Page 28

‘No,’ I say indignantly, finding my voice trembling a little.

‘Because you never showed up the next day, you never gave me a number or a last name, so I parked it all. I’m old enough now to know sometimes men are like that.

You just sleep with someone and move on.

But now you’re here…and you’re…’ I can’t quite find the word. ‘You’re late.’

‘I had a valid excuse.’

‘You said that about Mallorca.’

He forces a laugh under his breath. ‘Well, today I had to have a conversation with a mum about her Year 7 kid who’s not settling in well and I didn’t want to cut that sort of conversation short. In Mallorca, I was in hospital. Had a nasty fall, concussion and a broken wrist,’ he explains .

I stop for a moment as he holds up said wrist and shows me a small scar. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘So I’ll assume you’re not a native Mallorcan. You were there on holiday?’

‘A stag do for my brother.’

‘Ouch,’ I tell him. ‘That part about those girls being my cousins is true. We were there celebrating Meg’s fortieth.’

‘The cousins who grew up in London?’ He shakes his head, chuckling, and I know what he’s thinking. I lied too. ‘I rang the villa. I tried to leave a message but I told them to contact the French party who had rented the place so I’ll guess that message never got to you,’ he tells me.

‘It didn’t.’

We both sigh loudly and hold each other’s gaze. It’s clear now why our dalliance came to such an abrupt end. However, there is more that complicates this situation.

‘What about your family?’ I say quietly. ‘You have a kid? Kids?’

He laughs. ‘I thought that might have tipped the balance a little too. You didn’t really give me time to explain that.’

I go silent because, next to the deceit, I can’t help feeling sadness at the thought that he belongs to someone else.

He creases his brow; I assume because he’s trying to concoct some bullshit story.

I’ve been here before. ‘The abridged version is that I am the eldest of four siblings. Our parents died in a car crash when I was twenty-two and I have legal responsibility for all of them, but the youngest two especially, who are eighteen and fifteen. Their names are Brooke and Sam.’ He exhales then walks away from that desk to put something in the bin.

I don’t have an answer. If he made that up then that is bloody impressive, but I feel a surge of emotion knowing that it’s true. Is that why he lied? He has people depending on him. Now I feel bloody awful .

‘Suzie,’ he says, approaching me again. ‘Whatever you think of me, I never parked Mallorca. I think about it all the time. When I saw your face in that assembly, do you know what it was like for me?’

‘Shock?’ I mumble, laughing.

‘Magic. Like a wish had been answered. Like you just reappeared out of nowhere. Pouf!’ I bite my lip when he says pouf because there is a hand action to match and his words make my jittery heart a little calmer.

‘I get the anger, but know I never intended to lie or keep anything from you to hurt you. That’s not what I do. ’

Why is he looking at me like that? Why is he being nice? I’m angry with him. I laminated things. I made a poster today to which he made zero contribution. His eyes are so intensely blue I can’t look away, can’t speak.

‘Look, we can’t take back what happened. Happy to park it all if you want. We can just be colleagues with history and I will never speak of any of it again.’

‘Peut-être,’ I mumble.

He exudes a sad smile. ‘You’re not French now, you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, to feel something you don’t…’

I pause. ‘Oh, I was never pretending…’ I tell him, before cupping my hands to my mouth.

‘I heard you. I didn’t think you were…’ he mumbles.

Am I red? I feel like I could be a bright shade of rose at this point.

And in a rush of sheer need, I walk up to him, my heart pounding to feel so close to him again.

He looks down and I put a finger to his chin, a hand to his cheek and kiss him.

I remember this. Too well. There are so many times I close my eyes to search for the memory of this feeling, I feel it everywhere like static, like a wave drowning me in pleasure.

‘Hello! Hello!’ a chirpy voice calls from the doorway and we part immediately, jumping back to see a lady in a pinafore dragging a hoover behind her. ‘I am here to empty your bins and clean up. Are you staying?’

Charlie exhales gently, his gaze not leaving mine.

‘No,’ I tell her. ‘We were just leaving.’

Charlie

Does this school have CCTV? This feels like something I should double-check for safeguarding and my professional interests.

I just kissed someone on school grounds.

That’s not great. I mean, it’s not as bad as the whole faculty seeing me on a big screen dancing around with a thermal sock on my penis but I’m new here; I think kissing in classrooms is generally frowned upon.

I can’t quite believe that just happened.

And just like I can’t believe that I’m here, in Suzie’s flat, sitting on a very new teal corduroy sofa.

And that just wasn’t some random kiss. This is Suzie.

This is someone I thought I had lost. This is, according to Brooke, stars aligning and the universe speaking.

And we’ve cleared this all up. We know what happened now, there really is nothing getting in our way from being together.

I felt that spark between us in that classroom, I felt it in every inch of me, that familiar banter bouncing between us, the yearning and craving for her again.

It all makes sense. I look around her flat, the jaunty angles of her matching throw cushions, a few photos on a shelf, one which looks like her and all her cousins.

I tilt my head to one side to look at her reading habits.

David Nicholls, I read that one on holiday.

‘Hola,’ I say, as she re-enters the room with two bottles of beer.

‘Bonjour,’ she replies, smiling.

I can’t quite look away from her, not quite believing that’s the same naked girl from those rocks on the beach and she’s here.

All the little things I remember about her still remain, the way she bites the edge of her thumbnail, a little freckle just above her upper lip.

She comes to sit next to me and clinks the top of my bottle.

‘So, this is where you live?’ Good work, Don Juan. Of course this is where she lives otherwise why would we be here? I think I might be nervous.

‘Yeah,’ she replies. ‘It’s been about three months now.’

‘I like your curtains? Where are they from?’ I ask her. My sexy talk seriously knows no bounds.

‘Dunelm. They were made to measure.’

‘What colour would you say that is?’

‘I think it’s seafoam,’ she replies.

There is no innuendo here is there? I don’t know what to do next so I turn to her, our knees touching. I need to choreograph this a little better. I take her bottle of beer and go to put the bottles on a side table.

‘Could you use a coaster?’ she asks me.

‘Of course,’ I tell her, understanding why.

That’s a new table and condensation would not be great for it.

I put the bottles down and return to her.

There was spark in that classroom, we can recreate it again.

I lean forward, putting a hand to her cheek, before kissing her gently.

She kisses me back. But strands of her hair graze against my face.

I pull back. ‘Tickles,’ I say. She looks at me strangely, half laughing but goes back to kiss me, cupping her hands around my chin.

Don’t get me wrong, the kissing is nice but something is different.

Maybe both of us are anxious or I’ve spoiled this by asking about her curtains, but there’s something missing.

In that classroom, the words flowed so nicely, the back and forth, the anticipation of something more but that doesn’t seem to be replicated here.

‘Do you want to…?’ I ask.

I see the look in her eyes. I kiss her neck instead, hoping it might stir something, to feel the curve and warmth of her skin under my lips.

She lets out a noise. I know that noise.

That noise is polite, but it’s not into this.

I look into her eyes trying to work her out.

But she leans over and reaches over my groin area, rubbing against my crotch.

OK, she does want this? Let’s do this. We did it in Mallorca and we were good at it.

Shall we go to the bedroom? She’s unzipping my trousers so maybe we can do it here.

This is a ground-floor flat. Will people be able to see in?

I’m overthinking this. I’m not in the room.

I unbutton my trousers as she still kisses me, fumbling with buttons and flies, doing my best to give her access.

‘Is that OK?’ she asks, as she grabs on to my penis.

That’s always pleasant so I nod, smiling.

I don’t want to ask for too much. But I remember a moment in a villa where she held on to it and licked the side of it and I thought I was going to explode with desire.

I close my eyes to think back to that but I should be here, now. With her.

She stops, looking me in the eye. ‘Do you have a…’

‘Condom? Of course.’

Is it awful that I always have one in my wallet?

Is that presumptuous? I faff around with the back pocket of my trousers to get it and rip it open with my teeth, putting it on slowly and deliberately.

Even this feels slightly awkward. In Mallorca there was laughter, her kissing me as I did it, doing it for me herself, watching my face as her hands glided over me.

When she sees it’s on, she starts to roll her tights and knickers down to her knees. ‘Hold up, I’ll just take these all off so it doesn’t get in the…’

‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘Good idea.’