Reckless

by Gemma Rogers

  Nicky looked at me quizzically, trying to read my mind.

  ‘Next time I’ll make sure we have somewhere to go, a few hours at least.’ He came over and brushed the hair out of my eyes, pulling me in for a long slow kiss. ‘I want to make love to you,’ he whispered, the top of his lip quivered. Sweat beading there, he licked it away.

  I couldn’t control the acceleration of my heart, the speed at which the blood was coursing through my veins, but I had to stay in control. I was the adult here after all.

  ‘Nicky, I’m not even sure this should be happening.’ I checked my watch, it was ten to twelve. ‘Shit. I’m sorry, I have to go.’ Already making my way back to the car, with Nicky following behind.

  ‘I’m sorry about the number, I just had to see you,’ he said, an underlying hint of desperation in his voice.

  ‘I need to get my head around this, Nicky. Let me contact you, OK, when it’s safe. I’ve got a hell of a lot to lose,’ I explained, unlocking the car and climbing inside.

  Nicky grimaced. Now his age was showing. He looked like another child had stolen the toy he was playing with.

  17

  I dropped Nicky at the end of his street and switched off the Motorola, hiding it back in the bottom of my handbag. After checking I was presentable, I went to collect Charlotte. I pretended everything was fine at the door to Louise, whilst Charlotte got her stuff together. I felt like my life was one big act and I was playing a part. Louise chatted animatedly and I told her how happy I was that Charlotte had found Amy, mentioning we’d struggled a bit with the wrong crowd in her old school. I didn’t disclose how bad things had got there. Louise had encountered similar problems too.

  Charlotte gave me a running commentary on the drive home about her meal at Smith and Western’s.

  ‘The ribs were gorgeous, Mum, but the ice cream was the best. We filmed ourselves eating this giant sundae. I’ll show you when we get home.’

  ‘So, it’s somewhere we need to try then?’

  Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. A few minutes later, I reversed onto the driveway.

  ‘Mum, what’s that?’ Charlotte leaned over and pulled at my hair, frowning at the tiny leaf in her hand.

  I felt my palms dampen on the steering wheel, but she’d dismissed it, tossing it onto the driveway as she climbed out of the car. Her face was already back on her phone.

  ‘Must have come from a tree.’ A nervous laugh burst from my lips.

  Once inside, I put a chicken in the oven to roast, knowing I had Aunt Bessie in the freezer to give me a helping hand, and slipped upstairs. After a quick shower, I came back down, enjoying the aroma in the kitchen. How quickly I’d returned to the role of wife and mother. I busied myself with marking, but, unsurprisingly I found it difficult to concentrate. Peace and quiet wasn’t a problem: David was watching football in the lounge and other than the occasional swear word I didn’t hear a peep out of him, and Charlotte had retreated to her bedroom, supposedly doing homework. However, Nicky kept invading my thoughts.

  I knew what I was doing was wrong, even with David having an affair. I wanted to bide my time and gather proof so he couldn’t tell me I was mistaken, in case he thought he’d be able to explain it away. But two wrongs didn’t make a right and scoring points with Nicky didn’t make me feel better. With my stomach in knots, I rang Stella, I needed to talk someone.

  ‘Hello, love, how are you doing?’ Stella answered, recognising my number.

  ‘Missing you. Wish you were here, could so do with a girl’s night out.’ I sighed.

  ‘Ah, miss you too, I’ll be there the week after next, so not long to wait now. Tell David he’s got a night in with Charlotte as we need to hit the town. I’m dying to wear something other than functional footwear.’ Stella giggled.

  I wanted to tell her, I really did, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. How could I put it into words? When I formed the sentences in my head, they seemed dirty and dishonest. What would Stella think of me? Would she still be my friend?

  ‘You seem a bit quiet. Is everything OK?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I guess. We’ll talk about it when you’re down.’

  ‘Is it David? Is he being a knob again?’ Stella chucked dryly.

  ‘Always.’

  Picking up on my reluctance to talk, Stella changed the subject to her dad. Yesterday he’d made his way to the local shop to buy a pint of milk at six in the morning before she’d woken up. She’d gotten a call from the newsagents to tell her he was only wearing his pants; her mum had slept through the whole thing. I shouldn’t laugh, it was so sad, but these were the moments Stella said that kept her going. It could be pretty miserable living with dementia.

  ‘In other news, I’ve met someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  I heard a commotion in the background and Stella tutting.

  ‘I’ve got to go, Mum’s struggling to get the pan off the stove. I’ll tell all when I see you,’ Stella said devilishly. Knowing she’d left me hanging.

  In bed that evening, David cuddled in to me and slid his hand underneath my nightie, but I feigned a headache. The idea of having sex with David having only been with Nicky a few hours before made me feel sick. I felt cheap, constantly yoyoing between disgust and enveloped in the excitement of an illicit affair. I guessed that was what was happening? I couldn’t say it was a one-off any more. Despite my initial intentions, I’d be lying if I wasn’t already thinking about the next time I could be with Nicky.

  On Monday morning, I chose a demure navy dress with high heels and hold ups underneath. I also wore matching black underwear, something I hadn’t bothered with for a while. I wasn’t sure why I got dressed up; I wasn’t going to see Nicky outside of school. But it made me feel attractive, plus there was the thrill of knowing I could tell him what I had on that he couldn’t see.

  After form, I spent five minutes checking my lesson plans were in order for the rest of my day before digging the Motorola out from the bottom of my handbag and turning it on. I hoped a message from Nicky would be waiting and felt disappointed when it remained silent. I’d told him to wait until I contacted him, so what did I expect?

  I texted quickly and Nicky responded almost straight away.

  Hi

  Hi Sexy

  Where are you?

  Library. Come find me

  I grabbed my book of Shakespeare’s sonnets I’d borrowed and headed down the corridor. My senses heightened, I felt on edge. The hinges creaked loudly as I pushed the heavy door open. Thomas, the librarian, looked up from his desk and smiled in greeting. Nicky sat at one of the tables, hunched over an open book, taking notes. My stomach lurched, but I approached Thomas and asked him if I could renew the book for another week. He stamped the inside and I wandered along the aisle to where I’d find Shakespeare’s works. Within a couple of minutes, Nicky was beside me.

  ‘He’s gone off to make tea, regular as clockwork,’ he whispered, his eyes fixed on mine. I watched the vein in his neck pulsate. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he moved closer, gripping my wrist and squeezing it hard. ‘When can I see you again?’ he whispered.

  ‘I don’t know when I can get away.’ I eased out of his grip, my wrist stinging like I’d had a Chinese burn. His intensity intimidating but thrilling at the same time.

  A door hinge creaked, Thomas had returned.

  ‘I’ll text you,’ I whispered.

  Nicky grimaced, turning to walk back to the table with a random book plucked from the shelf.

  I waited a couple of minutes and left the library. When I got back to my desk, there was already a text waiting from Nicky.

  Tomorrow? After school

  OK

  I chewed on my lip. Charlotte had her first netball match, a friendly with another school so I had an hour at least. Maybe more if she got the bus home with Amy. My mind whirred, where would we go? I was trying to think of somewhere we wouldn’t be seen when the Motorola buzzed again.

  I’m hard just thinking about it
>
  I snorted, feeling like a teenager with her first crush. I knew it was wrong, but I was unable to stop.

  It was almost ten and my first lesson of the day was going to start any minute. The bell sounded, and students came streaming in. My year nine class were going to be writing theatre programmes for Macbeth including a synopsis on the back and pictures on the front to entice customers to buy. It was a fun lesson and they all got involved in the creativity of the task leaving me to become enveloped in my thoughts.

  At lunchtime I caught up with Matilda and Susan. We resembled the witches from Macbeth, huddled around the coffee table in the staffroom eating our sandwiches and gossiping at first about the Thomas Cook collapse. Susan’s sister was on holiday in Egypt and was having to be repatriated. Then the conversation changed once Mr Scott popped in to borrow Jackie, the school administrator.

  Matilda had heard in passing that one of the students in year eleven was pregnant, a shame in someone so young with her whole life ahead of her. Mr Scott was already liaising with the parents on next steps. Apparently, it was early stages in the pregnancy, but the girl wouldn’t tell anyone who the father was. It made me shudder to think that, at Charlotte’s age, these girls were sexually active. They all seemed too young.

  The afternoon assembly was long and laborious. I sat upright on the stage with my legs crossed, trying to keep still and eventually getting cramp. It was a struggle not to look at Nicky. I stole a few furtive glances and, whenever I did, he was staring straight at me, a steely look in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before; chin jutting outwards. His friends around him whispered, nudging each other. They’d targeted a girl sitting in the row ahead to terrorise, but Nicky wasn’t interested, his gaze focused purely on me.

  Knowing I was being watched did nothing to calm my reddening cheeks and I placed my hands upon my thighs, smoothing my dress. I was desperate to drum my fingers and could feel the compulsion rising. I only managed to stop myself by clenching my jaw tightly and squeezing down on my molars. One, two, three, four; one, two, three, four.

  When the pupils were dismissed, I noticed Charlotte hanging back to talk to me.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I asked, my voice echoing around the walls now the hall was empty.

  ‘Seriously, Mum, can you please go back to wearing your normal stuff for school?’ I frowned and shook my head, bemused.

  ‘What do you mean? What’s wrong with me?’ I said, looking down at my dress. It wasn’t short or especially tight.

  ‘The boys are winding me up, calling you a MILF,’ Charlotte scowled as I sniggered, clapping a hand over my mouth.

  ‘Charlotte, that’s ridiculous. Tell them to get a life, for goodness’ sake.’ I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged me off.

  ‘I’ve got to get to class.’ She hurried out of the hall and I followed. The year eights would be waiting to read their modern take on sonnets.

  After school, Charlotte was still stand-offish, barely speaking to me on the drive home even after I promised I wouldn’t wear that outfit again. I couldn’t take the whole thing seriously, and this enraged Charlotte even more. The hormones were in full swing.

  When we got home, I had a message from David to say he would be working late again and not to do him any dinner. It was becoming a joke. I rang him four times, but the calls went to voicemail. I had the urge to leave a message, telling him not to bother coming home at all.

  I whisked up a quick tomato pasta dish for me and Charlotte and ran myself a bath. I relaxed for a while, reading a magazine before shaving, telling myself it had nothing to do with seeing Nicky tomorrow.

  When I got out of the bath, David still wasn’t home. I tried calling him again, but this time the phone was switched off and didn’t even ring. The FindMyPhone app was redundant if the phone was switched off. I paced the bedroom, waiting for my vanilla-scented body cream to dry before I went through the pockets of David’s clothes.

  I found a receipt in the back pocket of his jeans. It was three weeks ago, Saturday 7th September, the day he’d left his golf clubs behind. It was from Miller and Carter: two steaks, one bottle of red wine and one dessert. A heavy lunch? Shared with whom? Was he with the mysterious Paul? Code name for a female? I didn’t know what to think, but I believed his time away from home was nothing to do with making inroads heading up the finance department at the PR firm. He had to be having an affair.

  It’s exactly what you’re doing, the voice in my head piped up.

  Blinking back tears and ignoring the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, I got out my clothes for tomorrow and hung them on the wardrobe. Cream blouse and navy skirt, a safe choice, nothing too sensual, although my new peach lace underwear beneath would make me feel good. The idea of a planned meeting with Nicky made my head spin and I chewed my fingernails down to the quick. What did he see in me? I was old enough to be his mother. Did he have a thing for older women? Was I a challenge? Or was he getting the same kick out of it that I was? Half of the attraction was because it was wrong. I knew I should put a stop to it, but discovering David’s affair had been like a kick in the gut. My marriage was disintegrating, and Nicky made me feel wanted.

  David still hadn’t come home by the time I went to bed, but when I woke at three in the morning, he was snoring beside me. He stank of alcohol, it emanated from his pores. I resisted the urge to wake him, to force everything out in the open. Call him out on the affair and demand answers. Wanting to keep my own secret hidden prevented me from doing so. I was a hypocrite and I hated myself for it.

  My stomach churned; there was no air in the room and it was claustrophobic. I put on my robe and went downstairs in the dark, with only the sound of the clock ticking in the lounge to guide me. Once safely in the kitchen, I fumbled for the cupboard lights and listened to the gentle hum of the fridge. I felt tightly wound, like a spring, consumed by nerves and stress.

  Retrieving the Motorola from my bag, I switched it on and waited impatiently. Two messages came through as it buzzed in my hand.

  I can’t wait until tomorrow

  The second was sent late last night.

  Lying in bed thinking about you. My place tomorrow.

  I shivered with excitement.

  Then I realised, what he referred to as his place was the house he lived in with his mum, who could quite easily be the same age as me.

  18

  I sat at the dining table for half an hour, hands wrapped around a warm mug of milk, staring into space. When I did finally head back to bed, it was as though I’d blinked when the sound of the alarm dragged me into consciousness.

  The space beside me was empty and I started to wonder if my husband was a figment of my imagination. I sent a text to ask if he was bothering to come home later and received a prompt and apologetic response. He’d be home on time.

  An hour and a half later, when I arrived at school, the air temperature had dropped overnight. The classroom was freezing, the old radiators spluttering to life. My choice of floaty feminine clothes seemed idiotic. There was no sun to be seen, only grey skies out of the window. We were early for school, the traffic quiet today and Charlotte waited in my classroom for Amy to arrive, scrolling through her phone. All of a sudden, the classroom door flew open and we both jumped.

  Nicky burst through the door, grinning at first until he saw Charlotte and his eyes widened.

  ‘Hello?’ I smiled tightly. Outwardly calm but my heart was getting ready to leap out of my chest.

  ‘Hi, umm, sorry… I was looking for Mr Ross?’

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief at Nicky’s quick thinking.

  Charlotte was gazing at him open-mouthed.

  ‘He’s not here I’m afraid. You could try the staffroom?’

  Nicky nodded his thanks and fled down the corridor.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ I said to Charlotte whose mouth was still gaping.

  ‘He’s gorgeous isn’t he, Mum. All the girls fancy him.’

  I blushed, turning aw
ay to busy myself with writing on the whiteboard.

  ‘I can see why you like him,’ I managed.

  Charlotte made to swoon dramatically, her hand to her forehead as she walked out of the classroom.

  ‘Hang on, Charlotte,’ I called after her and she appeared back in the doorway. ‘You OK to get the bus home with Amy after the netball match?’

  ‘You not coming to watch then?’

  Guilt twinged at my side, but Charlotte laughed.

  ‘Just kidding, you’ll put me off. Are you swimming?’

  I nodded, unable to say the lie out loud to my daughter. Charlotte didn’t seem to notice and left to find Amy outside before the bell.

  There was a couple of minutes’ peace before Nicky bounded back through the door, like an energetic puppy, making me jump for the second time that morning.

  ‘That was a close one,’ he blurted, and I shushed him, closing the door.

  ‘You’ve made quite an impression on my daughter,’ I said, immediately regretting it. Why on earth had I volunteered that information?

  ‘Luckily, I’m only interested in her mum,’ he said, entwining his fingers in mine.

  ‘After school?’ I whispered, feeling my nerve endings firing.

  ‘Yeah, my place, 32 Brampton Road. Mum will be at work until after five,’ he said conspiratorially.

  I swallowed hard. The mention of his mum left me cold, bringing into sharp focus the reality of his age.

  His face changed. Gone was the easy-going grin, replaced instead by a hard, thin line, as though he had a bad taste in his mouth.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer my text last night?’ He sounded like a sulky child, a stark reminder that he was just a teenager.

  ‘Because I can’t always answer straight away. You know that.’

  He nodded grudgingly but still looked sullen when I shooed him out of the classroom as the bell was about to ring. A minute later, the room was full of children chattering and I had to shout for quiet so I could take the register, but my mind was elsewhere, unable to skim over the knowledge that Nicky was only a few years older than Charlotte. It made me squirm.