She wished to God she had someone to talk to – but there was no one. The realisation hit her. She had no friends, no real ones, just superficial people she occasionally had a drink with. Not the sort of women she could talk to. No sisters, no brothers, no one. So wrapped up in her world of work and family, she’d neglected everything else. And now she needed someone, there was nobody.
She heard Charlotte’s footsteps coming down the stairs. She picked up an exam paper as Charlotte breezed into the living room. ‘Mum, I’m bored. I’m gonna take Angus out for a walk.’
‘What about your homework?’
‘Finished it already.’
Julie didn’t really believe her, but she wasn’t going to confront her over it. ‘OK, sweetheart,’ she said meekly. ‘I’ll have some dinner ready for when you get back. Anything you fancy?’
Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. ‘Dunno. Nothing really, whatever you’re having.’
‘Will you be long?’
‘No, just to the tree and back.’
‘OK, then. Be careful.’
Shaking his dog lead, Charlotte called for Angus, and then went out. Julie put the exam paper down and sighed – again. She decided to have a whisky. She never drank at this time of day and she rarely drank spirits, but she was shaking and she needed something to fortify herself. The whisky poured, she thought about putting on a CD. She looked through the collection, but every CD was either Tom’s, been bought for her by Tom, or in some way, reminded her of him. In the end, she plumped for classical – Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony. She sat down, sipped the whisky, enjoying the sensation if not the taste, and listened to the swirling sounds of the strings, the mournful drone of the winds. But instead of allowing the music to free her, it merely focussed her mind even more on the things she wanted to avoid. Unable to bear it any more, she turned the CD off and welcomed back the silence. The music had failed her; the whisky was making her feel worse, and the last thing she wanted to do was to cook. It was going to have to be a ready-meal.
There was a knock on the front door. She wondered why they hadn’t used the doorbell. Maybe it was Charlotte back already, but no, she had her own set of keys. Surely, it couldn’t be Tom. Had he taken his keys with him; she couldn’t remember. Maybe he hadn’t, perhaps it was Tom. It must be; she’d give anything for it to be Tom. Her heart beating with nervous anticipation, she leapt across the sitting room and into the hallway. She took a deep breath, mustn’t appear overkeen. The glass in the front door was too frosted to give any clues. Her hand on the door handle, she opened the door. It was Mark Moyes. She couldn’t hide her disappointment.
‘Hello, Julie,’ he said sheepishly, looking more dishevelled than usual, holding his briefcase and a pale green jacket over his arm. ‘Your doorbell isn’t working.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Can I come in?’
Julie was unsure. She didn’t want Charlotte to find him here, and also, although unlikely, what if Tom suddenly reappeared; that really would be it.
Mark could see Julie’s obvious reluctance. ‘I won’t stay for long.’
‘Five minutes,’ she said firmly.
‘Ten.’
‘Five.’
‘OK, OK, five.’
Julie showed Mark through to the sitting room. He saw the pile of exam papers on the table and on the sofa. ‘Practice papers?’
‘Mark, I thought we’d agreed...’
‘I know. I’m sorry, but... May I sit down?’
‘No. OK, five minutes, Mark. Charlotte’s gone out for a short walk with Angus; she’ll be back soon.’
Mark sat down in the armchair. ‘I know, I saw her go.’
Julie remained on her feet. ‘What do you mean; were you waiting?’
‘Well, not exactly.’
‘Mark, are you stalking me now?’
‘Of course not, don’t be silly. I only waited a couple of minutes.’ It had, in fact, been closer to fifteen. He’d sat in his car, waiting, plucking up the courage to knock on her door.
‘So why have you got your briefcase? It’s Sunday.’
‘I always have it. It’s got my newspaper and stuff in it.’
‘Man bag, eh?’
‘If you like.’
‘Mark, I thought we’d agreed that it had to end. I can’t be seen with you any more, it’s too risky; I’ve got too much to lose.’
‘So when’s Tom back?’ asked Mark, watching Julie closely for her answer.
‘You know he’s gone?’
‘Charlotte told me at school last week.’
She sat down heavily onto the sofa. She couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her daughter’s readiness to tell the family secrets to the teacher, but then maybe Mark had coerced the information from her. ‘So she’s giving you daily updates now, is she?’
‘She’s upset.’
‘Precisely, Mark, she’s upset, she’s sullen and she’s smoking. All because her father’s walked out on us, and why do you think that is?’
Mark got out from the armchair. ‘Julie, listen...’ he said as he sat down in the sofa beside her. Instinctively, Julie’s heart skipped a beat. Mark began talking of renewing their affair in the same way as he’d done in the café; they’d just need to be more careful, etc, etc. But while Julie wasn’t listening, she couldn’t deny the little frisson of excitement she felt at being so close to the man who had, so recently, given her such pleasure. But equally, she felt uncomfortable with Mark being here, she couldn’t bear the thought of Charlotte walking in and seeing him in the house. She edged away from Mark; just a fraction, but Mark noticed.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Do I repulse you now?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘I never used to.’ Mark moved closer and placed his arm over the back of the sofa behind Julie’s head. ‘In fact,’ he continued, ‘I remember a time, not so long ago, when you couldn’t get enough of me.’ His hand reached down and touched Julie’s hair. He twiddled it around his fingers. Julie moved her head away.
‘Mark, that was fun, but this is reality now.’ She inched a fraction more away from Mark’s encroaching presence. Yes, she still found him attractive, she loved the way his dark, almost black hair curled into the nape of his neck, and under other circumstances, she might have succumbed. But not here, not now.
Suddenly Mark pulled back. ‘This is what I find so annoying. One minute, we’re going along quite happily, and next minute, it’s bang – you’ve had enough and that’s it; end of story. But what about me? I had no choice in this. I feel like a discarded plaything. I bet you’ve never stopped to think how I might feel?’ Mark edged closer again. ‘Come on; how about we meet up? Just one more time, for old time’s sake.’ He stroked her hair.
Julie had had enough. She sprang out of the sofa. ‘For old time’s sake? For God’s sake, one moment you’re playing the used and abused card, next thing you want one more shag just for old time’s sake. Who’s using whom here?’
‘All right; no need to be so dramatic,’ said Mark sullenly.
‘Dramatic? Yes, I’m being dramatic, and if you want I’ll get hysterical too; it’s what women do best, isn’t it?’ She didn’t want Mark in her house a moment longer. ‘Get out, Mark. Just... just get out.’
But Mark didn’t move. He glared at her. ‘What – before Tom gets back?’
‘Yes, if you like, before Tom gets back.’
Mark scoffed. ‘Come on, Julie, who do you think you’re kidding? He’s not coming back and you know it.’
Julie grimaced, for the truth in what Mark said had pierced her to the core. It was OK to admit to herself, but not for anyone else to dare even suggest it. ‘You bastard,’ she seethed. She leant down and grabbed Mark by the lapels of his jacket, hoping her anger would provide the necessary strength to pull him up. But Mark gripped her wrists tightly and held them still, mocking her lack of strength with his own. Unable to move and almost falling forward, Julie felt enraged by her impotency. Through
gritted teeth, she snarled at him, ‘Let me go!’ But Mark held onto her, enjoying her state of total helplessness.
‘Let go!’ she screamed. ‘You’re wrong, you’re bloody wrong; he’ll be back soon. We’ve known each other for too long for... for...’
‘For what?’ Mark shouted back. ‘For the likes of me to come between you?’ He finally let go of Julie’s wrists and pushed her to one side. Julie staggered back.
‘Yes, for the likes of you. Now get out. And this time it’s final. I do not want to see you again...ever.’
Neither of them heard the front door open.
Julie continued, ‘You and me – it was a mistake.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Look...’ she said, regaining her composure and lowering her voice. ‘You have to understand; I do like you still, but it’s finished. I have to put Tom and Charlotte first, I’ve...’
‘Mr Moyes,’ said a quiet, confused voice from the other side of the sitting room. ‘What are you doing here?’
They turned, aghast, and looked at her. ‘Sweetheart,’ said Julie unable to disguise the quiver in her voice. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
Charlotte ignored her and continued looking at her teacher. ‘I don’t understand; why are you here, sir?’
Mark shot a nervous glance at Julie. ‘I was, er...’
Julie interrupted. ‘Mark – Mr Moyes just popped in because, because I’d left some papers in his classroom. Y’know, after the parents’ evening.’
Charlotte was unconvinced. ‘Why didn’t you just give them to me?’
‘Well, I was passing this way, so I thought I’d drop them in as they happened to be in the car.’
Angus trotted into the sitting room, his lead trailing behind him. He saw Mark and made a half-hearted attempt to bark at the stranger. Mark seized the opportunity to change the subject. ‘Hello there,’ he said bending down and offering his hand to the dog. Angus wagged his tail and sniffed Mark’s hand. Mark stroked him. ‘And what’s your name then?’
‘He’s called Angus, aren’t you, boy? Here!’ Angus padded over to Charlotte. She picked him up and ruffled his fur. ‘Who’s a good boy, then?’
‘How old is he?’
‘Seven. And you’re a little rascal, aren’t you, always running off.’
Mark glanced at Julie; he knew his time was up. ‘I, erm, I best be going.’
‘Yes,’ said Julie, ‘thank you for dropping the books off.’
Charlotte looked accusingly at her. ‘You said papers just now.’
‘Well, whatever,’ she said feebly, cursing her slip up. Turning to Mark, she added, ‘I don’t suppose our paths will cross again, except the odd school meeting.’
‘No, I expect not.’ Mark gathered up his briefcase, but Charlotte hadn’t finished yet.
Mr Moyes had always been her favourite teacher, and so good-looking too, but here in her sitting room, it was all out of context; something was wrong. Turning to her mother, she asked, ‘What did you mean when you said it was all a mistake?’
‘What mistake; did I say that?’
‘Yes, you did, as I was coming in. You said something like “you and me, it was all a mistake”.’
‘Did I?’ Julie began panicking; she felt cornered and Charlotte was closing in for the kill.
‘Yes, come on, Mum, you said something about Dad and me coming first.’
‘Well yes...’ Julie looked at Mark, but he made no move to help her out. Was it her imagination or did he seem to be enjoying her discomfort? Julie opted for the firm approach. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, but it’s just talk, grown-up talk.’ Immediately, she regretted patronising Charlotte in front of her teacher.
Predictably, Charlotte took offence. ‘Don’t treat me like a child. You’re up to something, aren’t you? Both of you.’ She looked from one to the other, her expression changing from confusion to the horror of realisation. She turned on her mother. ‘Is that why Dad left?’
‘It’s not as simple as that, sweetheart...’
‘Don’t call me sweetheart,’ she said, her voice rising with every word. ‘It is, isn’t it? That’s why Dad left, and I thought it was cos he’d done something wrong, but it wasn’t, it was you, you and... and...’ She didn’t know what to call him any more. Somehow, “Sir” or “Mr Moyes” seemed too respectful for him now. ‘You and him,’ she said, almost unable to form the words through her anger.
Mark had no desire to stay any more. ‘I really ought...’
‘You’ve ruined it all,’ blubbered Charlotte, ‘Dad’s gone and it’s because of you two.’
Julie sat down; she began to well up. The sight of her daughter clutching her dog whilst her heart was breaking was too much to bear. ‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, I’m so sorry...’ Rising, she stepped towards her daughter, desperate to hold her.
Charlotte recoiled away from her mother. ‘Leave me alone, don’t touch me! I want my dad.’
‘He’ll be back soon, sweetheart.’
‘How do you know? He’s gone because of you two.’ She put Angus down onto the carpet, still holding onto his lead. ‘Well, I’m going too.’
‘Charlotte, love, you can’t just go. Really, your dad could be back anytime. I’ll ring granddad now and ask him if he’s back yet.’
‘Do you really expect Dad to come back while he’s got his feet under the table? I don’t think so.’ She turned to Mark who was still poised with his briefcase waiting for the first opportunity to beat a hasty retreat. He was taken aback by the venom in Charlotte’s voice: ‘I’ll see you in school... Sir.’ She turned and fled out of the sitting room, with Angus close at heel, dragged by his lead, slamming the front door as she left the house.
Julie flopped down into the sofa, exhausted and tearful. First her husband and now her daughter. If only she hadn’t let Mark in.
Mark spoke, his words surprisingly sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry. You were right, I was being selfish. Of course your family comes first, I see that now, I never meant this to happen.’ He meant it too. He’d been Charlotte’s teacher for almost a year and she was a good kid. It upset him too, to see her like that. He wanted to put his arm around Julie, purely to comfort her, but he knew how inappropriate it would be. ‘She’ll be back later, I’m sure. I see too many kids from broken homes at school, none of them deserve it, and especially someone special like Charlotte.’
‘I know.’ Julie looked up at him and half-smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘And it was foolish of us, I know that. Imagine if this ever got out? Wouldn’t do our careers much good, would it? I will go now, unless you particularly want me to stay.’
‘No, you go. I think it’s for the best.’
‘Yes.’ As he reached the sitting room door, he turned to look at her. ‘I wish you well. I’m sorry to leave you in this mess. It’s been nice knowing you.’
‘Yeah. And you.’
Mark left. Julie closed her eyes. She wanted to scream, drink whisky, screw up exam papers, anything. But she lacked the strength.
*
Charlotte stormed down the road. She thought about going to her grandparents’ house but realised she didn’t have enough money for a taxi and it was too far for a bus. She decided to go back to the park, it was another sunny day, sit beneath the shade of the huge oak tree and think it through. Angus pulled on his lead, glad to be out for another walk.
She couldn’t believe it; how could they? She didn’t know who she resented more – Mr Moyes for splitting up her parents, or her mum for driving Dad out and for showing her up in front of Mr Moyes. Her mum knew how much she liked Mr Moyes. All those times she talked of Mr Moyes and all along, she was laughing at her. Christ, she felt stupid. How humiliating. Surely, they hadn’t, well, done ‘it’? But they must have, and her father must have found out, otherwise why would he have walked out? The thought of her mum and Mr Moyes together repulsed her. She shuddered with embarrassment at the thought of her own fantasy – how she used to dream she was eighteen and walking hand-in-hand with him and even kissing hi
m. What an idiot she’d been. Perhaps all the other teachers knew and they were all laughing at her in the staffroom. And all those times she’d put her hand up in class and done well in her history homework, and all the while he was seeing her mother. He must’ve thought she was a right little fool. Not any more, he could stuff his precious First World War and all his bloody history.
And what about her dad? She’d judged him harshly for whatever he was meant to have done. And all along, he must’ve been really upset to know her mum had been having if off with Mr Moyes. He was still probably too upset to come home. But why had he gone to France, why wasn’t he still with her grandparents? Surely he had to come back at some point, what about his work? Was this why parents split up all the time, because one of them runs off with someone else? Why bother getting married in the first place? And what would happen to her, she wondered. She had quite fancied the idea of having a weekend dad, but not now, not any more. She wanted her old life back again, with her mum and dad together at home, like it should be. She hated him disappearing for a whole week without even a phone call. Had he forgotten about her already? It seemed so wrong. Her bloody mum had gone and spoilt everything.
Charlotte was approaching the park; she could see the top of the old oak ahead of her. She'd just come from the park and she didn’t really want to go back, but equally she didn’t want to go home. What about Gavin? No, she definitely didn’t want to see Gavin; she couldn’t talk to him about such things, or even Abigail, or anyone she could think of; except perhaps her granddad. She stopped in her tracks. ‘Life’s shit,’ she said aloud, smacking her arms against her sides. At that moment, she momentarily loosened her grip on the lead. The little terrier, pulling as always, yanked himself free. With the park looming ahead of him, he made a beeline for the entrance. Quickly, he darted off, running across the road. A car. Charlotte saw a car. She yelled; her whole body paralysed by panic. ‘Angus!’
The Red Oak (The Searight Saga Book 3) Page 13
