In a Class of His Own (12 page)

“Get
in the car before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. Or ...”

“Or
what?” I staggered slightly. Had I really had that much to drink?
And then I remembered – I hadn’t eaten a thing since a quick
sandwich at lunchtime.

“Or
I’ll make you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You
wouldn’t dare!” My eyes widened at this far more intoxicating
idea.

“Try
me.” His lips twitched, almost as if he was seeing the funny side
of the situation.

Almost.

Then he began to march
round to my side of the car.

I got in.

The entire journey was
conducted in a frozen silence, punctuated only by my subdued
hiccoughs.

When we reached home I
stumbled up the icy steps which led to the flat. “Whoops!” I
called out gaily, as I dropped my front door key. I heard an
impatient curse from below.

Jack bounded towards me
taking the steps two at a time, found my key instantly, opened the
door and pushed me inside.

“You’re
very fit, aren’t you?” I said admiringly. “I mean fit like
energetic, you know, not fit like - ” I squinted up at him. “Well,
you’re that as well of course. You’re very fit.” I nodded,
extremely pleased with how this sentence had turned out. “I think
so anyway. Very very fit.”

“Am
I really?” he murmured drily. He nodded towards the bedroom. “Get
into bed and I’ll bring you some water.” He went to fill a glass
and called over his shoulder, “How did you get into this state
anyway?”

When I didn’t move he
came back to me and propelled me in the right direction.

“Drink!
Demon drink!” I pointed an accusing finger at him. “Someone
should have told me there was alcohol in that wine!” I shook my
head mournfully, thinking of all the lovely food on the buffet. “And
couldn’t eat. Dress too tight.” Something occurred to me, “Ooh
dress! Can’t undo it myself. You’ll have to take it off.”

“No!”
He looked horrified. I couldn’t see why.

“Please,”
I begged. “It’s digging in and it’s ever so un-fort-com-table.
It’s easy, just nooks and highs. See?” I turned round wildly and
bumped my back against him.

“Oh
God,” I heard him utter despairingly.

Cold
fingers tickled me as they worked the fastenings at the back of the
dress. I could feel his laboured breathing on my bare back as he
struggled to release me. I giggled and flexed my shoulders as the
pressure eased. Oh
the relief, I could breathe. The dress slithered down and pooled at
my feet. I flopped back onto the bed, clad only in my new strapless
bra and matching knickers. I closed my eyes. It was so good to be
home. Then a sudden thought had me sitting up quickly, making my head
spin in a revolting fashion.

“Clearing
up! Who is going to do the clearing up after tonight?”

“PTA
said they’d take care of it,” he said shortly and then savagely
dragged my nightshirt over my head. Why was he being so horrible?

“Get
into bed.”

I did and then promptly
got out again. “You’re always giving me orders,” I grumbled.
“Got to clean teeth.”

He
raised his eyebrows, looked heavenwards as if seeking spiritual
guidance and swore under his breath.
Eventually he helped me back into bed and pulled the cold duvet round
me. I shivered.

“Cold?”
he asked maliciously. “Serves you right.” He sat on the edge of
the bed, his weight making the mattress sink. I inhaled deeply; I
could smell his spicy aftershave. I reached up and lovingly touched
the lines that responsibility had prematurely aged upon his face.
Then my hand flopped bonelessly down onto the bedclothes.

“Oh
Nicky,” he sighed. “What am I going to do about you?”

I
ignored the question. “You didn’t dance with me once tonight,”
I complained but I hadn’t the energy to pout any longer.
It was so lovely to be in bed and I was enjoying the sensation of
cool sheets against my aching body.

“You
didn’t seem to be missing me.” The response was withering.

“I
kissed you!” I said indignantly.

He laughed shortly.
“Under duress.”

Really I thought crossly,
sober people ought to use simpler words when dealing with a drunk. I
frowned as I racked my brain trying to remember what the word meant.

“You
can kiss me now,” I whispered coyly. “That wouldn’t be
under-the-dress.” I reached up again and this time playfully undid
the cravat. That was much better; I could see his neck now. I traced
a finger across his strong throat. Jack put his own hand on

mine and held it there. I
could feel his pulse beating erratically against my palm.

He seemed to be
struggling with himself. With some kind of dilemma. Eventually he
smiled tightly, “It’s complicated.”

“I
understand.” I nodded, not understanding at all. It seemed
perfectly simple to me, so I said it: “I love you.”

There
was a hollow silence and then he gave me a sideways look. He took his
hand away and mine
fell once more to the bed.

“You’re
drunk.”

“I
love you,” I repeated.

“You
don’t know what you’re saying Nicky, you’re drunk. And tired.”
His voice was drum skin tight.

“Tired
as a newt, drunk as a skunk,” I giggled sleepily, my eyes closing.
“But I still love you.” I grimaced and added pathetically, “My
head’s going round and round and round.”

Jack
exhaled
throatily. “Go to sleep, Nicky.” He pushed the hair from my face
tenderly and then his hand paused, “There’s some water there.
Drink it and go to sleep.” He kissed the top of my head. “Go to
sleep,” he whispered.

I think I was asleep
before he left the bedroom.

I raised my head
blearily. From a long way off there came a terrible ringing. It went
on and on, echoing around my poor befuddled brain. I tried to open my
eyes and gave up. My head flopped back onto the pillow. Oh God, I
promised myself, I would never, ever drink again. Ever.

The ringing continued. I
sighed and gave up. I crawled over to the ‘phone and as I picked up
the receiver I heard Bev, in an indignant tone say, “About time! I
was just about to put the ‘phone down!”

I grunted.

“Nicky
are you OK? Are you ill?” Her voice sharpened in concern.

“Poisoned,”
I managed, through dry lips.

“Poisoned?”
she screeched.

I
flinched and held the ‘phone away from the banging in my
head. I was beginning to feel very, very sick.

“Alcohol
poisoning,” I whimpered.

“Aah,”
said Bev, with a laugh. “Ring me back later then, hon.”

I
surfaced at the shockingly late hour of three
p.m. Dad would have a fit if he knew. A pint of water and several
aspirins later and I was almost ready to face the world again. But
then, memories from last night began to come flickering back. As I
slowly pieced the events together and I realised what I had done I
groaned and held my head in shame.

Oh God.

How was I going to face
them all again? And more importantly, how could I ever face Jack
again? I cringed and my face reddened in humiliation. Had I really
told him that I loved him? Forcing myself to concentrate really hard
I counted in my head, through the conversation.

Three times!

Oh God.

“So,
just to summarise then. You got completely trolleyed, danced all
night with a bloke who you think likes you but you don’t like,
refused to kiss the bloke you actually like a lot and then flirted
outrageously with a governor? Is that right then? Bev’s voice, with
its hint of Jamaica, crackled down the line.

“No,
it’s worse than that,” I said in a small voice. “Angus
Fairweather is the Chair of Governors.”

“Mmmm.
Safe to say it wasn’t your finest hour then, Nicky.”

“Oh
Bev, what am I going to do?” I wailed miserably.

“Well
girl, suppose you get round there and apologise.”

“I
can’t. He’s gone skiing.” I gave a sigh and a lump of self-pity
lodged itself somewhere in my chest.

“What,
Angus Fairweather?” Bev sounded confused. “I thought you said he
was in his seventies?”

“No,
Jack.”

Wistfully I looked at the
drizzly rain falling onto the winter landscape outside. A robin
hopped about on the railings which guarded the small balcony at the
top of the steps. He cocked his head and looked bright-eyed at the
empty seed feeder. He flew off in disgust. Obviously he’d heard
about my behaviour last night too.

“Aah.
You like him don’t you, hon?” Bev’s voice softened a fraction.

“It’s
worse than that.” I whispered, afraid to admit to myself what I’d
really done.

“Oh
Nicky – you’ve not gone and fallen for him have you? Heart like
soft play dough, I always said so.”

I took a deep breath. “I
told him too.”

“You
told
him? What did he say?” I could tell Bev was hugely amused.

“He
didn’t believe me,” I said mournfully. “He thought I was
drunk.”

“Well,
he was right about one thing, hon.” Bev laughed then paused. “Wait
a sec – was this when you were both in the bedroom? And you were in
bed? Did he try anything on?” Her voice was getting shriller by the
minute.

“Don’t
think he would have suited my teddy bear nightshirt. Not his style.
Oh I see what you mean.” I shook some sense into my head as I heard
her laugh again. “No he was the perfect gentleman. Always has been.
It’s almost as if he really likes me but there’s something
holding him back.” I sighed again, gustily.

“It’s
all such a mess, Bev!”

“Is
he married?”

“No.”

“Gay?”

I thought back to the
image of Jack in his skimpy white towel, emerging from the wet room.
“Don’t think so,” I said carefully.

“Well,”
Bev stopped and then added, “Maybe he’s just not that into you?”

“Not
helpful, Bev.” I said bitterly. The same doubts were beginning to
crowd into my alcohol soaked brain.

“Well,
at least you’ve got a break from each other. How long has he gone
skiing for?”

“I
don’t know.” I’d been mystified when I’d found the message
earlier. “The note said he was going early this morning. I didn’t
know anything about it until today. He didn’t say anything.” I
searched my hazy memories of last night, “Well, I don’t think he
did. He left a present as well.” I looked at the small, beautifully
wrapped parcel thoughtfully.

My heart began to thump.

“A
present? Well, open it, child!” Bev always got excited about
presents, even when they were not for her. Her voice was getting
louder by the minute and my hangover was finding it painful to bear.

To mollify her, I cradled
the phone between ear and shoulder and ripped open the tasteful gold
paper.

“Oh
Bev,” I breathed, as I stared at the gift. My eyes began to fill.

“What
is it then?” she demanded impatiently. “Is it diamonds?
Jewellery?”

I fingered the metal star
in my hand. “Not exactly,” I murmured. “It’s a badge.”

“A
badge
?
Well, that solves the reason why he didn’t make a pass at you, hon.
The man’s obviously insane.”

“No,
you don’t understand. It’s a deputy’s badge.” I smiled a
little. It was star shaped like the ones Audie Murphy wore in those
old black and white westerns. The ones Mum watched in the afternoons
when she was putting off doing the ironing. Jack must have had it
made especially; it wasn’t any old badge bought in a toyshop. As I
turned it over in my hand I could feel its weight and it had ‘Nicola
Hathaway, Deputy’ engraved on the front. Tears welled once more in
my eyes and I sniffed feebly.

“Oh
Lordy Nicky.” Bev sounded genuinely concerned. “You sure have got
yourself into a mess, if a badge can get to you like that, girl.”
She paused and seemed to be weighing up something in her mind. “Look,
what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Andy
and Inez are arriving on Christmas Eve, so I’ll be with the family
I suppose.” I swallowed the threatening tears in an effort to think
practically.

“What
about New Year?”

“No
plans. Staying sober and wearing a nun’s habit,” I said gloomily.

“Well,
I always said you’d got too many dirty habits, and one of them is
falling for the wrong men, child.” Bev cackled evilly, obviously
back on form, any sympathy gone.

“Not
funny.”

“Mmmm.
Remember Elliot?”

I
thought of my last disastrous relationship with a computer
graphics designer called Elliot. He had been tall and blonde, with
expensive specs and a liking for cocaine. I shuddered. “Don’t
remind me.”

“Well,
look. About New Year. If you can put up with an overexcited male.”

“Leon
isn’t that bad,” I interrupted, referring to Bev’s husband.

“I
didn’t mean the old man,” she scolded. “I meant Darius! If you
can put up with an overexcited two year old whose favourite new word
is ‘tosser’ why don’t you come down for New Year? It’ll be
quiet, hon. Just the family.”

As
Bev’s
family consisted of three brothers and two sisters, plus her mum and
assorted aunts, I didn’t think it would be all that quiet. But
perhaps a change of scene was just what I needed? I made my decision
instantly.

“You’re
on, Bev. I’ll drive down on the thirtieth.”

“Right
see you then, love. And, Nicky - keep out of trouble until then, you
hear?”

I put
the ‘phone down and read
the note again. I traced over Jack’s hastily scrawled words with my
finger. He had nice handwriting, with long upper and lower loops.
Could do with practising his joins though. The content wasn’t very
illuminating:

‘
Nicky,

I’ve taken up Colin
and Jenny’s offer to share a chalet in Verbier. Not sure when I’ll
be back – can you keep an eye on things?

I know we did ‘Secret
Santa’ at school but I wanted to give you something from me. Don’t
open it until Christmas Day.