by Gemma Rogers
No, I had to stay at home and hope it would blow over in the next few days. Surely Nicky would deny everything when he was summoned to Mr Scott’s office.
I let the bitter cold wind whip around me as I lit my third cigarette. I should ring Matilda, but I couldn’t face it, she’d still be in lessons anyway. My throat prickled, I was in desperate need of a cup of tea. I promised myself it would be my last smoke.
Deep in thought, I didn’t hear the conservatory door open and my mouth was full of smoke when David stepped outside onto the patio. His face contorted as he looked first at my tear-stained face and then the cigarette in my hand.
‘What’s happened?’
37
Shoulders sagging, my eyes brimmed with tears.
David came out of the conservatory in his slippers onto the patio where I stood, arms wrapped around myself, teeth chattering.
‘What’s happened?’ he repeated.
‘I’ve been asked to take some time off. A rumour has been spread about me and it’s got back to the head.’ How far was I going to go in this admission? Had David heard my conversation with Stella?
‘What about?’ David mirrored my light tone, but his face was awash with worry. He hadn’t seen me smoke for ages, only under times of immense stress. The last time was after the miscarriage.
‘Harassment.’ Telling a half-truth and letting David fill in the gaps. I took the last drag of my cigarette before flicking it onto the grass.
‘Harassment of whom? A pupil?’ David asked, incredulous.
I nodded.
‘I’m going to take the rest of the week, its full pay, pending an investigation.’ I turned to face him, rubbing my arms to fend off the cold.
‘They can’t sack you, surely?’
‘I haven’t done anything, David, so no, I doubt it. They have a duty of care to remove me from the premises when there has been any sort of accusation, even if it is a joke or a rumour. It’s child protection.’ I sounded like I knew what I was talking about and that seemed good enough for David as he turned to open the door back into the house, holding it for me to pass through.
‘It’s outrageous that’s what it is,’ he said, filling the kettle with water and switching it on.
‘It’s fine. I’m going to take a week out to relax and whilst I’m away they’ll sort it out.’ This seemed to appease him, and he muttered to himself as he made tea for us both.
‘Why are you home early?’ I asked.
‘My meeting in London was cancelled, got to Victoria before they sent an email, so had a nice round trip on the train. I didn’t bother going into the office as I wanted to be home for when you guys got back. How is Charlotte getting home?’
‘She’s gone to Amy’s, so I’m sure she’ll get a lift from Louise.’
I slumped at the table, inwardly feeling like I was going to combust. I was irritated David had come home early; I’d had no time to process the shock before having to act like everything was fine for his benefit. I wanted to cry, to scream into my pillow and pour myself a large glass of wine to drink whilst I sat in the bath. The bath seemed like a good idea, so I went to run one. David followed shortly after with a cup of tea. He placed it on the side and gave my shoulder a squeeze as I sat on the edge, swirling the water with my fingertips.
‘I’m here if you want to talk, you know,’ he said gently. It was almost too much to bear. My imperfect husband who, besides his indiscretion, was kind and caring; I’d repaid him by jeopardising everything we’d built.
I patted his hand and nodded, too afraid to speak as the lump in my throat expanded.
He left, closing the door behind him and that’s when I climbed into the scalding hot bath, turned on the cold tap and sobbed beneath the sound of running water.
I spent an hour there until the tepid water made me shiver and my head throbbed. Putting on my warmest pyjamas, I joined David in the kitchen, where he was rustling up his speciality of pasta carbonara. The thought of eating made me feel sick.
I smiled weakly at David as I pulled a cigarette from the packet sitting on top of my open handbag. He raised his eyebrows at me.
‘I’m just stressed that’s all, it won’t last!’ I snapped.
I sat outside on the back step, the disgusting taste becoming all too familiar again when I heard a door slam from inside the house, followed by raised voices. Charlotte must have found out about the suspension; the news would be around the school already. I cringed at the thought.
Seconds later, Charlotte stepped out and sat beside me.
‘I heard you were sacked, Mum!’
I sighed, all the crying had worn me out and even though it was late afternoon, I was ready to climb into bed and sleep for a week. ‘I haven’t been sacked, honey. Someone has started a rumour about me, and I can’t be at school while it’s investigated.’
‘You’re smoking?’ Charlotte stood, her hands thrust on her hips. More upset by that than her mother’s suspension.
‘Only temporarily, it’s been a bad day.’
‘What was the rumour?’ Thankfully Charlotte hadn’t heard about the accusation and I wanted it to stay that way.
‘I can’t talk about it, especially with you, Charlotte, but if you hear any whispers, just ignore them. Stick with Amy and you’ll be fine.’ I stubbed my cigarette out in an empty pot I’d intended to plant some bulbs in.
‘I won’t let anyone say anything bad about you.’ The show of solidarity choked me up.
Once I’d finished pushing dinner around my plate, I took myself upstairs and got into bed. I was exhausted and wanted to pull the duvet over my head and hide from the world. I spent all of Friday in my pyjamas, wandering around the house, feeling sorry for myself. David rescheduled an appointment so he could take Charlotte to school and she was going to get the bus home.
Once the house was quiet, I made myself a strong coffee and took the Motorola out of my bag and into the garden. I switched the phone on and waited for it to come to life. A minute later, no messages had come through. Pacing up and down the garden path, chewing the side of my cheek, I felt incensed there’d been no messages from Nicky. He must have heard what was going on by now. Why would he not have tried to get in touch? Had he hung me out to dry? Or could he have been the one that delivered the anonymous tip? To get back at me?
Unable to relax, I spent the day on edge. Was he was going to turn up at my door? The bell never rang and neither did the phone. I felt alone and resorted to trying to read in bed in an attempt to distract me for a while. When that didn’t work, I rang Stella, but it went to voicemail. I did some ironing and ran a bath to soak in, getting out when a text came through from Charlotte to say she would be getting a lift home about half four. I busied myself making a marinade for dinner and it wasn’t long before everyone arrived home.
‘Did you have a nice relaxing day?’ David asked as I passed him a plate of barbeque chicken and new potatoes.
‘No not really, it was quiet.’
‘Perhaps we should go away for the weekend?’ he suggested.
‘I have plans,’ Charlotte piped up.
‘Who with?’ David asked.
‘Amy of course.’
‘Oh well, it was a nice idea, I guess.’ David squeezed my hand.
‘I think I’ll go for a swim. Hey, we could go to the cinema and get a takeaway Saturday night?’ I offered, perking up at the idea of getting out of the house.
‘Sounds great, I’m in,’ David said. I ignored Charlotte rolling her eyes at us.
David was by my side continuously all weekend, trying to lift my spirts and, as planned, we went to the cinema to see a gentle film called Aeronauts which distracted me from my thoughts for a couple of hours. An extra hour in bed as the clocks went back meant a long lay-in on Sunday morning in which I managed to finish my book.
I tried to keep myself busy and the following week came and went. I swam every day and visited the library, making sure I got out of the house to prevent myself from going st
ir-crazy. Stella rang every evening to see how I was and if there had been any developments, but I had nothing to tell her. Neither the school nor Nicky had been in touch. I felt isolated and hated not knowing what the future held.
Charlotte spent much of the time out of the house, at school and at Amy’s, not returning until the early evening. Trying to get anything out of her was like getting blood out of a stone. I wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed or whether she was getting stick at school. She didn’t want me to pick her up or take her if she could get around it. I tried to broach the subject but receiving two-word answers as she retreated to her room became the norm.
David muttered something about the teenage years and constant mood swings being upon us and I had to agree.
A surprise delivery of a beautiful winter bouquet arrived from Susan and Matilda on Wednesday. The card read: Chin up chick, see you next week.
I could see the flowers made David visibly relax as if with them, the delivery man had carried a confirmation of my innocence. I left a message on Matilda’s answering machine to thank them both for the gift. She called me later in the day and I admitted why Mr Scott had asked me to stay at home, although I had the feeling she already knew. It was nice to hear her outrage on my behalf, and she urged me to enjoy the rest of the week, but by Saturday I was bored stiff. The house was spotless, and I couldn’t take any more daytime television.
I invited my parents for Sunday lunch and Dad drove them both over at around eleven that morning. I squeezed Mum hard when she arrived, wrapping my arms around her before she’d even had time to take her boots off, feeling guilty I hadn’t seen her in weeks and seeking comfort only a mother can provide. She held me at arm’s length, looking me up and down.
‘Izzy, you’re practically skin and bone. Are you all right? Has the move been stressful?’
I replied I was fine and glossed over the comment, whisking my parents around the house for the tour. They loved it, just like Stella had.
After a cup of tea, Dad and David went to take a look at the butler sink, Dad having found something in his shed he thought might work on the stains. Mum and I chatted about what we’d been up to, as I peeled potatoes and she helped me with the vegetables. Charlotte told her grandparents over lunch about Amy and St. Wilfred’s, explaining her position on the netball team. They didn’t leave until four to make the journey back to Dorking. Their visit had been a lovely distraction from my worries about school. I was glad no one had brought up the subject of me being off, I didn’t want to have to explain to my mum that I’d been suspended, and especially why.
There had been no contact from Nicky. I’d charged up the Motorola and left it on all week, switched onto silent at the bottom of my handbag. The battery life on old phones was phenomenal in comparison to smartphones today, but every time I looked there had been no texts. It hit me almost as hard as the allegation itself. Why, if he cared about me so much, had he not been in touch?
Had he taken what he’d wanted, and I’d been kicked to the curb? Don’t be ridiculous, Izzy, you ended it remember. Why would he come knocking? My inner voice wouldn’t let it lie. Perhaps he was looking out for me and was afraid to jeopardise the outcome of the investigation. Either way, I was bitterly disappointed by the lack of contact. I was also a little surprised Mr Scott hadn’t been in touch and was unsure whether I was supposed to go into school on Monday morning. Would I be allowed on the premises? The thought of going back made my stomach flip.
Discussing it with David as we dried the dishes, we decided I should remain at home until asked to return. I was being paid after all and, with the insinuated harassment complaint, David said I should be more indignant about the whole thing. Perhaps I wasn’t acting as outraged as I should have been, but I had no fight left. I didn’t have the energy to pretend.
As David predicted, Mr Scott rang my mobile at lunchtime on Monday and I stepped out into the garden to light the last cigarette I’d been deliberately saving for the call I was dreading.
38
‘Hello?’ I answered, my voice quivering slightly.
‘Hi Izzy, it’s Steven. How are you?’ He sounded relaxed, his tone upbeat, which was a positive sign.
‘I’m OK, how are you?’
‘Good thanks. I’ve looked into the complaint and, on the limited information I’ve had, there’s been no evidence to support the rumour. No one has come forward to offer further information and Nicky Stevens denies involvement. On that basis, I’m happy to put it to bed and for you to return to school tomorrow.’
Inwardly, I jumped for joy. A huge weight had lifted to hear Nicky had come through for me. Perhaps I’d judged him too harshly.
‘Great. I’m looking forward to getting back to work,’ I replied, sinking to the step and flicking the ash of my cigarette.
‘I’m so sorry about all of this, Izzy, we’ll talk about it more when I see you of course, but because of a similar situation last year, I have to look into everything, however small. Moving forward, I would make sure you have no unnecessary contact with Nicky Stevens, to avoid any continuation of the rumour. Although I’m sure it won’t be an issue as you don’t have him in your lessons.’
‘Of course,’ I agreed, my voice strained. Surely Nicky wouldn’t come to the creative writing class now?
‘OK great, well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
‘Thanks Steven, goodbye.’ I hung up and sucked furiously on my cigarette, feeling the relief flow through my body. I’d been wound like a coil, but now the whole thing was going to go away. I’d be able to move on, finally.
Tears erupted and there was nothing I could do to stop them rolling down my cheeks. My shoulders eased down. I’d been given a second chance at a new start.
I smoked the cigarette to the butt and wished I had more; something told me this habit was going to be difficult to kick again. What the hell, I could do with some fresh air anyway. I’d been a virtual recluse since the suspension and needed to blow the cobwebs away. I put on my thick coat and boots. The temperature seemed to have plummeted since we’d reached November. Only seven more weeks or so of the school year left and Christmas would be upon us. It would be a quiet affair as the move had ploughed into our savings. Being holed up with David and Charlotte seemed heavenly right now. Perhaps we could go to Mum and Dad’s? Or invite them to us. I’d mention it to Mum when I next spoke to her.
I grabbed my keys and headed out into the street; the closest shop was about a fifteen-minute walk away and I knew I could grab a bottle of Prosecco to go with dinner. I had no idea what we were having, something from the freezer would do. I had a spring in my step, feeling lighter for the first time in a week. There was no need to look over my shoulder any more. Nicky and I were finished. No more sneaking around. No more lies. Perhaps it was time to get rid of the Motorola too? Though, I figured I’d better keep it for a little while longer, just in case. Better than Nicky turning up at my door trying to get hold of me.
I bought Prosecco and cigarettes, not waiting until I got home to smoke one. On the walk back, I called David to tell him the good news and then spoke to Stella briefly, who made me laugh as she said she would have told them to stick their job up their arse. She didn’t mince her words for anyone; it never failed to make me smile.
Later, Charlotte turned her nose up at my offering of fish fingers.
‘Mum,’ she groaned, but eventually, realising it was a fight she wouldn’t win, she began to eat.
‘I’ll be back at school tomorrow,’ I announced, joining David and Charlotte at the table.
‘Let’s hope that headteacher of yours grovels tomorrow,’ David replied.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows.
‘How was school today?’ I asked, concerned she may have been teased because of my absence.
‘Fine. I’ve stuck with Amy, like you said.’ The last thing I wanted was to drag everyone into the mess I’d created.
‘Charlotte, what is that on your neck?’ A greenish bruise that looked s
uspiciously like a love bite was partly visible above her collar. She tugged at her school shirt, neck lowering into her shoulders like a tortoise until it was out of sight.
‘Nothing, Mum, it’s just a spot.’
I glared at David who was oblivious. That mark didn’t look like a spot to me, but I could see her reluctance to talk about it at the dinner table, perhaps because her father sat opposite her.
Charlotte ate her dinner quickly and hurried back upstairs. I made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her at school. It wasn’t such a big deal, teenagers coming home with love bites. It was something every one did at some stage, but it was what it led to that concerned me.
That evening, I spent half an hour on the phone to Stella, having more time to talk than she did earlier.
‘Have you heard anything from Nicky?’ she asked, once certain I was alone.
‘No, he’s been as quiet as a mouse.’
‘Looks like you’ve had a lucky escape,’ she replied. I believed that too and felt relieved it was over, glad we wouldn’t have to talk about him any more.
‘All OK with you? Things with Adam still going well?’
‘A little too well… I’m going to meet his parents at the weekend,’ Stella squeaked, the apprehension in her voice apparent.
‘That’s fantastic, well, make sure you behave.’
I joined David afterwards in the lounge, where we watched mindless television, sitting side by side on the same sofa instead of us having our own as we normally did. Sharing the bottle of Prosecco I’d bought earlier, we toasted to new beginnings. Stella was right, I felt I’d dodged a bullet in terms of my affair still being a secret. It wasn’t fair to throw David under the bus for his. When we went to bed, we made love, more passionate than we’d been for a while, something which had been lost a little over the years together.
Waking on Tuesday morning still wrapped around each other was unheard of and we laughed like teenagers as we got ready for work. I wanted the demurest outfit I could find, so chose navy tapered trousers and a dusky pink blouse. Smart, with no skin on show. I wanted to look like the least likely teacher to be having an affair with one of my pupils. But however I dressed, I couldn’t shake the feeling everyone was going to be looking at me.