Love Me, Crazy

by Laura Burton

  ‘Barely on my feet, I’d say,’ he said back to me in a low monotonous tone. His brown eyes were almost black as he scowled at the floor. His tanned skin had a pale sheen to it. He clearly looked too unwell to be back at work. Mrs Callingham was speaking to one of the receptionists and turned back to Reverend Hale; she smiled at me briefly before looking sternly at Reverend Hale once more.

  ‘Now Jim, you’ve had open heart surgery, you need to go home and rest, I don’t want you in my school anytime soon,’ she said in a firm voice. Reverend Hale muttered darkly to himself as Mrs Callingham walked him out of the hall. ‘I’ll see you in a month for a follow-up, in the meantime I suggest you take up a nice hobby, I hear puzzles can be very relaxing,’ she called out as Reverend Hale slowly trudged away from the building down the driveway.

  A moment passed as Mrs Callingham stood, staring sadly outside and seemed to be deep in her thoughts. Then she turned to me and looked expectantly,

  ‘Are you alright, my dear?’ she asked kindly. I swallowed nervously and clutched my bag for security.

  ‘Could we go somewhere to talk, I have something quite important to tell you, and it really can’t wait,’ I said, trying desperately to sound mature and confident. But the truth was, I was the youngest member of staff at the school, at the tender age of 22 and I felt like I could relate more with the girls than the teachers. Mrs Callingham’s face showed her concern as she directed me into a room to the side of the foyer. I walked inside and looked around briefly. The walls were covered in pale blue floral wall paper, and a cabinet sat in the corner with very old trophies sat inside. Along the four walls hung paintings of all the previous headmistresses of the school. An ornate sofa sat in the middle of the room, opposite two armchairs. Mrs Callingham closed the door and motioned for me to sit. I glanced out of the huge window which faced the green across the driveway, a group of girls sat on the grass and seemed to spark up a serious conversation. They were talking about Tom, probably. I winced at the thought and turned around to sit down. Mrs Callingham was perched on the end of an arm chair, her hands resting in her lap as she sat upright, stiff as a board and waiting for me to say something.

  I struggled to find the words at first, it didn’t cross my mind as to what to actually say, now that I was in this position. I allowed whatever my brain told me to say, come out of my mouth.

  ‘I need to tell you that you’ve been conned,’ I blurted out. Mrs Callingham raised her eyes in response to my words. Probably not the best way to open, but I couldn’t take it back, I just had to continue.

  ‘I mean, you haven’t been conned, per say, you’ve had the wool put over your eyes -or however you say it,’ I rambled nervously. ‘Tom –err, Reverend Pembleton– is not dead,’ I said in a uncertain voice. Mrs Callingham sucked in her cheeks and gave me a look as if she had just sucked on a lemon. Her eyes became slits, but she remained quiet, waiting to see if I was done. I thought I would just get it out as quickly as possible, like a band-aid, you have to whip it off quickly.

  ‘He was also posing to be a reverend. He isn’t a reverend at all. In fact, I don’t know whether Tom is his real name really,’ I sat still watching the blood drain from Mrs Callingham’s face. She cleared her throat and said,

  ‘Where is he now?’ in a high pitched, controlled voice.

  ‘I have no idea, I think he’s still in Bristol,’ I said honestly, now thinking aloud. ‘I saw him yesterday, and he said that he is now working for a bank,’ Mrs Callingham snapped out of her cool reverie and jumped to her feet.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said in a sharp voice as she turned on her heels and out of the room. I sat there on the sofa, staring at Mrs Callingham’s portrait with shock at what just happened. No questions asked, she just jumped into action without even a thank you. The school bell rang and brought me back to my sense, I joined the stream of girls heading for the main hall for morning assembly and chewed the dry skin on my lips, anxious to find out what Mrs Callingham would do.

  The morning assembly took place as usual, the opening song was ‘Jerusalem,’ and the head girl gave the announcements for the upcoming school fundraisers, and the step in Reverend gave a long, laborious speech which held no meaning for me. Mrs Callingham smiled serenely at the hall of girls and showed no signs of distress. Clearly she decided not to tell the girls the truth about Tom’s true identity. A weight lifted off my shoulders, knowing that I did the right thing, to tell the truth. Though I wondered how Tom would react if -or when- they find him and confront him on it.

  The day went by in a blur of classes and menial classroom work. Some days I didn’t need to cover a lesson, but a teacher would request for a teaching assistant to help with a fractious class or a special lesson. Mr Chatworth needed some backup when a small group of girls broke into hysterics when he announced that they were going to dissect kidneys. The most distressing part of dissecting a kidney is not really the gore factor, it’s the overwhelming stench of urine that chokes at the back of the throat. The whole science lab gave off the rotten smell, and it was all I could do not to vomit and pretend to the horrified girls that this was fun.

  At the end of the day, I pulled up outside my house as my neighbour -the lady with the minivan- was taking her shopping into the house. She had a gaggle of little girls running around her legs as she walked, and a baby cried in the car.

  ‘Hi, can I help you take these in?’ I called over to her, walking toward the woman. She gave me a look that was a mixture of relief and extreme tiredness.

  ‘Oh thanks, I’m rushed off my feet here,’ she sighed at the girls giggling and pulling on her cream trousers. I smiled down at the girls, two of them were identical with chestnut brown hair in messy bunches and a third girl had auburn hair and a very frizzy fringe. They stopped running and looked up at me curiously. The twins looked to be about four years old and the third being ever so slightly older. I leaned into the back of the minivan and pulled out a couple of shopping bags, lining them up my arms, as I was determined to get the shopping in the house in as few trips as possible.

  ‘Where do you want these?’ I asked the lady as she walked out of her house to the driveway, she had a slightly round face and curvy figure. Her mousy hair was swept up into a loose knot at the back of her head, and she had black glasses on her face.

  ‘In the hall will be fine,’ she said casually. I stepped into the house and put down the bags on the wood flooring in the hall. I looked up and noticed the hallway alone, was covered in every inch with trinkets and family photos. It made my humble coach house look like a prison cell.

  ‘I’m Heather by the way,’ the lady said as she brought the baby in, resting him on her hip and the girls followed her inside. I told her my name. She smiled warmly at me.

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ She asked as the children disappeared upstairs to their bedrooms, their little feet banging as they went. Whoever said ‘pitter patter of little feet’ had clearly not spent any time with children, it sounded more like a herd of elephants running up the stairs. I nodded to Heather and followed her through the narrow hall and found myself standing in a little kitchen. Black pots and pans dangled from a rack on the ceiling over the counter top and a little flat screen TV sat in the corner of the room. I could sense that Heather enjoyed spending time in the kitchen. A row of herb plants were sat on the window sill, next to a basket of freshly picked vegetables, possibly from her garden.

  ‘Tea, Coffee, Orange juice?’ Heather asked as she stood by her sink looking pointedly at me.

  ‘I’ll have orange juice please,’ I replied with a smile, taking in my surroundings. A little welcome mat was sat by the back door cluttered with sandals, and a cat was stretched out along a windowsill next to the back door. Heather moved quickly, taking two glasses out of a cupboard and setting them on the countertop while still holding her baby on her hip. She managed to pour the orange juice and hand me my drink with one had as well.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, impressed at this woman’s ability to do everyday c
hores with a baby on her hip. I took a sip of the drink, which was freshly squeezed orange juice. It was complete with bits and pips. I tried not to grimace as I drank it down, but the taste was slightly bitter for my liking. Heather put her baby down on the floor, he was stocky and had puppy fat rolls all over his body. He waddled around the floor, squatting and searching the shopping bags for something to eat.

  Squeals and laughter could be heard from the kithen ceiling, the girls’ rooms must have been directly above. I smiled at the scene; it was further than anything I had ever experienced, being an only child. But my heart sighed a little, looking at this woman, tired beyond reason, always moving and her mind full of more important worries than men! I wanted to be her. I wanted to be living her life so badly that it hurt inside.

  We talked for a few minutes before her baby started vomiting all over the kitchen floor, putting a dramatic end to our conversation. I hurried out of the front door and made my way to my house. Climbing the stairs tiredly and rubbing my stomach as it groaned in hunger. My mind was foggy with tiredness, and I felt completely drained.

  As I collapsed into bed that night after eating a small portion of pasta bake, I rolled over to my side and clutched the covers drawing them in close to me, tears flowing from my eyes as I lay in the foetal position, wondering why I still felt hollow inside. A terrible ache throbbed inside my stomach, and I was overwhelmed with the desire for something… something I couldn’t put my finger on. The room was empty and cold, no longer my cosy safe haven. I was lonely, and it was starting to depress me.

  After a few hours of attempting to sleep with no success, I grabbed my phone and looked through the contacts. It was late, who would I call? Who would make this terrible feeling go away? Who could help me fall asleep? I didn’t have any friends like that, only the odd acquaintance at the school or from growing up. My parents would be asleep for sure; my finger touched a name in the contacts and the phone started to call the number. I panicked and hung up before anyone answered. I was calling Jack. I put his number in my phone after our date the previous night. My cheeks grew hot, and I felt snakes writhing about in my stomach as I watched his name on my phone, wondering if he noticed my call.

  Within a couple of minutes, my phone started to vibrate. I jumped a mile out of bed and answered the phone breathlessly,

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello there, Audrey, how was your day?’ a low voice came down the phone to my ear. He was perfectly calm and pleasant in his voice, and the sound of his words ran over my being like warm honey. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, suddenly overcome with tiredness.

  ‘Jack, it’s so nice to hear your voice. It’s been a hard day,’ I sighed.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ asked Jack, another shot of relaxation trickled into my veins.

  ‘No, it’s okay, I’m really tired actually,’ I replied honestly.

  ‘I’ll let you sleep then, sorry I thought you called me,’ he murmured lightly.

  ‘Oh, I did by accident, I was just thinking about you,’ I blurted out, then shut my eyes tightly, punishing myself for saying what I did. How stupid and desperate that must have sounded!

  ‘I was thinking about you too,’ Jack replied in a soft voice. My heart leapt, and my eyes shot open as I sat bolt upright.

  ‘Really? What were you thinking?’

  ‘Well, I really enjoyed spending time with you yesterday, I miss your company already. I think it could be time for a second date?’

  He tried to sound casual, but there was a hint of anticipation in his voice as he mentioned a second date. I was grinning now.

  ‘I would love that, when do you want to see me?’ I asked, hopeful that it would be before the weekend.

  ‘I want to see you now,’ Jack said. I laughed in response, he followed with a slight laugh in return. ‘How about tomorrow night? I need to be in Bristol for the next three days,’ he explained.

  ‘Oh great! There’s so much we could do, there’s the museum, the exploratory centre is fun, and the huge shopping centre has loads of nice restaurants… or I know of a few nice places to walk around town too.’ I reeled off excitedly. Jack was quiet for a moment and gave an awkward laugh.

  ‘I guess I know what we’re doing for the rest of the week then,’ he said, humoured. I gulped, realising that Jack didn’t mention spending the next three days with ME in Bristol, just that he needed to work. Oh no, the shame! How could I rescue this? I thought to myself.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, we can just pick an activity for our second date and see how it goes, I wasn’t expecting you to come out with me every day!’ I lied.

  ‘Oh no, I like that. My brother, Josh, wants me to go to his house to set up his new hi-fi on thursday night, but that shouldn’t take me too long. Otherwise, I’m free. So, tomorrow night, I have a meeting with a client at noon which could take a few hours,’

  ‘I finish at 4 pm in Clifton,’ I added.

  ‘Ok,’ Jack said brightly, ‘I’ll come and pick you up, where do you work again?’ he asked.

  ‘Clifton High School,’ I replied, then gave him directions.

  ‘Ok, any ideas what you would like to do most tomorrow?’ he asked.

  Kiss you. I thought to myself as I hesitated on the phone. Obviously I couldn’t say that. Since our kiss at College Green, neither of us mentioned it. The kiss just came out of nowhere, and we did it too soon. Who kisses like that on their first date? The chemistry between us was just electrifying; I couldn’t help but just go with it. Even if none of our actions made sense. The only rule I couldn’t break was that we couldn’t spend the night in each other’s rooms. That was a definite line that I dare not cross. Jack seemed happy with that too.

  ‘Are you still there?’ Jack’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ I said, surprised that I had become lost in the ramblings of my mind. ‘It would be nice to do something that meant we got an opportunity to talk,’ I suggested seriously. Jack agreed.

  ‘I’ll surprise you then,’ he said cheekily, I imagined that that dimple had appeared on his left cheek as he smiled. The thought made me giddy.

  ‘Wonderful,’ I replied, delighted. The room suddenly grew ten times brighter and my heart was full of excitement over the next few days. We said good night and hung up, and surprisingly, I put my phone down and promptly fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  When It Rains, It Pours

  I woke up the following morning full of adrenaline, hopping out of bed and dashing to the shower with a broad grin on my face. I scrubbed every part of my body and wondered what outfit to wear. I wanted to look irresistible and charming, but also mature and sophisticated. The weather was due to turn a little cooler, so a jacket would be a necessity. I hurried into the bedroom wrapped in a large fluffy towel, my long hair dripping wet down my back, and headed for my wardrobe. I found a brown A-line skirt and a pastel pink blouse which looked good on me. I got dressed and took out a cream jacket which had three-quarter length sleeves. I slipped on my white sandals and scrutinised the look in the mirror. Pleased with myself, I set about getting my hair ready. I straightened my hair and brushed it into a low side ponytail and tied a loose braid. The sun was shining through my windows, lighting up my usually dull coach house and reminded me to pack my sunglasses. I picked them up off the bookcase standing in the hall and smiled as I looked at the Oakley logo on the arm of the glasses, thinking of Jack. All the signs of the universe were screaming at me, he is a keeper, as they say.

  I expected Mrs Callingham to say something to me about Tom at some point, but it seemed that on this day, she would avoid me and avert her eyes when walking past me in the corridors. I allowed myself to let go of my concerns over Tom and all the drama surrounding him, but the day moved on at an agonisingly slow speed.

  When the end of day bell finally rang, I felt a collective sigh from the school’s participants as the girls packed their bags and started to fill the halls. I dashed to the staff room and grabbed
my handbag and jacket from my locker and swiftly headed out of the building.

  Down at the end of the driveway, at the iron gates, stood a short male, with square shoulders and a laptop bag by his side. I resisted the urge to break into a run and tried to keep it casual as I walked towards him. Jack gave a slight wave to me as he leaned against brick wall and waited for me to join him. He wore grey suit trousers and a pale blue shirt. The top button was undone, but he had tucked his shirt into his trousers. He looked so uniform and yet casual at the same time. How did he manage that? I wondered as I smiled at him. He kissed my cheek and hugged me when I said hello.

  ‘So where are we going?’ I asked anxiously, keen to start this mystery date. Jack opened his mouth, and suddenly his eyes looked behind me, and his face looked brooding and serious.

  ‘We have company,’ he muttered, and I turned around to see Mrs Callingham standing behind us. She had pursed her lips and clasped her hands behind her back, looking at me with eye slits.

  ‘A word, with you please,’ she said to me sternly. A strong sense of foreboding rose in my chest as I slowly followed Mrs Callingham back towards the school.

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ Jack called out softly as he gave a reassuring nod to me as I went. The long walk to Mrs Callingham’s office seemed to take an eternity. She guided me up the grand staircase that swept around to the right and in through a narrow doorway, right into her office. She closed the door and asked me to sit down.

  Once seated, I watched as she walked around the mahogany desk littered with papers and sat behind it, facing me and looking at me like a troubled teenage girl.

  ‘Audrey,’ she began in a falsely pleasant tone, ‘can you explain to me why you would make such serious allegations as you did yesterday morning?’ she asked. My jaw dropped to the floor. Did she not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? I was trying to help her, and here she was insinuating that I was trying to mix trouble.