The Learning Curve

by Melissa Nathan

  ‘Yes. I know now that . . . we’re not meant to be.’

  Rob nodded slowly.

  ‘Rob,’ she said, ‘I have to know something. Did you mean it when you said you’d have to tell Miss James about that silly snog with Mark?’

  He leant closer to her. ‘Of course not,’ he whispered. ‘I was just so . . . angry and amazed, Nicky. That you could do that in front of the kid.’

  ‘But we didn’t really do anything . . .’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Well, how do you explain what I saw, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more. He was just suddenly there!’

  ‘I always thought you were so in control,’ said Rob sadly. ‘But recently, I don’t know what’s happened to you. That was . . . an unbelievable thing for you to let happen.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I can tell you it won’t happen again. It was a mistake. It turns out he was playing me along. I can’t tell you how I know, I just do.’

  Rob looked at her. ‘Sorry, Nicky. I always said he was a –’

  ‘Yeah, all right. You were right. Well done you.’

  They watched the road for a bit.

  ‘But,’ continued Nicky, ‘at least you know it means it won’t happen again. I’m back in control.’

  ‘That’s hardly the point, is it?’ asked Rob. ‘I mean, can you imagine the consequences of that if you were Head?’

  ‘Oh, don’t.’

  ‘I mean if you did get the job, Nicky – and we both know there’s every chance of that – we’d both have to live with knowing that you’d done that.’

  Nicky shook her head.

  ‘A deputy head doing something like that is very different from a head doing that,’ said Rob. ‘Do you really think you could honestly say, hand on heart, that you know you wouldn’t make that sort of mistake again?’

  The tears were a surprise to her, and she didn’t even wipe them away. After everything, it had come to this. She spoke quietly. ‘I’ll withdraw my application,’ she said with a small sniff.

  There was a pause.

  ‘It’s probably for the best,’ agreed Rob, handing her a tissue and holding her hand. ‘And you know I’d never tell anyone what you did in front of Oscar.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘When will you do it?’ he asked suddenly.

  She shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ she said. ‘At tonight’s party?’

  Rob let out a low sigh. ‘You’re very brave, Nicky Hobbs. I’m proud of you. And you know I’ll be there for you.’

  ‘Thanks. I know you will.’

  ‘It’s your decision,’ he murmured. ‘I guess you had to come to it yourself.’

  Nicky nodded slowly, as if her head was too heavy for her neck. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s my decision.’

  33

  NICKY STOOD WITH the other teachers in the car park, bidding a fond farewell to the children as they were collected by smiling parents, most of whom looked ten years younger than the previous week.

  In truth, she found it hard to bid any of the fond farewells with any real fondness. And sometimes she even forgot the farewell bit too. She was depressed about Mark, but she was devastated about the headship.

  She watched Mark chatting happily to other parents. She watched Amanda flick her hair over her shoulder. Did he really want her? And what about the revelatory Amanda! She’d actually cried with empathy when she thought she’d put her foot in it. How could you get someone so wrong? Amanda must get that all the time, she thought, looking at her long legs. Maybe you could be lonely being so beautiful. Nicky turned and watched Rob do the rounds, chatting to all the parents and playfully teasing the kids, and wondered what changes he’d bring to the school next year. If she didn’t lose her job, she’d be there as a friend for him, his trusty, loyal Deputy. She watched Miss James hugging every child to her bosom, even the ones she was collecting detention essays from, and wondered whether the woman would miss her life as Head or turn away and never look back. She watched Ned greet his wife with a perfunctory peck and wondered whether the woman had a weak sense of smell or a strong nerve.

  Then she set to wondering how tonight’s inevitably excruciating disco could possibly top such a trip. What evils awaited her amidst the paper bowls of Cheesy Wotsits? Perhaps Ned would ask her to dance and, after holding her breath throughout ‘Three Times a Lady’, his wife would then murder her in a jealous rage. It felt strangely calming to be prepared for the worst.

  She turned away from the throng and saw a couple ambling towards her. She almost didn’t recognise them. She knew the silhouettes well, but had never seen them like this before, and so did not register who they were. It was only when they were within a few feet and unmistakably Ally and Pete that a penny the size of a planet dropped, as if from the skies. There were no obvious clues – they weren’t holding hands, they weren’t even touching, they weren’t even smiling very much, it was just that something was different. A slow smile warmed her face as she realised it was the space between them that had changed. Pete stood a vital inch closer to Ally than usual, his left shoulder consciously posed behind her right shoulder, instead of next to it, achieving a subtly protective air. And her body seemed conscious, to the tips of her hair, of where his ended. Every tilt of her frame was an interaction with his.

  Nicky stared at them both, her understanding growing with her smile. She bid a silent goodbye to her best friend, and then ran up to greet them.

  ‘So how was it?’ Ally grinned.

  ‘Hell on earth,’ Nicky grinned back. ‘What about you two?’

  She looked at them and grinned expectantly. They looked at each other and grinned expectantly. Then they looked back at her and grinned expectantly.

  ‘Great!’ said Ally.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Pete, nodding significantly. ‘Great.’

  ‘Great!’ said Nicky. ‘That’s . . . great!’

  Oscar was suddenly at her side.

  ‘Miss Hobbs, I need to tell you something.’

  Nicky watched Pete join Rob before turning absent-mindedly to Oscar.

  ‘Not right now, sweetheart,’ she said. She looked back at her friend. Ally was beaming.

  ‘You look great!’ said Nicky, with a warm smile.

  ‘It’s about Miss Taylor,’ said Oscar. ‘And my dad.’ Nicky froze. She turned to Oscar.

  ‘Please, Oscar, not now.’ She waited for him to leave. As he walked slowly away, Ally turned the beam on her and Nicky basked in it for a moment. Then Ally gave her a most significant raise of her eyebrows and slowly leant in, as if to share a confidence.

  ‘I tell you,’ she grinned, ‘I feel great!’ She nodded repeatedly.

  Nicky stopped herself from telling her that that was great.

  ‘Oh,’ she said instead, deciding that she might as well join in all the sharing. ‘I’m withdrawing my application for Head. Mark’s an un-bee-leev-able kisser. But I think he’s actually after Amanda. Amanda’s nicer than we thought. And if Rob wants to, he could lose me my job.’

  ‘What?’ Ally looked stricken.

  ‘So!’ exclaimed Nicky quickly. ‘What have you been up to?’

  It might have been an awkward moment if Oscar and Mark hadn’t suddenly appeared by Nicky’s side.

  ‘Hello there,’ Nicky said to Oscar, unable to meet Mark’s eye. ‘What did you want to tell me?’

  ‘Miss Taylor –’ he started.

  She didn’t know what she’d have done if Rob hadn’t suddenly joined them and loitered, almost protectively. It worked. Oscar and Mark left almost as quickly as they’d appeared. She called after Oscar, ran to him and hugged him goodbye.

  ‘See you tonight at the party,’ she said to him.

  He nodded miserably.

  ‘You have to come!’ she said. ‘I’ll want a dance with you!’

  He suddenly became alert. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘The first dance. Promise. You have to promise.’

  She laughed. ‘I promise!’

  As s
he watched him get in the car she felt as wretched as she’d ever felt in her life. As they drove away, she turned her back, but that didn’t stop the desire to be in the car with them both swamping her. She turned to Ally.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ she asked, in a small voice.

  ‘I’m meeting Pete’s mum for the first time.’

  Nicky forced an excited response. ‘Good luck!’ she said.

  ‘I don’t need luck,’ said Ally grimly. ‘I need a miracle.’

  Nicky watched them leave together. Then she watched the car park slowly empty, leaving her standing alone. Twenty minutes later, Claire arrived.

  By now Nicky could barely raise a smile. As her sister drove her home, attacking her with questions about the holiday, she answered in monosyllables. Eventually Claire gave up.

  ‘I didn’t have to pick you up, you know,’ she told her. ‘I’m not your personal chauffeur.’

  Nicky tried to answer, but the lump in her throat kept getting in the way. She sniffed. Claire looked at her hard, then suddenly leant across her, took an emergency box of tissues and bar of chocolate out of the glove compartment and put them both in her sister’s lap. By the time they’d reached Nicky’s flat, Claire knew everything.

  As soon as they got in, Claire put the kettle on and poured Nicky a big glass of wine. While Nicky drank the wine and the kettle boiled, she phoned Derek to tell him she’d be home a little later than planned.

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to make the dinner then,’ Nicky heard Claire say into the phone. ‘There’s chicken and fresh salad in the fridge.’ When she then heard her ring off with ‘I’m not going to tell you which shelf, Derek, I’m going to watch you grow by learning’, she even managed the first genuine smile of the day. It felt strangely good.

  Claire joined her at the kitchen table, plonking a mug of sweet tea in front of her. She pulled a chair close, and took Nicky’s hand in a firm squeeze.

  ‘All that’s happened,’ she summarised, ‘is that you haven’t got a promotion, which you might not have got anyway. The rest is unpleasant, but it’s over. And you don’t know that he’s after Amanda. You only know her side of it.’

  Nicky nodded, but it didn’t stop the tears coming.

  ‘Believe me,’ insisted Claire, ‘if he’s after Amanda, you don’t want him,’ she added, her squeeze almost hurting Nicky’s hand.

  Nicky sniffed. ‘He’s got lovely forearms,’ she murmured.

  Claire sighed.

  ‘And hair. I loved his hair.’

  Claire nodded.

  ‘Did I tell you how good a kisser he was?’

  Claire gave a pained nod.

  ‘That was it,’ squeaked Nicky. ‘My life has peaked. It’s downhill from now on.’

  ‘Nicky, believe me,’ said Claire. ‘You will get over him. And, don’t forget, there is always Rob. He’s been constant all the way through.’

  ‘I don’t want Rob,’ she said so softly Claire didn’t even try and argue.

  When the phone went, they looked at each other. They heard Rob on the answerphone saying that he’d pick Nicky up in an hour, just in case she was too tired to drive to the party. No need to call back. They drank their tea in silence.

  An hour later, thanks to an endless stream of positive support from Claire and another generous glass of alcohol, Nicky was feeling much better. She wasn’t dressed to kill tonight but she could certainly have got manslaughter. She wore a tight, slinky pair of pedal pushers, which accentuated her waist and gently rounded hips, before coming to a tailored end just below the knee, emphasising the fleshy curve of her calves and delicate lines of her ankles. They had, of course, been rejected from the packing pile. These she topped with a simple cotton tank top, which effortlessly showed off the curves of her upper arms and cleavage, while camouflaging the tiny curve of her belly. She finished it off with her favourite pair of pumps, which were easy, graceful and subtle. She wore no make-up. Just the act of applying it would have made her feel needy. She didn’t look at her reflection in the mirror before answering the door to Rob.

  Before Rob started the car, he turned to Nicky.

  ‘How you doing?’

  She was able to flash him one of her finer smiles. It was amazing what the body could do when it had to.

  ‘I’m good,’ she said. ‘You?’

  ‘Fine.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Are you,’ he said slowly, ‘sure you’re up to talking to Miss James tonight?’

  She nodded. ‘Yep. It’s a bit of a relief, actually.’

  There are only two major flaws with holding a disco in a school hall for teachers and pupils; namely the venue and guests. Apart from that, it’s the perfect party. Nicky and Rob arrived early, to find a Year 3 parent behind the mixing desk performing a comedy cameo worthy of a BAFTA. If ever a baseball cap should have been worn the right way round, it was on him. On the front of his mixing desk was a handwritten poster announcing Skool Disco!!! Only Rebels Apply!!!

  Beside him stood three trestle tables in a row, covered in Harry Potter paper tablecloths and matching plates, each offering sausages on sticks, a ton of chocolate in assorted packaging, almost as many crisps and some Cheesy Wotsits. At the far end stood a smaller trestle table with thirty bottles of Diet Coke and two cartons of orange juice.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ murmured Rob.

  ‘I know,’ replied Nicky. ‘They’ve really pushed the boat out this time. Must be because she’s leaving.’

  As the words were out of her mouth, the unmistakable voice of Miss James came from behind them.

  ‘Helloooo! Hello! Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello!’

  They turned to greet her. She was on such a high that it was hard not to be infected by some of it, and amazingly, Nicky found herself already adapting to the knowledge that Rob was the next Head, she was his next Deputy, Mark was most probably a cad and life would still go on. After all the greetings were over, Rob leapt up on to the stage to shut the curtains, ‘for added ambience’, and Nicky started greeting the eager disco-goers, some of whom had brought their own iPods just in case the music was ‘wank’.

  But gradually her positive mood disappeared as an increasingly familiar tension started to take its hold again. She wasn’t quite sure what she was most tense about: Finding a convincing excuse with which to withdraw her application; telling Mark how hurt she was that he’d confided in Amanda and not her – thus betraying Amanda and revealing the depth of her own feelings for him; or being asked to dance by Ned and being murdered by his wife in a jealous rage.

  The trestle tables were filling up nicely now as nearly all the children had arrived and taken their positions by the chocolate. There would be chocolate-rage fights within the hour. There was little variety in the choice of disco-wear; the girls all looked like street prostitutes, the boys like rappers.

  Nicky spotted Daisy and looked for Oscar while desperately hoping she wouldn’t find Mark before he found her. She found Lilith instead, standing in the doorway, staring at the DJ in undisguised disbelief. Nicky approached her and they greeted each other warmly.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Lilith, crossing her arms. ‘Is he being ironic?’

  Nicky focussed. ‘It’s difficult to tell,’ she mused.

  ‘Mm.’ They watched him for a bit longer. As the ‘Birdie Song’ started and a secret smile played on his face, Lilith’s eyes lit up.

  ‘Yes! He’s being ironic!’ she cried. ‘I have to get me some of that.’ And she was gone. Nicky watched his eyes warm as he leant over the mixing desk to hear Lilith’s request.

  The volume increased, The Boomtown Rats came on and some of the kids even started dancing. Two had already started energetic snogging. When Miss James approached Nicky, dancing to ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’ and popping Maltesers, Nicky decided now was her moment.

  ‘Could we have a word?’ she shouted in Miss James’s ear.

  ‘I know!’ laughed Miss James. ‘Isn’t it?’ She executed a slow twirl. Then she ga
ve Nicky a wink and pulled her to the edge of the hall where they could actually hear each other.

  ‘No need to tell the others,’ she confided, pulling out a hip flask from her bra and offering it to her. Gratefully Nicky accepted. It was neat vodka. Miss James gave her a wink. ‘A bit like a Fisherman’s Friend, only for headmistresses,’ she said.

  ‘Um, yes,’ said Nicky, when her voice returned. ‘About that. I need to have a word.’

  ‘Aha!’ cried Miss James, looking past her. Nicky followed her gaze and found herself looking at Mark. He was as pleasing on the eye as he was a shock to her system. In fact, the two were probably linked. She greeted him as coolly as she could, which meant her body heat shot up through the ceiling. He greeted her just as coolly. She saw Oscar hanging back behind him, watching her. Mark started to move away and she beckoned to Oscar. But Miss James reached forward and took Mark firmly by the arm.

  ‘Mark!’ she cried. ‘Ah, Mark! Mark, Mark, Mark.’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘Ah! Mark.’ Then she turned to Nicky. ‘He’s leaving us, you know.’ She turned back to Mark. ‘I know, I know! I told you not to tell anyone, and now here I am, blabbing away like a schoolchild. But . . . ah, dear me. Mark.’

  Mark turned to Nicky and they looked at each other. Nicky didn’t know what expression to pull, so she didn’t pull one at all.

  ‘I was going to tell you,’ he said. ‘But I wasn’t allowed to.’

  She nodded evenly. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I knew already.’

  He frowned. ‘How?’

  ‘Ah, dear me!’ cried Miss James. ‘Marcus, Marcus, Marcus!’ She turned to Nicky and sighed. ‘Don’t you think?’ she said.

  Nicky nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do a bit.’

  ‘How did you know?’ repeated Mark.

  She looked at him. ‘Things get round. Girls talk.’ Before he could respond, she turned and walked away, grateful she wasn’t wearing high heels because each step was hard to take.

  Suddenly she felt herself being bodily swept to the side of the hall.

  ‘Who told you?’ Mark whispered in her ear. ‘It wasn’t that bitch, Amanda, was it?’