The Learning Curve

by Melissa Nathan

  They stared at each other. Finally, Ally let out a long, deep sigh.

  ‘Nicky,’ she said softly, ‘I hate to stop you mid-breakdown, but you are forgetting one important thing.’

  Nicky frowned and then gasped. ‘Of course! His au pairs!’

  Ally stared. ‘No! Nicky, listen to me. He liked you before Miss James’s job came up.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yes!’ cried Ally. ‘He gave you that glowing review in front of everyone, remember?’

  ‘Ah yes, but I was still the Deputy Head, wasn’t I? Still pretty high up.’

  ‘Nicky!’ shouted Ally. ‘This is not Carry On Up the Staffroom. You are going to have to get a grip.’

  ‘You know what?’ said Nicky suddenly, turning to Ally. ‘There’s only way I could believe his intentions with me were genuine.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘If he left the school.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Then I’d know it was about me and not his poxy job at Heatheringdown.’

  ‘Look,’ said Ally, ‘I know you’ve been working really, really hard recently, but you’ve got to get a grip. Mark Samuels is going on a week-long school trip to be with his boy. End of story.’

  Nicky stood motionless.

  ‘Nicky?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she sighed wearily. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I’ve just got so sick of all the politics.’

  ‘It’s OK. It’s nearly the end of term.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Good. No ulterior motive,’ said Ally.

  ‘No ulterior motive,’ repeated Nicky.

  ‘OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Now. Do you think you’re ready to come back into the staffroom?’

  Nicky nodded and slowly, they went back in together.

  Across the corridor, Mark sat in his office, staring at his list of emails. He’d done it. And it hadn’t been nearly as unpleasant as he’d thought it would be. In fact, Miss James seemed so preoccupied she almost didn’t notice. Yes, she admitted she was surprised and extremely disappointed – his appointment here had lifted morale no end – but when he’d honestly explained his rationale, she’d had the good grace to say that she completely understood. It was a real pity it had to happen so soon, as well. So little time for everyone to get their minds round it. She told him that he would be sorely missed and she would announce the news to the rest of the staff after the school trip. But until then, he was not to tell a soul. She did not want the school trip spoilt by news that she felt sure would bring everyone down.

  And so Mark had found he had no choice. If he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that he was leaving – and however desperately he wanted to tell Nicky, there was no way he’d risk her career by landing her that kind of secret – and there were only two more days of term after the school trip, he’d had no choice. Of course he didn’t want to go on the stupid trip – who in their right mind would? But he knew that if he didn’t buy himself some extra time with Nicky, it would be too late. He wouldn’t have any excuse to see her again. As long as he didn’t tell her that he was leaving, he could maybe actually get somewhere with her. So he’d persuaded Oscar to go on the school trip and signed them both up.

  27

  NICKY’S BEDROOM WINDOW was as wide open as it went, and a humid breeze rippled over her clothes, which lay prone and lifeless on her bed like sunbathing models. She and Ally stared at each item in turn, Nicky trying to envisage them as the clothes of a future headmistress, Ally trying to envisage them as the clothes of a hot chick on the pull.

  Claire was also due in ten minutes to help Nicky decide what to pack. Which meant Nicky had ten minutes to give herself a manicure, face pack and home-wax.

  As she ran to the bathroom, Ally followed her and sat on the edge of the bath, watching her spread depilatory cream on her legs, mud on her face and Lovechild! varnish on her nails.

  ‘You do realise,’ Ally said, ‘that Rob is going to pop a toothbrush in his top pocket two minutes before leaving.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Nicky through her face pack. ‘Everything’s easier for men.’

  ‘They don’t even have to sit on cold toilet seats to wee,’ agreed Ally. ‘Bastards.’

  By the time Claire arrived, Nicky had a mud-brown face, vibrant-red nails and scarlet-pimpled legs.

  ‘Whe-hey!’ said Claire, as Nicky tried to remove the cream and mud. ‘Sexy.’ She went ahead into the bedroom. ‘Right,’ she said, scanning the bed. ‘How long you going for? A month?’

  ‘A week,’ said Nicky, following Ally into the room.

  ‘A week?’ repeated Claire.

  ‘I told her it wasn’t enough,’ said Ally.

  Claire stared at the clothes. ‘You’re taking this much crap for one week?’

  Nicky breathed evenly, her fingers fanned on her hips. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re going to help me decide what to take for a week. Without crushing my self-esteem.’ There was a pause. ‘Do you think you can manage that?’

  ‘I don’t crush your self-esteem,’ replied Claire. ‘You take things far too seriously.’

  Nicky counted to ten for her fingernails to dry. Then she counted to fifty for her anger to subside.

  ‘Right,’ said Claire, picking up Nicky’s favourite skirt. ‘Well, this is gorgeous.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘If you want a holiday shag.’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Ally.

  Nicky put it back in the wardrobe, without giving it another glance. ‘That’s exactly the help I need.’ She stared at her wet thumbnail. ‘Damn.’

  ‘Wha—?’ said Ally.

  Claire was now holding up a pair of pedal pushers and frowning hard.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Nicky tentatively.

  ‘Difficult to say,’ mused Claire. ‘Tell me about them.’ Ally stood behind Claire, shaking her head furiously at Nicky.

  ‘Very comfortable,’ listed Nicky, ‘can sit on the grass without worrying about my knickers showing, make my bum look big but my ankles small, in the Gap sale two years ago, go with everything.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Claire, holding them up towards Nicky, eyes already on the next item.

  Within half an hour, the ideal future-headmistress wardrobe was selected and Nicky had smudged eight nails. Claire popped to the toilet, leaving Ally and Nicky alone.

  ‘Has she always been this scary?’ whispered Ally.

  ‘Ye-es,’ replied Nicky thoughtfully. ‘I think motherhood did it to her.’

  ‘Remind me never to become a mother.’

  Nicky shook her head. ‘No, I mean becoming a mother to me when she was so young. Right. I’m going to redo my nails. Back in a mo.’

  Ally sat on the bed frowning. Then, when she heard Nicky shut herself in the bathroom, she leapt to action. She opened the case and added two of the sexier skirts Nicky had discarded. She thought about adding the fuchsia cardigan and strappy summer sandals, but changed her mind. She didn’t want to overdo it. Then she made a hasty exit.

  Nicky locked her luggage without looking inside, ruining her nails again, and left for town to spend half her salary on a haircut and the other half on a hat to hide it under. As she’d left her home, she’d looked up at the sky. The sun had phoned in its work today, leaving a hot, grey sky hanging over hot, grey people. This holiday was going to be unutterably terrible, she’d decided. Three hours later, on her journey back, she considered texting Rob to ask how smart his holiday wardrobe would be, but thought better of it. For a start, he’d only reply that her text would be one of their grandchildren’s favourite anecdotes one day, and secondly, she didn’t want to show how much she cared before she’d even got on the coach.

  Meanwhile, as the morning dampened into early afternoon, Rob returned home an hour earlier than usual. He picked up his mail from the doormat and flicked through it while wandering into his bedroom to pack. He sat down heavily on his bed and stared at the envelope in his hand. He turned it over. He let the moment last.
Here, in his hand, was his future. Here was the long-awaited reply from a private school in London, where he’d been interviewed six weeks ago. He was holding his future. He felt sure the interview had gone well.

  He made a decision: if he got this job, he would bunk off Bournemouth. Dead relative – funeral, etc. He thought of Amanda and Nicky on the coach without him and smiled. Too good to be true, he repeated like a mantra as he tore open the envelope. He read the letter. He stopped smiling. Then he read it again, scrunched it up and threw it on the floor, swearing. He stood up, opened his wardrobe and started throwing clothes into the open suitcase behind him. This was now more than a trip. This was the job interview of his life. Everything else had been leading up to this. He was going to be the next Head of Heatheringdown. Whatever it took. Within five years he’d double its size and get the best SATS results in London and then move to a posh, fancy private school in the south. And then he’d drive a car like that cocky shit Mark Samuels.

  He stopped, turned round, and looked at the untidy pile of clothes in the suitcase. Then he took them all out and folded them up neatly before putting them back in again. He decided he would phone Pete later and see if he could extract any interesting goss from the gang. Girls told each other everything and sometimes Ally had a blind spot when it came to Pete.

  If he had phoned Pete then, he’d have only got his answerphone. Pete was sitting inelegantly in his local YMCA changing rooms, a small towel covering his modesty, leaning hard against his locker, his concave chest wheezing gently. When he got his breath back, he’d have a shower. Until then he’d just sit there trying not to look at anyone. He closed his eyes. Did women really prefer men with rolls of flesh? Men with hair smothering their shoulders? Men with stomachs that went all the way round their backs? Men whose sweat kamikaze-ed off them when they turned round?

  Perhaps he should stop going to the gym. How could something that was meant to make you feel better about yourself involve stripping naked in front of other men? Men who, it just so happened, went regularly to the gym? Anyway, it was making absolutely no difference at all. She was no more interested in him than she’d been before he’d started to keep fit. What was it to her that he could now lift heavier weights than two months ago? And run for another fifteen minutes? She couldn’t care less if he could carry a truck on his back.

  Once, to his horror, she’d actually caught him eyeing her, and the look she’d thrown him was one of utter contempt. As if he’d just told her he liked doing it with sheep, or something. It had taken him a week to look her in the eye again. He sighed heavily and pulled himself to his feet. Then he wrapped his towel round him, before padding slowly to the showers.

  Meanwhile, after she’d left Nicky’s, Ally spent the day mooching round Muswell Hill before taking the bus home to Finsbury Park. She had considered walking into Crouch End and taking the bus from there, which would have been great exercise, but she’d had too much to carry, and anyway, what was the point? She could walk a mile every hour and eat nothing but vegetables for the rest of her life and still look more like Superman than Lois Lane. She wondered if people looked at her and marvelled at her size? Did the gang pity her? She’d once caught Pete’s eye focus on her ample bosom and then, when he saw that she’d seen, he looked sharply away. It was the expression of shame on his face when he looked away that had hurt her more than anything. As if her breasts were just so big, and the expanse of her back so broad, that he was just embarrassed for her. Mind you, what did she expect from someone whose thighs were probably the size of her shins?

  While some of her staff were preparing for the trip, Henrietta James stood looking out of the living-room window at the neat little garden beyond, her long hair and smooth skin belying her true age. A robin was pecking at the hanging bird-food. She’d give herself another five minutes before putting the vegetables on. She heard her mother shuffle in behind her.

  ‘I see you’re all packed, then.’

  She nodded.

  ‘I shan’t call if anything happens,’ her mother informed her, sitting down with a groan. ‘No need to spoil your holiday.’

  ‘It’s not a holiday,’ repeated Henrietta, turning to face her mother. ‘It’s work.’

  Her mother tutted. ‘You’ve retired, girl. Leave on a high.’

  Henrietta thought of the puzzle cheat and then went into the kitchen to get the vegetables started.

  At about the same time, Oscar was sitting on top of his Samsonite suitcase while Mark tried to shut it through his legs. It had been a fun day. They’d started packing straight after breakfast. Every now and then his dad had asked a packing question, and it had been his job to phone Daisy and repeat the question, so she could ask her mum. Lilith had then told Daisy the answer, Daisy told him and he told his dad. It had been the most fun packing ever. He went to bed early but couldn’t fall asleep for ages.

  In direct contrast, Mark went to bed late and fell asleep instantly. He had known that once he’d handed in his resignation at Heatheringdown, lots of things would fall into place. He enjoyed his job, but when he’d got the phone call from Fortune Green School – Heatheringdown’s feeder senior school and the school Oscar would be going to in September – offering him the same post but for significantly more money, he knew he would be mad to refuse. Lilith had been right. He simply wasn’t earning enough. Yes, they had plenty of savings, but it took courage to live off savings. This way, he would be able to live off his current earnings instead of his past earnings and still be able to walk into school with Osc (until Osc would be too cool to walk in with his dad, of course).

  And then as soon as he’d handed in his resignation, everything made sense. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was hopelessly in love with Nicky Hobbs because the thought of not seeing her every day depressed him. He hadn’t even left the school yet and already he was missing her. It hurt him every time they said hello in the corridor, because he knew it was only for a few more days. It hurt every time he saw her car in the car park and knew that he’d missed bumping into her. It hurt every time Oscar talked about her, because he wasn’t with her and was jealous of whoever was.

  And so, after much persuading, Oscar agreed to go on the school trip with him. At first he’d been so adamantly against going that, to get him to agree, Mark had been forced to tell him about his new job, after swearing him to secrecy. It had worked. Oscar was persuaded. Not only was he persuaded, he was thrilled. Not about the trip – that would be awful – but about starting senior school in September at the same time as his dad. He wasn’t scared any more.

  Mark had known that there was every chance Oscar would come round to the idea of the school trip before he himself had. But he hadn’t realised quite how quickly that would happen. They hadn’t even left home yet and already the boy was enjoying it more than he was. In fact, he could honestly say that he’d never hated packing for a holiday so much in his life. He had allowed what he’d thought was a generous half-day for it, but it had just gone on and on. By lunch-time he’d had a shopping list of necessities he’d never realised were necessities before, because five-star hotels supplied them as a matter of course. As the packing had expanded to fill the entire day, he’d begun to have serious doubts about his decision to go on this trip with Oscar. What sort of place expected you to bring your own soap? How could anything be defined as a holiday, when you had to carry the most basic contents of your own bathroom cabinet there with you? After they’d labelled everything (what for? So a thief would know the name of the person whose item he’d stolen?) they went to the local chemist where he discovered the existence of holiday-sized containers.

  Then later, while he’d been preparing an easy pasta dinner, it had suddenly occurred to him that during all his previous holidays he had had an au pair keeping house during his absence. He would have to remember to cancel the milk last thing tonight and the newspapers tomorrow morning and empty his fridge of anything that might go mouldy within the week. And empty the kitchen bin ready for the d
ustmen later in the week. He would have to ask Lilith to put out the bins the night before the dustmen were due. This holiday had better be good, he thought. And then he thought of Nicky.

  By the time he’d finished clearing up from dinner, packed his own bag and clambered into bed, he needed a holiday. And not one where they didn’t supply the bloody soap. He shut his eyes and imagined Nicky packing for the same trip. He wondered if she’d ever been on a holiday where she didn’t need to pack her own soap. He saw her lying by a pool in a bikini. The next morning he woke with a start. He stared ahead of him, and saw Nicky lying by a pool in a bikini.

  A mile away, Nicky opened her eyes and lay quite still for a while. She mentally ticked off all the items on her packing list. Then she got out of bed, opened her wardrobe, pulled out a pretty fuchsia cardigan and a pair of strappy sandals and tucked them on the top of her luggage. She stopped and stared at the two short skirts lying on the top, before a slow smile widened her lips. She stretched across to her phone and dialled Ally’s number.

  28

  CLAIRE DROVE NICKY to school so that Nicky’s car wouldn’t be left unattended in the car park for a week. It was a Saturday morning and they were the first ones there. As they sat in the car, facing the entrance, waiting for everyone else to arrive, Claire plonked a paper bag in Nicky’s lap.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Nicky.

  ‘It’s a paper bag,’ said Claire.

  Nicky opened it. Inside was a pair of earrings, a necklace and bracelet.

  ‘The girls chose them,’ said Claire. ‘They’ll go with the skirts I told you not to pack.’

  Nicky blinked. ‘How did you know I’d packed them?’

  Claire shrugged. ‘When did you ever listen to me?’

  Nicky gave a tight grin and Claire said, ‘it’s a pleasure.’

  When the coach turned into the car park, they got out of the car and lugged Nicky’s hold-all across the empty playground. The day wasn’t going to be a stunner, but youth was on its side and the early-morning air was fresh, bordering on frisky.