by Carol Thomas
The higher she got the more she could feel the breeze around her. The children whooped and cheered from below, but Abby zoned out of the noise, hearing only her own heavy breathing and the murmur of voices in her head. She had to focus on the task in hand and controlling her mind. That and climbing the ladder was making her feel exhausted. Her legs trembled. Again Melissa was right, she really was in need of some kind of exercise routine. At the halfway point she faltered; the ground was already too far away and seemed to spin as she glanced down. Her hands were feeling cold with nerves and her head slightly swimmy. Glancing at the children looking smaller on the ground she growled in frustration. In her mind she envisaged Simon’s face and felt the frustration at what he had done, how much it still hurt her and how irrevocable it all was. Anger building inside her, she forced herself onwards and upwards. The platform that had looked tiny from the ground grew tantalisingly closer with every step.
Eventually she reached the top rung and the children roared with excitement. Abby scrambled onto the platform as the awaiting instructor, Libby, heaved at her arm. Thankful to be off the rope ladder and having something firm to sit on Abby became aware that her whole body was convulsing. Nerves and exertion taking their toll, she attempted at least to steady her wild breathing. Libby, a girl in her early twenties, perfect figure, blonde plaits and seemingly completely unfazed by being on a small platform tens of feet off the ground, greeted Abby.
“Awesome, you made it!” Her overly jolly American nasal twang stung at Abby’s ears as she stared, dumbfounded. Not quite believing her luck, Abby suddenly felt that leaping off of the platform was going to be easier than she had initially imagined.
Trying hard to forgive Libby for being American, Abby slowly stood to full height, adding five feet, six and a half inches to what already felt like the thirty-five to forty feet she was off the ground. Abby held her breath and looked out across the view. Fearing her courage would fail her she determined not to look straight down. She was aware she was sweating but felt decidedly cold at the same time. The breeze, which remained thankfully calm, met her face as she took in the rolling green view and the sparkling blue sea beyond. It was beautiful. In contrast to her still-quivering body her mind felt oddly tranquil. Not a voice, not a murmur interrupted her moment; she soaked it up. A small smile crept across her face as she looked out, barely noticing Libby as she went about adjusting her harness and ropes ready for the descent. Feeling momentarily revitalised Abby waved at the children, regrettably looking down and flipping her bacon and egg breakfast into a spin as she did.
“Ready then? You just need to lean out and let the harness hold you.” Libby grinned.
Caught off guard, her breakfast rising in her throat, Abby felt a hint of panic building inside. She could feel herself, despite all her earlier determination, losing the battle to remain focused and in control. Her fear showed in her white face and panic-stricken eyes. Libby steadied her.
“You can do this! Look how far you’ve come,” she said, not knowing how deeply her words penetrated Abby’s mind.
She was right of course. Abby had come too far just to give up now, and besides, what was the alternative? A wobbly, shamed descent of the rope ladder, or worse, staying with Libby and listening to more of her overly jolly American accent. Steeling herself, Abby took a long, deep breath and decided to go for it.
Guided by Libby, Abby stepped to the edge and leaned back. It was a weird sensation of air and empty space below her but she felt her harness and the rope take the strain and felt reassured. Slowly, taking baby steps, she edged gradually down the tree, staring at the deep ridges in the bark – the life of the tree and all it had experienced etched into its being. Like my new wrinkles round my eyes from not enough sleep and too many tears, Abby mused. Inch by slow, steady inch she gradually moved herself closer to the ground. You are bloody doing it, she chanted reassuringly over and over in her mind, until she finally felt her foot hit the floor.
The children cheered wildly. Abby felt elated. Grinning, she bent over to take deep breaths, not realising she had hardly dared breathe for the entirety of her descent. She started to laugh and then tears sprung to her eyes. The children, still congratulating her, looked on, at first bemused but then gradually falling silent as Abby, seemingly losing all self-control, laughed and sobbed in hysterical breaths. The on-the-ground instructor, barely out of his teens, was unsure what to do and attempted to move the children away, but they wouldn’t budge.
Eventually, Chloe, one of the more confident year six girls, stepped forward and put her arm round Abby. “Miss, you… you OK Miss?”
Abby felt Chloe’s arm across her back and all the children’s eyes staring at her. She looked up, taking a shuddery breath, like a toddler after a tantrum, and seized control of herself. “Not entirely,” she gasped, “but I am going to be!” she said, smiling.
The children cheered and laughed, not really knowing what their teacher meant but glad that she at least seemed to be verging on normal again.
Grinning from the exhilaration of completing the abseil (and managing to control her inner demons along the way) Abby thanked the instructor, gathered her senses and her group and headed for the refectory. The children were all very sweet to her. Lavishing them with chocolate and biscuits Abby told them how proud she was of them, and herself for controlling her mind and concurring the abseil – letting them assume her tears had purely been the result of her overcoming a fear of heights. Damage limitation done!
The staffroom that evening was more sombre than on the previous day; it seemed it wasn’t only the children who were feeling tired as the residential progressed. Having decided a morale boost was in order the head teacher had gone to the gate to collect a Chinese he had ordered in from the nearest town. While everybody got ready to eat, and Melissa went to fetch her mini-manicure kit to salvage what she could of her damaged nails, Abby found herself alone with Jo Simms, a teacher who had only joined the school in the previous term. Jo seemed to leap towards Abby and held onto her arm, clearly having something she wanted to say.
“Are you OK?” she asked, searching Abby’s face.
“Yes, all good thanks.” Abby didn’t know Jo well, having only ever previously shared chitchat with her while on playground duty, and wasn’t quite sure what she was referring to.
“It’s just, you know, I heard about your husband… and the children today, well they mentioned you cried and—”
Abby’s throat tightened; she really didn’t want to drag everything up and attempted to cut Jo short. “Thanks Jo, but really, everything’s fine. It’s been tough recently but today… today I was just scared of heights and—”
“My husband had an affair, the bastard!” Jo interjected.
Abby was a little stunned by Jo’s outburst and didn’t like the turn in conversation. “Sorry to hear that,” she replied, feeling increasingly out of her depth. She felt ill-equipped to deal with her own problems, let alone somebody else’s.
“Five years it had gone on for, five years, when I had waited for children and he said we’d be ready soon. What a nasty bastard.” Jo was clearly on a charge and not going to give up the conversation easily.
“Oh… When? I mean… how did you find out?” Abby asked shakily.
“Three years and two months ago. I caught him in my bloody bed with her, the bitch whore from hell.” Jo’s words were venomous and yet she spoke them with a slow, cold resignation, as if she were delivering the facts to a jury.
Abby looked at the door, desperately hoping that somebody would come in and rescue her from this conversation. She reached out and touched Jo’s hand – it felt cold. Abby really didn’t want to enter a deep and meaningful conversation, and especially not on this subject. Apart from anything she was tired and always found it hard to control her mind when she was tired, but curiosity got the better of her. How people coped and moved on after affairs interested her. She had read on one of her adultery forum skulking sessions that it takes at least tw
o years to get over your partner cheating on you; one to relive the anniversaries of when it all happened and another to start to make new ones. Clearly Jo was beyond this and still more than a little possessed by the trauma she had faced.
“I’m so sorry, I know how hard it is. Are you with him now?” Abby couldn’t help but ask.
“No, I pretty much swore off men from that day, they’re not worth the effort,” Jo said firmly. “The good thing about not having children, though, is I never have to see him again. At least the bastard did me that favour.”
Abby looked at Jo’s angry face. She could feel the tension in her words. Was she going to be like that? Would she always allow Simon’s actions to haunt her, possess her? She hoped not. She didn’t want to be that person. What he had done had affected her life, yes; she knew she was a different person now, she knew that her mind could plummet to new depths now and maybe she would never be able to stop that, but watching Jo she also knew she couldn’t let his actions define her life. She was worth more than that; she deserved more than that. She had to move forward, no matter how hard that might be.
“Hungry anyone?” Brad came through the door with a huge grin on his face, followed by Melissa, and the head teacher carrying a large box of Chinese takeaway. The smell of food wafted into the room and Abby felt relieved to be joined by the others. On the pretext of an after-dinner manicure (as if that was something she did all the time!) Abby excused herself from Jo and went to sit with Melissa. Brad joined them with copious amounts of food at the table and the evening took a decided turn for the better.
Chapter 17
Feeling in great need of a shower after the journey back to school Abby heaved her rucksack, now full of washing, onto her back and followed Melissa to the car. She couldn’t wait to see her girls and catch up on some much-needed cuddle time. But as she neared her car Melissa dropped her bag on the floor and stared in disbelief.
“Oh no, it’s flat!” she exclaimed, taking in the sight of the deflated tyre on the driver’s side of the car. “I pumped it up hoping it would last until I sort a new one. Adam told me I should just let him change it but I didn’t dare tell him the spare was flat too. I can’t call him!” Imagining the knowing look her fiancé would give her, she swore under her breath. Car maintenance wasn’t really her thing but neither was giving in and letting a man sort it for her!
Abby felt deflated too: while she had really enjoyed her time away she now very much wanted to be home, but not wanting to make Melissa feel bad, she smiled. “Come on, we’ll find a lift and sort it tomorrow. It’ll be fine here for one more night.” She spoke cheerily, attempting to sound positive. With being home feeling tantalisingly close she really hoped Melissa would agree.
Scanning the car park it quickly became apparent that most people had made a hasty retreat as the last of the children had been collected. Being due back in school in the morning meant everybody was feeling in much need of recharging their depleted energy supplies before the onslaught began again. Abby spotted Jo but looked around, hoping to find somebody else to ask for a lift. She was quite simply too tired to handle her intensity. It seemed there was nobody, until the last of the coaches drove away revealing Brad’s car behind it. Realising he must have popped into school to return sick buckets and medical forms, Abby decided he was their best option for a quick ride home. She pulled at Melissa’s arm.
“Look, Brad’s still here; he’ll probably give us a lift home.”
With that Melissa returned from her dumbfounded state and laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he’s up for rescuing a damsel in distress,” she teased.
The lift all sorted and directions given, Melissa insisted on climbing into the back seat; her house was closest and she would be dropped off first. Abby sat in the front of the car and looked around. It was a very masculine domain, black leather, matt brushed metallic inlays, sporty and yet spacious; no children’s car seats, no baby wipes, no sweet wrappers or used tissues in the door pockets, and Radio 1 not a Roald Dahl story CD playing on the stereo. The car still smelt new. Despite feeling fatigued they all chatted easily just as they had the night before. In what seemed like no time they were pulling up outside Melissa’s. She got out of the car, thanking Brad for the lift and unnecessarily apologising again to Abby about the flat tyre.
Despite the continued murmur of the radio, as Melissa shut the door the car suddenly felt too quiet. Abby smiled at Brad and looked out of the window, watching Melissa’s house slip away into the distance. The easy conversation had stopped, the shift in dynamic of three becoming two became increasingly obvious as they drove and Abby felt very aware of being in a relatively confined space completely alone with Bradley. She shifted in her seat and fiddled with her seatbelt as she tried to think of something to say. Glancing at Brad, she noticed the stubble etched across his chin from the weekend and pushed away the thought of it rubbing against her if they kissed.
“I hope you had a good time,” Bradley said, breaking her wayward thoughts.
“Yes, it’s been good thank you; quite cathartic,” Abby responded, instantly wishing she had said something less pompously cryptic. Trying to think of something sensible to add, she glanced down and glimpsed his smooth, strong hand clutching the gear stick and the muscles that flexed in his thigh as he changed gear. As blood rushed and tingled at the surface of her skin she added, “But I can’t wait to get home now.”
“Sure, I bet your girls will’ve missed you,” he responded easily.
“Yes, and Simon,” Abby cringed, wondering why she had felt the need to say that.
Bradley barely grunted in response and Abby tried to think of things to say to make her comment sound less pointed. “You know he’s had the girls all weekend and the dog, the house and work…” About to add, “he’ll be relieved to see me,” she stopped as Bradley interrupted her.
“Like you do every weekend you mean?”
Abby looked at him, surprised by his tone. “Yes, but I’m used to it. Simon’s not. He’s really trying. They’ve all had a great weekend and the girls have loved having him all to themselves.” She knew she sounded too abrupt but she couldn’t help herself. She also knew she was jumping in to defend Simon as usual, despite promising herself she wouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it; it was simply one of those I-can-complain-about-my-family-but-you-can’t responses. She felt strangely on edge; the atmosphere in the car had changed and she didn’t like the fact that she suddenly felt on the verge of an argument about her personal life when really it was none of Bradley Hunter’s business. She folded her arms and wished she had taken a ride with Jo.
As they drove into Abby’s road Brad pulled the car over, switched the engine off and turned the radio down, before shifting in his seat to look directly at her.
“Thanks for the lift, I’m fine from here.” Abby didn’t want to talk any more; she wanted to get inside and see her girls, and went to undo her seatbelt. Brad caught her hand in his and she looked up in an attempt to give him a frosty glare; a look that she was aware would have been more effective if it wasn’t melting so easily at the sight of him.
“Sorry!” he began.
Abby inwardly sighed – she had heard too much of ‘sorry’ lately.
“It’s none of my business I know, but you’ve looked so sad lately, I just think you deserve some fun.”
Fun, it actually sounded tempting.
“It’s been great to see you smile this weekend. And well… I mean… would you like to come out with me sometime? We could just have a drink or something, away from school. Just us.”
Abby felt on the spot. Was it wrong that a part of her wanted to say yes? What would Simon think if she did? He was still her husband after all and she was still his wife.
“Look Brad, I’m hugely flattered. But really, it’s just not a great time for me at the moment,” she started.
Brad smiled and squeezed her hand. “Not a great time to go for a drink?” he teased, unleashing a thoroughly cheeky grin.
Ab
by considered her response and noticed his thumb was stroking across the back of her hand. “Just a drink? Nothing more. Just friends,” she affirmed, aware that removing her hand would have perhaps reinforced her point more.
“Strictly friends.” Bradley grinned and glanced past Abby through the passenger side window. Abby followed his eyes and saw Simon and the girls on the front porch putting up a homemade banner, and Bramble busily sniffing round the garden. The sight of her family tugged at her heart and made her grin.
“I better go,” Abby said, pulling her hand free and very much wanting to be swooping her girls up into a cuddle.
As she opened the car door Bramble turned and spotted her. Not being one to break into an excited run he stood on the grass barking in her direction. Jessica and Grace looked over, saw their mummy, and sped towards her. Realising all the commotion was because Abby was home, Simon pushed the last of the pins into the Welcome home Mummy banner and followed them, stopping abruptly when he saw Bradley, now out of the car, holding Abby’s bag and saying hello to the girls. Unaware that his friendliness towards them was simply based on them meeting at the school fete where they had greatly enjoyed throwing wet sponges in his face, Simon felt instantly jealous at the whole scene. He wasn’t about to let anyone else carry Abby’s bag and he wasn’t going to let anyone else appropriate his girls. Marching purposefully towards them, he looked directly at Bradley.
