Truthfully, he was still in a state of near shock that had little to do with a sleepless night. Being so close to new life: it had an intensity that had caught him unawares. His mind drifted back to the look of adoration on Sylvie’s face as she gazed at her new baby daughter. She’d seemed a new person: someone entirely unfamiliar to him – she’d been a mother.
Sam drove to school in a daze and trudged into the staffroom, heading straight for the kettle and the strongest coffee he could find.
“God! You look awful!” said a voice from one of the overstuffed armchairs.
He looked round.
“Thanks, Julie. Good to know.”
She smiled. “Seriously! Rough night? You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I didn’t,” he said, then felt his face start to redden when he realised how that sounded, what with the previous day having been Valentine’s Day. “I mean… I was with Sylvie: the baby came early. A little girl – they’re going to call her Bella.”
Instantly Sam found himself surrounded by the female staff, all demanding details.
“So you were actually there,” said Julie, wrinkling her nose slightly, as Sam finished his description of their hectic dash to the hospital and the birth itself – the parts he could bring himself to describe. “How was that? I mean… how were you…?”
“Yep,” said Sam, for the fifteenth time. “It was… intense.” He grinned, “but pretty amazing, too.”
There was a lot of cooing, ooh-ing and ah-ing after that and Sam managed to slip away, whilst a decision was made regarding a gift for Sylvie and her new baby. It was out of his sphere of expertise.
The news spread swiftly. Pupils and staff alike were particularly intrigued that Sam had been there. A few eyed him speculatively, obviously wondering if his and Sylvie’s relationship was closer than either had admitted to.
And Sam still hadn’t told anyone that it was his penultimate day at school; he had a mountain of things to do, but one job was a priority.
Sam made his way to the PE department. Their office was cramped and scruffy, filled with old kit, well-used equipment and several deflated footballs.
“Alright, Sam,” said Tony, warily.
Sam and the head of PE had had a stand-off soon after Sam had arrived. Primarily because Tony had laughed openly at the idea of a girls’ rugby team and partly because he resented Sam’s presence, challenging, he believed, his alpha male status. There’d also been considerable professional jealousy when he’d found out that Sam had actually played for the Saracens. He’d turned down Sam’s offer of help coaching the boys’ team, point-blank.
“Those girls of yours giving you a hard time?” said Tony, his face politely neutral.
Sam hunched his shoulders. “Not exactly, but I am here to ask a favour.”
Tony’s eyebrows disappeared under his thick fringe, giving him the look of a surprised ferret.
“How’s that then?”
Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly, not sure how to begin.
“Mrs Snow’s coming back from sick leave. I was hired as a supply to cover her classes… and now she’s coming back…” he repeated lamely.
“Oh,” said Tony, his expression surprisingly sympathetic. “I see. And…?”
“And I’m surplus to requirements apparently. Anyway… I really hope you’ll consider taking on the girls’ rugby team. They’re hard-working and they’ve got real potential.”
Tony gazed at him appraisingly, scratching his chin.
“Yeah, I saw them training on Wednesday,” he admitted. “Pretty good. Yeah, I guess I could find a slot to train them after Easter.”
Sam shook his head. “It would need to be before that: it’s my last day tomorrow.”
Tony looked angry now. “Well, why have you only just let me know? I could have sorted something out.”
Sam shrugged. “Because I only found out yesterday myself.”
Tony was shocked. “That’s a bit rough, mate. You still on a supply contract then?”
Sam nodded miserably.
Tony chewed his lip. Then he clapped a meaty hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry about the girls’ team: I’ll take them on. You’ve done a good job with them, Sam. What are you going to do?”
Sam shrugged. “Look for a job.”
Sam’s final day at school was difficult. His tutor group had taken it badly when he’d told them that Mrs Snow was coming back, and that he was leaving. They’d stared with disbelief and a look of something like betrayal in their eyes: here was another adult who’d said they’d stay with them and help them, and was now leaving in just a few hours time. It was more than some could bear.
Ayesha had screamed at him and run from the classroom.
The school grapevine worked with its usual efficiency and pupil after pupil came up to Sam to tell him they’d miss him. After lunch he found an enormous hand-made card on his desk covered with signatures and messages from the children. It looked like half the school had signed it.
His final afternoon felt unreal: he returned his library books, handed in his laptop and received his P60 from Yvonne.
Julie had organised a small gathering in the staffroom, but it was a muted affair and Sam had left as quickly as was polite.
When he got back to his car, one of the tyres had been slashed and the paintwork badly scratched. Ayesha was watching him from a distance, her stance belligerent. Sam called to her but she ran away, swearing foully. It looked like she was crying.
He sighed and spent the next quarter of an hour wrestling with his spare tyre – which also looked rather woebegone.
Keith was waiting for him when he got in.
“How’d it go?”
“Grim,” said Sam, honestly.
“Yeah, I bet,” said Keith. There was a brief, sympathetic silence. “But I heard from Wayne: Sylvie’s home so I said we’d go over and see them this evening – if you like.”
It was definitely a better plan than Sam’s – which had been to drink himself into oblivion as quickly as possible.
Instead he grabbed a sandwich and started flicking through the jobs pages in the TES. Nothing much looked suitable, unless he wanted to travel the entire way across London every day, or move to Northumberland. Then an ad caught his eye:
TEFL teachers wanted
Two years teaching experience minimum
Immediate start
Situations all over the world – salary tax-free.
Sam’s interest was piqued. Maybe that’s what he needed: a fresh start. Somewhere with no ties, no memories. He’d never taught English as a foreign language, but it couldn’t be that hard, could it? He’d taught lots of pupils who had English as a second language – surely that experience was relevant? He decided to find out.
Impulsively he pulled out his mobile and dialled.
He explained his situation to the woman who answered the phone.
“And you can get references?” she said.
“Yes, my Principal said he’d do that for me no problem.”
“And you can start immediately?” she said.
Sam confirmed that he was available.
“Well, Mr Patterson, from what you’ve said you’re just what we’re looking for. If you could email your CV to me now, I’ll put it to our clients. Would you be available for a Skype interview later on tonight?”
Sam was surprised. “Tonight? Sure. What time?”
“I’ll get back to you.”
She took his details and assured him that he’d be hearing back from her very soon.
Sam hung up, his head spinning. Maybe things would work out after all.
Feeling nervous and keyed up, Sam fidgeted in front of Keith’s computer and pulled his tie straight again. It might have been because he was waiting for a job interview that could change his life, or the four coffees he’d had at Wayne and Sylvie’s to keep himself awake. He tried to calm down: he didn’t want to come over like a lunatic.
At the appointed hour, the computer informed him that EdOverseas was calling him. He pressed the ‘accept’ button and found himself face-to-face with a severe looking woman who introduced herself as Eva Schmidt.
“Apologies for the lateness of the hour, Mr Patterson,” she said, a slight accent colouring her voice. “We prefer to conduct our business during office hours but because our clients are all over the world, it makes things a little tricky on occasion. I need to inform you that our interview will be recorded: do you have any objections to that? No? Good. Well then, perhaps you could talk us through some of the key points on your CV…”
For the next half an hour, she analysed Sam’s CV and experience both inside and out of the classroom, expressing particular interest in his girls’ rugby team. She asked which countries he’d travelled to in the world (France, Italy, South Africa, New Zealand, Australia, predictably); which languages he spoke (GCSE French and Spanish); and how he thought he’d adapt to living overseas.
“Do you have any family, Mr Patterson?” Ms Schmidt asked finally. “I apologise for asking but it will affect which clients will be willing to accept you: no EU labour laws here, I regret.”
“Just my sister and niece,” he said. “There’s no-one else.”
She nodded quickly, seeming pleased with the answer.
“Well, that’s all very satisfactory. Subject to references from Principal Skinner, I will be in touch early next week.”
Sam was turning off the computer as Keith entered the room.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Good, I think,” said Sam, thoughtfully. “But I’m so wired… God, I hope I didn’t come over like an idiot.”
“Sounded alright to me mate,” said Keith, yawning widely. “Although she was asking questions so fast that it sounded a bit like one of those psychometric tests where you have to answer with the first word that comes into your head. Can you fail those?” He laughed. “No seriously, mate, it definitely sounded alright… pity you looked like crap.”
Sam smiled wryly and dodged easily as Keith threw a playful punch at him.
Then he dragged himself upstairs and crashed for 12 hours.
When he woke up, bleary-eyed on Saturday morning, there was a text from Ms Schmidt informing him that he’d been offered a job.
In Japan.
Chapter 4 – March
Sam looked around his room: there really wasn’t much left to see.
He’d sold off almost everything he owned, tossed what he couldn’t sell and had given Keith the keys to his car – with a warning that the poor beast was on its last set of brake discs and had little chance of making it through the next MOT.
A few favourite CDs and the most precious of his books were stored at his sister’s flat. She wasn’t happy about his move but recognised that he needed a fresh start.
“Just don’t stay away too long,” she said, quietly. “Rosa’s growing up so fast: I’d like you to be here to see it – you’re all the family she’s got now.” She stared down at the table, blinking back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again.
Sam pulled her into a hug.
“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, Sam. Honest,” she muttered into his chest. “Just promise you’ll email lots. And I’ve set up a blog for you so all your friends can keep up with what you’re doing. Promise you’ll write on it – every week.”
He’d made the promises easily as he had every intention of keeping them.
In two days he’d be on a flight to Tokyo, and Keith would be breaking in a new housemate.
“He’d better not turn out to be a weirdo,” Keith grumbled, “or I’m holding you responsible. And he’d better not be a Trekkie, or into any freaky shit.”
Sam laughed. “You’re the one who interviewed him.”
“Yeah,” complained Keith, “but you know I’m a rubbish judge of character – I ended up with you for a roommate, after all.”
Sam was having a goodbye drink with all his friends. Wayne and Sylvie had understandably cried off – on the grounds that they were too sleep-deprived to walk straight, let alone risk alcohol complicating matters. Besides, they were so besotted with Bella that all they wanted to do was to stare at her frowning face and watch her awareness growing with each day that passed.
“I’ll be reading your blog so I know what you’re up to,” said Sylvie, her voice softened with love. “And you take care of yourself, Sam. I’m furious that you’re going to miss Bella’s christening: the poor kid is going to end up with Keith for a godfather now – God help her!”
Keith had nixed the idea of having Sam’s leaving drinks at the Ram’s Head on the grounds that he’d been barred from there since Burn’s Night after an unfortunate incident with a haggis: completely misunderstood – an over-reaction, he’d insisted. Instead they were heading into the West End.
Sam would have preferred a quiet drink at his local but he couldn’t deny his friends the chance to give him a good send off. And it was easier for everyone to meet in central London when people were travelling from across the Capital.
A feeling of incredible lightness came over Sam as he stood at the tube station with Keith. It was liberating to feel so free and without possessions, without responsibility – at least until he started his new job. He’d bought a travel guide to Japan and was reading it cover to cover, saturating himself with facts about Japan and a few basic words and phrases: the important ones like ‘please’ (onegaishimasu or kudasai – why were there two ways of saying it?) and ‘thank you’ (arigato), ‘hello’ (konnichiwa) and ‘goodbye’ (sayonara or shitsureishimasu – how did anyone pronounce that?). One of the conditions of his employment was that he would be required to learn the language.
His thoughts were interrupted when Keith elbowed him in the ribs.
“What?”
Keith nudged him again and winked. “Those birds over there – they’re looking at us. Could be their lucky night.”
Reluctantly, Sam looked in the direction that Keith pointed.
Two twenty-somethings, spray-tanned to the colour of teak and wearing matching cowboy hats, were looking their way, clearly appreciating the view that Sam offered.
He ducked his head, embarrassed. He knew that look: it reminded him of Elle.
“Come on,” said Keith, trying to smooth down his wiry hair, “let’s go and talk to them.”
“Forget it,” said Sam, but Keith was already halfway down the platform. Reluctantly Sam followed.
“Hello, ladies! Where are you from?”