by Gemma Rogers
‘Very. Trust me, you’ll enjoy the freedom,’ he said, slipping them into his polo shirt pocket and casually strolling out of the door.
I felt mildly panicked and exposed. Although my dress was to my knees, going out without underwear was something I’d never done before. I sat behind my desk and opened and shut my drawer repeatedly until the room stopped spinning and the crush of my lungs began to subside. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.
Why had I given in? I wasn’t exactly sending the message that I wanted to end it. Things had gone too far. It had escalated into something I hadn’t prepared for. Now I was playing with fire. There had been a shift in power, him exerting more and more control all the time. It reminded me how little I knew about him and what sort of person he was. I felt foolish, he wasn’t a boy at all, he was an expert manipulator.
Mr Scott called an assembly in the afternoon, as he was out on Monday, so, unenthusiastically, the teaching staff trotted into the school hall to take their positions on the stage.
I pulled my dress tight around my knees and squeezed my thighs together. Not moving for twenty minutes was torture. I interlocked my hands on my lap, drumming my fingers repeatedly throughout. When I looked over at Nicky, he winked and patted the breast pocket of his polo shirt. Revelling in my ‘going commando’. My stomach heaved and I tasted bile in my mouth, coughing as Mr Scott was midway through his talk on the upcoming Harvest Festival that I’d heard nothing about.
After the last lesson of the day, as soon as all the children had disappeared, I rushed to Nicky’s, eager to retrieve my underwear. When I knocked on the door, Nicky opened it, naked from the waist up, his jeans already unbuttoned. The sight of him rendered me momentarily speechless. Even though I’d seen him naked before, I still hadn’t got used to how my body reacted when he was around.
He led me upstairs into his bedroom and I realised I’d made a mistake not meeting him on neutral ground.
‘We need to talk,’ I said weakly as he placed gentle kisses across my neck. I felt my resolve waver as I was walked over to the bed.
He lifted the skirt of my dress and feigned surprise that I was naked beneath.
‘I agree,’ he whispered pushing me down, so I was sitting on the corner of the bed. Lowering himself to his knees, he drew my legs apart. ‘But not yet.’
‘Nicky stop.’
He leaned back on his heels, frowning as I pulled the skirt of my dress over my thighs. I couldn’t deny the pull of desire. I wanted more than anything to lay back and let Nicky do whatever he wanted, but it had to end.
‘I think I love you,’ Nicky said, staring at me.
I felt the hairs on my arms bristle as the sinking feeling took hold.
‘You don’t, Nicky, you’re too young. You’ll meet a nice girl your own age, someone you can—’
‘Don’t patronise me,’ he snapped, cutting me off mid-sentence.
I visibly recoiled at the venom in his tone, standing up and moving towards the door.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help how I feel,’ he said, his voice softer. I looked at the floor, struggling to find the words, but I had to make it clear.
‘You know I care about you, but we can’t be anything more than this. I can’t leave my husband. In fact, it has to stop now.’
Nicky’s face was expressionless. The mood in the room changed. It felt like a cloud had descended, the air turning cold around me. He turned around, grabbing his T-shirt from the bed and pulling it on in one swift motion.
‘OK.’ His face was passive, a smile on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes, they were empty.
‘I have to go. Can I have my underwear back please?’
Nicky laughed spitefully, the sound chilling my core.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said flatly. The subject not up for discussion.
I thought about arguing, but I just wanted to get out of there. For the first time since we’d met, I felt scared of him. It reinforced my feeling that I’d done the right thing finishing it. The whole affair had been a mistake.
When I walked in the door at home, I could tell immediately something had happened. Charlotte was in tears at the kitchen table, David sat beside her holding an ice pack.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked, dumping my bag in the hallway and rushing into the kitchen.
‘It’s fine, don’t panic. Charlotte had an accident at netball and twisted her ankle.’ David sighed.
‘Sprained,’ Charlotte sobbed, correcting him.
‘Maybe sprained. They called me at work as they couldn’t get hold of you. Where were you?’ David couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice.
My mind momentarily went blank as guilt washed over me. Charlotte had needed me, and I’d been ending my affair with my eighteen-year-old lover. What sort of mother was I?
I recovered just in time. ‘In the library, my phone was on silent. I didn’t think to check it.’ I crouched beside Charlotte, wrapping my arms around her, hugging her tight.
David stood, seeing Charlotte wanted her mum, and started to get pans out of the cupboards to make dinner.
I propped Charlotte’s injured foot onto a cushion and held the ice pack on it. Eventually she stopped crying, her face still red, and sniffed occasionally.
‘How did it happen?’
‘I clashed with another player and landed badly. It hurt so much, Mum, and I cried in front of the others. I feel like an idiot,’ Charlotte explained as I blinked back tears of my own. Tears of regret, guilt and self-loathing.
‘Don’t be silly, everyone cries. I always cry when I hurt myself. Remember when I bumped my head on the kitchen cupboard? Remember how I cried? No one is going to think any less of you. A good dose of Nurofen and an early night will sort you out, my love,’ I added, brushing Charlotte’s fringe out of her eyes.
After dinner when we were washing up, David and I discussed taking Charlotte to the hospital to get an X-ray in case there was a fracture but decided it might be better to wait until the morning. She could still put weight on it, and it hadn’t swollen up too much.
I was so wracked with guilt I couldn’t concentrate on the television or on the conversation David was trying to have with me about booking a holiday. In the end, he got frustrated with me being vague and gave up trying.
I feigned a headache and went to bed at the same time as Charlotte, leaving David watching a programme about great white sharks. Once upstairs, I wept into my pillow. I’d been a fool. What if something serious had happened to my daughter today and no one could get hold of me? At least it was over now. My family had to come first.
23
A week passed in which I felt on edge, expecting Nicky to be around every corner, but I didn’t see him once. Perhaps he was hiding away, licking his wounds. I knew I was hiding, worried there would be a confrontation when we saw each other again. I’d taken to holing up during break time in the staffroom, even swapping playground duty with Mr Ross. Matilda and Susan both commented it was a nice change, as often I was too busy to join them. I glossed over their observation, laughing that for once I’d been organised and my lesson planning was done for the week. In reality, I was taking solace in the only place I knew Nicky couldn’t go, as students weren’t allowed in the staffroom. If they needed to see a teacher, they had to knock and wait outside. It was cowardly and I knew it, but I couldn’t face him.
On Wednesday, after school, Charlotte hobbled into my classroom, but I’d forgotten Mr Scott had asked us to stay behind so he could inform us about the Ofsted inspection that had been sprung on us. Charlotte wasn’t impressed but refused to wait, instead stomping theatrically down the corridor, yelling that she was going to get the bus. I called after her, standing outside the classroom with my hands on my hips, watching her go, but was ignored.
I watched her until she turned the corner to the exit and headed to the information technology classroom. I was the last one to enter and the chatter hushed, obvious they were all waiting for me before commencing the meetin
g. I flushed red as I quickly took a spare seat.
‘I’m sorry, I got caught up with a pupil.’
Mr Scott smiled tightly before beginning.
‘Right I’ve just found out we’ve got an Ofsted inspection tomorrow. Typical, as we’re all winding down just before half-term. Obviously, I need you all to make sure you’ve got no marking backlog and you’re on top form tomorrow. They will be moving around the classes, checking our engagement with the students, looking at their work. Please ensure your lessons are thoroughly planned, get your best pupils to have their work out and ready to be looked at.’
Generally, tensions were high whenever Ofsted visited any school. Mr Scott would want it to run like clockwork. Some of the newer teachers asked questions on what they would be marked on and how best they could prepare. Discussions went on for over half an hour until Mr Scott was satisfied that we all knew what we were doing and closed the meeting. By the time we reached the car park, it was already four o’clock. Matilda was moaning that Mr Scott had decided the clay was too expensive to warrant an after-school pottery class, but he’d given Mr Ross money to fix the netting in the football goals.
‘It’s because it benefits more students that’s why,’ Susan said, a hint of sarcasm to her tone. I left them to it and said my goodbyes.
When I got home, I was surprised to see David’s car outside. I found him in his usual spot at the kitchen table, frowning at his laptop. We had an office upstairs, so I wasn’t sure why he liked working at the kitchen table so much. He looked up as the door closed, smiling when he saw me take my coat off and hang it on the bannister.
‘Hello, love, want a tea?’ he said, getting to his feet to fill the kettle.
‘That would be lovely,’ I replied, kicking off my heels.
‘Charlotte at Amy’s?’ he called from the kitchen.
‘No, I don’t think so. I thought she’d be here. She didn’t want to wait for me. I had a meeting about an Ofsted inspection. She said she was getting the bus.’
My palms perspired as I felt the panic rise, the voice in my head telling me to calm down.
I reached inside my bag for my smartphone to dial Charlotte’s number. It rang and rang and went through to voicemail, where I left a message asking her to call me as soon as possible. I stared at David, not really seeing him, thinking of all the places she might be. He came to join me in the hall, concern etched on his face. We were overreacting, but my body wouldn’t comply. I drummed my fingers on my thigh. Charlotte was always where she was supposed to be. What if she’d fallen on the way home and done her ankle in again, or worse?
I looked up Amy’s home number, which Charlotte had given me before their sleepover. As I was about to dial, we heard a key in the lock. Charlotte opened the door mid-conversation with someone, who I assumed was Amy, but as she came into the hallway, Nicky stepped out from behind her, an enormous grin on his face. I gasped.
‘What’s up with you two?’ Charlotte asked, frowning and slightly embarrassed to find her parents stood in the hallway.
I took a step back and froze, unable to speak. The back of my neck felt hot and damp as though I was standing under a spotlight. I glared at Nicky before turning my attention to Charlotte, but David got there first.
‘We didn’t know where you were, love, that’s all. Mum said you were getting the bus, so she thought you would have got home before her. We were worried about your ankle,’ he said, his voice even.
My heart raced and I thought I could feel my ribcage shaking beneath my skin. Why was Nicky here? Was he about to expose me in front of my husband and daughter?
Feeling dizzy, I gripped the bannister to keep myself steady, counting silently in my head. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Charlotte’s forehead wrinkled, her eyes boring in to me.
‘Hi, I’m Nicky. Pleased to meet you.’ He stepped forward and offered his hand to David to shake. As they shook hands, I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest.
‘Hello, Miss,’ he said warmly, glancing at me and then back to David. ‘I saw Charlotte at the bus stop, so I offered her a lift. I’m sorry she’s home later than expected. There’s some roadworks near the school and we got stuck there for a while.’ He smiled, he expression cheery and open. Like butter wouldn’t melt, my mum used to say. He passed me Charlotte’s school bag, brushing his fingers over mine as it exchanged hands. I felt bile rise in my throat.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ Charlotte said in a husky tone I’d never heard her use before. David noticed this too and glanced at me, hiding his amusement. I hoped this would explain the reason for the colour draining from my face. I glared at Nicky, who maintained his perfect façade as he stepped back over the threshold.
‘See you later, Charlotte. Nice to meet you.’
‘Thanks for bringing her home, Nicky,’ David said as he waved him off, turning back down the hallway.
I made to close the front door, watching Nicky leave. He turned and waved a small pair of black knickers in the air, twirling them around his finger. His grin twisted, revelling in my discomfort. I slammed the door, my breath catching in my throat and headed into the kitchen.
‘Love’s young dream eh,’ David said as I slumped in a chair, oblivious to my distress.
‘You two are so embarrassing,’ Charlotte huffed before storming upstairs.
My stomach churned like I was on a ship in stormy seas. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I worried I might be sick. When I saw Nicky, I thought life as I knew it was about to end, that my husband and teenage lover were going to start fighting in the hallway. It wasn’t a coincidence. Nicky picked up Charlotte on purpose, to make a point. He could come here whenever he wanted. Nicky was sending me a message. It was easy to infiltrate the Cole household, so I’d better play nice.
Watching Charlotte all doe-eyed at someone who’d kissed every inch of my body made my jaw clench. Nicky only had to click his fingers and she would come running.
David’s phone rang, jolting me into action, and as he exited the room, gesticulating wildly about profit margins, I snatched the Motorola from the bottom of my bag and disappeared into the utility room, out of sight.
I had four messages throughout the last few days from Nicky, all questions:
Where are you?
It’s not over!
When can I see you?
Are you avoiding me?
I felt my blood pressure spike and furiously punched the keys on my phone.
What the fuck!
I clicked send on the message before I considered whether it was a good idea or not. Within seconds, the phone vibrated in my hand.
There’s my girl
I growled, gritting my teeth as anger surged through me, but I didn’t want to get into a conversation with Nicky. I wanted to pretend I’d never met him.
Should I have a chat with Charlotte? It seemed pointless; he’d only given her a lift home after all. Perhaps that would be it? Instead, I switched my phone off and busied myself making dinner: beef in black bean sauce and noodles. It was a family favourite that could be rustled up in fifteen minutes.
There was no chatter around the dinner table as everyone was preoccupied; David was frowning at a printout of a graph that I couldn’t make head nor tail of and Charlotte was engrossed in her phone.
I messaged Stella to check she was still coming on Friday and she replied that she couldn’t wait. I was desperate to see her, I wanted to talk to her about what was going on, although I was worried how harshly she would judge me. Stella never minced her words and would give it to me straight, whatever her opinion. She sent me the arrival time of her train, and I confirmed I’d be there to pick her up.
David carried on working long after dinner, trying to solve a problem with the office in the United States, and Charlotte took her phone into her bedroom and never came out. I could hear her FaceTiming Amy, giggles and hushed voices. The thought of Nicky wheedling his way into Charlotte’s af
fections made me want to punch something. I couldn’t bear it. If I’d been swept away by his charm, his looks, what possible chance did Charlotte have? I couldn’t stand by as he came in and out of the house as a guest of my daughter’s.
Trying to force my mind elsewhere, I sat at the kitchen table, ensuring every book I had was marked in preparation for the inspection. Afterwards, I rang Mum and pretended everything was fine, that I was just stressed about the inspection like the rest of the teachers, although in reality it was the last thing on my mind.
I tried to watch a movie, but my mind kept straying to Nicky. What if he made trouble for me? If I’d been sensible, I’d have considered these things before embarking on an affair, but I hadn’t. I’d jumped in head first.
24
The following morning, I woke with my stomach in a knot. I couldn’t face breakfast, and the dreamy smile on Charlotte’s face as I drove to school was compelling me to count in my head. My skin felt itchy and I had to stop myself scratching. Something I did when I was stressed; a habit I’d thought I’d broken, but the long red streaks left behind from my nails across my forearms taunted me. On top of Nicky turning up last night, I had the pressure of an Ofsted inspection to concede with. My mind kept flitting between the two.
I didn’t want Charlotte to have a crush on Nicky. It was too awful to comprehend. Not only was our recent dalliance an issue, he wasn’t at all the sort of boy I envisaged she would bring home. I’d expected someone shy and polite. Not someone as worldly as Nicky. Plus, there was almost four years between them. Too much of an age gap.
As soon as we pulled into the car park, Amy was waiting and they hurried away, heads bowed together conspiratorially. No doubt she was recounting her romantic trip home from school in Nicky’s car, although I’m sure she’d already told her about it last night.
