Teacher's Pet (9 page)

“No.”  She took another drag on her cigarette.  “I can’t tell.  It’s like they’re talking through a towel.”

There was a pause, then James began to speak again.  His voice had changed.  It was suddenly soft and kind.  Cajoling. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me round?  I could cheer you up.”

“James.  Where’s
Eleanor tonight?”

“Gone out with friends.  I think that’s what she said.”

Allie couldn’t resist it.

“You mean, you don’t even know where she is?”

“No.  And to be honest, I don’t care.”

“Oh.”  She sipped her wine.  Cold and sharp, it gave her instant solace.  “Is everything OK with you?”

“Most of the time.”  She heard him clear his throat.  “Allie?  If ever I need to come and crash for a few days, just while I look for a new place to live, can I?  I’ll sleep on the sofa.  Honest.”  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “And I’ll disappear once your Mountie appears.  Honest.  If ever I need to….”

“Is it looking likely?”  She tried not to gloat.  “That you’ll need to move out?”

“Yes.  It is, Allie.”

“Oh.”  She didn’t know what to say.  After what he had put her through, most women would have changed the locks and never let him darken the doorstep again.  But she felt
sorry for him.  He was the boys’ dad, after all.  And they had all been happy together once.  She couldn’t hate him.  She really couldn’t .  She took a deep breath.  “Of course you can.  You’ve still got a key, haven’t you?  In case you need to let yourself in when I’m not here?”

She could hear a sigh of relief.

“Yes, I have.  Thanks, Allie.  I….”  He coughed again.  “He’s a lucky man, that Mountie.”

“His name’s Paul.  Paul Richmond.”

“Sorry.”  He sounded upbeat again.  “Anyway, thanks Allie.  Give the boys my love.  And let the answer phone take your calls for a while.  Just enjoy your hot, relaxing bath.”

“How did you know?”  Allie almost choked on her wine.  “Are you my stalker?”

“Don’t be daft, woman.  You’re the mother of my children.  Why would I want to stalk you?”

“I was joking
.”

“I know.  I am your ex, after all.  As I recall, you always have a long soak on a Sunday night.  Right after you finish your marking.”

“Mmmm.”  She hesitated for a moment.  “Was that what you phoned for?  To ask me if you could crash out here?”

“Yes.  That was it.  A bit mercenary, but I never was one to beat about the bush, was I?”

“No.  I suppose you weren’t.”

“Anyway, take care, Allie.  See you soon, maybe.”

“See you, James.”

“Bye.”  He put the phone down.

Allie stared at it for a while, then stood up slowly, put out her cigarette and went upstairs, taking her wine with her.

Paul Richmond gazed out of the window and watched the sun go down over the gothic turrets of the old school on the hill.  Its dying rays lit up the narrow streets, casting the chimney stacks into sharp relief.
  He thought of all the future statesmen and politicians who had doubtless enjoyed this view in reverse for hundreds of years.  He wondered what thoughts had troubled them, and whether they had found relief from their homesickness in the timeless beauty of the old village and the green rolling slopes.  With their creamy wickets, neat pavilions and nets fluttering in the breeze, the cricket fields must have reminded them that, wherever they came from, they were in England now.  Whoever they had left behind had to be forgotten, albeit temporarily.  Put out of their minds.  Otherwise, life would be unbearable.  They would be unable to function.

He laid his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes for a moment.  Caroline had been gone for two years now.  As an old friend of his had put it, he
ought
to be over it by now
.  Needless to say, that old friend had rapidly become a former acquaintance.  Any friend worth his salt had to realise that you never really ‘got over’ the death of your wife.  How could you?  The loss was all-engulfing.  It became part of who you were.  But life carried on.  You moved on.  Your life would never be the same again, but at least you still had your life.  It was a precious gift, not to be squandered.  As he had seen with Caroline: it could so easily be taken away.

He opened his eyes and saw that it was twilight.  Glancing at his watch, he registered with a sinking feeling that the whole day had gone by without him contacting Allie.  Granted, he had been busy.  Melani
e had been upset.  Petrified.  Coward was too good a word to describe her ex, Rob.  The man was ready to phone her up and threaten her and Billy at the drop of a hat.  It was all Paul could do to restrain himself from doing the same to him sometimes.  Give him a taste of his own medicine.  But that wouldn’t help matters.  They had to lie low until the restraining order came through.  Be patient.  Then they would have a real threat to use against him, and he would be scared off.  A defenceless woman and her special needs child were one thing.  The police, quite another.  He could feel the tension running through his body as he thought of Melanie’s ex.  A real bully: a brute.  Some men didn’t deserve the women they got.

He moved back
to the sofa and sat down. 
What was he going to do now?
  He shook his head gently as he thought back to the discussion he had had with Melanie, after seeing off Rob.  The mere fact that Paul had been in the house had been enough to make him turn tail.

“I need to tell her,” he had said.  “It’s not fair otherwise.  She’ll be imagining all sorts of things, and I want to be honest with her.”

He had fixed Melanie with a steely look, from his seat opposite her, but had melted at the sight of her, huddled up on the armchair, red-eyed and shaking.

“Can you trust her?” was all she had said.

“Of course I can.”  His voice was gentler now.  He had never been able to be harsh with Melanie for long.  “I can trust her.  More than anyone else I know over here.”

There had been a moment of silence.  Then Melanie had got up, come over to him and kissed him softly on the top of the head.

“If you’re sure you can trust her, then OK.  Tell her.  But Paul…”

“Yes?”  He looked up at her, calmer now.

“Just remember: if she tells anyone, just think what might happen to Billy.  Not to mention to me…”

“It’ll
be OK, Mel.  Nothing will happen to Billy, or you.  It’ll be fine.”  He stood up and looked down on her.  She seemed so vulnerable.  “I’m going now.  God knows what she must think.  Double lock the door behind me.  OK?”

She had nodded.  And he had left her.

Now, looking at the phone, he decided he had to call her, to come clean.  It was finally time.  If he couldn’t trust Allie Johnson, there was no one he could trust.  Taking a deep breath, he keyed in the number.

Allie tensed up when she heard the phone.  Despite the fact that it was muffled by the steamy bathroom, the strains of the radio and the hair band covering her ears, the faint ring tone still made her start.

“Mum!  Phone!  Shall I get it?”

“No!”  She tried to keep any panic out of her voice.  “It’s any excuse to get up, isn’t it!  You should be asleep by now.  Let the answer phone take it.”

“OK.  Sorry.  Night, mum.”

“Night, Harry.”

The phone stopped ringing and the answering machine cut in.  Slowly, Allie sank back down into the hot bubbles again.  She really couldn’t be bothered.  Stalker or would-be lover.  As far as she was concerned, they could all go to Hell.

Chapter Seven

It was Thursday evening and the school hall echoed to the sound of excited voices.  Children sat with their friends, laughing and chatting about the upcoming visit to France.  The parents were more subdued, speculating in lower voices about pick up times and
safety, food and letters home.

Allie found it hard to focus on what Melanie was saying.  Even though she was sitting right next to her, she had to make a real effort to hear
her above the squeals of delight emanating from George and Harry, who were just in front, exchanging jokes.

“Sorry, Melanie.”  Allie leaned forward.  “Georg
e!  Harry!  Keep the noise down! We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

“Oh mum, you are so uncool.”  George grinned.

“Sorry,” added Harry, glaring at his brother.  And they began to speak more softly.

She turned back to Melanie.

“God!  Kids!”

“Yes.”  Melanie smiled, and the overhead lights picked out the brown flecks in her hazel eyes.  Billy was sitting by her, silent, totally focused on a rubber band he was flicking with his fingers.  When she continued, he
r voice was subdued.  “Kids, eh?”  She glanced quickly over towards the stage and cleared her throat.  “Here they are at last.  About time.  Seven o’clock, they said.  Billy gets upset if things don’t happen when they should.”

“So do I,” said Allie, smiling at Billy.  She noticed he smiled as well and, although he was still staring at his rubber band, she half hoped the smile was for her.

As the hubbub of voices died down, Allie turned to the front and felt a pair of eyes on her: Paul.  He was leaning against the door and, while all attention was on the headmistress, Mrs. Black, he took the opportunity of looking directly at Allie.  It was a slow, sexy, confident stare.  Without thinking, she stared back.  It was a reflex she had no control over.  Almost immediately, she regretted it and looked down.  But it was too late.  She could feel Melanie’s regard and knew that the intimacy of what she had done had been seen and noticed.  She looked up again and tuned in to what the headmistress was saying.

“…..so the room allocation will be as follows:  Mrs. Hampton will share a room with Billy, Mrs.
Johnson with Miss Simpson, Mrs. Patel with Miss O’Hara.  Mr Richmond will have a room to himself…..”  Allie didn’t dare to look in his direction.  “….the children will be in three’s in the remaining rooms.  As far as Health and Safety goes, the only access to the hotel is past a ‘concierge’, or doorperson, who checks ID.  There is also a stringent security system in place, with card-controlled access to each floor.  As we have the second floor to ourselves, you can rest assured your children will be safe.”

“Thank God for that,” whispered Melanie.  “You hear of such awful things happening.  And Billy’s so vulnerable.”

Allie nodded, vaguely aware that Paul had moved and was now sitting up on the stage behind Mrs. Black.  She caught his eye briefly and detected a twinkle in it.  She switched her gaze hastily to Mrs. Black, who was looking round, expectantly.

“Are there any questions?”

Hands shot up all over the hall and the Headmistress began to nominate people.  As the session got underway, Allie took the occasion to steal a sly glance at Paul.  He was talking quietly to Miss Simpson, the young teacher she was supposed to be sharing a room with.  Dark-eyed, vivacious and bubbly, Miss Simpson was giggling, sharing a joke.  Allie felt herself beginning to flush. 
How dare he make another
woman laugh?
  She looked away, embarrassed.  What was she thinking?  He hadn’t even phoned.  What she had hoped was a call from him on Sunday night had turned out to be a mystery.  No message, no traceable number, nothing.  She had been too proud to contact him since, and hadn’t seen him at the school gates this week.  Not that she had looked out for him.  Well, not much, anyway.

When she had got in from the college open evening last night, there had been another call, but again the number had been withheld and there was no message.  Now she felt confused.  Melanie was chatting away brightly as though nothing had happened and Paul was acting cool.  Mind you, what did she expect in front of a hall full of parents and kids?  A red rose and an apology on bended knee?

Aware that the buzz of conversation had quietened down, Allie felt mass movement all around her.  It was time to go: people were heading for the doors and, as Allie stood up, it dawned on her she hadn’t taken in a word of the briefing.  With relief, she noticed Miss Simpson handing out letters at the exit.  Hopefully, this would summarise all she had missed.

“Mrs.
Johnson?”  The deep voice made her heart skip a beat.  She looked up and saw Paul at the end of the row of chairs.  Melanie and Billy had already gone.

“Mr. Richmond,” she said. 
Two could play at being cool
.  She moved towards him.  “How are you?”

“Fine thanks, Mrs.
Johnson.  And you?”  His eyes seemed to bore into her, belying his voice, which was casual.  The heat of his gaze made her cheeks burn.

“Not bad.”  
She kept her voice light.  “France should be fun, shouldn’t it?”

People moved past them.  Gradually, fewer and fewer voices echoed around the space above them.  Paul stayed at the end of the row, blocking her exit.  Once he was certain no one else was within earshot, he moved a little closer.