By the time the owner had finished the tour, Mark could barely speak for excitement. Thankfully, he’d had years of training as a man, so was able to fully control his emotions. When his mobile buzzed in his pocket he ignored it. He nodded silently as the owner explained why her family was leaving such a beautiful, well-loved house and showed him where the boiler was. He shook her hand firmly and then slowly walked down the path. When he got to his car, his mobile phone buzzed in his pocket again, telling him that a message had been left for him. He took it out to see who the message was from. If it was the office, he wasn’t answering.
He didn’t recognise the number, but it was local. He barely dared imagine what it was as he selected to listen to the message.
He stood with the key hovering near the car-door lock, listening intently. And then with a smile on his face, he turned round and walked straight back to the front door.
The owner opened the door and smiled openly at him.
‘Sorry to trouble you,’ he began, ‘but I just wondered if I could check one other thing?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Come in.’
This time they both walked straight into the lounge.
‘This may sound silly,’ said Mark, ‘but where do you put your Christmas tree?’
The owner pointed to the front bay window of the living room. He hadn’t noticed it was a bay. ‘And we also have a tree in the kitchen,’ she admitted a bit sheepishly. ‘The kids love them so much.’
‘Ah!’ he murmured, nodding slowly. ‘Yes. I see.’
He asked her if it would be convenient to come back in half an hour with his son. It would give him twenty minutes to tell Oscar that, if Oscar approved, Dad was going to be the next bursar at Heatheringdown Primary School, and as of 3 January next year, would walk into school with him every day, be at home during every afternoon, and have no office work during the school holidays. Oh, and he’d found a new home for them to live in so that they could still afford holidays.
An hour later, with Oscar’s hysterically giggled blessing, he made an offer to the owner of the halls-adjoining, three-bed semi in Muswell Hill borders, of the asking price.
15
NICKY CLAPPED HER hands again and waited for the hubbub to die down. Trinny and Susannah had been whispering all the way through David and Victoria’s rendition of ‘All I want for Christmas is a Baby Girl’.
‘Trinny and Susannah!’ she cried eventually, interrupting the Beckhams. ‘If you don’t stop whispering, I shall make you do one of your own makeovers.’
Rarely had a threat worked so effectively.
Miss James was due to pop in later this afternoon to watch today’s rehearsal. During any other rehearsal Nicky would have been delighted, but after seeing Mr Samuels at school yesterday, it just made her feel incredibly anxious. Miss James hadn’t mentioned him in this morning’s meeting, but then she might feel it inappropriate to bring up a complaint about her in front of Rob. Would she use this opportunity to ask to see her privately, while smiling sweetly at her? Or would she actually try and talk to her during the rehearsal in front of the children? There was no knowing with Miss James.
Nicky got the kids to start their rehearsal again and just as it began, she heard the door behind her swing open and shut. She turned and watched Miss James approach. She was making a grand show of coming in very slowly on tiptoe like a cartoon character, which made her tilt at a precarious angle, necklaces and glasses swinging like a pendulum. When Nicky gave her an uncertain smile, Miss James beamed back so widely that what remaining part of her body wasn’t tilting, now hunched. The overall effect was something like a demented tortoise. When she finally reached Nicky, she gave her shoulders a squeeze and huddled up to her in the vast hall, as if for warmth.
When the rehearsal finished, she clapped so loudly that Nicky’s head almost burst.
‘More! More! More! More! More! More!’ she cried out.
The children cheered, which finished any work Miss James hadn’t finished.
‘Are we all having fun?’ yelled Miss James.
‘Yes!’ shrieked ten children.
‘Three cheers for Miss Hobbs!’ yelled Miss James. Nicky managed a gracious smile.
Miss James turned to Nicky.
‘Right. I’m off home, my dear. See you tomorrow morning, bright and early!’ She gave her a wink and waved as she tiptoed out, hunched precariously.
Nicky watched her go. Would she talk to her about Mr Samuels then? In front of Rob?
Later that night Oscar stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a look of undisguised derision on his face.
‘What do you think?’ asked Mark, standing behind him and frowning at his son’s reflection.
Oscar managed to screw his face up even more. ‘I think I look like a twat.’
Mark grimaced. ‘Oscar! Don’t use that word. It doesn’t become you.’
‘Neither does this costume. It makes me look like a twat.’
‘Oscar!’
‘Ali G wears expensive glasses, not swimming goggles.’
‘But they look like swimming goggles.’
‘It’s not the same thing. I’m going to look like a twat.’
‘Right,’ clipped Mark. ‘That’s it. Time for bed. You’ll have to work out what to wear yourself. I’ve got to get up in . . .’ He looked at his watch and groaned. ‘Five hours. We’ll go costume shopping at the weekend.’
‘Great,’ moaned Oscar.
‘Yeah, I can’t wait either.’
‘I’m not wearing swimming goggles,’ shouted Oscar as he went to his room. ‘Everyone else is going shopping with their mates, not their dads.’
Mark followed Oscar into his room so fast that Oscar felt sure he was going to get walloped. He backed into his room, almost falling over his feet. He tried to finish this with a look of defiance, but he knew he’d given his fear away.
‘If you want to go clothes shopping with your ten-year-old mates, you can, young man,’ hissed Mark furiously. ‘And you know what?’
Oscar shook his head numbly.
‘Then you’ll look like a twat.’
And he slammed Oscar’s bedroom door shut on him.
Ally came round on Sunday and Nicky discovered just how much her friend really detested Amanda. She’d always assumed that the onus of hatred for the girl lay on her shoulders, due to Amanda’s obvious intentions towards Rob. But it seemed that Ally had plenty of her own motives for hatred where Amanda was concerned.
‘That body,’ she almost spat. ‘It’s a stick with breasts. I mean, what’s so attractive about that? It’d be like necrophilia. What is wrong with men these days?’
Nicky shrugged miserably. ‘They seem to like it.’
‘Yeah. Because they’ve got shit for brains.’
‘I’m not arguing there, girlfriend,’ whispered Nicky.
‘And Rob’s a piece of shit for including her in all our conversations. Why should we have to spend time with someone we hate, just because he wants to sleep with her?’
‘Do you . . .’ began Nicky, ‘do you seriously think he’s going to go for it?’
Ally looked at her. ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ she asked rhetorically.
‘But she’s not even his type,’ she said weakly.
Ally gave a bitter laugh. ‘Maybe it’s time you finally wised up about Rob, Nicky,’ she said. ‘Amanda’s putting that stick-insect body on a plate for him, like something out of I’m a Celebrity. He’s a bloke who’s used to getting his end away as quickly as looking at someone. And his pride’s been hurt.’
‘I think you’re being a bit harsh –’
‘No!’ cried Ally. ‘The sooner you realise Rob’s just another bloke the quicker you’re gonna get closure.’
‘I’ve got closure!’
‘Oh yeah, sorry,’ said Ally. ‘I forgot.’
Nicky stayed silent.
‘And as for Pete,’ continued Ally, ‘I’m losing all respect for him.’
‘Why?’
There was a long pause. ‘And what?’ asked Nicky.
‘Nothing. Dunno. Nothing.’
‘Tell me.’
Ally shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Oh, he just always sides with Rob whenever you two have a . . . you know, thing.’
Nicky felt uncomfortable. ‘Well,’ she mumbled, ‘I suppose . . . I’d like to think you always side with me because you’re my friend.’
‘No,’ said Ally firmly.
Nicky couldn’t speak.
‘I side with you because you’re right,’ said Ally. ‘Pete sides with Rob ’cos he’s a bloke and they have bloke rules. And they are pathetic.’
They looked at each other sadly. Ally finished her brioche and swigged it down with the last of her coffee.
‘Maybe,’ attempted Nicky, ‘we just raised our expectations because we got on with them so well. But deep down, they’re just men. They can’t help themselves.’
‘That is not good enough!’ cried Ally. ‘Don’t forgive them just because they’re men! How come everyone damns women just because we’re women but forgives men just because they’re men. I’m sick of it. They’re human beings too. With souls. With morals. With empathy.’
‘With willies.’
Ally pondered for a moment. ‘Hmm,’ she murmured eventually. ‘I’m not too sure about Pete. Where would he put it for a start?’
Nicky snorted. ‘Maybe it’s a fold-up one. Like a Swiss army penknife.’
They built on this for a while until they felt better, and when Ally had to leave, they shared an extra big hug.
Exactly one week later, the great day had arrived. Today was the day that Heatheringdown would re-enact the humble birth of Jesus and hear Thierry Henry sing ‘Wish I Was at Home for Christmas’.
Miss James still hadn’t mentioned the mysterious appearance of Oscar’s father and, feeling brave one day, Nicky actually managed to mention that she’d seen him in the school without blushing. Miss James had winked at her and said enigmatically. ‘I know, my dear. I know. More of that later.’
And so Nicky forced herself to forget it. And what with rehearsals and the increasingly excited atmosphere at school, she occasionally managed to.
At the end of the school day she wished her pupils good luck, and told them that she was proud of all of them and couldn’t wait to see them perform in a few hours. Then she drove back home, prepared a quick dinner, cleared up and took herself into her bedroom to get dressed for her favourite evening of the term.
Ten minutes later, she was still standing in front of her wardrobe, now in bra and knickers, frowning, awaiting inspiration. After a while she padded across her flat to the bathroom, where she ran a scaldingly hot bath with plenty of bubbles. To the soothing accompaniment of a running bath, she returned to her wardrobe. After a while, she padded back across her flat, past the bathroom to the kitchen where she filled the kettle and switched it on. Now with her home full of sounds heralding pleasant sensory experiences, she returned to her wardrobe and awaited inspiration.
Then she went and made herself a mug of hot, sweet tea.
Comforted, she brought it back to the wardrobe, stood in front of it, sipping her tea and awaiting inspiration.
Then she had a bath.
She slipped off her underwear and pointed her toes daintily into the water. Her eyes closed blissfully. She sank in, relishing the nearly painful heat as it spread up her body.
She rested her head back and floated in the bubbles. She smiled. In just two hours, her favourite pupils for years were going to take a massive leap towards the adults they would one day become, and she would be watching from the wings. Tonight they would find confidence and faith in themselves. Tonight she would see their parents glow with pride. Tonight –
She balked. She sat up so quickly that water splashed on to the floor.
‘Great futting scum,’ she whispered.
Oscar was playing Ali G. Oscar’s father would be in the audience. Tonight she would have to face Mark Samuels again.
She washed quickly and got out of the bath, splashing more water on to the floor, picked up her tea and returned to her wardrobe, where she took out a dress that went in and out exactly where dresses were meant to. She took out a pair of shoes that provided something for all; comfort for the wearer; pleasure for the voyeur; a week’s mortgage payment for the designer. Then she prayed to the Goddess of Make-Up and began work on her face. The Goddess chose to be kind to her and lo, when it was done she looked fab. And finally, she geared herself up to the task of doing her hair with a determination she’d never felt before. In fact, she was so determined that she knew she’d succeed. Half an hour later, thick, glossy curls accentuated the heart-shape frame of her face and her upper arms ached from the exercise.
An hour later, she was back at school. She walked straight to the corridor behind the stage where the children’s changing rooms were, her dress silkily skimming her knees. She scanned the furthest section where her class was meant to be. No one was here yet. She wondered when they would start coming. Several of the Reception children were already here, dressed in biblical garb, their excitement causing all sorts of bodily functions to go awry. Feeling not dissimilar, she turned to go to the Ladies and give her make-up a final check. She had a feeling one or two of her eyelashes weren’t giving their all.
She walked down the darkened corridor towards the toilet. It was only after she had finished appraising her reflection that she heard a murmur followed by some giggling. She walked out of the Ladies hoping to tiptoe back unnoticed but found herself staring squarely at the door of the Gents when it was flung wide open and there stood Rob and Amanda, Rob squeezing Amanda’s waist. She forced a quick, wide grin and then turned and walked on.
‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’ asked Amanda brightly after her.
Nicky turned back to them quickly enough to catch Rob eyeing her rear view.
‘Hello!’ she said, just as brightly as Amanda.
‘We were just –’ started Rob, following her.
‘We were just, you know . . .’ giggled Amanda, following him.
‘So, how are you anyway?’ asked Rob.
Nicky turned round at them and beamed. ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said.
They all walked together to the changing rooms, Nicky wondering if it was a good or bad sign that she wanted to punch Rob as much as she wanted to punch Amanda.
Back at the changing rooms an entire dwarf-sized nativity tableau had arrived and Nicky’s heart expanded at the sight of so many cutie-pies. Mary was edible, especially when she held the baby Jesus by his left foot. One of the donkey’s mothers had made his costume to match Eeyore and Joseph’s obligatory tea-towel had cricket rules on it. She wanted to scoop them all up in her arms and hug them till their freckles fell off.
Then she almost shrieked with delight when she saw the back of Oscar’s head. She called out across the changing room and ran towards him. He turned round, his face radiating so much happiness it almost warmed the entire room. He was dressed like Ali G, complete with tight hat and big gold rings. ‘Yo,’ he said, and then snorted hysterically.
‘Dad’s in the audience,’ he announced in his normal voice.
‘Well of course!’ she replied.
‘It’s the first time he’s ever come,’ he announced again.
She managed not to repeat herself.
‘He wants to see you tonight,’ continued Oscar.
Nicky bit her lip. ‘Oh,’ she managed. ‘Does he?’
‘Yes. He has to tell you something. About meeting Miss James.’
Nicky’s blood chilled. She managed to nod. Then she stood up and looked round to see if the rest of her children were here. As she did so, she spotted Amanda leading Rob out by the hand. He turned his head just before he was out of sight and she looked away quickly. She had more important things to think about. Like the fact that Mr Samuels couldn’t wait to tell
her about meeting her boss himself.
The sudden sound of loud clapping from Miss James set off a Chinese whisper of shushes, followed by giggling, followed by more shushing. This moment was usually Nicky’s favourite bit of the whole event, the anticipation, the thrill, the fun. But tonight she could have happily hit someone. Her nerves were so jangled she was amazed she was still able to function. She was covered in goose-bumps at the same time as sweating. It was times like these you needed a mum. She got up quickly and started fussing with Bruce Forsyth’s shiny seventies-style suit.
‘Now, everyone,’ called out Miss James, ‘your family and friends are all seated and ready.’
More hysterics and shushing.
‘And I know you’re all going to show them the most wonderful Nativity they’ve ever seen.’ She smiled dotingly at all of them. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘where’s my trusted right-hand man? Mr Pattison? Mr Pattison?’
Nicky waited for Rob to appear suddenly, hair unkempt, lipstick on his cheek, grin on his lips. But no. He was obviously being shown too good a time. Men, she thought bitterly. If it’s not their au pair girl, it’s their colleague just before curtain-up. She wondered if Oscar’s au pair would be out there in the audience. Oscar hadn’t mentioned it so possibly not. Or maybe –
‘Miss Hobbs! Will you step into the breach, my friend?’
Nicky looked at Miss James.
‘Of course,’ she replied. What had she just been asked to do?
‘Excellent, excellent!’ said Miss James. ‘All you have to do is introduce the Nativity and then read out this little list of announcements.’ She held out an A4 piece of paper and Nicky made her way through the changing room to take it out of her hand. The list was made up of ten points, including a request for fundraising ideas, a car-park notice and copious thank-yous to everyone who had been involved in tonight’s production. Miss James smiled at her.
The Learning Curve Page 21