by Dani Atkins
‘What, when he goes back to the States, you think that will fix things? That all these feelings you have for your American author are just going to magically go away when he leaves?’ I stared at her with eyes as wide as marbles, for I’d said nothing at all to her about my feelings for Jack. ‘What, you think I am now so old and blind I have forgotten the ways of the heart? I am French,’ she announced proudly. ‘I could not possibly forget.’
The evening with Jack had felt so very much like an ending that his call a few days later was totally unexpected. But not as unexpected as his opening comment.
‘Toad in the hole… that can’t possibly be a real toad, can it?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s just been troubling me, that’s all. I mean, why would anyone want to eat a toad? For a start I think they’re poisonous.’
‘No, Jack, it’s not a real one.’
‘Hmm, I thought as much.’
There was a long moment of silence, making me think this bizarre call was at an end. Then his voice returned. ‘So do you know how to make it?’
‘Yes, I do. Would you like me to make it for you before you leave?’
‘Are you free on Saturday afternoon, say around four?’
‘I am.’
He paused. ‘I spent longer trying to invent this ridiculous excuse to call you than I do outlining the plot of an entire thriller.’
I smiled. ‘Well done. It didn’t sound contrived at all.’
His chuckling response merged with the purr on the line as he hung up.
‘I’m sorry. You think what?’ Caroline’s voice was loud enough to make several customers at the nearby tables turn their heads.
I pulled my chair a little closer to hers, lowering my voice. ‘I think that I may be falling… have fallen for Jack.’
‘Ridiculous!’ she said, dismissing my declaration in a one-word summation.
‘No, it’s not. It’s how I feel. How I think I’ve felt for weeks, only it took me a while to recognise it.’
‘Look,’ said Caroline, and I could see she was making a real effort to talk in a calm and measured tone, when I suspected that what she really wanted to do was give me a good hard slap across the face. ‘What you think you feel for Jack… well, it’s just not possible. He’s a good guy, a great guy, a really heroic guy. But he’s not the type of man people like us end up with. He’s like a character in a book, he’s all glamour and gloss and excitement. But he’s not real. Not in the way that say Nick is.’ She paused, clearly wondering if she should finish that sentence. ‘… Or Richard.’
‘Richard. Oh yes, he’s just the kind of man every woman dreams of finding. The type who sleeps with your best friend behind your back. He’s your perfect partner.’
‘Emma, it was only one fucking time.’
My head shot up in shock. It was rare to hear Caroline swear. Of the three of us it had always been Amy whose colourful language would have given Monique a good run for her money.
Caroline sighed, shook her head and tried another tack. ‘Look, you said yourself that Jack is against marriage?’ I nodded. ‘And he hinted there was someone he had to get back to in the States?’ I nodded again. ‘And you think he might still be hung up on his ex-wife?’ One more nod, much sadder this time.
‘Well,’ she said, giving a long drawn-out sigh, ‘I take it all back, the guy’s an absolute catch. Go for it!’
I hated it that she was being sarcastic, but when the facts were all laid out as baldly as that, I could see she had a point. I sighed and leant a little closer to the table. It was lunchtime and the coffee shop was crowded. Although we’d managed to get one of the few booths at the rear, I was still aware that we could easily be overheard by those on the surrounding tables.
Caroline took a bite of her sandwich before looking at me with an expression of pure despair. ‘It must have been one hell of a kiss,’ she said.
‘It was,’ I admitted. ‘But that’s not why I feel this way.’
‘Isn’t it? Look, Emma, you scarcely even know the guy. You met him less than two months ago. You can’t be in love with someone who’s little more than a passing acquaintance.’
She sat back in her seat, clearly satisfied she had scored a winning point.
‘I’d known Richard all my life and thought I was in love with him. And where did that get me?’
Caroline sighed, realising she was losing ground with that argument. ‘So tell me again exactly what Jack said to you after the kiss, when he dropped you back home.’
‘That’s just it,’ I said, shaking my head, as confused now as I’d been five days ago. ‘He acted as though absolutely nothing had happened. As though the bridge, the kiss, what he said after simply hadn’t occurred.’
Caroline pursed her lips, as though trying to decide whether or not to voice the next question. Then she went for it. ‘And you’re absolutely sure that they really did?’ I looked at her scathingly. She cracked first. ‘Okay, okay. Don’t look at me like that. I had to ask. You’ve been through a lot recently and you did hit your head in the accident—’
‘That was seven weeks ago, and I most definitely did not dream this up or imagine it. I couldn’t have. It was the most mind-blowing kiss I’ve ever had.’
Two elderly women sharing the table nearest to ours looked up with interest at my last comment, which admittedly had been said a great deal louder than it should have been. I smiled benignly in their direction, and pulled my chair closer to the table.
‘So when are you seeing him again?’ she asked. There was a note of helpless resignation in her question.
‘On Saturday. I’m making toad in the hole.’ Caroline’s head shot up. ‘Don’t ask,’ I advised. ‘So, do you think I should tell him how I feel, or is that just looking for trouble? Do I bring up what happened the other day? Do I ask him about it? Or just leave things as they are?’
‘That’s a lot of questions. Give me a minute.’
I sank back down on the black leather padded seat as I waited for some words of wisdom and guidance. I was out of my depth and needed Caroline’s sensible level-headed advice. Caroline with her long-term relationship, solid values and high moral fibre.
‘Okay, I think I’ve got it. Do you want to know what I really think you should do on Saturday?’ I leaned expectantly towards her. ‘I think you should sleep with him.’
I’m not sure who was more shocked, me or the two old ladies on the next table. Me, I think.
‘Pardon? What did you just say?’ The old dears both set their cups back on their saucers; I guess they wanted to get it straight too.
‘Sleep with Jack. Have sex. Scr—’
I interrupted her before one of the blue-rinse ladies had a heart attack on top of her English muffin. ‘I understand the terminology.’ I looked at her in confounded disbelief. ‘Who are you? And what have you done with the real Caroline?’
She gave a slightly sheepish look from beneath her fringe. ‘I know it might sound a little unorthodox—’
‘You reckon?’
‘—but hear me out, because I think this might actually be the best thing – for you and Richard, that is.’
I was going to have to ask my elderly eavesdroppers for clarification on that one, because I clearly didn’t understand anything that was being said here.
‘Let me get this straight. You think I should… make love…’ I deliberately used the one description she had intentionally not included, ‘with Jack, someone I think I’m developing real feelings for, and that doing this is somehow going to sort out my relationship issues with Richard, who – unless you’ve forgotten – cheated on me?’
‘Precisely,’ Caroline said, giving a satisfied nod.
I shook my head, wondering if they’d put something stronger than just beans in today’s coffee. ‘Caroline, you are officially crazy. What you’re saying is completely ridiculous.’
My old friend pulled a face, as though her solution was so glaringly obvious she couldn’t unde
rstand why I didn’t get it. ‘Look, right now you won’t even entertain the idea of getting back with Richard, will you? You’re hurt and angry with him. Justifiably so. And the way I see it, nothing is going to change until you can get past what he did, or maybe… until the scales are balanced.’
Nothing she was saying justified her outrageous suggestion. ‘Think about it, Emma, if you did the same thing… well it would kind of cancel out what Richard did. You couldn’t continue to be angry with him, if you’d done the same thing. You’d be back on a level playing field again.’
I looked at her in despair. ‘Caroline, I cannot, will not, have sex with Jack to get even with Richard. What kind of a person would that make me? And besides which, you’re disregarding my feelings for Jack.’
Caroline sighed again, and conveniently chose to ignore my last remark. ‘All I’m saying is that sleeping with Jack might be exactly what you need right now.’ That point I couldn’t argue with. ‘Jack is like a hot and intense holiday romance. I admit that you and he clearly have some sort of spark or attraction going on, and I know you think what you’re feeling is love, but you have to know that in reality, it’s not. It’s all in your head, it’s all make-believe and tied up with him being a hero and saving you. He saved me too, remember – in a way – but you don’t see me going around thinking I’m in love with him. Well, do you?’
I gave a small sound of disgust, but didn’t reply.
‘Emma, really, you have to trust me on this. In the cold light of day these feelings that you think you have for Jack just won’t stand up. But you’ve got yourself so lost in this impossible attraction that you can’t see clearly any more.’ Her words shredded me like knives, but I wasn’t about to let that show. ‘So maybe if you and Jack… do the deed,’ she added much more coyly, having only just become aware of our OAP audience, ‘well, it will get him out of your system. Purge him out.’
I pulled a face. She was making it sound as though my feelings for Jack were some sort of unpleasant disease which I needed to eradicate.
‘And then, when it’s done, you’ll see the difference between having a quick fling with someone you’re infatuated with, and a lasting relationship with someone you love.’
I just stared at her.
‘And you get to have sex with a really hot guy,’ she added, as though that was sure to be the clincher.
‘Amazing,’ I said, and she was so pleased with her idiotic proposal, she didn’t even realise I was being sarcastic.
‘I know,’ she declared. ‘You’ll stop obsessing about Jack, he’ll get a holiday quickie, and you and Richard will be able to find a way to get back together again. It’s a win-win-win situation.’
Both the old ladies were nodding their heads wisely as though Caroline was the UK’s answer to Doctor Phil.
‘Caroline. You’re nuts. That is the worst advice I’ve ever heard. Stick to selling houses, because you’re never going to make it as a relationship counsellor.’ She looked crestfallen at my rejection. ‘Plus, you seemed to have overlooked the biggest and most insurmountable problem in your plan.’ Caroline waited expectantly for me to finish. ‘Jack doesn’t want any sort of involvement or complication, not even a meaningless “quickie”. He’s made that perfectly clear.’
I dropped my coat and bag over the banister when I got home that evening and followed the smell of cooking into the kitchen, expecting to see both of my parents pottering around as usual. But the room was in darkness, the only light coming from the glass oven door, where I could see a casserole was cooking. I walked through the kitchen into the adjacent lounge, which was also in shadow.
‘Dad? Mum?’ I called out into the silent house. Something was wrong. Since Mum had fallen ill, their lives were governed by routine and order. Spontaneity and impulsive behaviour had moved out when Alzheimer’s moved in. I thundered up the stairs, but even before I had flung open their bedroom door, I already knew I was the only one home. I ran back down the stairs, almost losing my balance in my haste to find my phone. I seized my bag and took it into the kitchen, pulling out my mobile as I went. I was still dialling my father’s number when I saw the note. It was propped up against the kettle.
I flicked on the overhead lights and read his neatly written script. By the time I reached the end of the brief explanation, the perplexed look on my face had changed from a frown to a scowl. Have gone to the pub with George, the note began, which was almost as ludicrous as having written, Have been kidnapped by aliens, please bring ransom. It was rare for my father to indulge in the luxury of a little male-bonding time in the local with his friends. But, bizarre as that was, that wasn’t the part of the note which really bothered me. Your mum is at the school with Richard. Dinner is in the oven. We should all be back at eight.
What did he mean Mum was at the school with Richard? Had she gone wandering again, and had Richard found her? Surely that couldn’t be right. There’s no way Dad would be socialising over a pint if Mum had managed to get herself to the school again. So that could only mean that Richard had taken her to school? But why? For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single reason why he would have done such a thing, even when we were engaged, and far less so now. It made no sense. And worse than that, it made a mockery of my father’s begrudging agreement to exclude Richard from our family life, at least until the dust of our break-up had settled.
The more I thought about it, the madder I got. Richard was using my mum’s long-standing affection for him as a tool to worm his way back into my life. It was outrageous. And if he thought that acting like this was going to win me back… well, he had another think coming. Fired up with righteous indignation, I grabbed my car keys and headed for the door.
I had to keep reminding myself to slow down as I travelled the familiar route to the school. But it wasn’t easy with anger coursing through my veins like a stimulant, practically forcing my right foot to press down harder on the accelerator. Pithy imaginary conversations ran through my head as I drove, each of them cutting Richard down to size. In reality I knew I’d probably not say anything of the sort in front of my mother. It didn’t matter. I was just going to find them and take Mum back home, and if he couldn’t get the subtext from that, then he was even more obtuse than I thought.
The school was largely in darkness and I knew the main doors would be locked, so I headed for one of the side entrances, hearing the whirr of security cameras following my progress. I realised this plan could end badly: alarms going off, police cars arriving, and no easy explanation to offer as to why the daughter of an ex-member of staff had been caught trespassing within her old school.
I reached the door and saw the corridor beyond was in total darkness. I paused for a second with my hand on the aluminium handle. I didn’t have to do this, did I? The fiery anger that had propelled me out of my house and into my car had banked down to smouldering embers of annoyance. I should probably just go back home and forget all about it. My fingers flexed around the tubular handle, then almost of their own volition pulled open the door. I held my breath. No alarm sounded, no security guard came racing down the corridor. I took it as a sign that I’d been right to come.
I didn’t need the benefit of lighting to find my way around the building. Nor to know where I should look first. I ignored the passageway that led to the Technology Department and Richard’s office, and headed straight for the Art Block. It was where Mum would want to go. It was where she always headed.
As I walked through the swing doors, I could see that several rooms were brightly lit in the suite of art classrooms and staff offices. I took a steadying breath, steeling myself for what was sure to be an unpleasant scene, whichever way it went.
‘Excuse me, can I help you?’ The voice came from behind me, and I must have jumped a foot in the air; I certainly hadn’t heard anyone approach, or emerge from any of the rooms. I’d been so focused on liberating my mother from Richard’s care, I’d been deaf and blind to anything else. Despite the enquiry, the tone was sharp and
suspicious and they didn’t sound like they wanted to help me at all. Unless helping was a euphemism for throwing someone out. ‘The school is closed and this is private property.’
I turned slowly, unsure of how much trouble I was in.
‘Emma! For goodness sake, I didn’t realise it was you.’ The person, who only a few seconds ago had sounded like they might be about to hit me over the head with a sculpture, now enveloped me in her arms in an enormous hug. ‘What on earth are you doing walking around in the dark like that? You gave me a proper scare. I didn’t know you were coming too tonight. How are you, sweetie? We’ve all been so worried about you. Such a tragedy.’
I nodded, a little distractedly. Janice’s presence took even more wind out of my sails. She was a warm and friendly woman, who liked nothing better than a nice gossipy chat. When Mum had run the department she’d been her assistant, and I knew they had been good friends as well as colleagues. For that reason alone, she deserved more of my attention and courtesy.
‘I’m doing well, thank you.’ Janice patted my hand consolingly, and I knew the empty ring finger hadn’t gone unnoticed.
‘Such a shame you had to postpone the wedding,’ she said, and I think there was a question behind the seemingly innocent statement. Did that mean Richard hadn’t told anyone at school that our wedding was more than just postponed?
I decided to go with a noncommittal ‘uh huh’, which thankfully she didn’t pursue. I flicked a glance over my shoulder at the lit art room behind me, expecting that at any moment Richard and my missing parent would emerge, to make my discomfort complete.
Janice misread my look. ‘They’re in C4, the large art room,’ she advised. ‘You can go on through and join them.’
I hesitated, wondering what to say, and how much of it was likely to be the hot topic of conversation in the staffroom by break time tomorrow.
‘Er, what are they doing, Richard and Mum?’
Janice looked a little surprised at my question. ‘The same as usual.’
That didn’t really help. I hoped if I just stayed quiet long enough she might elaborate; Janice wasn’t a woman who really went for silences. She didn’t disappoint me. ‘I always think this is such a lovely thing for him to do.’
