouldn't be dealing with things like that,’ Susan bristled, and I realised I’d arrived mid-conversation.

  Nodding a greeting, I listened attentively.

  ‘I know, the poor love,’ Matilda said, turning to me. ‘You know the year eleven girl, Amelia, who got herself pregnant. Well, she had a miscarriage at school yesterday afternoon. In my class too. It was awful.’

  Matilda's eyes brimmed and I patted her hand gently, my throat constricting. I gripped the seat of my chair with my other hand, drumming my fingers and willing myself not to cry. Matilda’s anguish brought it all flooding back.

  ‘That's terrible. I’m so sorry Matilda.’

  She sniffed loudly and took a large mouthful of pint, wiping her eyes.

  ‘How far gone was she?’ I asked, my voice weak.

  ‘Around nine or ten weeks, I think, but I’m not sure,’ Susan chipped in.

  We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, as though in a mark of respect.

  Matilda pulled herself together, finishing her drink.

  ‘It all goes on at that place, I tell you. Last year it was the English teacher, this year it's students getting pregnant.’

  ‘You never did tell me what happened last year,’ I interrupted, remembering Matilda mentioning it the last time we were out.

  ‘Well, the teacher was having an affair with a student,’ Matilda whispered.

  Susan and I leaned forward in our seats.

  ‘Allegedly,’ Susan hissed.