Scratch (22 page)

‘That’s not a word.’

‘What?’

‘That’s the same word as before.’

‘
Shitles
.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t fucking know,’ I said. ‘What’s happening?’

‘I don’t fecking know, either,’ Paula said.

‘You love me?’

‘I think so, yes.’ Paula’s face was
pinking
up as she dropped her eyes.

‘Fuck.’

‘Feck.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Feck.’

‘Why?’

‘What?’

‘Why do you love me?’ What the hell was I doing asking that sort of question?

‘I don’t really know. Why do you love me?’ She looked me in the eye again.

‘I never haven’t.’

‘Your grammar’s terrible, but,
Jaysus
. Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Feck.’

‘Fuck.’

‘I’m married.’

‘I know. Mrs Neumann.’ I was in
freefall
. What the fuck was going on?

We stared at one another across the table for a few seconds. Paula had a look of absolute shock on her face and I was confident mine was much the same.

‘Say something,’ Paula said eventually.

‘Never tell a man to say something, it makes us feel awkward,’ I said, because I couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘What, like it wasn’t awkward a minute ago?’

‘Fair point. Holy
shite
, this is mental.’

‘I know. You started it.’

‘I know, sorry.’

‘Are you?’ Paula’s tone hardened.

‘What?’

‘Sorry.’

‘No! Christ, are you joking?’ Then the doubt hit me. ‘Are you?’

‘I … don’t know yet.’

‘Well, that’s encouraging.’

‘I just, I didn’t expect this. You said it, then it just kind of came out. I didn’t mean it.’

‘You didn’t
mean
it?’
Don’t you dare,
I thought, panicking.

‘No, I
meant
it; I just didn’t mean to say it.’

That was better, a bit. ‘Okay. But you
meant
it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Say it again.’

‘What?’

‘Say it again, so I’m sure.’

She gave me the
you’re a wanker
look, then smiled. ‘Jim Cooper, I love you.’

‘Thanks.’ I had a very odd sensation in the middle third of my body.

‘You’re still a wanker, mind.’

‘I can accept that,’ I said. The odd sensation spread upwards and flooded my chest, cheeks and brain with a heady mixture of pleasure and fear (about 60/40, roughly).

‘So,’ Paula said.

‘So,’ I agreed.

‘I, eh, don’t really know what to do now.’ Her face was pink again.

‘Me neither. If there’s a rule book for this it’s not on Amazon.’

Paula looked me directly in the eye. ‘I’m married, Jim.’

‘I know.’

‘And, I’m not a …’ she trailed off.

‘Bitch?’

She nodded. ‘Things haven’t been good for a while, but he’s not a bad guy. He doesn’t deserve …’ she looked at me.

‘Do you love him?’ I kind of had to ask.

‘I did,’ she said definitely. ‘I do,’ she said, less convincingly. ‘Maybe working together was a bad idea. Since we started the school it’s been—’

‘Rubbish?’ I said, hoping the fake sympathy would disguise the very real hope in my voice.

‘Difficult,’ Paula said, giving me another look.

I had a thought. ‘Is the whole
sick grandad
thing bollocks? Did you need an excuse to have some time apart?’

‘Isaak has pneumonia. He could die.’

‘Right, sorry.’

‘There is a selfish part of me that was a bit relieved,’ Paula admitted. ‘Is that terrible?’

‘Not at all,’ I said. ‘Selfish is good. Everyone should be more selfish, I always say.’

‘Do you?’

‘Not really, no.’ I thought about it more. ‘Actually, when it works in my favour I’m all for other people being selfish, to be honest.’

Paula smiled. ‘Spoken like a true wanker.’

‘You know, after spending time with your dad tonight, I’m not so bothered about being called a wanker.’

‘Told you his definitions, did he?’

‘You know about that?’

‘Well, let’s see. He’s my daddy, I’ve known him for thirty-three years and I probably talk more openly with him than any other man in my life. You, on the other hand, have known him for five minutes. What do you think?’

‘So every time you called me a wanker, you meant …’

‘What did you think I meant?’

‘I thought you just meant I was a wanker.’

‘I did, that’s the point.’

‘You’ll understand my confusion.’

‘We’re kind of drifting off the point here.’

She was right, but I’d been enjoying the drift. I didn’t want to talk about her husband anymore. I felt it best he be given as little attention as possible. Time for a new subject.

‘You love me.’ I grinned. I couldn’t help myself.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Since when?’

Paula sighed. ‘Since,’ she began, then paused. ‘You broke my heart, Jim Cooper.’

‘Eh?’ I said, reverting to form.

‘You didn’t even try to stop me leaving, going to London.’

‘I … eh?’

‘I sat there waiting for you to tell me to stay, and all you did was ask if the money was good. What the feck was that about?’

‘Eh?’

‘Words, Jim. You need to use words.’

‘I …’ Fuck, this was unexpected. The tears threatening Paula’s left eye said she was serious. ‘You didn’t want to go?’

‘I wanted to go, but I wanted you to tell me not to. I wanted you to fight for me, Jim. I needed you to prove I had a reason to stay, and you didn’t.’

‘Shit, I … I thought you’d moved on, past me. I thought you needed to go. I didn’t want to make it any harder for you.’

Paula shook her head. ‘If I moved past you it was only because you stopped moving.’

That hit home, and I bowed my head. ‘You just,’ I said. ‘You were so popular, so in demand, so …
fabulous
. I couldn’t keep up. You were,
are
, the coolest woman on the planet. There was no way I could live up to that.’

‘That, right there. That …
shite
is why you’re the very definition of the word
wanker
.’

 
Being told I was a shite-talking wanker felt good, when it came from Paula (possibly shouldn’t delve
too
deeply into the psychology of that).

‘You are a fairly fabulous person. Will you at least acknowledge that?’

She shook her head again, but she was still smiling. ‘Are you sure it’s Terry who’s a closet Friend of Dorothy? You’re using the word
fabulous
an awful lot.’

‘Straight as a penis, I mean
pencil
.’ That was deliberate, honest.

‘Okay, I’ll believe you.’

‘I’m more than happy to prove it.’

‘Don’t.’

Why not?
‘You didn’t actually answer my question.’

‘Right, you noticed that then?’

‘I may be a wanker but I’m an observant wanker, at least these days.’

‘Put it this way: seeing you last Friday was an accident. That was less than a week ago and I’ve seen you three times since, none of them instigated by you.’

It took me a moment to get my head round this. ‘Have
you
been chasing
me
?’

‘I don’t know that I’d use the term
chasing
, but I’ve been looking for excuses.’

‘But you keep disappearing after half-an-hour.’

‘That would be the
you’re married Paula, what the feck are you doing?
thing.’

I sat back in my suddenly comfortable, crappy wooden chair. I have to admit the smugness I was feeling may have somehow transferred itself to my face.

‘What?’ Paula said.

‘Terry won’t bloody believe this.’

‘We can’t tell anyone.’

‘It’s only Terry.’

‘I mean it, Jim.’ Paula said, deadly terrified. ‘We don’t even know what’s going on yet.’

‘But …’ I wanted to shout to the world about this. There were several faces I couldn’t wait to rub in something.

‘Jim, no. No one, I mean it. No one.’

‘But I’m a crap liar.’

‘Learn.’

Chapter 17

I didn’t sleep very well that night. I slept alone, but not well.

I dropped Paula at her parents’ place before taking the taxi home. We held hands during the journey, but even in the relative privacy of the back seat of a Ford
Mondeo
it was obvious Paula was uncomfortable. She practically jumped out of the car as soon as it pulled up.

‘I’ll phone you tomorrow,’ she said, shoving the door closed before I could reply and hurrying up the garden path.

We clearly still had a lot to talk about.

I wandered into the lounge in a daze. My mum was watching TV. ‘How’s Terry?’ she asked.

‘Hmm? Oh, he’s good, yeah.’

‘Are you okay, Jim?’

‘I’m fine, just tired,’ I said.

‘After last night I’m not surprised.’

‘Oh.’ It seemed my dad had chosen to share the previous night’s adventures after all. Fortunately, my mum looked more amused than anything. I was too distracted to get embarrassed.

‘Just be careful,’ she said. ‘You’re not a teenager anymore, even if you do insist on pretending otherwise.’