foot of the stairs. Peering in at the living room door, I spotted Paddy stretched out on the sofa,
his leg raised on a pillow. A couple of magazines lay on the floor at his side, and his laptop
hung precariously off his knee, as if unsure whether to follow. I stole across the room and
looked down at him. He was asleep, and sleep had smoothed away the pain that had altered his
face the day before. In rest, he looked more like the Paddy I had known; it was easy to imagine
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that the years hadn’t passed, and that I was watching him sleep as I often had, struck with
amazement that this man, whom I loved so much, was there in the bed beside me.
I shook away those haunting thoughts of the past. This man wasn’t the boy I had loved.
There was a small scar below the jawline on this man’s chin that hadn’t been there before, the
record of an event I knew nothing about. A couple of grey hairs lurked amid the dark curls at
his temples. The body, though covered by a shirt, was still visibly more muscular than the slim
chest I had once held close to mine. I didn’t know this man at all. And yet, as I walked away,
the laptop safely removed to the floor, a sleep-soaked voice called out, ‘Eve?’ and my body
turned, recognising and reacting to the sound with no input from my brain.
‘What are you doing here?’ Paddy’s voice was husky with tiredness. I knew that voice;
it had whispered to me under the covers on too many late nights and early mornings to count.
‘Checking you’re still alive,’ I said.
‘Alive but not kicking yet.’ A tired smile tugged at his lips. ‘Are you glad or sorry?’
‘I wouldn’t wish death on anyone. Not even you.’
His smile vanished, and I wished I could have matched his light mood; but not on that
subject. I couldn’t joke about that.
‘Sorry.’ We both said the word at the same time. I shook my head. We were straying
closer to the past than I wanted, in the atmosphere between us rather than in conversation. That
was even more dangerous, and had to stop. ‘Have you had lunch? Shall I get it for you?’
*
It was surprisingly easy to adapt to a new routine, I discovered over the course of the week. By
Thursday, it had already become a habit that needed no thought: lunchtime arrived, and I picked
up my car keys and headed home to check on Paddy. Even the evenings were transformed;
whereas on my own I would fidget, desperate to keep busy, I discovered there was satisfaction
to be found in sitting still and listening to the radio or watching television with Paddy. He was
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a quieter, more restful companion than I had expected, or than he used to be; perhaps because
I had forbidden so many topics of conversation – but even when he didn’t speak, something
about his presence settled me enough to keep my rogue thoughts at bay.
But on Thursday night, when I slammed the front door shut behind me, after the worst
day I had ever experienced at school, the last thing I wanted was company in the house. I was
halfway up the stairs, craving the solitude of my bedroom, when Paddy appeared from the
kitchen. He had abandoned the crutches, but walked gingerly, keeping his injured leg stiff and
trying to put as little weight on it as possible.
‘It’s a modern miracle,’ he was saying. ‘The supermarket has delivered all manner of
goodies so tonight you don’t need to cook. To be fair, I can’t claim to be cooking either, unless
sticking something in the oven to heat up counts … Eve?’ He leant on the bannister and stared
up at me. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
‘Nothing.’ He pulled a sceptical face, as well he might. My skin felt unnaturally tight
where the tears had dried and I had no intention of looking in a mirror any time soon. ‘Bad day
at work,’ I added, as he continued to watch me, waiting for an explanation.
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘No.’ It was an instinctive answer. I wasn’t used to having anyone at home to discuss
problems with. I dealt with things myself, with the occasional rant at Tina. But Tina was away
on a school trip, and Paddy was here, and before I knew what was happening, I had descended
the stairs and followed him into the living room where I sat down on the sofa and promptly
burst into tears.
‘Hey.’ He sat down next to me and put his arm round my shoulders. He didn’t say
another word, but waited until I had cried myself out, then squeezed my shoulder and removed
his arm.
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‘Want to tell me what happened?’ he asked. ‘Was there an accident? Has a child been
hurt?’
His question helped calm me down. The situation could have been worse, much worse,
although it had been hard to think like that at the time. I wiped my sticky cheeks.
‘It was nothing like that,’ I said. I took a deep breath, which shuddered through my
chest. ‘We had a call from the exam board today. Some A-level papers we sent them yesterday
haven’t arrived.’
‘Right.’ Paddy looked puzzled. ‘Things are delayed in the post all the time. I bet you
they’ll turn up tomorrow.’
‘No. They weren’t sent by post. They were despatched securely by courier. Somewhere
between school and the exam board, the courier has lost track of them. No one knows where
the papers are.’
‘Jeez, what a mess. So what happens now?’
I shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. It’s never happened before while I’ve been working at school.
If the papers never turn up, I think the marks will have to be based on the other papers for that
subject. Students who did well in the missing exam will be penalised.’
Paddy took my hand, and squeezed it.
‘Sounds like you had one hell of a day.’
‘That wasn’t all.’ I tried not to cry again, but I could feel the tears slipping down my
cheeks. ‘When Jo Blair found out, she went berserk. She went on and on about how she would
have to explain this to parents, and the reputational damage it would do to the school. And then
she blamed me, because I’d chosen and booked the courier company. It was a local company,
one we’ve used for years without a problem, but she said that I should have used one of the big
national couriers – that I’d jeopardised the future of the school and the students by my
decision.’
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I had never been spoken to like that in my life. Clearly, I’d been in the wrong place at
the wrong time; Jo had hit out at the easy target, whoever was closest to hand. But the public
dressing-down – in front of teachers and students – had been hard to take. I had spent years
trying to help the school run smoothly, trying, in my own tiny way, to help the children of
Inglebridge have the best future possible. Had I really damaged the prospects of these students?
Ruined their chances of achieving the grades they needed for university, as Jo had suggested?
I couldn’t bear it if I had.
‘Listen to me, Eve.’ Paddy took both my hands and turned to look into my eyes. ‘She’s
been a bitch and lashed out at the wrong person. None of this is your fault. You know it.
Don’t
let the feckers grind you down.’
He said that in his broadest Irish accent, absolute earnestness on his face, and
unexpectedly I laughed. He grinned back.
‘You know what you need?’ he asked, letting go of my hands. ‘Go for a run. Pound the
streets and imagine you’re stamping on that head teacher of yours. Run until you’re too
exhausted to think any more.’
He was right: that was exactly what I needed, and exactly what I did, pelting through
the streets and up into the hills until my chest burned, my thighs turned to jelly, and I gasped
for air. By the time I arrived home, sneaking up the stairs for a shower before Paddy could see
the state I was in, I was still thinking, but my thoughts were more rational. Paddy was right; I
had done nothing wrong. The courier company I had booked had won awards for its service
and had an unblemished record, as far as I was aware. Jo Blair had no grounds to blame me,
and if she tried again tomorrow, she wouldn’t find me such an easy victim. And as I rinsed the
shampoo from my hair, I wondered how differently this night might have gone if I had been
on my own as usual, without Paddy to talk this over with, without his sympathy and support.
Without the comfort of his hug. I swiftly rinsed that thought away too.
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When I came downstairs, hair still wet from the shower, Paddy was sitting at the kitchen
table, reading a magazine. The oven was on and a delicious smell filled the kitchen. He looked
up as I walked in and a strange expression passed over his face.
‘You barely look a day older,’ he said. I opened my mouth, but he held up his hand
before I could speak. ‘I know! No talking of the past. But you’re almost persuading me that
there’s something to this healthy living.’
‘There is. You should try it. Dare I ask what’s cooking?’ I peered in the oven and could
only see an assortment of black plastic ready meal containers.
‘Beef in black bean sauce.’ He smiled as I glanced back at him. ‘What’s the problem?
It has beans in it, so I figured it must be okay. And the Chinese are a healthy bunch, aren’t
they? Just look at how well they do in the Olympics. Right up there on the medals table. You
can’t argue with that.’
The meal was actually delicious, as Paddy was quick to point out after every mouthful
until he’d wrung some reluctant laughter out of me. I sent him away to the living room while I
washed up, and when I took him in a coffee, his leg was resting on a pillow again.
‘Has it got worse?’ I asked, gesturing at his leg.
‘Maybe I overdid it today.’
‘Do you think you’ll be fit to drive tomorrow?’
‘What’s the matter? Need me out of the way for the weekend? Ah, don’t tell me you’ve
invited the boring man round to make up for missing him this week? I wouldn’t want to get in
the way of your love life.’
‘You said he was boorish, not boring.’
‘That too. Glad you remembered. Pining for you, is he? You could have invited him
round. I promise I’d have been on my best behaviour.’
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I ignored the question. Rich had sent a text last night, letting me know he would be with
the children at the weekend, so I wouldn’t see him. There hadn’t been much evidence of pining,
either in his message or in my reply. We didn’t have that sort of relationship. We were happy
to be independent of each other in day-to-day life. It was a grown-up relationship of the type
Paddy probably wouldn’t understand. And talking of Paddy’s relationships …
‘I thought you had a date on Saturday?’ I asked. ‘You said you needed to get away.’
‘I do. Perhaps another night’s rest will make all the difference. I get it, you must be
desperate to see the back of me by now.’
If he’d said that at the start of the week, I’d have agreed. But now … It hadn’t been so
bad having him to stay, although I could hardly believe I was thinking that. Tonight, when I
had come home so upset, it had made a positive difference having him here, a difference I was
still finding it hard to comprehend. I’d prided myself on my independence, but there were some
things that independence couldn’t provide; and now, as I relaxed over my decaffeinated coffee,
listening to the music on the radio and the occasional rustle of Paddy’s magazine as he turned
the page, it did feel as if my problems with Jo Blair sat more lightly on my shoulders for having
shared them. I didn’t think it was Paddy himself that was the answer – although it was hard to
imagine Rich having the same effect – but perhaps it was a lesson for me – that there were
advantages to having a companion in the house that I’d forgotten about. And then I inwardly
groaned. Companionship? Is that what I wanted? I might as well don my slippers and shuffle
off to The Chestnuts now …
‘Here,’ Paddy said, interrupting my thoughts. He held out his magazine. ‘This will
interest you. A haul of Roman coins has been found on a farm in Dorset. Some detectorists
came across it.’
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I didn’t take the magazine from him. He waited, then leant across and placed it on my
knee. I didn’t need to look to know what it was. His archaeology journals had littered the house
all week and I had studiously avoided them.
‘I don’t do this any more,’ I said.
‘Maybe not, but can you tell me you’re not interested?’
I couldn’t; I was itching to read it.
‘I don’t get it,’ he said. ‘You were the most passionate student in our year, and the
brightest. That doesn’t die. I know you had Caitlyn. I understand you not doing it then. But
now? What’s stopping you?’
‘I have a house, a mortgage, a job, Gran …’ I reeled off the reasons. Reasons, not
excuses, as I had assured myself many times. ‘I can’t disappear for weeks on end. I can’t travel
around the world like you, leaving everything behind.’
‘I don’t travel the world now.’ He shook his head, as if to stop himself going further.
‘You can narrow your dreams, without giving them up. Your job isn’t making you happy.
Archaeology did. And you’d be amazed at the developments since we studied at university.
Airborne lidar can show up even the slightest earthwork remains. Drones are fantastic for
taking aerial imagery, which can be used to generate 3D surface models. There’s so much more
data available now. The past is getting closer to us all the time. How can you not want to be
part of it?’
I did want to be part of it. I couldn’t resist. His words blew oxygen on the spark in my
soul that had never truly died, fanning the flames of my interest – so high, that later that night,
after Paddy had gone to bed, I took out my laptop and booked a place as a volunteer on the
Roman dig in the Cotswolds that Caitlyn had found. Before I went to sleep, I took out my box
of vouchers and filled in the next one:
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BE KIND TO YOURSELF
VOUCHER SIX
I, Eve Roberts, have been kind to myself by signing up to volunteer on a d
ig!
*
‘You’re the talk of the school,’ Tina said, as soon as she got in the car the next morning.
‘Honestly, I go on one school trip and all hell breaks loose!’
She broke off to wave at Paddy, who was standing in the front window, watching us
leave.
‘He’d make a good house husband, wouldn’t he?’ She grinned. ‘I bet he’s been nice to
come home to.’
‘I can get a dog if I want a companion,’ I said, reversing off the drive and conveniently
forgetting that I’d had similar thoughts about Paddy the night before.
‘A cat, surely?’ Tina laughed. ‘If you’re determined to embrace the spinster’s life, you
need to adopt the full stereotype.’
‘I’m not a spinster,’ I protested. ‘I’m an independent woman.’
‘You do realise you can be an independent woman and part of a couple, don’t you?’
Tina shot me a speaking glance and when I didn’t reply, carried on. ‘Anyway, never mind that.
For now. What happened yesterday?’
‘Any particular part of yesterday?’
‘Specifically the part when you had a run-in with Jo Blair, unless there was more
excitement that I’ve not heard about.’
The memory of Paddy’s hug drifted into my head. I let it drift back out. That had been
support, not excitement. Tina didn’t need to know about that.
‘No other excitement,’ I replied. ‘That was more than enough for one day. How have
you heard about it? School hasn’t been open since then.’
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‘Phil Ward from Biology witnessed it, and he told Haf Patel, and she told …’
‘Okay, okay.’ I turned onto Inglebridge High Street and passed The White Hart, waving
at Lexy as she changed the day’s menu outside. ‘Is there anyone who doesn’t know?’
‘Probably Ned Tucker from Physics, as I don’t think he has a phone, does he?’
That wasn’t much comfort. By the sounds of it, news of my telling-off had spread round
the whole of the teaching staff – staff I considered friends and colleagues, and who I would
A Dozen Second Chances (ARC) Page 16
