Teacher's Pet (7 page)

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”  He had finished his manoeuvre and fixed his calm gaze on her.

“No.”  She took a deep breath.  “I’ve got something to ask you, Paul.”

“Fire away.”  He leaned back in his seat.  “Anything you like.”

“You and…” Her voice tailed off.

“Yes?  Me and…?”

She opened her mouth and again the wrong words came out.

“Sport.  Do you do any sport?”

“Sport?  Me and sport?”  He grinned.  “I run, swim and play ice hockey.  Not all at the same time, of course.  And the ice is a bit thin on the ground over here.”  He ran his fingers through his hair, his expression thoughtful for a moment, as though there was a detail he was trying to remember.  “Was that your question?”

“Yes,” she lied, opening the door of the car.  “Come on.  If you play your cards right, I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

“You know how to tempt a man,” he said, locking the car and following her down the path towards the lake.

A little later, Allie and Paul were sitting outside the Lido pub.  Allie was sipping a glass of wine, Paul a coffee.  Allie marvelled at the fact that Paul looked so healthy, yet ingested so much caffeine.

“In Canada, it’s stronger,” he remarked.

“But doesn’t it keep you awake?”

“No.  Nothing keeps me awake.”

“Nothing?”  Allie smiled at him.

He grinned.

“Nothing.  Not even-
”

“Allie!  What a surprise!”  A shrill voice cut through their conversation.  “Fancy seeing you here!”

Allie looked up and saw Eleanor, impeccable in a crisp linen suit, designer sunglasses and a silk scarf.  Relaxed, yet casual.  Just by looking at her Allie knew she had spent a small fortune achieving this effect.  Jocasta and Primrose, dressed equally tastefully in expensive-looking pink and yellow dresses, were playing on the swings by the lakeside.

“And who is this?” she asked, the sun glinting on her subtly-highlighted red hair as she leaned down to kiss Allie.  She pushed back her sunglasses to reveal her China-blue eyes, framed with thick, dark lashes.  “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”  She held out a petite, French-manicured hand to Paul.  Glancing first at Allie, he took it and gave it a cursory shake.

“Eleanor, this is Paul Richmond, the boys’ new teacher.  Paul, this is Eleanor.”  Allie shot him a meaningful glance.  “James’ partner.”

“Nice to meet you,
Mr. Richmond.”

Paul withdrew his hand quickly and nodded.

“Hi.”

Eleanor
let her eyes linger on Paul a little longer than was necessary, before turning back to Allie.

“So, how
are you?”  Her voice was bright and brittle.  “And your job?  Still at the college?”

Allie nodded.

“Still there.”

“Good for you.”  She turned back to Paul.  “And how are you finding
Mayfield School, Mr. Richmond?  I hope the little horrors aren’t playing you up too much?”

“No, not
yet anyway.”  Allie noticed a twinkle in Paul’s eyes as he continued.  “And if they misbehave, I just lock them in the stock cupboard.”

Allie smiled. 
Eleanor’s eyes widened, just a little.

“Is that allowed in state schools?”

“It’s what we do back home.”

“But, surely…
”  She paused.  “You’re having me on, aren’t you, Mr. Richmond?”

Paul met Allie’s gaze briefly.  She tried to read the emotion in his eyes.  She concluded it was bewilderment, tinged with incredulity.

“Don’t mind him, Eleanor,” she said quickly.  “How are the girls?”

“Still recoverin
g from Goa.  What a nightmare.  Such poverty.  Dreadful.”  She pulled down her glasses as the rays of the setting sun bounced off the water, making her squint.  “Next year it’s the Seychelles.”  Paul appeared to be trying hard not to laugh.  “At least you know where you are with the Seychelles.  I mean, you don’t want to see beggars on holiday, do you?”

Paul rose to his feet abruptly.

“I don’t suppose the beggars want to see rich tourists either,” he said, rapidly clearing the table.  “Another Molotov cocktail, Allie?”

She suppressed a laugh.  She noticed he made no more eye contact with
Eleanor, despite the fact she was peering at him, following his every movement in fact, from over her glasses.

“Molotov cocktail, that sounds tasty,”
Eleanor said.

Paul’s back was already turned as he strode towards the pub entrance.

“It’ll blow your head off.  Bye Eleanor.”  He was shaking his head gently, as though in disbelief.

“What an attractive man,”
Eleanor began, tearing her eyes away from the sight of Paul’s behind with some difficulty.  “Where did you find him?”

“He found me, actually.”

There was a moment of silence.  Allie looked down, aware of Eleanor scrutinising her clothes, her figure, her hair, and finding it all sadly lacking.  A high-pitched whine drifted over from the water’s edge.

“Mum!  Mum!  Can we go home now?”

“Kids, eh?”  For once, Eleanor sounded genuinely fed up and suddenly Allie felt sorry for her.  She glanced up and took in the artificiality that money could buy: a gym-toned body, fake nails, hair extensions and skin like silk as a result of being pummelled and scrubbed every week.  She wouldn’t swap places with her for the world.  If someone took away all her possessions and beauty treatments, Eleanor would be lost, lonely and even unhappier than she was now.

“See you,
Eleanor.  Take care.”

There was a whiff of Chanel as
Eleanor bent to kiss the empty space next to Allie’s cheeks.  Allie watched as she walked over towards her daughters, who were both scowling at her.  Her voice carried on the still air as she disappeared from view. 

“Now.  Which restaurant would you like to go to tonight?”

The high-pitched whine was doubled.

“Not again mum….”

Amazing
, thought Allie. 
George and Harry would be thrilled if I could afford to take them out to eat.

“What a fruitcake…”  Paul was laughing as he walked back over from the pub.  “Do you think she really thought a Molotov
cocktail was a drink?”

“Paul.  That’s cruel.  She can’t help being…”

“Ignorant?”

Allie start
ed.

“Out of touch maybe.”

“She seemed in touch all right to me.”  He sat down.  “You, Mrs. Johnson, are being amazingly kind about the woman who stole your husband.”

“It takes two, you know.”  Allie fixed Paul with an intense stare.  “She tempted him. He wanted to be tempted.”  She took a sip of her wine.  “Don’t you think?”

His keen gaze burned her, as if he was trying to fathom her soul.

“All I know is I don’t like women like tha
t.”  He frowned slightly.  “And James must have been mad to leave a woman like you for… That.”

Allie laughed.

“Flatterer.”

“No, I mean it.”  His eyes were dark, serious.  “She may look good, but….”  Now it was Allie’s turn to scowl.  “You’re so much more….. Real.”

“Real?”

“
Without the cosmetics, jewellery and expensive clothes, there’s not much there.  Not only is she shallow and superficial, but she doesn’t seem to have a sense of humour.”

“Not a big hit with you, then.”

Paul’s eyes grew even darker.

“No.”  He glanced down for a moment before continuing.  “But you, Allie, well.  You’ll always be gorgeous.  You’re so much more attractive because
you’re unaware of it.  You’re…  I’ll shut up now, shall I?”

Allie nodded, secretly pleased at his remarks.

“Yes.  Let’s talk about you.”

“I might need a beer before we do that.”

She laughed, and their conversation continued until darkness had fallen over the lake.  She found out a lot about him.  How he had always wanted to be a teacher, and how he missed the vast, open spaces of Canada.  How he would probably go back there for good one day (her heart sank at this revelation), but he wasn’t sure.

“What wou
ld it take to keep you here?”  she asked, hardly daring to meet his eye.

“A very sp
ecial woman,” he replied.  Then, suddenly, he looked away. 

“Paul?  Are you OK?”  Allie could feel his sorrow washing over her.

He turned his gaze on her again, slowly.  She saw sadness in his eyes.

“I need to tell you something,” he began.  “To explain something to you.  About my past.”

“I’m listening.”  Allie leaned forward, elbows on the rough wooden table between them. 

“I was married.”  He coughed before continuing.  “To a very special woman.”

I knew it
, thought Allie. 
He’s on the rebound. 
She tried to keep the tone of resignation out of her voice.

“What happened?” 

“She died.”

“Oh,
God.  I’m so sorry.”

His eyes grew darker.  The muted lights of the pub garden reflected off the
water, accentuating the contours of his face.

“She had cancer.  Have you heard of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma?”

Allie’s heart lurched.

“My father died of it.”  She reached out and took his hand in hers.  Her fingers stroked his smooth skin.  “How old was your wife?”

“Thirty three.”  His voice was low.  “She died two years ago.  After her second period of remission.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

All around them people were chatting and laughing, enjoying the warm, summer night.  But a silence had settled over their table.  It was as though the rest of the world was still concerned with trivia: whose turn it was to buy the drinks, what was happening in the latest TV reality show…  Whereas Paul and Allie had been cut off from all that and had entered a different realm.  The realm of memories, revelations and shared grief.

Not quite knowing what to say, Allie held his hand a little tighter.  Suddenly, he grasped both her hands in his, lifted them to his lips and kissed them gently.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, Allie.  I’ve ruined the atmosphere a bit, haven’t I?”

Sh
e smiled.

“Thanks for telling me all that.”

He was still holding her hands to his lips.

“I needed to be honest with you,” he said.  She could feel his warm breath on her fingers.  “Sometimes I find it hard to know what to say to you.  I think I’m a little wary of getting involved again.”

She nodded.

“That’s OK, Paul.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get involved.  In fact…”  He hesitated.  “You are the first woman I’ve met since Caroline died who has made me want to…  How can I put this?  I want to be with you, Allie.”

“I understand.”

“It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for me.”  He smiled slowly, moving her hands back down towards the table and caressing the inside of her palms.  It was a deceptively casual movement.  “I’m a little out of practice.”

“Uh huh.”  A feeling of warmth was beginning to spread through her body.  “That’s OK.”  The warmth reached her face.  “No pressure.”

“Allie?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to come back to my apartment?” He had stopped stroking her palms and leant across the table towards her.  “For a coffee?”

Her smile grew wider.

“As long as it’s a decaff.”

“Anything you want, Mrs.
Johnson.” 

They stood up.  As they made their way to the car, he put a confident arm around her shoulders. 
He was halfway there.  He had told her about his past.

He felt a familiar stirring as she inclined her body against his and put her arm around his waist.  He could feel the gentle pressure of her breast, her hip, as the side of her body brushed his.  As they continued to walk, he could feel her relax, growing more at ease with each step.  Every part of his being was crying out to him to take her here, now, against the side of the car.  The strength of his feelings shocked him.  He could feel his muscles tingling as he fought to restrain his desires.

At last, they reached the car.  He looked down at her as they stood facing each other, waiting.  There was an air of expectancy about her that drew him in like a magnet.  The moonlight picked out the fair strands in her hair and turned her skin to ivory silk.

“So, you’re coming home with me?”

She nodded.  Her face was trusting, radiant and beautiful.  It was all he could do not to pull her towards him and cover every inch of her with kisses.  But he knew he had to wait.

He had told her about his past.  He wanted to have no secrets from her.  All that remained was to tell her about his present.