Teacher's Pet (3 page)

She nodded, handing him a cup.  Their conversation flowed easily, punctuated by the sounds of a lazy suburban summer evening: children’s laughter in the distance, the drone of a lawnmower, birds coming home to roost.  The spicy smell of a distant barbeque drifted across.  As they talked, it gradually grew dark.
  Eventually Allie lit a candle and drew her knees up in front of her on her chair. 

“So, do you
have a garden where you live now?” she asked.

“No, it’s an apartment
.  I have a balcony.  But you couldn’t swing a cat.”  He put down his cup.  “Not that I’d ever want to do that.  I wonder where that saying came from?  I bet it’s nautical.  They usually are.”

Just as she was about to hazard a guess, his mobi
le phone rang, cutting through the still night air.  Paul flicked it open.

“Hello?  Hi.”  He grinned sheepishly at Allie.  “No.  What’s wrong?”  There was a pause.  As he listened, she noticed concern appear on his face.  He focused on a bush by the fence, looking intently at it, but not seeing.  He sighed before continuing.  “What – you mean now?  No, no, it’s OK.  Don’t worry.  I’ll be there in five minutes.”  Allie felt her heart sink.  “No, no problem.  Just hold on.”  And he flipped the phone shut.  Switching his gaze to A
llie, he smiled.  “I’m sorry, Allie, I have to go.”  He stood up abruptly, offering no explanation.

“Never mind,” she said, keeping h
er voice light.  As she got to her feet, she realised just how much wine she had drunk.  All of a sudden, the world seemed a little unsteady.  “I’ll see you to the door,” she continued, turning to lead the way inside.  His arm shot out to support her as she stumbled against the wheels of Harry’s bike, which was lying in wait for her against the kitchen wall.  He held her for a second longer than was necessary, and she could feel herself blushing in the darkness.  Slowly, he released his grip.

“Bloody bike,” she said.

“Bloody wine,” he laughed.

“No, definitely, bloody bike.”

“Bloody bike it is then.”  He paused.  “Look.  I’m sorry I have to go.  Really.  I am.”  He moved a little closer.  “It’s been really good.  Honest.  It’s just….. Well.  There’s someone who needs my help.”  He put his hand on her arm.  “And I have to go.” 

Strangely, Allie felt reassured by his words.  As she looked up at him, she was drawn to the strong contours of his features, thrown into soft relief by the kitchen light.  She felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him.  He hadn’t removed his hand.  Just as she thought the moment had come, she felt him draw back suddenly.  She opened her half-closed eyes and focused on him.  His face was sad, his eyes suddenly wistful. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, quickly.

“No.  No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”  He relinquished his touch and moved back slightly, running his fingers through his hair as he continued to gaze at her awkwardly.  It was as though he had suddenly realised something. 
That he likes Melanie and not me,
thought Allie, stepping carefully past him into the muted light of the kitchen.

“I’ll show you o
ut,” she said in as matter-of-fact a tone as she could muster.

His gaze suddenly grew more intense, bringing with it an onrush of intimacy she felt she had no right to.  She looked down in confusion.  Her newly-painted toenails stood out against the black and white floor tiles.

“Your feet are tiny,” he said, breaking the silence at last.

“Anyone’s would be, compared to yours.”  She looked up, met his eye, and laughed out loud.  “I’m so sorry, Paul.  What have I said?  That sounded awful.”

“That’s OK,” he chuckled.  “I suppose I would look a bit stupid with size fives, or whatever yours are.”

“Four and a half.”

“Good grief.  How on earth do you manage to stand up without falling over?”

She laughed again. 
“They get me round.”

There was a moment when she felt she should reach o
ut to him, ask him to stay.  Then it passed and she was left looking up at him, not knowing what to say next.

“I’d better go,” he said eventually.  “Thanks for a really nice evening.  Great pizza.”

“No problem.  Anytime you want to ….. I mean, anytime you feel like….. well….”

“Oh, I will.  Anytime I feel I want to, I will.   You can be sure of that.”  His eyes seemed to sparkle mischief at her. 

Noting his seeming inability to move, she decided it was time for decisive action.  With a supreme effort of will, she turned and headed purposefully for the door, unlocking it and opening it all in one movement.  He walked past her out onto the front step, then turned back.

“So…. Thanks again, Allie.  I really enjoyed that.  I….”  His voice tailed off.

“Like I said.  Anytime.”  All of a sudden, she heard coldness in her voice.

For a while, neither of them moved.  Then he turned away and began to walk slowly down the path.  She felt she had to delay him somehow.

“Did you bring your car?”

He turned back and Allie saw him smile.  His hair shone gold in
the orange London streetlights. 

“No.  I’m on foot.”

“What, all the way to the town centre?”

“Remember, I’m from a big country.  We think nothing of hiking to work, past the grizzlies and all that.  On horseback, if need be.  Escorted by Mounties, of course.  To see off the wolves.”  His smile grew broader.  “Not to mention the polar bears.”

“OK.  I get the picture.” 

An owl hooted in the
distance.  She could sense him hesitate before speaking.  “Bye, Allie.  Sorry I have to go.  I’ll phone.”  And he turned away again and strode off, reaching the end of the road in a matter of seconds.  The next time she looked, he had been swallowed up by the darkness of the alley.

“Bye.”  Her soft voice echoed faintly around the deserted street.

As she closed the door, she felt a vague sense of disappointment.  A sense that something should have happened, but failed to.  It was almost as though Paul Richmond had wanted to be with her, to arrange to meet her again, but had thought better of it. 
What was he up to?

She wandered back into the kitchen and put the kettle on, glancing at the pile of assignments.  The fleeting desire for a stress-free job descended upon her.  A job where she wouldn’t have to bring her work home.  Where she could clock on and work, then
clock off, come home and live.  She opened a drawer and pulled out a battered packet of menthol cigarettes.  Now was the time for her weekly treat.  She deserved it.  Turning off the kettle, she picked up a lighter and went back out into the garden.

Paul Richmond glanced at his watch as he strode along the tree-lined pavement. 
Melanie would have to choose her times a bit more carefully
, he mused. 
If he was to have any kind of private life at all, that was.
  As he reached her house, a few streets away from Allie’s, he found himself taking a deep breath. 
How much longer could they continue to pretend they didn’t know each other?
Someone was bound to find out, and then…. Well.  Even though it was nobody’s business really, he didn’t want to think about the consequences: for him, for her, for Billy.

He approached the gabled porch and waited for a moment, listening.  Hearing a distant, moaning sound, he knocked softly on the heavy, oak door.  Melanie opened it, hair dishevelled, face red, eyes swollen and wild.

“Paul.  Thank God.  I’m so sorry.  I am.  I just can’t…. oh God….. I…” and she fell into his arms.

He
held her tenderly, in a strong, comforting embrace.  She was shaking, weeping noiselessly.  He could feel her tears, warm and damp on his shirt.

“It’s OK, Mel.  Come on now.”  He k
issed the top of her head.  “Let’s go in, shall we?”  He guided her gently back into the hall and continued to hug her while she tried to stop crying.  “Billy?  Are you OK?”  His deep voice filled the house as he pushed the door shut behind him.

Allie looked up at the clock: two am.  She was sitting in the kitchen, writing.  She had passe
d the point of wanting to sleep, and was now possessed by inspiration.  She usually scribbled relentlessly whenever the mood took her: whenever she could.  As a result, she was now halfway through her first novel.  Having reached that magical point where the characters had taken on a life of their own, she only had to close her eyes and they would appear.  It was as though she was watching a film, and simply noting down what she saw happening on the screen.  However, tonight, each time she tried to conjure up the face of her hero, a tall, dark-haired Eastern European, the features that she saw were those of Paul Richmond.

“Bugger!”  She cursed under her breath as the phone rang.  At this time of night, it could only be something serious.  An emergency.  Chasing away the alarming vision of Harry gasping for breath, she shot out of her seat and over to the phone in one frantic movement.

“Hello?”  She waited, but heard nothing.  “Hello?  James, is that you?”  Still no sound.  “Harry?  George?”  She sat down wearily.  “Who is this?”

When the voice came, it was faint, a whisper.  She couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman.  All she could hear was menace.

“Leave him alone.  Or you’ll be sorry.”

“I beg your pardon?”  She shivered, despite the warmth of the kitchen.  “Who is this?”

“Just leave him alone.”

“Hold on a minute….”  Her voice tailed off lamely as she realised the caller had hung up.  Shaking, she replaced the receiver and sat down again. 
What was going on?

It was far too hot, Allie thought.  A few years ago, a south-facing garden was a selling point.  Now, with summer temperatures soaring, it was a liability.  Liz and Jeremiah had got round the intense heat by planting a few fast-growing trees and investing in a huge gazebo for their outdoor dining area.  Despite these measures, the accumulated warmth at the end of a June day still felt as though it could melt rubber.  As she sat back in their porch swing, sipping Jeremiah’s iced tea, Allie smiled to herself.  It was Saturday night, she was with good friends, she had done her marking, and all was right with the world.  Well, almost.  The only thing marring the perfection was the fact that Paul hadn’t phoned.  Yet.  She glanced at her mobile, glowing luminous green next to the house keys she had tossed onto Liz’s patio bench. 
No, looking at it
wouldn’t make it ring any sooner
. 
She had to be patient.

“Kebabs!  Get your hot kebabs!”  Jeremiah’s deep voice rang out as he strolled over from the cast iron barbeque at the bottom of the garden.  “
Liz?  Where’s that salad?”

“Coming!” 
Liz appeared at the kitchen door, flushed, carrying an enormous tray of salad, wine and French bread.  Allie jumped up to clear a space on the table.  “No, sit down!”  Liz balanced the tray on the edge of the table and wiped her forehead, pushing back short locks of dark hair.  “Relax.”

Allie pushed the children’s drinks along and pulled the tray onto the table. 
Liz unloaded it carefully, then turned and called down the garden.  “Girls!  Kebabs are ready!  Come on!”

Laughter drifted up from the makeshift playhouse in the far corner, which had a bright row of flowers and bumblebees painted on the front, topped off by a grinning dreadlocked sun next to a garish rainbow. 
Liz’s daughters, Dora and Emily, were busy ‘feeding’ a row of battered-looking toys.  Through the lilac bush, Allie could make out a flash of pink material against coffee-coloured skin.

“Can we have a picnic down here?”  Their cheerful voices chimed out as one.

Liz smiled.  “OK.”  Reloading the tray, she set off down the garden, her flowery chiffon dress emphasising the soft curves of her body. “Just try not to make a mess.”

Jeremiah reluctantly tore his gaze away from his wife’s behind and fixed Allie with a meaningful look.

“So.  How was my assignment?”  He sat down next to her and started to pile his plate methodically.  “Or can you not tell me yet, miss?”

Allie focused on the pile of
kebabs, trying to avoid quashing the enthusiasm evident in his dark eyes.

“We’ll have to talk about it on Monday really,” she began, casually.  “There are a couple of things you need to do before it can pass.”

“So it’s a fail.”  He picked up one of the kebabs and began to study it intently.

“It’s a resubmit.  It’s not the same thing.  If you do exactly what I say, it’ll be a pass when you hand it in again.”

“OK then.  Do exactly what you say.  Sounds good to me.”  He grinned and straightened up.  “Would you like some wine?”  He picked up the bottle.  “Not that I’m trying to bribe you, of course.”

Allie giggled: 
“Jeremiah.  You know I could never be swayed by Italian red.”

Liz
had reappeared without Allie noticing and was standing quietly at the end of the table.

“I’ll have some too,” she said, sit
ting down.  “There you go.”  She pushed the plate of kebabs over to Allie.  “Now.  Tell us all about lover boy.”  Her brown eyes twinkled as she sipped the wine Jeremiah had poured for her.  “How was last night?”

Allie raised her eyebrows. 
“Last night?  How do you know about last night?”

Liz
chuckled.  “There’s nothing I can’t see from behind those net curtains.”

Allie proceeded to fill her friends in with
the details, conveniently leaving out any romantic longings she may have had for Paul Richmond, or desire she might have imagined he had for her.

“So you mean to tell me
you didn’t even get a snog?”  Liz’s voice was incredulous, the wine she had drunk adding to her apparent disbelief.  “Not even a peck on the cheek?”

Allie laughed. 
“No, nothing.  Honestly.”

“Well, there might be a chance for you at the parents’ evening on Wednesday.” 
Liz nibbled her kebab thoughtfully.  “Just wear a sexy dress.  You know.  Like…..”  She swallowed hard.  “Well, like that one really.  You’ll have him eating out of your hand.  Won’t she, Jeremiah?”

H
e nodded, his eyes on his wife.  “She certainly will.”

“And if that doesn’t work, then there’s always the school trip to France in July.” 
Liz was still looking at Allie.  “You’ll be able to dazzle him with your fluent French, won’t you?”

“Oui.  Bien sur.”  Alli
e had taught English in Eastern France for five years.  “Maybe he’ll be impressed.”

“He will be,” said
Liz, glancing at Jeremiah.  “Most men are….  More wine, Allie?”

And
the conversation continued long into the warm summer’s night.

Midnight came and went, Dora and Emily were packed off to bed and Allie decided, after a third cup of coffee, that she should be getting back.  As she took her leave, Jeremiah suddenly jumped to his feet, moving more quickly than she had seen him do all week.

“I’ll see you across the road,” he said, opening the door for her.

“Nothing
you do now will change that assignment result,” chuckled Liz.  “Not even fending off a mugger.”

“Bye
Liz.”  Allie leant over and gave her friend a peck on the cheek.  “Thanks for the meal.”

“No problem.  Let me know how parents’ evening goes.”

“Will do.”

Allie and Jeremiah walked slowly across the street.  Allie flinched as the security light came on next door, illuminating her cream dress and bag.

“Good God!  Why are they always so bright?”

“They don’t light up for me,” said Jeremiah, straight-faced.

“What do you mean?”  Allie jiggled her key in the lock and pushed the door open.  “Why?”

“They only detect white people.”

Allie giggled, then felt her face freeze as she heard the phone ring.  Jeremiah turned to go.

“I’ll leave you to lover boy…..”

“Jeremiah, could you stay for a minute?”  Allie tried to quell the faint edge of panic in her voice.  “I… er… I had an odd phone call yesterday.”  She picked up the receiver gingerly as she spoke.  “Hello?”

Jeremiah nodded and waited on the step.  Allie thought she could make out
Liz peering over at them from behind the curtains.  Or maybe the dark shape was one of the girls.

“Hello?”  No one spoke.  “Hello?  Who is this?”  She looked anxiously at Jeremiah, who stepped in and gently removed the phone from her grip.

“Some advice,” he said, putting the receiver down firmly on the table, beside the phone.  “Just do this.  Don’t hang up, ‘cos they’ll only phone straight back.  Put it down and walk away.  That’ll drive the bastard mad and hit his phone bill as well.”

A
llie shot him a worried glance.  “I suppose so.”

“Anyway,” he continued.
  “Did you dial 1471 yesterday?”

“The caller withheld the number.”

“That figures.  Just leave it for a while.  When you come back, he will have given up and you can unplug the phone for the night.”  He reached for the door, then hesitated.  “If it keeps happening, call the police.  Will you be OK, Allie?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He bent towards her and kissed her softly on the cheek.  She could smell tobacco and wine and feel his stubble brush her skin.

“See you at college, Miss.”

“See you, Jeremiah.”

As she watched him go back down the path, she noticed the curtain fall back into place over the road.  All of a sudden, she felt cold and alone. 
Bloody Canadian.  Where was he when she needed him?