by Gemma Rogers
‘I’ve got my creative writing class after school today, so I won’t be home until later, OK?’ It crossed my mind to cancel but it wouldn’t look good to be missing a class so early on.
There was a loud sniff and a request for tomato soup for dinner which was what Charlotte always had when she felt poorly.
‘Sure, I’ll pick some up on the way home. Shall I get ice cream? Fancy a movie and some ice cream on the sofa tonight?’
The suggestion seemed to raise Charlotte’s spirits. Perhaps a good rom-com and Ben & Jerry’s, along with some TLC, was what we both needed to end the week.
I couldn’t wait to get home; the creative writing class was a thorn in my side, and I berated myself for suggesting it to Mr Scott. In reality, I did enjoy it, but I was nervous about seeing Nicky. The thought of him made every nerve switch onto high alert. I remembered the kiss, my hands on his torso in a sheer moment of madness. I felt a tingling beneath my skin. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at him without blushing.
When the bell rang, sounding the end of school day, all the children hotfooted it out of my classroom and I nipped to the toilet. The woman staring back at me from the mirror as I washed my hands looked like a stranger, tired and slightly drawn. I ruffled my hair to get some volume into it and gave my neck a tiny spritz of perfume before dashing back to my classroom. Nicky was already sat in the front row, slouched in his seat, legs wide apart, smiling up at me. We were alone and the atmosphere in the room was laden with tension.
‘Hi,’ I said, perching on the edge of my desk, directly opposite him.
‘Hi.’ He licked his lips, a teasing glint in his eyes.
I felt the burn creep up my neck and breathed deeply to steady my legs which had turned to liquid.
The rest of the children entered the classroom in dribs and drabs, sitting down and chatting amongst themselves. No one appeared to notice the silent exchange between Nicky and I. Snapping out of my fantasy, I put my teacher hat back on.
‘Good afternoon. Today I want to find out from you what your favourite book or books are and why. What makes them your favourite? Why are they memorable to you?’
Everyone got out their notebooks to commit their ideas to paper.
‘For example, one of my favourites is The Woman in Black by Susan Hill. It’s a fantastically haunting ghost story which builds tension slowly. It’s eerie and unsettling and a favourite for many horror readers. There’s no gore, but it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.’ I smiled at the class and stroked the back of my neck, remembering the first time I’d read the book when I was a teenager. Since then I’d read it numerous times, even dragging David to see the stage show, which was not his thing at all.
Nicky gazed at me through his eyelashes, a twinkle in his eye. He looked mischievous, like he was thinking things he shouldn’t.
‘Emma, what’s your favourite book, or one of them and why?’ I asked, turning my attention to one of the year nine girls.
‘Umm, probably The Host by Stephanie Meyer.’ I recognised that book, Charlotte had read it when she’d finished the Twilight series.
I smiled warmly at Emma, who looked like she was feeling a bit shy about speaking in front of everyone.
‘OK, so what makes it your favourite?’ I encouraged.
‘I love that it’s got some science-fiction elements and a love story as well. The characters are really likeable.’
I nodded.
‘Robert, what about you?’ I gestured towards Robert, a year seven sitting in the back row.
‘My favourite is The Maze Runner by James Dashner. I like the futuristic world and the monsters.’
Another two pupil’s favourites were The Enemy by Charlie Higson and The Fault in our Stars by John Green. I had watched the latter with Charlotte, it was one of the many films born out of a good book. I had to say I’d enjoyed it immensely; however, the amount of tissues Charlotte and I had gone through was ridiculous.
‘Nicky?’
‘I enjoy the Game of Thrones books.’ This got the other boys in the class nodding enthusiastically. I knew they were massive, but I hadn’t managed to watch any of the popular television series and felt too far behind to catch up.
‘I’ve not read any of those,’ I admitted.
‘They are full of fighting, wars between rival families for the throne. The stories are intricate, and the characters are bold and colourful. It really draws you in.’ Nicky reached into his bag underneath the table and took out one of the books, holding it out to show me. Our fingers grazed as I took it from him, his as cold as ice.
‘Thanks Nicky, I’ll take a look.’
The rest of the class listed their favourites one by one and I looked up at the clock.
‘OK, we’ve got about forty minutes. I want you to write me a story, no more than 500 words, and I want you to think about what it is you love about your favourite book. What engages you and keeps you turning the page, try to incorporate that into your own story.’
Everyone went back to jotting ideas in their notebooks, except for Nicky, who was staring at me as I rounded my desk and sat down, leafing through the novel, reading the blurb on the back and author recommendations at the front. Nicky’s name was written neatly in blue ink on the top left-hand corner. I fingered the pages, knowing his hands had touched them too. I tried to read the first paragraph, but I thought I could feel his eyes on me. Glancing up, I was surprised to see his head bent over his exercise book. Inwardly I chastised myself. What the hell had gotten into me? He was just showing me his book. I put it down, pushing it to the edge of the desk, out of my eye line. I had to shift my focus to something else.
I compiled a list of what I had to do at the weekend in the way of marking and lesson planning and moved around the class, assisting the children with shaping their prose. Before I knew it, the hour was up.
‘If you can finish your stories at home and bring them next week, we’ll read them then. Have a lovely weekend.’
Most of the students were quick at putting their things away and wished me well as they strode past me into the corridor, keen to begin their weekends. Nicky was the opposite, moving slowly until the room was empty.
I grabbed the book and handed it back to Nicky who was still seated. Wrapping my arms around myself, sure he would hear my stomach somersaulting as I stood by his desk. The silence of the classroom was deafening. He took it without a word, leaning over and slipping it back in his bag which was on the floor by my feet.
Looking up, Nicky met my eyes, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. A perfect mixture of mischief and fun, I couldn’t help but find it infectious. I felt his hand wrap around the inside of my calf. His touch made me start, but I didn’t move away. I bit my lip as I allowed him to rub his thumb back and forth, caressing my leg. He held my gaze intensely as he slowly ran his hand upwards, towards my knee. Anyone could have walked in the classroom and caught us, but I’d never felt so alive.
Eventually I pulled away, walking back to my desk to pack up, still feeling the imprint of his hand on my leg. I shrugged on my coat and picked up my handbag.
‘Have a nice weekend, Nicky,’ I said as I left the classroom.
Behind me, I heard the screech of the chair against the floor and footsteps following. He maintained his distance until I reached my car.
‘I’m parked around the corner, follow me?’ His eyes were imploring.
He jogged away before I could say no, I had to get back. Every fibre of my being screamed it was a bad idea. I was getting into something I shouldn’t. If I had any sense, I’d drive away from here, go home, back to the family I’d left this morning, but curiosity got the better of me. I got into my car and drove out of the car park. Nicky’s Fiesta was already indicating to pull out from his parking space, so I slowed to let him go, flashing my lights.
We drove towards my home, heart racing as I wondered where he was taking me. When he drove past the turning into my road, I continued to follow him. Not sure w
hy I hadn’t just indicated and driven home. But what if he’d turned around? I didn’t want him to know where I lived.
I chewed my lip, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in quick succession. What harm could it do? A quick chat and then I’d be home.
Nicky indicated for a turning on the left, and then left again into another car park, this one for playing fields. A desolate expanse of muddy green, with no playground in sight. Before I’d even parked, he’d jumped out and was heading to the block of what I assumed were changing rooms, keys dangling from his hand.
I got out of the car, and followed, lingering by the open door and peering inside.
‘Come in,’ he said from inside, as I surveyed the space. Wooden slatted benches around the edges, hooks upon the walls and open showers at one end. I shivered as I stepped inside, my head snapping around as he locked the door behind us. The room was cold and musty, an unpleasant smell of damp, sweaty football socks ingrained in the concrete. Overhead, the fluorescent light flickered furiously, matching my pulse. This was a mistake. I turned to leave, but Nicky stepped in front of the door, blocking my path.
‘Wait,’ he breathed, against my cheek. Slipping his hand around my neck and pulling my mouth to his.
All sense evaporated and I gave in. His touch was urgent, necessary; a need we both had to fulfil. Hands roamed my body, like he couldn’t decide where to go first. I fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers and he gasped as I wrapped my hand around him. Lifting my dress, he pulled my knickers aside, pushing himself into me without hesitation. The wall, cold against my back, bare brickwork snagging at the fabric with each thrust.
It was quick, I came within a minute, but we stayed locked together, catching our breath. Eventually untangling and rearranging our clothing, eyes on the floor. The enormity of what had just happened sinking in.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I’m fine. You?’ I didn’t feel fine, I felt shell-shocked, dizzied from my heart pumping so fast. As though I’d just watched someone else commit adultery, not me.
He nodded, but his smile faded, eyes darkening. ‘We didn’t use anything.’
I didn’t understand what he meant at first until I saw how pale he’d become.
‘It’s OK, Nicky, don’t worry about it. Honestly, it’s taken care of,’ I said dismissively.
‘OK,’ he replied, eyeing me curiously as he unlocked the door. Both of us seemingly shaken at what had just occurred.
Without hesitation, we reverted back to our roles. Me the teacher, him the student. It was effortless, like our moment of madness never happened.
‘I’d better go,’ I said, as Nicky seemed reluctant to move aside.
‘OK.’ He took a step back, pulling the door open, and paused to turn around, a strange expression on his face. Was it regret? ‘Have a good weekend, Miss.’
I walked past him out of the changing room and straight to my car. I didn’t look back.
15
I wished I had the opportunity to tidy myself up, but my reflection in the rear-view mirror looked the same. There was no scarlet letter on my forehead.
I glanced at the clock, it was already five o’clock and I should have been home by now, although I doubted I’d been missed. On the short journey, I expected to feel wracked with guilt, but instead I was numb, as though what had happened was a dream or a film I’d watched, where it hadn’t been me having sex with a student from school but someone else. I needed time to process what I’d done.
‘Shit.’ It wasn’t until I turned into my road, I remembered I was supposed to buy soup and ice cream. Throwing the car into reverse and gritting my teeth, I managed a three-point turn in record time. The tyres screeched and a passing dog walker shook his head disapprovingly as I sped by, back to the convenience store three streets away.
By the time I eventually made it home, it was twenty to six. Before I could get out of the car, Mary our neighbour, appeared on the driveway, gravel crunching beneath her slippers, and handed over a Tupperware box of flapjacks.
‘Ah, thank you Mary, do you want to come in for a cup of tea?’ I asked, chastising myself that I still hadn’t got around to buying her some flowers.
‘No, no, I’m off to bingo shortly, my niece is coming to pick me up. I’ve been baking all day. Can’t eat it all by myself.’
‘You do spoil us,’ I said, patting her hand before she left.
‘Where have you been? I’m hungry.’ Charlotte sniffed as I passed the living room on my way to the kitchen.
One, two, three, four; one, two, three, four. My zipper on my bag moved back and forth.
‘I got stuck behind, talking to the head teacher, I couldn’t leave.’ It surprised me how easily the lie came.
I put the soup straight into a bowl, then into the microwave and the ice cream in the freezer. David walked in to check the oven.
‘Mary’s been baking again. I really must get her some flowers or something,’ I sighed, watching David help himself to a flapjack.
‘Delicious! Oh, we’re having pasta bake, that OK? Charlotte said she’s having soup,’ David said as if everything was suddenly back to normal between us.
I nodded in reply. My fingers drumming on my thigh.
‘You all right?’ David spotted my hand and frowned, knowing it was something I did when I was anxious.
‘Fine. How has she been?’ I asked, changing the subject and feeling the back of my neck prickle with perspiration. I was waiting for David to take one look at me and know instantly. To see it written all over my face. My heart raced and I felt light-headed, but I did my best not to let it show.
‘Yeah OK, on the sofa most of the day. She’s had medicine and her temperature hasn’t returned. What about you? You look a bit flushed. You’re not coming down with it too, are you?’ He reached over and placed the back of his hand against my forehead, gauging my temperature.
I squirmed, counting over and over in my head.
‘No, I’m fine. Have I got time for a quick shower before dinner?’
David nodded.
‘Oh, and these are for you. Happy anniversary.’ He pointed towards the enormous bunch of red roses on the table I’d failed to notice.
‘Thank you. I’ll put them in water once I’ve had a shower.’ I smiled tightly and escaped upstairs, taking them two at a time.
The locked bathroom was my refuge, the scorching-hot shower absolving me of my indiscretion. As soon as I closed my eyes, I could feel Nicky’s hands all over me. I wasn’t sorry. I had no regrets. When I walked in the door, I thought I’d see David and feel remorse, but I didn’t. I felt guilty of course, I wasn’t deceitful by nature and David didn’t deserve to be lied to, but I wanted what he couldn’t give me. I missed the excitement, the longing, the animal attraction that had long since dissolved.
Nicky made me feel desired, but I wasn’t stupid, my appeal was likely due to my acquiescence. Yet, at almost forty years old I wasn’t ready to accept my role as the patient wife, the one who always had dinner ready for her husband when he returned home. I wanted more. Life was short and the thrill I’d felt in that changing room was like nothing I’d experienced before. Perhaps because it was wrong, forbidden even, but I’d enjoyed it. My groin throbbed, the familiar feeling between my legs of recent sex, a reminder of my dirty little secret. It turned me on.
We ate dinner in silence, and I was grateful. David assumed I was still angry with him, but I couldn’t be bothered to make small talk. He said he’d wash up, trying to get back into my good books, so I curled up on the sofa with Charlotte under a fleece blanket, armed with a spoon each, digging into the ice cream and shivering because it was so cold. Charlotte chose a romantic comedy with an actress I could never remember the name of, sniffing into a tissue periodically. Ten minutes into the film, David came and sat in the armchair with his iPad, but the familiar sound of his work phone rang out and he moved to the kitchen to take the call, closing the door behind him. Was that because he didn’t want to inter
rupt our movie or because he didn’t want me to hear who was on the other end? He wouldn’t normally close the door. I strained my ears but was unable to hear anything which meant he was talking low. Who was he talking to? The voice in my head chastised me, what right did I have to be suspicious of David after what I’d done?
David didn’t return and I tried to concentrate on the movie. It was funny and distracted me from my thoughts. Stella called back, but I didn’t answer. I’d call her tomorrow when I could speak properly. Near the end of the film, the two leads had sex. It was a pretty raunchy scene and Charlotte visibly squirmed beside me.
‘So gross!’
I giggled and poked Charlotte in the ribs. ‘Sex isn’t gross, Charlotte. You just have to wait until you love someone, OK,’ I said, assuming Charlotte wasn’t anywhere near that stage yet. Her cheeks reddened.
‘I meant watching it with your mum is gross.’
I went to bed alone once the movie had ended, popping into the kitchen to tell David I was going up. He was sat at the table, on his laptop. There had been some crisis to sort out apparently, which couldn’t wait until morning. Charlotte had one last hot lemon drink and went to bed; hopeful she would feel better tomorrow. She was gutted that Amy hadn’t been able to come over for dinner.
Laying in the dark, all I could think about was Nicky. What was he doing? Was he thinking about me? I hoped Monday wouldn’t be awkward when I saw him next.
When Saturday morning came, David brought me tea in bed. He made a big show of switching off his work phone to ensure this weekend was filled with nothing but family time. Charlotte wasn’t overly impressed with the idea of spending her entire weekend with us and when Amy called to ask if she could have a sleepover, she begged me to let her go. I wasn’t sure as, although she was much better, she still had a bit of a runny nose, but she kept on until I relented. I spoke to Louise on the phone to confirm the arrangements. They were going to take the girls out to dinner for a treat.
