Love Lessons

by David Belbin

“I don’t know if I could get out, but ...”

  “That reminds me,” Mike interrupted, “I have some good news.

  “What?”

  “Phil and Tracey are going away for ten days at Easter. I’ll have the house to myself.”

  Rachel could barely contain her excitement, but there was more.

  “And they’re talking about him moving into her flat when they come back.”

  “Brilliant!”

  Rachel hugged Mike. She found herself kissing him, and being kissed back. Neither of them heard the door open.

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  The couple broke apart as though someone had fired a gun. A small boy was walking into the room. One glance at his disturbed face showed that he had seen what they were doing. Somehow, Mike managed to put on a teacher’s voice.

  “What is it, Paul?”

  “I think I left my pencil case behind.”

  “Let’s look for it, shall we?”

  The boy started to back away sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said.

  Rachel could feel her face turning a million shades of red.

  “No, it’s all right, really,” Mike said. “Rachel was just going. She ... er ... got a little over enthusiastic in thanking me for some help.”

  Rachel picked up her bag and hurried out of the room as Mike continued talking. “You won’t mention what you saw to anyone, will you? You can see how embarrassing it is for the girl. Now, what colour is that pencil case?”

  When Paul Wilks was gone, pencil case in hand, Mike found himself shaking. The boy might only be eleven or twelve and no great shakes in the intellect department, but he knew what was going on, all right. What the hell was Rachel doing, coming into his classroom at the end of school like that? They’d agreed on absolute discretion at school. She’d done the precise opposite.

  “Are we going home or what?”

  Phil Hansen had walked in, making Mike jump again.

  “I’ve been waiting in the staffroom for ... are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’m fine. It’s been a long week, that’s all.”

  Phil frowned, unconvinced.

  The two men hardly spoke again until they went for their regular drink in the Dover Castle, five hours later.

  “What’s going on, Mike?” Phil asked, when they were on their third pint. “You’ve been getting jumpier and jumpier over the last few weeks.”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said. “Maybe I’m working too hard. Job insecurity doesn’t help, either.”

  “We’re all in that boat,” Phil said. “But there’s something else. Are you going to tell me, or am I going to drag it out of you?”

  Reluctantly, Mike met Phil’s gaze. He hated to lie, but had no choice.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” he said.

  Phil bought them another pint. Mike was starting to feel tired.

  “Cynthia,” Phil said, slamming the drinks on the table so that the froth dripped over the side.

  “A joke,” Mike muttered.

  “A pretty repetitive joke,” Phil stated. “Do you know how many times I’ve picked up the phone over the last three or four weeks and it’s been hung up?”

  “You mentioned once or twice,” Mike replied.

  He had no idea how often Rachel phoned him and didn’t get through. He knew of four, maybe five times. He’d told Phil that he’d answered a similar number of silent calls himself.

  “Every other day,” Phil said. “Twice, one day. I started keeping a record, out of curiosity - notches on the phone book. Do you know how many there are?”

  Mike shook his head.

  “Twenty. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about it. You know what hurts?”

  “What?” Mike asked, reluctantly.

  “It’s not that you don’t tell me about it. I mean, that’s up to you. No, what hurts is you think that I’m such an idiot I won’t notice what’s going on.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mike said, slowly. “I don’t think that.”

  “So are you going to tell me?”

  “Believe me,” Mike said, dejectedly. “I would if I could.”

  “She’s married, then?”

  “No. It’s not that.”

  Mike dredged his tired brain for some explanation which would satisfy Phil.

  “You know what Tracey reckons?” Phil said. “She reckons that you must be knocking off a school girl.”

  Mike felt like the truth must be etched all over his face. Luckily, Phil wasn’t looking at him. He was supping his drink.

  “Where’d she get that idea?” Mike said, trying to sound casual.

  “The Cynthia phone call, for one. And opportunity. You hardly go out. When you’re not at school, you’re thinking about school. If you’re not seeing a married teacher, then it can only be a pupil. Makes sense, doesn't it?”

  Mike agreed that it made sense. They’d both nearly finished their drinks and it was his turn to buy another one. He felt very tired, and didn’t really want it. Yet he needed time to think. Without speaking, he took their glasses to the bar.

  “What’s that blonde called?” Phil asked when he returned. “The busty one we saw at Rock City with Rachel and Carmen. She’s in your year-eleven group.”

  “You mean Becky.”

  “Right. Now I have to confess that if I weren’t with Tracey, and I came upon her in a club or a wine bar, I wouldn’t think twice about ... you know.”

  Mike nodded, knowing what he was being drawn into.

  Phil became less articulate. “Not that I’m saying ... The point is, you can trust me.”

  “Thanks,” Mike said. “I appreciate that, I do. Thing is, I think I know who the phone calls are coming from, and it’s not a school kid.”

  Phil looked surprised. “Who is it then?”

  “I think it’s my ex, Emma.”

  “Why would it be her?”

  Mike launched into a long, rambling explanation. He said that Emma had always been a bit neurotic. She might have changed her mind about him. Maybe she wanted to keep tabs on Mike because she couldn’t stand the thought of him with another woman. It wasn’t very convincing, but Phil listened patiently. Mike couldn’t tell if he believed him or not.

  Thirteen

  Rachel finally got to see her father ten days before Romeo and Juliet opened. He picked her up from a Saturday morning rehearsal at school and drove her back to Mapperley Park. Rachel looked at the city from the high seats of his Shogun. Dad made an effort to be cheerful but his face was gaunt, his eyes tired. They quickly fell into silence.

  “Are you coming to my play?” Rachel asked, as they turned up Tavistock Drive.

  “Of course. How long’s it on for?”

  “Tuesday to Thursday.”

  “Which night would you like me to come?”

  “Mum’s bought tickets for the Wednesday.”

  Dad took the hint. “How about if I come on Thursday, then? You’ll have enough first night jitters without me there.”

  “Fine,” Rachel said. “I think there’s a party afterwards, so you won’t mind if I don’t ...”

  “No, no,” Dad said. “I just want to see you perform.”

  “So I’ll get you two tickets.”

  Dad frowned. “Better make it one. Clarissa will have to babysit.”

  For some obscure reason, Rachel was hurt. Despite the fact that they didn’t get on, Clarissa generally pretended to be interested in Rachel. Couldn’t they afford to pay a babysitter?

  “You may have gathered,” Dad said, staring at the road ahead as he spoke, “Clarissa and I have been going through a rough patch lately. That’s why I’ve had to keep cancelling things.”

  “Are you splitting up?” Rachel asked, without looking at him. Dad kept his gaze on the road ahead. “No, no. We’re getting over it. You know, most couples have periods in their marriages where ...” He ran out of words.

  “Like you and Mum?” Rachel suggested, in a neutral
voice.

  “Yes,” Dad admitted. “Like me and your mother. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

  Rachel expected him to add “for the sake of the children”, or some platitude like that, but he didn’t.

  “Anyway,” he said. “Don’t mention any of this to Clarissa today. And try to be nice to her. You know, she finds you awfully frosty sometimes.”

  “I’ll try,” Rachel said, though she didn’t know why she ought to. Wasn’t Clarissa the one who was putting her father through hell?

  “Your sixteenth birthday is coming up soon,” Dad said, as they got out of the car. “Have a think about what you want me to get you.”

  “I’ll do that,” Rachel said.

  She didn’t know what she wanted to do on her birthday, which was on the final Sunday of the Easter holiday. What Rachel really cared about was the night before, when she and Mike were going to see Oasis in Sheffield. Now it occurred to her that Dad might provide the ideal alibi for that night.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t you invite me for lunch on my birthday?”

  She would tell Mum that she was spending the night before at her Dad’s.

  “Fine,” Dad said, “if that’s what you want. Present?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Rachel had intended to ask for a CD player. But if she was going to move in with Mike during the summer, there wasn’t much point. He already had one.

  Lunch with Dad and Clarissa was rather stiff and formal. Afterwards, Phoebe and Rowan kept Rachel entertained. When Clarissa got back from shopping, Rachel said she wanted to go for a walk on her own, even though it was raining. She rang Mike from a phone box on Mansfield Road. He was expecting Phil home any minute, so he arranged to meet her for a drink in the Grosvenor, a pub just down the road from her Dad’s.

  Rachel got there first. Mike arrived two minutes later. He looked around before acknowledging Rachel. When Mike sat down, he leant over and kissed her lightly on the lips. The couple were unlikely to be spotted in the loud, crowded pub. Still, they didn’t dare draw attention to themselves by being too affectionate.

  “Drink?”

  Rachel asked for an orange juice, knowing that Mike would be uncomfortable buying her anything alcoholic, even though she looked old enough.

  “I liked that LP you taped me,” Mike said. “There’s some really catchy stuff on it. I tried to get tickets for the concert, but it was sold out.” He paused to let Rachel register disappointment, then added, “It wouldn’t have been safe to go, really. Going to a gig in Sheffield’s one thing, but Nottingham ...”

  Rachel nodded. She understood. Mike changed the subject.

  “I won’t be in school a week on Tuesday,” he said.

  “But what about the play?”

  Tuesday was the opening night.

  “I’ll be back for that. Thing is, I’ve got a job interview.”

  “Where?”

  “A school in Sheffield, with a sixth form.”

  Rachel tried to smile, but she felt like her world was on the verge of falling apart. If he went, could she follow? And would Mike really want her with him?

  “Does Ms Howard know?” she asked, putting off the real question.

  “I only got the letter today. I’ll tell her on Monday.”

  “W-what about us?” she stuttered. “If you get the job?” Mike squeezed her hand across the table. His voice was reassuring. “I haven’t got the job yet. I don’t want you to worry about it. There’s the play, and then your exams. You know, you need to concentrate more on ...”

  “Hello, there.”

  Rachel and Mike both turned round as though a gun had gone off. Rachel’s maths teacher stood over them, his tall body leaning against the table. He wasn’t smiling.

  “You must be Cynthia,” he said.

  Rachel froze, then turned to Mike. His face had become a blank — he couldn’t seem to focus on Phil Hansen. The pause seemed to last an eternity. Hansen was about to say some-thing else, when Mike suddenly put on his friendly but fake, diplomatic school teacher’s voice.

  “If you could just give us a minute, Phil. Then I’ll explain.”

  “Sure.”

  Phil went to the bar. Rachel looked at Mike. His face was now completely white.

  “I’d better go back to my Dad’s,” Rachel told him. “Can I call you?”

  Mike sighed. “You might as well,” he said. “It makes no difference, now he knows.”

  Her head swimming, Rachel kissed him on the cheek, picked up her umbrella and went. At the door, she glanced back at Mike. Phil Hansen was walking over to him, two pints in his hand. He glanced at Rachel with a sad, subdued look in his eyes. The corners of his mouth curled, but failed to become a smile. As Rachel left the pub, she nearly bumped into a familiar-looking girl with a blonde bob: Phil’s girlfriend, Tracey. There was a glow coming from her face like a million dollars. Why can’t I be like that? Rachel asked herself, although she already knew the answer.

  Phil shook his head with barely disguised disgust.

  “You bloody idiot,” he said.

  Tracey arrived and Phil said something to her. She went to the bar alone.

  “How long’s this been going on?” Phil asked Mike.

  “A few weeks.”

  “Does anyone know?”

  Mike thought about Paul Wilks. So far, he seemed to have kept his mouth shut. “No. Only you.”

  “It’s impossible to keep this kind of thing quiet for long.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’d better stop it.”

  “I can’t,” Mike said. “I love her.”

  Tracey joined them but didn’t join in the conversation. Now that the secret was out, Mike wanted to unburden himself. He gave a brief account of how he and Rachel got together, how he was even thinking about living with her once they’d both left Stonywood. “I’m sorry,” he finished. “I really didn’t want to lie to either of you, but I felt like I had no choice. I hoped you’d understand.”

  Phil remained silent. Tracey gave Mike a sceptical look. “A friend of mine had a thing with her maths teacher when she was in the sixth form,” she said. “He had three kids. I guess this isn’t as bad as that.”

  “What happened to her?” Mike asked.

  “She dropped out of school, got a job where I work.”

  “And him?”

  “Nothing. He’s still at the school, still with his wife. That’s what usually happens to blokes like you, isn’t it?”

  Stung by this criticism, Mike repeated, “I love her.”

  “Yeah. That’s what this bloke said. She believed him. But what do you know about love at sixteen? Oh, sorry - yours is younger, isn’t she?”

  Mike cringed. Tracey was only eighteen herself. She ought to be sympathetic, he thought, but said nothing.

  “Trace,” Phil said. “Have a heart.”

  Tracey’s blue eyes flashed angrily as she turned to Phil.

  “A heart? I said, didn’t I, that this would be what was going on. And you’re going to help protect him, aren’t you? Well, you can leave me out of it.” Without finishing her drink, she walked out of the pub. Phil didn’t try and stop her. He raised a withering eyebrow at Mike.

  “Thanks a lot, mate,” he said.

  Mike didn’t know what to say. “I really love her,” he mumbled.

  Phil’s voice was scathing. “She’s just a kid. I know Rachel. I teach her three times a week. I don’t understand ...”

  “We have a lot in common,” Mike protested. “She’s intelligent. She’s articulate. She’s ...”

  “... not very good at maths,” Phil filled in. “And she’s lazy, like a lot of kids her age who think they know it all. You got a first class honours degree, didn’t you?”

  Mike nodded.

  “Well, Rachel won’t even get into university.”

  Mike began to protest. “I don’t see how ...”

  Phil shook his head. “You need maths GC
SE at C or above to get into university. Rachel’s left it too late to get that. She’ll only get a D if she works for it.”

  “She’s going to go to college next year,” Mike insisted. “She can retake it there. Anyway, what is this - a parents’ evening? I don’t ask you what exam results Tracey got.”

  “Leave Tracey out of this,” Phil ordered. “She hated school, messed up, got out as soon as she could.”

  “What have you got against Rachel?” Mike asked. “Apart from her being bad at maths?”

  Phil gave Mike a withering look. “I like Rachel. It’s you I’m down on. I thought you were my friend.”

  “I am,” Mike insisted. “This isn’t so bad. All we have to do is keep it quiet for a few more months. I’ll get a new job, she’ll move in with me and …”

  “And what?” Phil asked. “Rachel will become a nice little housewife? No way. She might not get to university, but she’ll want to make something of her life and she’ll leave you behind, mate. And you’ll be even more bitter and mixed up than you were when Emma dumped you.”

  Mike saw what he was getting at. “You think I’m doing all this on the rebound, don’t you?”

  Phil shrugged. “Something like that, maybe. You’re under a lot of pressure. I can see how it happened. Rachel got a crush on you. You were flattered. You flirted a bit. You know, I can see the attraction. In a couple of years, Rachel will be a knock out. But she’s too young, Mike. You have to stop seeing her.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Phil stood up. “Then more fool you. And I don’t want you seeing her in my house. I mean that. If it gets out, I could end up in trouble, too. I don’t want to lose my job if I can help it, thanks very much.”

  Mike didn’t reply. He didn’t want to make a promise which he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep. Phil pulled on his coat.

  “I’m going off to find Tracey.”

  “I’ll give you a lift,” Mike offered.

  “No thanks,” Phil replied. “I prefer to walk.”

  Fourteen

  Opening night arrived. Rachel hadn’t seen Mike on his own in the ten days since Phil caught them together in the pub. She’d spoken to him on the phone, though, using a call box near her house. He’d told her not to worry, Mr Hansen would keep quiet. Even so, Rachel hadn’t been able to look the maths teacher in the eye during lessons. It all felt wrong: his knowing ought to make her feel more grown up. Instead, it made Rachel feel like a child with a shameful secret.