The Perils of Skinny-Dipping (11 page)

Phil’s first teaching practice had been arranged at one of the secondary schools not far from the university campus. The school was a large comprehensive, situated on the foot of a council estate. It did not have a good academic record, and a recent Ofsted inspection had highlighted weaknesses in several areas. Phil knew it was not going to be an easy first ride but, having come from a similar background himself, it gave him some reassurance he would cope. The first couple of days had been merely observation of the other teachers in the department, and to give him time to organise his lesson plans.

His first day of teaching finally arrived and the period one lesson was the year ten computing class. Phil had sat in this class before and was confident that he had planned a good lesson, which would keep them busy for the whole hour. He arrived at the classroom in plenty of time, clutching his prepared worksheets, still warm from the photocopier.

He smiled confidently as the pupils noisily took their seats and waited for complete silence before starting the lesson. He had not even finished his introduction when a dark-haired, slim boy with a face full of freckles, sitting on the front row, interrupted him. Phil thought he had answered the question adequately, but the boy, dissatisfied with the response, challenged his every statement, taking delight in ridiculing the new student teacher with his own extensive knowledge of the Internet. Phil’s initial tactic had been to humour the boy, and laugh along with the class as they laughed at him. Within fifteen minutes, his careful planning had been destroyed and the lesson quickly turned into an annihilation of Phil’s character and ability as a teacher.

His initial disappointment at their reluctance to learn quickly turned into frustration. He walked over to the boy who had started the mêlée and said in a voice loud enough to be heard at the back of the room, ‘Do you
think
you could stay quiet long enough for me to finish a sentence?’

The boy sneered and stole a glance backwards at his peers, savouring his moment of triumph in succeeding to disrupt the class.

‘
I asked you a question,’ repeated Phil, his voice slightly more raised.

The boy fiddled with his ruler, tapping it on the desk and, without looking up, replied, ‘If you said anything worth listening to, I might
think
about it.’

The class roared with laughter. The boy stood up, turned around, and took a low bow to his appreciative audience. Phil left the classroom and the school five minutes later, after locking the boy in the store cupboard and throwing the key out of the open window onto the flowerbed below. Debra had had a lot to say on that occasion when the letter dropped onto the mat, advising him that, ‘due to unfortunate circumstances’, he was no longer a student teacher at Manchester Metropolitan University.

Phil kicked at the dust as he walked back towards his bungalow. He still wondered what words Debra would use to describe his latest failure, although in his head he heard her quite clearly voicing her disgust and disappointment in him yet again. After the humiliation of the teaching practice, Phil had decided that the job with AVP would provide him with an opportunity to put some space between him and his problems. He had needed time to think. The baby was due at any time, his head was close to bursting point, and the looks of disappointment from Debra’s parents were grinding him down further. Recognising the first signs of depression, as he found it harder to get out of bed each morning, he decided to take the selfish route of self-preservation, and distance himself from all that he knew. He left the United Kingdom that October morning under a cloud of misery and despair.

As he walked up the garden path, Moxy, the tabby cat he had taken in as an abandoned kitten, greeted him with a meow and rubbed herself around his ankles, making a low purring noise. The sight of unfinished packing greeted him as he walked inside. He had no doubt in his mind whatsoever the words Abbey would use if she turned up tomorrow, and had to finishing the packing boxes.

He deliberated whether or not to tell Abbey about Ka Ka. He had not seen her since their dinner date and he was now worried that she, too, would be infected and he had more or less sentenced her to death. Their too brief union had hurt him deeply and, although disappointed that he might never see her again, the thought of living with her death on his conscience was too much to bear.

He sat on the floor between the boxes, Moxy purring on his lap, tears falling onto her soft fur.

Abbey spent the following day helping Phil to clear out his house. She had borrowed the bakkie from AVP, loading it up with mops, brushes and disinfectant.

‘
Honestly Phil,’ exclaimed Abbey, cleaning a second kitchen cupboard. ‘Have you ever cleaned in here, ever?’

Eventually, all the possessions that Phil wanted to take home were boxed and labelled. Abbey had arranged for them to be picked up by the freight company she had used to bring her own items over from the UK. They put a sign on the gate saying ‘house sale’ and any unwanted items disappeared within the hour without a single tebe changing hands.

Darren sent two of his labourers to tidy the garden and, at sunset, as the garden gate whined closed for the last time, the bungalow looked well-kept and cared for. Abbey told Phil she had made up the spare room and that he would spend his last night at her house and sleep in a clean bed. She would not take no for an answer and Phil made very little objection.

Phil left Kasane on the Friday morning. After an emotional farewell, Abbey drove the short distance from the small airport back to the office in silence, preferring not to put the CD player on. Richard was out at the primary school when she got back, which gave her peace and quiet to think as she looked at Phil’s empty chair.

She had known about his lifestyle and the time he had spent in the local bars, which were full of men and women touting their bodies for money. They had never spoken about this part of African life, and Phil had preferred that this part of his life should remain confidential. Abbey was more than happy about this, as she did not want to judge Phil and ruin the close friendship that had developed.

Abbey left the office just after two. The heat was exhausting and she needed a break. She walked along to the junior school and around the back of the building to where the teachers’ houses stood. The students were still in study classes and the whole campus was quiet. She knocked on Judith’s door.

‘
Hi Abbey, come in. Mind the mess, won’t you?’

The floor was covered in the familiar site of half-packed boxes and cases.

‘
Going somewhere?’ asked Abbey, sitting on the arm of the chair.

Judith looked at her, sensing her mood. ‘Are you alright? I heard that Phil left today. Abbey, I’m so sorry. I know how close you two were.’

Abbey nodded, trying desperately not to let the tears start again.

‘
Is he going to be alright?’ asked Judith, suggesting to Abbey that Phil’s condition was already common knowledge. She wondered whether they had Richard to thank for that, who wouldn’t have missed any opportunity to convey the news to anyone who would listen. Not that being HIV positive in Botswana was unique, but people still valued their privacy and preferred to detach themselves away from their condition by getting on with daily life.

‘
Yes, I’m sure he’s going to be fine. He’s promised to keep in touch and, with modern technology and science, he stands a damn good chance.’

She pointed to the boxes and looked at Judith.

‘
Oh yes. My contract’s up this week, dear.’

‘
Do you not want to stay on? Did they offer to renew it?’

‘
Well, yes they did, but it’s this heat you know. And you have to admit, there’s not much to do here.’

Abbey suddenly wondered when Judith had turned into such a party animal that the social life in Kasane had become inadequate.

‘
When do you leave?’

‘
I’m booked on the Monday flight.’

‘
Looks as though I’m going to lose two friends in one week then,’ sighed Abbey. ‘Would you like to come round tomorrow evening, for a farewell meal?’

Judith nodded. ‘That would be lovely, dear.’

As she walked home, Abbey realised that friendships in ex-pat communities tended to be short-lived as people moved on regularly, and was something she would have to get used to the longer she stayed. She comforted herself knowing that, if and when Darren ever left Kasane, she would be by his side.

Chapter Twelve

Phil stepped out into the warm, spring air at Heathrow Airport. He hadn’t slept and couldn’t even remember which films had been playing throughout the journey. He fumbled his way through customs and security, still not grasping the reality of the situation. A hand on his shoulder made him stop and turn.

‘Would you come this way please, sir?’ A customs officer beckoned him towards a small office. ‘Have you anything to declare sir?’ asked the man, who Phil reckoned could only be in his early twenties.

‘No.’

‘Are you sure, sir? Because we have the power to search your belongings.’

Phil put both his case and hand luggage on the desk. ‘It’s not locked,’ he said, looking at the young customs officer.

The young man unzipped the case and took each item out. Phil smiled as he remembered the argument he had had with Abbey before he had left.

‘Look Phil, these clothes stink. They have to be washed; you just never know who might see them.’

He had looked at Darren for support, who had suggested that he should just humour Abbey. They had sat out on the veranda drinking cold beers, whilst Abbey busily sorted out clothes into different piles on the kitchen floor.

He could hear in his head the comments she would make if she ever found out about his bags being searched. Abbey had no qualms about ever saying, ‘See I told you so’ to anyone. He was sure he had seen Richard turn a pale green on several occasions when Abbey’s predictions had come true.

‘Thank you, sir. You are free to carry on with your journey.’

Phil picked up his luggage and headed for the train connection which would take him directly to Sheffield.

His parents, who were not expecting him back, looked at one another as he threw his bags onto the hall floor but, much to his relief, did not ask him any questions.

Exactly one week later, Phil was sat in the waiting room at the GP surgery. He looked around at the other people waiting to be seen. Some had coughs and colds, whilst others had absolutely nothing visibly wrong with them at all.

Just like me
, he thought to himself.
Would they all stare at me if they knew? Would they sit next to me?
He wondered what it would be like having to wear a badge saying ‘Warning – HIV positive!’

He thought of the Jews being forced by the Nazis to wear the Star of David, a sign to others that they were the cursed race. Was he part of a cursed race now? He still hadn’t told his parents why he had come back home, and they hadn’t asked. He knew he would have to eventually. But how to tell them he was terminally ill, and probably responsible for the illnesses and subsequent deaths of god knows how many others, at that moment, was beyond his emotional capability.

‘Mr Phillip Brown to room seven,’ said the receptionist, without looking up from her computer screen.

Phil walked into the office and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Thirteen

After Phil’s departure, life in Kasane was not the same for Abbey. She felt she now had no other social outlets apart from Darren and barely left his side when he was home. Darren didn’t mind the extra attention and supported Abbey as much as he could by showering her with affection. Abbey’s life started to revolve around Darren’s work and social commitments, and she would always join him on any weekend excursions. She was keen to bring the marriage date forward and suggested they got married on the next trip to Francistown. Darren agreed, and they married in a small registry office, exactly one month after Phil had left. They had two witnesses, a waiter from the hotel and the secretary at the registry office. They did not buy wedding outfits, instead choosing to wear plain, casual clothes.

They told nobody about their plans beforehand and returned immediately to Kasane, Abbey wearing the plain gold wedding band Darren had bought from the jewellers on the day of the wedding. Although the whole incident bore no hint of a celebration of two people declaring their undying love for one another, in Abbey’s mind there was absolutely no question that she had done the right thing by getting married to Darren, and couldn’t imagine life without him.

Abbey could not muster the same enthusiasm for her work as she had done previously. Richard, as expected, had not attempted to discuss Phil’s departure with Abbey at all. Principally, she thought, because he didn’t have the communication skills to talk about anything on an emotional level, and also because he knew that Abbey would be fiercely defensive in protecting Phil’s reputation.

AVP had not replaced Phil, and Abbey and Richard had taken on his tasks and divided them equally. Abbey had argued to keep the weekly drive down to the Crossroads to pick up the new trees.