Teacher's Pet (6 page)

When she dared to look up again, Paul and Melanie were both talking quietly to Billy, who was looking down and smiling, immensely proud of the pot he had managed to make from his clay.  Allie felt confused.  There was obviously some kind of intimacy between Paul and Melanie.  Maybe it had something to do with Billy?  Not knowing what to think anymore, she focused on the children in her group again.  To her horror, Jordan was painting directly onto another child’s smock.

“Hey!  What are you doing?”

“Just do
ing what Sir said, Miss.”

She was puzzled.  What was the child talking about?  She lowered her voice.

“Well, stop.”

He put down his paintbrush and looked up at her, hurt.

“But that’s what Billy did last week, when Sir told us to paint the person next to us.  Honest, Miss.”

Allie smiled.

“OK.  But you’re not Billy.  You know what I mean.”

Jordan grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry Miss.”

And the afternoon drew to its messy and chaotic conclusion.

At four o’clock, Allie, Paul and Melanie were still tidying up.  Smoothing down the last of the paint-splattered smocks in the cupboard, Allie glanced out of the window.  Harry and George were playing football in the deserted playground, and Billy was lying on a bench, twirling a stick over and over in his hand, squinting up at the sky.

“He’s not too keen on football,” said Melanie, who had appeared at Allie’s side, carrying a box of puppet pieces.

Allie turned to face her:

“I can relate to that.”

“Me too.”  Melanie smiled, radiating serenity.  “Would you and the boys like a lift home?”  she asked.  It was hard to dislike her.

“That’s really kind of you, we’d love that.”

“I’ll see you at the gate in about five minutes, then.”

Melanie turned to go.  As she walked past Paul, who was lining up various half-finished pots on the windowsill, Allie saw her stop.  Suddenly deciding to refold the last smock, she turned away, straining her ears to catch what Melanie said, but to no avail.  She heard a low laugh,
and then Melanie’s footsteps heading for the door again.  As she left, she called out to Paul:

“See you
!”

“See you.”  Paul’s voice was like a shard of ice to Allie’s heart.  Her fingers trembled as she rearranged the smock for the umpteenth time.   Aware of his eyes on her, she closed the cupboard door and turned round.

“OK there, Allie?”  He turned his steady gaze on her.  “Ready to go?”

She began to walk quickly towards the door.

“See you, Paul.”

In a split second, he was by her side, with his hand on her arm.

“Do you have to leave so soon?”

She looked up at him.  Mischief twinkled in his eyes.  What was he doing?  She could hear the cleaner’s Hoover in the neighbouring classroom and the excited shouts of her sons outside. 

“Melanie’s giving us a lift home.”  Her voice had a distinctly frosty edge.

“I see.”  His hand moved to her shoulder, gently caressing her skin. 
“Are we still on for Saturday?”  She looked down.  “Allie?”  He tilted her face up gently to meet his gaze again.  “See you tomorrow?”

She nodded and closed her eyes as he bent to kiss her.  His lips brushed hers, then he drew away quickly, as if only now aware of where they were.  As she gazed up at him, a question began to form in her head.  She knew she had to ask him about Melanie.  She took a deep breath, aware of his eyes drawing her in, and tried to give voice to her doubts.  The only problem was, as soon as she opened her mouth, completely different words came out.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“Don’t dress up.”  He stepped back as the sound of the Hoover grew louder.  “We’ll go for a country walk.”

She smiled.

“Wellies and a sou’wester, then?”

“And not too much else, Mrs. Johnson.”  He grimaced inwardly. 
Where were these lines coming from?
It had been a while since he had been required to ‘chat up’ a woman, and he was sorely out of practice.  She must think he was some kind of creep.  He coughed.  “I mean…  You know what I mean.”

She laughed.

“OK.  See you at eight, then.”

As she turned to go, he felt a small, nagging doubt. 
Melanie.  Had Allie noticed something?  Maybe.   Had he given anything away?  Probably. 
He wasn’t very good at deception.  Not having had much practice, it didn’t come easily to him.  Melanie was much better at it, although he wondered whether she had crossed an unspoken line today.  Sometimes their intimacy would reveal itself in the most unlikely of situations: a touch here, a word there.  They knew each other so well.  It was hard to hide the truth. 

He watched Allie walk across the playground with Harry and George.  The sunlight turned her hair to gold, which danced, luminous and glowing.  Her skirt swirled around her shapely legs as she turned to wave.  He could feel the warmth of her body from here.  As he turned back to his desk, he made a decision.  He wouldn’t lie to Allie.  He could have no secrets from a woman he desired as much as that.

Chapter Five

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright.  Allie stretched out in her bed, relishing the silence of her street before the children began to spill out onto the tarmac to play.  Soon it would echo with the sounds of shouting, running, and footballs being kicked against walls.  She glanced at the clock: eight
a.m...  She sat up slowly, reaching for her bathrobe and wrapping it around her body.  Nightwear in summer may have become a thing of the past, but Allie needed to remember she had two eight-year-olds who were still apt to burst in unannounced.

“Mum?  Have you seen my football boots?”

Harry threw open the bedroom door, then hesitated, looking guiltily at his mother.  He knew he had just done something wrong.  He simply had no idea what.

“By the back door.”  Allie said, fastening her waistband.  “And
next time, knock before you come in.”

“Sorry mum.”  He thundered down the stairs.

“George’s are out there too,” she called, heading for the bathroom.  “And lay the table, please.  If you want a chocolate croissant, that is.”

Her hand froze on the bathroom doorknob as she heard the phone ring.

“I’ll get it!”  George’s voice echoed round the hall.  “Hello?  Hello?  Who is this?”

“George!  If there’s no answer, give me the phone.”  She was running down the stairs as she spoke.  Her heart began to beat faster.

“Hello?  Hello!”  George was insistent.

“Give it to me, George.”  Allie grabbed the phone.  “Hello?”

Once more, the voice was unrecognisable, yet laden with menace.

“Allie?”

“Who is this?”  She knew she had to do what Jeremiah had advised, but curiosity got the better of her.  She needed to hear.  To try and work out who this was.  To prove she wasn’t scared.  “Hello?”

“Hello, Allie.”  The tone became slightly lower.  “You rea
lly like him, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?  Who is this?”

“Listen.  If you keep on making eyes at him, acting like he’s yours, I’m going to make you regret it.”  There was a laugh.  “You think you’re pretty, don’t you?”  Then a pause.  “You won’t look so pretty by the time I’ve finished with you.  That’s for sure.”

And the caller hung up.

Slowly, Allie put down the phone, hands shaking slightly.  She looked at George, who was gazing up at her, wide-eyed.

“Another one of those ‘cold call
ers’, mum?  What were they trying to sell you this time?”

She summoned up a smile.

“They were cold, all right.”  She picked up the phone again.  “Could you lay the table for me?  Thanks.”

As George turned to go into the kitchen, she glanced at the
‘Nuisance Calls?’ leaflet by the phone and dialled the number on the cover.

“It must be her!” 
Liz’s voice echoed around Allie’s sun-filled kitchen.  It was late afternoon, and she and Jeremiah had popped by for a chat before Allie’s date.

“I just can’t believe she could say such nasty things.”  Allie sipped her tea, watching the shards of light dance off the surface of the liquid.  “I was scared.”  She took in
Liz’s confident expression before continuing.  “And I can’t imagine being scared of Melanie.”

Liz
sighed, as though explaining something to a petulant child:

“There’s no one else it could be,” she said, softly.  Allie sometimes found her friend’s habit of staring fixedly at the person she was talking to disconcerting.

“What about…  What’s her name?”  Jeremiah was leaning on the dresser, watching his daughters beating Harry and George at football in the garden.  He had trouble remembering names, and often wished the world could wear name tags, like the students he taught in the college.  “Gwendolyne?”  he ventured.  “You know: the tart with no heart.”

“
Eleanor,” corrected Allie.

“That’s the one.”  Jeremiah strolled over and sat at the table with the women.  “Didn’t she used to be in the ‘Adams Family’?”

Allie giggled.

“Yes.  She was Uncle Fester.”

Jeremiah laughed as he sipped his coffee.  Only his dark eyes betrayed a slight concern.

“Did you call the police?”

“They said there was nothing they could do.”

“What?  Even if it keeps happening?”

“Yes.  The only thing I can do is change my number.”

“Hmm.”  Jeremiah looked thoughtful.  “Maybe it won’t c
ome to that.  Maybe he or she will stop.  If you don’t react.”  He helped himself to a biscuit before fixing his gaze on Allie again.  “You’re still doing what I said, aren’t you?  Putting the receiver down next to the phone?”  Allie nodded.  “So hopefully they’ll give up soon.”  He stood up abruptly.  “Sorry, but I’m going to have to go and help your sons.”  He was heading for the door as he spoke.  “They’re being slaughtered at a man’s game and I can’t have that.”

Once he had gone out, Allie glanced at
Liz.  She seemed lost in thought.

“So, you really think it’s Melanie?”  Allie asked.  She watched as
Liz ran her capable hands through her tousled hair.

“Yes,” she replied, gazing, unblinking, at Alli
e.  “Or maybe Eleanor: the Wicked Witch of West Oaks.”

“Don’t you mean the Pandora of Pine Vale?”

“It’s West Oaks.  I don’t care what she says.”

They both laughed.  Locally, parents mortgaged themselves until far beyond the grave just to obtain a Pine Vale postcode.  It gave instant access to ‘reputable’ schools, a café society lifestyle and professional neighbours.
  West Oaks, the neighbouring area, wasn’t quite so reputable.

“Well, I’m not sure,”
Liz continued.  “If this caller is neither of those two, then it could be James.  You said you weren’t sure whether it was a man or a woman, didn’t you?”

Allie considered this for a moment.

“I don’t know.  I think he’d just tell me straight rather than waste his phone bill and disguise his voice, don’t you?”

Liz
sat back and put down her cup, eyes on Allie.

“I wouldn’t put anything past him.  Look at what he did to you.”  Allie was shocked at the bitterness in
Liz’s voice.  “He’s easily capable of that.”

There was an awkward silence as Allie silently registered the hatred
Liz harboured for James.  It flashed out for a second and filled the space between them, before Liz reined it in and locked it away again.

“Maybe,” Allie said.  “But I’m not sure.”

Suddenly, Liz reached across the table and took Allie’s hand.

“Allie, I care about you,” she began.  “You don’t deserve someone who hurts you.  That’s all I mean.  I’m sorry.”

Allie drew her hand away gently.

“That’s OK,
Liz,” she said quietly.  “I’ll put the kettle on again.  James will be here in a moment to pick up the boys.”

S
he got up to go over to the sink, vaguely aware of Jeremiah standing by the window, looking in.

Pine Vale Lido was an oasis of calm on the edge of the city.  A large lake surrounded by dense woodland, it boasted a
man-made beach where local mums gathered, offspring in tow, after a hard day at the gym or the massage parlour.  Or, for the really unlucky few, the office.  It was always busy at weekends and tonight was no exception.  Families made their way down to the water’s edge, toddlers riding bikes with stabilisers, over-protective parents steadying them needlessly.

As they drew up, Allie allowed herself a furtive glance at Paul.  His muscular body was turned towards her as he parked.  She let her gaze linger on his arms, his tight tee
shirt emphasising their powerful shape.  She wondered what the truth about him was, and whether he would tell her.