It turned out that Claire had spotted a part-time job vacancy as a teaching assistant in her local paper. She needed help with writing an application letter and advice on whom to ask for references. Nicky offered to pop over at the weekend to help, but for the first time in living memory, Claire suggested she come to Nicky’s flat, ‘no children or . . . distractions’.
When Claire arrived on Saturday morning, she brought flowers.
They sat down at the kitchen table and Nicky started quizzing her big sister on why she wanted the job, what qualities she felt she could bring to it and which way up you held a computer. As the two women sat there, Nicky felt as though their roles had been reversed, as if she was a child teaching an adult how to walk. She discovered that when it came to the world of work, interviews and office politics, she knew quite a lot. And Claire knew practically nothing. But Derek knew less than both of them, because he thought his wife was having a body wrap.
‘It knocks inches off you,’ informed Claire. ‘And makes your skin all silky smooth.’
‘Won’t he notice that you haven’t had it done?’ asked Nicky.
‘Not unless I put an England kit on,’ she muttered. ‘And even then he’d only be lying back and thinking of England.’
‘Maybe I should have a body wrap,’ mused Nicky.
‘Hah!’ exploded her sister.
Nicky bristled. ‘Just because I haven’t got a man doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel good about myself.’
Claire stared at her. ‘The reason you don’t need a body wrap, you moron, is because you have a body that looks like an After picture.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
‘I’ve had two 41-week pregnancies and one 42-week pregnancy,’ continued Claire. ‘My belly is blancmange. My thighs are jelly. And as for my arse and tits, they’re just great big mounds of sponge.’ She stared ahead. ‘I’m a walking trifle,’ she murmured.
Nicky’s stomach rumbled.
Over the next few days, Nicky made sure she was on hand
to help with whatever Claire needed. When Claire was sent an application form, Nicky helped her use a computer to fill it in. When Claire was invited for an interview, Nicky asked Miss James if Claire could observe a teacher’s assistant for a day. Miss James let her observe for a week. And when Claire won the job, Nicky helped her tell Derek, who would probably have to make do without a casserole on Thursdays from now on. Derek surprised them both by being genuinely delighted for his wife and even offering to make do with takeaway once a week from now on. And Claire surprised Nicky by buying her a voucher for a body wrap as a thank-you present. Nicky decided to save it for a rainy day. Or better still, a really sunny one.
Back at work, now that Amanda was not with Rob all the time any more, the gang had made a comeback. It was difficult to pinpoint how or why, but as with most comebacks, it didn’t quite have the same feel to it any more. After she knew that Amanda had been chucked by Rob, Nicky tried never to give her reason to feel jealous. Previously, she had never put much thought into what Amanda might actually be feeling, especially about Rob. But that had changed now. Amanda had an emotional claim to Rob, even if that emotion was anger, and Nicky respected that. Yet Amanda seemed determined to cope well with the break-up and spent far less time being with Rob than she did with Mark. It wasn’t difficult to work out how Amanda was planning to deal with heartbreak, if indeed, thought Nicky, hearts made of bark could break. In fact, as the term progressed, Nicky even began to feel a creeping respect for Amanda’s stiff upper lip, although it was certainly the only part of her body she had any respect for.
But at least two good things had come out of Amanda and Rob splitting up. One was that the old Rob was back and their friendship was better than ever. It was, dare she thought it, a bit like it had been before the fireworks display, which meant (when she was honest with herself) she was back to a constant background hum of her trying to understand what he really wanted from her, let alone what she wanted from him.
After a while, he started up the flirting with her again, but it had a different feel to it now. It felt somehow far more serious than before. If she ever found herself (late at night in bed on her own) envisaging this as the nearest she’d ever get to motherhood, she would immediately force herself to think of something else. Then she’d go to sleep and dream of babies with Rob’s eyes.
Two main concerns were back in her life again; one was that her self-esteem was relative to how much Rob Pattison flirted with her. And the other was that she still felt relieved that she
hadn’t completely burnt her bridges as far as sharing a future with him was concerned. She sometimes wondered if all she wanted him for was his ripe DNA.
This was getting ridiculous. Was she going to spend the rest of her life going round and round in circles with this man? When would she ever get real closure? Would one of them have to die for that to ever really happen? And if so, how could she commit the perfect murder?
The other good thing about Rob and Amanda splitting up was that Amanda was around less. She spent time with other teachers and wasn’t even in the staffroom as much any more. It felt as if a bad spirit had left the building. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding her at the fundraising meeting. Nicky hadn’t wanted to go, but she knew that as Deputy she would be expected to. True to her word, Amanda arranged a pub evening to brainstorm ideas and give Mark a chance to get to know everyone better. Or rather, as it turned out, to get to know Martha, Rob, Amanda and Nicky better.
Nicky had begged Ally and Pete to come too, but they were having none of it.
‘The perk of not being a high-flyer,’ Ally told her, ‘is that we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to.’
‘Too right,’ said Pete. ‘Even if it is arranged by a woman with legs up to her armpits.’
‘
Especially
if it’s arranged by her,’ muttered Ally.
‘Yes, sorry, I meant that,’ said Pete. ‘Hey!’ He turned to Ally. ‘I’ve got an idea!’
‘What?’ asked Ally.
‘We could go and see a film instead.’
Ally frowned. ‘What? And miss
Corrie
? Have you ever listened to anything I’ve ever said?’
When Miss James heard of the plan, she was thrilled, not only that there would be ‘grand ideas afoot’, but that the ‘young’uns’ were socialising together.
Nicky didn’t feel young on the evening of the meeting though. It had been a grim, grey day that had never worked up enough energy to create real light, and by the time evening had resolutely set in, the wind had turned wild, heaving the rain into horizontal, razor-sharp sheets. When Rob phoned Nicky to say he would pick her up on his way to the pub, they both knew that that was the only way she’d have got further than her car door.
Her home was made for evenings like this. She could sink into an armchair and look out over the top of the battered,
windswept trees, heat from the flat below percolating up through the floorboards, and feel safe and settled. If she had a log fire and a cat she’d never leave again.
By the time Rob rang on the door, she’d had a hot soak and changed into some warm jeans and a snug sweater. She arranged her woolly cap on her head, gave herself a quick once-over in the hall mirror, rearranged it, and ran to his car. She slammed the door shut against the elements and they drove off in silence. When he eventually started up some small-talk, it felt like he was doing it from a long way away.
The pub was in Highgate, near Mark’s old house and so near Amanda’s flat that her hair didn’t even look wet. She was already there, sitting on a cushioned window-seat next to an old log fire, busily texting someone. Nicky prepared herself for a comment about Rob and her arriving together (‘Do you two always come at the same time?’), but instead Amanda lifted her head, gave them half a smile each and then returned to her texting. Rob went straight to the bar and Nicky joined Amanda by the fire. After only five minutes, Amanda finished her text and put her phone away.
‘We’re a small team tonight,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.’
Rob arrived with both their orders and they all ignored the fact that he knew them without asking. They made polite conversation for the next quarter of an hour, Rob content and at ease with the situation, Amanda aggressively so. For the first five minutes Nicky believed this might be the dawning of a new era. Amanda was obligingly sweet to her, even going so far as to complement her on her hat. She went one further and asked if she could try it on and then,
admitting that it didn’t work half as well on her, gave it back to Nicky. Nicky reluctantly put it with her coat, watching Amanda smooth down her glossy black hair. When Amanda caught her eye, Nicky looked away. She knew now that her own hair would look as woolly as the hat, but to go to the ladies to tame it would show she cared. It would also take about half an hour. She cursed her vanity for caring. Then she cursed her stupidity for giving her hat to Amanda. Then she cursed Amanda, and felt better. During the second five minutes, she happened to glance at Amanda when she wasn’t expecting it and caught real hardness in her eyes before the camouflage smile appeared. They both knew she’d seen it. Into the third five minutes, Amanda was tilting her head at every smile in her direction to compensate, but it was too late. Amanda knew she’d been caught and it was Nicky’s turn to start overcompensating. After a while, they were smiling and tilting their heads so much they were both getting one of Nicky’s heads.
When Martha arrived she received a rousing welcome. They didn’t even mind that she’d brought her boyfriend with her. It turned out that he was seeing a friend nearby, so had been able to give Martha a lift. He kissed her before leaving and passed Mark at the door.
‘Hi, Mark!’ cried Amanda.
He greeted her back, and gave them all a disarming smile in turn. When he got to Nicky, he gave a miniscule lift of the eyebrows and widening of his smile. Her hand instinctively reached for her hat. Mark put his hand out to Rob who shook it, stood up, and offered him his seat, next to Amanda. Amanda smiled the cool, easy smile of the most popular girl in the class, but Nicky wasn’t having any of it. Sitting opposite
the woman for the past fifteen minutes had rendered her unable to catch her eye without wanting to scratch it out, so she quickly moved up one, making room for Mark next to her. This way, she was now sitting next to Amanda and wouldn’t have to look at her. She didn’t care how much Amanda might hate her for doing it, she knew that if she had to look at her for another five minutes, there would be a cat fight. Martha, however, was delighted, as she was now seated on the other side of Mark, with Rob on her other side.
‘So!’ said Mark, sitting next to Nicky and taking off his leather jacket. ‘What have I missed?’
‘Oh, absolutely nothing!’ laughed Amanda. ‘We couldn’t have been more bored!’
Rob and Nicky exchanged a look and Amanda’s laugh stopped instantly. Nicky finished her drink.
‘I tell you what,’ suggested Mark. ‘I’ll get the drinks in, while you guys get your thinking caps on.’ He took their orders and left them to it. When he returned, they were discussing Miss James.
‘She’s sixty if she’s a day,’ said Martha. ‘Ooh thanks,’ she took the pint out of Mark’s hand and drank half of it in one.
‘No way,’ said Amanda. ‘If she wore jeans she’d look late forties. Those skirts really age her.’
Nicky fought hard not to catch Rob’s eye. Amanda turned to Nicky.
‘What do you think, Nicky?’ she asked in a tone so friendly Nicky realised, properly for the first time, that Amanda hated her guts.
‘No idea,’ she said. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘Oh, don’t be
ridiculous
,’ laughed Amanda innocently. ‘You’re a woman! Of course you’ve thought about it.’
‘I think she’s about fifty,’ said Mark. ‘Rob, what do you think?’
‘We-ell,’ sighed Rob loudly, ‘I wouldn’t do her, so that means she’s probably over thirty-five.’
Martha made a raucous yeuuch noise and pouted that he was absolutely disgusting. Mind you, she admitted, thirty-five was ancient. As Rob continued in this vein, Amanda openly eyed Mark across the table and gave him an affectedly knowing smile and raise of the eyebrows. Nicky sat back and watched Rob’s show, wondering when men would realise that acting like a boarding-school twat didn’t do it for bright women. That was, of course, assuming that Rob wanted a bright woman. Maybe now what he wanted was a young girl fresh out of college; a twenty-something whose idea of feminism was to drink pints and belch. Or maybe this was an act for her? Or Amanda? She just couldn’t make the boy out. But Martha was easy to work out. Nicky watched her fall, laughing, into Rob’s contemporary man-trap of double bluff: pretending that he was only pretending to be an arse.
‘All right then,’ said Martha, pint glass to her smiling lips, ‘so what are your requirements for “doing” a woman, as you so delicately put it?’
‘Well,’ said Rob, leaning forward to her, ‘I like a woman who can take her drink.’
Martha had the kind of full-bodied hysterics that is impossible to do once you hit your late twenties without waking up the next morning and wondering why your neck aches.
‘Oh,’ said Amanda to Rob blankly, ‘does that mean a woman who gets so pissed she has sex with you?’
‘I don’t need a woman to get pissed to have sex with me,’ answered Rob with a laddish leer. ‘As you well know.’
Amanda’s cheeks went rough with redness and the delicate skin around her eyes tightened, creating the illusion that her eyes were shrinking. Nicky expected to see rays shooting out of them and Rob going splat.
‘Right, then!’ declared Mark. ‘I hereby call tonight’s meeting open.’
‘I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of about my sexual past,’ Amanda told Rob haughtily, ignoring Mark. ‘And you have got no “conquest” to be proud of. Those sexual double standards went out years ago.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ replied Rob. ‘When it comes to us, I have absolutely nothing to be proud of.’
‘So!’ Mark clapped his hands. ‘Who wants to kick off with the first idea?’
‘Oh, now it’s my turn to agree, Rob,’ shot Amanda. She turned to the others and wiggled her baby finger, whispering, ‘Absolutely
nothing
to be proud of.’