Reckless

by Gemma Rogers

  ‘Yes, allegedly. It was never actually proven, but the teacher left very quickly, it was all hush-hush, but rumours were rife.’

  I gasped, afraid to ask the question on my lips.

  ‘The boy is still there too,’ Susan spat.

  I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I took a sip of the complimentary water, but before I could speak, the waiter arrived to take our order and offer me a drink. I reeled off what I’d usually have as my head spun. He took away the menus and within seconds was back with my Diet Coke.

  ‘What's his name?’ My voice cracked as I managed to spit the question out.

  ‘Oh, I can't remember. He's a good-looking lad, does PE, I think. All the girls like him,’ Matilda said, not appearing to register the colour draining from my face.

  35

  I knew they were talking about Nicky. How could they not be? History was repeating itself.

  I excused myself from the table and went to the toilet to splash water on my face. Locking and unlocking my toilet door: one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. I was such a fool; knocking off two English teachers in a row really was something to brag about. Not to mention getting an underage girl pregnant. If that was him?

  When I emerged from the stall, staring at my reflection in the mirror, I willed my heart rate to slow and my pallor to return to normal, sucking in air to flood my system with oxygen.

  ‘Fuck’s sake, Izzy, get it together,’ I hissed at the mirror as I used the paper towels to dry my dripping face. A couple of minutes later, looking relatively like my normal self, I returned to the table. It was piled high with food which smelt delicious.

  ‘We thought you'd fallen in,’ Matilda said as she pushed some naan bread into her mouth.

  ‘No, I just felt sick for a second. I don't think I've eaten enough today,’ I said weakly.

  ‘Dig in,’ Susan said as she helped herself to one of the side dishes in the middle of the table.

  I did and the nausea began to subside. We didn’t talk about Amelia again and Nicky wasn’t mentioned either.

  Matilda changed the topic to Christmas and it seemed they were big fans. They had been over to Germany to visit a Christmas market after school finished last year and planned to go again, insisting I went with them. I would have loved to get away but couldn’t imagine being able to do so the weekend before Christmas.

  As we sat with full stomachs, drinking Baileys-laced coffees, I wished I could talk openly about Nicky. To be honest with these two lovely ladies who had befriended me would be a dream, but I knew I couldn’t. There was too much at stake. I’d ring Stella tomorrow; she’d know what to do.

  A buzzing from my handbag alerted me to the time. It was already half past ten and David had text to say goodnight and get home safe. We paid the bill and headed out of the restaurant to our cars before a tipsy Matilda launched into a group hug which almost pulled me and Susan to the ground.

  When I arrived home, the house was in darkness, except for the sensor light by the front door illuminating the driveway. It was strange; I looked around as I walked to the door, my footsteps crunching the gravel beneath. Lifting my key to the lock, I jumped as a figure stepped out of the shadows from around the side of the house.

  ‘Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,’ I hissed as Nicky approached.

  ‘I needed to see you.’ He tried to take my hand, but I snatched it away, glancing up to make sure my bedroom window was closed.

  ‘It’s finished, Nicky, it has to stop now. I want you to leave me alone.’ I whispered, sounding harsher than I’d intended.

  His face twitched and he glared at me, blue eyes glacial.

  I changed tack. I needed to be smart. ‘We had a lot of fun. You’re gorgeous and I can’t believe you picked me. I’m unbelievably flattered.’ My life as I knew it depended on keeping Nicky on side, although my head swam with the realisation I was the second English teacher he’d successfully pursued. However, I wouldn’t be the second teacher whose life he ruined.

  ‘You know I’m crazy about you,’ he said with a mischievous grin, leaning closer.

  ‘I’m sorry Nicky.’ I took a step back, but he gripped my sleeve.

  ‘OK, perhaps you’re right.’ He sounded like he understood, but I couldn’t untangle myself from him.

  A bin clanged in the distance and I stared at Nicky, unable to read the look in his eyes. The sensor light went out and he took advantage of the darkness, wrapping his arms around me and pushing his lips against mine for a split second until the light came on again.

  ‘Just a goodbye kiss,’ he said, chuckling at my frown.

  ‘I’ll see you at school,’ I said, quickly sliding my key into the door and slipping inside without turning back.

  Leaning against the door, I closed my eyes. Nicky’s demeanour made me uneasy. He was too calm, and it made me increasingly nervous.

  I wanted to believe life could get back to the way it was before we’d met. I had bridges to build with David and that had to be my priority. Otherwise in a few years, when Charlotte eventually flew the nest, what would be left to hold us together?

  The house was deathly quiet with everyone in bed and I crept through to the lounge to look out of the window onto the street. Was Nicky still outside? The sensor hadn’t been set off and I couldn’t see him in the glow of the street lamp.

  Ensuring my footsteps were light, I climbed the stairs. David was snoring gently; he’d left the light on for me in the en suite bathroom. I was grateful for the heavy lined curtains that ensured the sensor light hadn’t woken him. After a quick brush of my teeth, I got into bed and watched the shadows dance on the ceiling. I hoped Nicky had meant what he said and his turning up tonight had been nothing more than a final goodbye. I soon drifted off to sleep and woke early in the morning feeling as though the dark cloud overhead was clearing. There was light at the end of the tunnel.

  David was still beside me and I rolled over to give him a cuddle. He wrapped his arm around me, kissing my forehead.

  ‘Morning, beautiful.’

  We lay until the alarm rang out, dozing peacefully. David went downstairs to make coffee and breakfast whilst I got ready, he was working from home as he had an afternoon meeting in the city.

  Charlotte was especially quiet on the way to school, furiously tapping away on her phone as I sang along to Post Malone on the radio.

  ‘Who are you texting?’ I glanced over at Charlotte.

  ‘Amy, of course,’ she replied without even looking up. I couldn’t believe the speed at which her fingers flew across the phone.

  ‘What’s the urgency, aren’t you going to see her in ten minutes?’

  Charlotte let out a loud sigh, rolling her eyes at me, frustrated that I wasn’t ‘getting it’. I smiled, remembering being the same with my mum.

  ‘There’s a boy, and he’s been texting and stuff,’ Charlotte volunteered.

  ‘You or Amy?’ I couldn’t hide the rising panic in my voice.

  ‘Amy,’ she clarified before continuing, ‘and she’s just sort of waiting for him to ask her out.’

  ‘Oh, I see, well couldn’t she ask him instead?’

  ‘Mum, he’s older and girls don’t do that. Especially with older boys.’

  I chuckled despite myself. It wasn’t so different for this generation after all. Thank goodness it was Amy and not Charlotte having the dilemma. Or was it? Had she just successfully pulled the wool over my eyes? I frowned at her, but Charlotte had resumed texting and when I parked, she flew out of the car to meet Amy at the gate.

  I didn’t see Nicky all day, but I wasn’t expecting to. We’d gone our separate ways and had no reason to run into each other. I couldn’t wait until later to ring Stella and offload. Just before lunch, I had an issue with a year ten student, Thomas, whose attitude was less than desirable, so I made him sit in the corridor for half of the lesson. It was the only way to stop him interrupting the other students. Mr Scott gave the boy a stern talking-to when he passed, and I hoped it
would be the last of it. When he popped into my classroom later, I assumed that was what he was coming to talk about.

  ‘Can you come and have a quick chat in my office when you’ve finished your lunch?’ His face was grave, dark circles hung under his eyes.

  All of a sudden, I found my sandwich hard to swallow.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ I nodded, and he marched down the corridor without waiting for me.

  Jumping up, I straightened my blouse and brushed the crumbs from my skirt, still trying desperately to swallow but my mouth was like sandpaper. My stomach churned audibly. Was I in trouble? Had I gone too far asking the boy to sit in the corridor?

  When I got to Mr Scott’s office, the door was ajar, and I could see him behind the desk but knocked to be polite.

  ‘Come in,’ he said, deep frown lines etched into forehead. ‘Sit down, Izzy.’

  Dread wrapped itself around me like a winter blanket as I lowered myself into the chair.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made Thomas sit in the corridor during the lesson. He was being difficult and disturbing the other students.’

  Mr Scott waved his hand and I stopped mid-sentence.

  ‘No, it’s not that. I’m afraid I’ve heard something today which is extremely disconcerting. There’s a lot of history here you may not have heard about. A previous English teacher got herself into a… situation.’ His voice was measured, tone cautious as he wrung his hands together.

  My blood turned to ice and I felt my bladder announce the need to go. The room shifted and Mr Scott’s voice seemed very far away.

  ‘The boy involved remains here at St. Wilfred’s and I have received something today, most likely idle gossip, about an indiscretion between you and this boy.’

  I gripped the chair, drumming and counting in quick succession. One, two, three, four; one, two, three, four. In my head, my voice repeated the word: deny, deny, deny.

  I shook my head and tried to summon an expression of outrage. Wide eyes, raised brows, an open mouth, but my face wouldn’t comply. My legs began to tremble as I realised my world was about to implode.

  36

  ‘It looks to me like you have no idea what I’m talking about, which is a relief. No complaint has been made, nothing official yet anyway,’ he went on, but I interrupted him.

  ‘I’m sorry, which boy?’ Buying myself some time, my face steaming hot.

  ‘Nicky Stevens. He’s a sixth-form student.’

  I shook my head slowly, as though considering the name.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know who you mean. I might know his face, but he’s not one of my pupils. I’d recognise the name,’ I lied, feeling flustered. Shit. Of course, I would know him, from the creative writing class. Did Mr Scott know that? Was I about to get caught out?

  ‘No, he isn’t in any of your classes, I’ve already checked. As you must appreciate, it was a scandal for the school last year, and I don’t want a repeat of it. What I would like is for you to take a few days off, take the next week.’ His voice was firm, and I could tell this was not up for discussion.

  ‘But why? If there hasn’t been a complaint, surely it will arouse more suspicion if I just disappear.’ Jumping out of my chair, I paced the carpet. What would I say to Charlotte and David? Damn it. Why had I lied about knowing Nicky? If it came out that he was in my Creative Writing class, I’d look guilty. Inwardly, I was kicking myself, but I’d never been good under pressure.

  ‘Because I would like to investigate fully where this rumour has come from and get it quashed before it gains momentum. That will be easier to do if you are not on the premises. Full pay of course. I also have to notify the Board of Governors that I’ve got an ongoing investigation. The first thing they will ask is if I’ve removed you, it’s safeguarding the children. You must understand?’

  I couldn’t think straight, my mind whirled. I wrapped my arms around myself. Unprepared for this conversation, I struggled to formulate a sentence.

  ‘You said you received something? What was it?’ My mind harping back to the start of our conversation.

  ‘A note, anonymous in my pigeonhole. Girls overheard talking in the toilets that kind of thing.’ Who would do that? Another teacher? ’I’m sorry. I know this must come as a shock and you may think I’m being overly cautious, but I’m trying to protect the reputation of the school.’

  ‘What about my reputation?’ I snapped. Although what right did I have to ask? I was guilty. I’d caused this, no one else.

  ‘I will tell the other staff members you are unwell if that suits?’

  I nodded, shoulders sagging. The fight had left me.

  Mr Scott had handled the matter professionally; I couldn’t fault him. He was being overly generous and could have suspended me without pay at the mere suggestion of an altercation. He hadn’t even asked me if the rumour was true, which allowed me to slip away from his office without having to lie outright to his face.

  When I got back to my classroom, thankful for the few extra minutes before the bell signalling the end of lunchtime, I sank into my chair. Opening the drawer and closing it again, repeatedly slamming it shut, listening to the sound echo around the room. Out of the window, children shouted and squealed, but I couldn’t focus on them. What was I going to do?

  The shrill bell rang out and students came piling in, bringing the cold with them. I shivered and pulled on my coat, packing my handbag to get ready to leave.

  I took the register quickly and stared in a daze at the list of names, unaware of the busy chatter around me. My handbag buzzed and I checked my iPhone to find a text from Charlotte, letting me know she was going to Amy’s after school so wouldn’t need a lift. I wouldn’t have to come back to get her and explain why I’d left early. I’d be able to talk to her tonight and prepare for the influx of questions that would come.

  The second bell sounded, and the children dispersed. Matilda appeared at the door, filling the space. Her face etched with concern.

  ‘Mr Scott’s just asked me to take your afternoon class, is everything OK?’

  I stood and grabbed my bag, ready to leave. ‘What about tomorrow?’

  ‘He’s calling a substitute in now. Are you all right, Izzy, you look very pale?’

  ‘Yes. Fine, listen I’ve got to go. I’ll ring you later,’ I said as I squeezed past Matilda into the corridor and rushed towards the exit.

  All I could think about was who had started the rumour. Had Nicky and I been seen the last time we were together? In the park or in front of my house? Maybe there’d been another car on the roof of the car park I hadn’t noticed was there? We hadn’t been that careful in our meetings. Perhaps in the beginning we had, but more recently it had slipped my mind how easily we could be spotted. Was the timing significant? Maybe no one saw us at all, and Nicky was smarting about me ending things between us. What if he had started the rumour?

  Inside my car, I felt little comfort and, in a rush to get off the premises, my tyres squealed in protest as I accelerated too fast out of the car park. Driving on autopilot as I made my way home past the newsagents, I stopped and reversed back at an angle onto the curb. Handing over a twenty-pound note at the counter, I requested a box of Silk Cut and was given a few coins and the cigarettes in return. Five minutes later, when I arrived home, I was relieved to see David’s car wasn’t there. I couldn’t remember what time his afternoon meeting was.

  Unlocking the door, I took my mobile straight through into the garden, shivering as the wind gusted around the side of the house. I dialled Stella’s number, lighting a cigarette whilst it rang. I inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs and the familiar rush hit my head. It tasted awful and, every time I had one, I remembered why I’d quit. This time the nicotine was needed; there was no immediate stress-reliever like it.

  ‘Hello?’ Stella answered.

  ‘It’s me,’ I said, my eyes already filling with tears.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Stella sounded worried and I sniffed loudly, taking another drag.

 
‘They know, Stella. I’m so fucked!’ I wailed.

  ‘Right, start from the beginning,’ Stella said, her tone calm and reassuring.

  I regaled the events of last night and today, pausing to light another cigarette with the butt of my almost dead one. Stella remained quiet on the other end of the phone.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Hang on, I’m thinking.’ I heard the familiar click of a lighter and knew Stella had slipped outside to smoke too. ‘I know you don’t feel calm, but I don’t think there’s any need to panic. Not yet anyway. The headteacher seems to be on your side, he’s assuming you’re being dragged into this and are as much of a victim of the rumour as the school is.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Nicky had it off with another teacher then? The one you replaced?’

  ‘So it would seem,’ I said, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice.

  ‘Fuck.’ Stella sighed.

  ‘Yes… Fuck!’ I repeated.

  ‘Take the time off, relax. Remember, deny everything. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Who do you think made the complaint?’ Stella asked.

  ‘Well, no one has complained yet, it’s just a rumour. But I have no idea who started it. Perhaps one of the students saw us together? Who knows?’

  ‘Christ.’

  ‘Nicky’s been a shit though, he sent a naked photo to me at work and there’s been times where he’s been aggressive.’

  ‘Stay away from him, Izzy. He’s bad news. It’s done now, over with. You have to pretend it never happened.’

  I felt calmer already. Stella was fantastic at being objective in times of need.

  We spent half an hour on the phone before she had to go, discussing various scenarios of how the next few days were likely to go. Even though Stella didn’t think I needed to worry, adrenaline pumped through my veins regardless. My body was on high alert, fight or flight mode. Should I text Nicky to warn him? Or drive to his house after school? No, he was on his own. If I was seen it would be game over. If his phone was confiscated, all the evidence was there to make my suspension permanent.