Reckless

by Gemma Rogers

  ‘I don’t want you seeing him any more, Charlotte.’ It was a command not a request and she began to sob.

  ‘But I love him,’ she cried, reaching into her pocket for a tissue.

  ‘He doesn’t care about you, Charlotte. I hear things, things from the other teachers, about him all the time. He’s not a nice person.’

  ‘He says you all hate him here. You’ve got a vendetta against him and you want him out,’ Charlotte bit back.

  ‘That’s rubbish.’ I was getting nowhere, so I decided to change tack. ‘You know that girl Amelia, in your year, there’s rumours he got her pregnant.’

  ‘I’m not having sex with him, Mum!’ Charlotte insisted, her eyes brimming with tears. My shoulders sagged, she looked like she was telling the truth.

  ‘Good, because he’s an adult and you’re a child.’

  ‘I don’t care. I won’t stop seeing him. I love him and he loves me,’ Charlotte said, sounding like a petulant child.

  ‘Oh, and you’re going to run off, get married and live happily ever after, are you?’ I said sarcastically.

  ‘Maybe. It’s none of your business.’ Charlotte looked wounded.

  I sighed, the fight gone out of me. I sat next to Charlotte, who shifted her body away in defiance.

  ‘Charlotte, I don’t want to fight with you. He’s too old for you and today he could have got you in a lot of trouble had another teacher seen. Think about how it looks for me. You’re my daughter, yes, this is your school, but it’s also my place of employment. What would Mr Scott say?’

  ‘I said I’m sorry,’ Charlotte snapped, although she didn’t sound sorry in the slightest.

  The bell rang out shrill in the corridor, signalling the end of the break.

  ‘Go back to your form room. I’ll see you here after school. You’re coming home with me,’ I said, at least knowing my daughter was safe from Nicky for tonight.

  ‘What about your writing class?’

  ‘I’ll have an extra student won’t I,’ I said, my voice firm.

  Charlotte left the classroom as my form piled in for the second register of the day. I wasn’t sure what to do. I could put my foot down, and I wanted to, but what if Charlotte snuck out to see Nicky, or worse, ran away with him? I’d snuck out all the time when I was her age because my parents were strict. I’d climb out of my bedroom window and down the trellis, out into the night. She was obviously besotted and at that age it was all-consuming. I remembered it well. Nicky’s offer to leave Charlotte alone came with conditions that made my skin crawl. I’d never let him touch me again. There had to be another way.

  After creative writing, which thankfully Nicky didn’t attend, we drove home in silence.

  ‘What did you think of the writing class? Do you want to come again?’ I asked, attempting to defuse the tension between us.

  ‘Nope.’ Charlotte folded her arms and stared out of the window.

  I felt a sting of irritation.

  ‘You do realise I should ground you, so not seeing Nicky for one night is hardly life or death,’ I snapped.

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  I had to stifle a laugh. Why did all teenagers think they were the first to go through something?

  ‘No, clearly I don’t. You can forget seeing him this weekend.’

  Once we were home, Charlotte stomped theatrically to her room, slamming her door.

  David raised his eyebrows questioningly and I explained, hoping he’d be as enraged as I was and ground Charlotte until she was eighteen. But he was as laid-back as ever, blaming teenage hormones on their public display of affection. I wasn’t even sure he was fully listening, his eyes straying to his laptop screen.

  ‘You didn’t see his hand up her shirt,’ I said.

  David’s head snapped up at that. ‘Well that’s not on. I hope you intervened?’

  ‘Of course I bloody did,’ I rolled my eyes at him and headed to the fridge to pull out the ingredients for dinner.

  Later that evening, I heard my bag vibrate and froze. I hadn’t put the Motorola back onto silent. Luckily David was in the lounge watching a dull programme about canal journeys. I flipped open the phone and saw I had two text messages from Nicky. I hesitated for a second before opening them. My hands shook as I read the first one.

  Reconsidered?

  And then:

  Shame

  The first message was sent a couple of hours ago and the second just now. I didn’t respond. He wouldn’t be reasoned with and it might do more harm than good to open communication between us. I’d carry on as before, ignoring the texts and the goading. Eventually he would get bored. He had to.

  My iPhone rang on the worktop, the screen flashing, it had been on silent since the anonymous phone calls started. I didn’t want to alert David, still hoping I could handle this myself without blowing up my world as I knew it.

  I realised it was yet another anonymous call and I stabbed the red button on the screen to decline it. Nicky had found a new way of harassing me, but these missed calls I could cope with. The thing I couldn’t cope with was him using my daughter. I wanted to believe her and that she hadn’t slept with him already, although I knew how persuasive he could be. His words rang out in my head: I fuck your daughter because I can’t fuck you. I had to try and get through to her, try and make her see he was bad news although I feared I was too late. She was already lost to him. I tapped on her door, no reply came, but I entered anyway.

  ‘Do you want me to take you to the doctors? Get you on the pill?’ I suggested gently. It was the last thing I wanted. The thought of Charlotte and Nicky sleeping together was intolerable, but as her mother, I had to make sure she was safe, and protected. I didn’t want her to end up like Amelia.

  ‘Mum, how many times? We’re not having sex!’ Charlotte was exasperated. It felt like she was missing a word from the end of that sentence. Yet. We’re not having sex yet. The idea Charlotte would lose her virginity to that little shit didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘OK, well if you change your mind, let me know and I’ll book an appointment.’ For now, I had to be grateful for the reprieve and just hope I could change her mind before Nicky did something that couldn’t be undone.

  On Saturday, Charlotte remained in her room, practically on hunger strike, refusing to speak to me. Only David was allowed to deliver her food and I was annoyed that he was pandering to her. What message was that sending?

  When Sunday came around, she tried a different tack and bent over backwards to be nice. She begged David and I over lunch to let her see Nicky. I was happy for the separation to continue for as long as possible, but under the imminent threat of tears, David rolled over.

  ‘OK, he can come around here tonight.’

  Charlotte bounced away from the table clutching her phone.

  I scowled at my husband. He used to have a backbone; where it had disappeared to, I didn’t know. I chided myself; I wasn’t being fair. David didn’t know the circumstances; he had no reason to be overly concerned about Nicky.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about Christmas,’ I said, putting down the paperback I was reading and taking a sip of my tea.

  ‘It’s four weeks away, I believe,’ David said wryly as he lowered the newspaper in front of his face.

  ‘Stella invited us to Nottingham.’

  David’s gaze returned back to the newspaper.

  ‘Well, I thought as this was our new home, perhaps it would be nice to spend Christmas here? The first Christmas in this house. We can invite your parents over and I can go and see Mum at some point, the day after Boxing day perhaps?’

  I felt deflated, he was right of course, but I wanted to be away from here, away from Nicky.

  ‘OK.’ I got up to throw my remaining tea in the sink and headed upstairs to put some ironing away.

  ‘Stella can come here if she wants too?’ David called after me, and I knew he was trying to compromise, but it couldn’t work with Stella’s parents to look after. I didn’t both
er shouting downstairs to reply.

  Christmas wasn’t the same for me now. My miscarriage last year had happened on the 22 December and I’d spent most of the festivities trying not to cry in front of Charlotte. The anniversary was approaching, and I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I do something in remembrance or try and pretend it was a normal day and keep myself busy?

  Later, after dinner, David received a phone call from his boss to ask whether he could prepare a presentation for the board tomorrow. Of course, he agreed and locked himself away in the office upstairs to get started. I knew better than to disturb him when he was busy so left him to it. I lingered by the door, listening to hear if he was on the phone but heard nothing but the tapping of keys. The effort we’d been making since his affair had been revealed had stalled. I knew he felt like I was shutting him out, but I couldn’t talk to him about Nicky.

  I rustled up some pasta, quick and easy, delivering David a bowl to his desk. Charlotte was unusually talkative over dinner, obviously looking forward to Nicky’s arrival. I said they could have the front room to watch a movie as I would be doing some ironing but he had to be gone by ten. Charlotte asked if she could microwave some popcorn, and before Nicky arrived, dinner had been cleared away and everything made ready for him: a large bowl of popcorn, a can of Coke chilled and ready to be opened, and a movie downloaded from Sky.

  I shut myself away in the back room. Muffled voices and giggling came from the lounge as I tried to concentrate on not burning one of David’s work shirts. I turned the volume up on the TV, so I didn’t have to listen to them. David was still upstairs in the office and it was unlikely he’d be out until after I went to bed.

  Just before ten, knowing Nicky would be leaving shortly, I went upstairs to put my pyjamas on, discarding my clothes on the bed. I liked to lay with the iPad and go through my emails and social media stuff before turning in. I heard them giggling whilst I was getting changed but I wasn’t concerned anything untoward was going on downstairs. Hopefully Charlotte was staying true to her word about refraining from sex with Nicky, although I had no idea how long it would last. I was certain it wouldn’t be happening under my roof tonight.

  I was scrolling through Twitter when I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and, thinking it was David, I hurried to the bedroom door and opened it.

  ‘You finished?’ But it wasn’t David, it was Nicky standing there with his T-shirt crumpled.

  He stepped forwards into my bedroom forcing me to take a step backwards.

  ‘You shouldn’t be in here.’ I hissed, acutely aware David was only feet away behind the office door. ‘Where’s Charlotte?’ I asked.

  He ran his fingers over his stubbled jaw. ‘She’s using the toilet downstairs. I said I’d use the one up here,’ he whispered, stepping forward again, but this time I held my ground. He was so close, I could smell the popcorn on his breath.

  ‘Please leave,’ I said, sounding a lot calmer than I felt.

  ‘Ah come on, I can be quick,’ he whispered, reaching forward and tugging at the waistband of my pyjamas.

  I recoiled, slapping his hand away. I vaguely registered David’s muffled voice down the hall; he must be on the phone.

  ‘Get out!’ I hissed and he retreated back into the hallway, giving me a wink and heading into the bathroom. I locked myself in the en suite, shaking as I sat on the toilet with my knees pressed against my chest.

  I had no idea what Nicky was capable of. I thought I knew him, but since I’d ended the affair, I realised I didn’t know him at all. Five minutes later, I heard the front door shut and I unlocked the door to the en suite, hurrying around my bed to peer out of the window. I watched Nicky get into his car and drive away. Still feeling unsettled, I got into bed, pulling the covers right up to my chin. I put an old episode of Friends on the iPad and halfway through let my heavy eyelids fall and drifted into a fitful sleep.

  I dreamt Nicky and Charlotte got married and, during the speeches, he projected a naked photo of me as he presented the benefits of trying the mother of the bride out first. I woke in a panic, damp hair stuck to my forehead, until I remembered I’d never sent him any pictures of myself, naked or otherwise. The room was pitch black, the iPad digging into my side. It was three o’clock. David wasn’t beside me, had he slept downstairs?

  Curiosity got the better of me and I slipped on my dressing gown and crept down the stairs. I heard David snoring from the sofa before I reached the bottom step. Peeking into the front room, I saw he was positioned half on the sofa, half on the floor and still fully clothed. He must have finished working and gone downstairs for a drink before falling asleep.

  Entering the kitchen to get a glass of water, I noticed a light illuminating my bag in the darkness and realised the Motorola must have a text as the light flashed until the text was either opened or the battery died, whichever came first. I fished the phone out of my bag, put it in the pocket of my gown and took my glass of water back upstairs.

  In the safety of my room, with the door closed, I opened the text message. The picture was slow to download as usual and feelings of dread crept through me as it came through. It was a black lacy bra laid on out on a bed – Nicky’s bed, I recognised the pattern of the duvet cover. The text underneath made me baulk.

  Got myself a souvenir

  I switched on my light and rummaged through the clothes I’d pushed onto the floor when I climbed in bed. My top and jeans were there, and underneath were the knickers, but the matching bra had gone.

  47

  I stood in my room, aghast at what Nicky had done. He must have come back and taken my underwear. The dirty underwear I’d been wearing all day. I ran to wretch into the sink. Whatever I did, I couldn’t escape him. The torment was getting worse and I felt backed into a corner. There was nothing left to do, I had to confront him at school. I had to admit everything to David. I didn’t know if my marriage would survive it or if my daughter would ever speak to me again but there was no other option now. I wasn’t sure what lengths he would go to.

  I switched off the light and slipped the Motorola into my underwear drawer. I hadn’t bothered replying to Nicky, what was the point? I tried to go back to sleep and did at some point, around half past five, waking again before seven. I dressed in a black pinstripe suit with a white blouse, as business-like as possible. I felt empowered and it would enable me to do what had to be done.

  I was devoid of energy and it was obvious in my lessons. At lunchtime I scoured the grounds looking for Nicky but couldn’t find him. After searching the football court and playground, I ventured to the sports hall. My breath caught in my throat when I found him alone, practising his basketball moves.

  He grinned when he saw me, eyes lighting up, no hint of remorse in his expression. His demeanour sent a chill that descended the length of my body. He was unhinged.

  ‘I want you to leave us alone,’ I said slowly and clearly, as I walked over to him. My words echoed around the empty hall, bouncing off the bare brick walls. He rested the ball on his hip and lifted his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. It was done to showcase his perfectly toned stomach, but I didn’t blink. It wasn’t going to work.

  ‘Come on, Izzy. Stop playing hard to get. We were good together.’ He sounded so sure of himself. I could see he thought it was only a matter of time before our affair was rekindled.

  I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. ‘Listen, Nicky, I don’t know how much plainer I can be. What happened between us is in the past, it will never happen again. I want you to leave me and my daughter alone. If you don’t, I’m going to tell David and Charlotte all about us and then I’ll tell the school.’

  Nicky shrugged and turned his back on me, shooting the ball and watching it land perfectly through the basketball hoop.

  ‘You won’t do that.’

  ‘Oh, I will, trust me,’ I spat. Anger was bubbling to the surface. I leant towards him, our faces inches apart and lowered my voice. ‘You’ll be kicked out of school, then you�
��ll have to be a grown up and go out and get a job. I’ll move away and you’ll never see me or Charlotte again. I’ll tell everyone about you, how you’re a manipulative little stalker, a pervert with a fascination for older women, English teachers especially,’ I whispered into his ear, the venom in my voice unmistakable.

  Nicky took a step back, picking up another basketball from the side lines. A grin emerging as he took in my words.

  ‘You heard about Miss Willis then?’ He laughed, before continuing. ‘Don’t worry, Izzy, there’s only ever been you,’ he sneered.

  ‘I went to see her, so I know all about you, Nicky, and soon everyone will if you don’t back off.’

  He raised his eyebrows and the basketball rolled out of his hand, bouncing to the floor.

  I walked away from him, out of the school hall, hoping the message had finally sunk in.

  I didn’t see Nicky for the rest of the week. I threw myself into my lessons and swam after school. My shoulders loosened more each day that went by that I didn’t see him. Charlotte said he was busy putting hours in at the garage, so he wasn’t around much. I hoped he was trying to let her down gently. Perhaps it was finally over? When I drove out of the car park on Friday afternoon, I was looking forward to a week away from school, hopefully one where I wouldn’t have to see Nicky or even hear his name.

  Charlotte had other ideas as she told me about his upcoming birthday celebrations at the weekend and how she was going to surprise him with a T-shirt she had designed in Textiles class. My heart plummeted, but I continued to smile and nod along to Charlotte, who bounced in her seat the whole way home, glad that he’d finally got in touch with her. His birthday was on Sunday so she was going shopping tomorrow to search for the perfect card and would I drop her in to town?

  I’d made zero progress as far as Christmas was concerned so decided I’d brave the crowds and make a start.