The Learning Curve (49 page)

‘You know what?’ he whispered.

‘What?’ she whispered back. He was leaving the school and wanted her children?

‘I hate children.’

She stopped smiling. ‘Except Oscar,’ she breathed.

‘Of course except Oscar.’

‘I love them,’ she said quietly.

He grimaced ‘Bleagh. You haven’t just lived through twenty green bottles in your ear.’

‘No.’

‘I’m looking forward to Oscar growing up,’ he said. ‘I think he’ll be a great adult. A good mate.’

She nodded. ‘I bet he was a lovely baby.’

Mark nodded vaguely. ‘I missed most of it. Hard work though. Wouldn’t go through that again. No, I much prefer him now.’

He turned to smile at her again. She tried to return it, but it was hard when you felt like your stomach had just been pummelled.

‘Hello,’ said Miss James suddenly, with a yawn. ‘Are we nearly there yet?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Nicky. She stepped forward and asked the driver. He told them not long now.

Nicky relayed the message and then leant over to Mark.

‘So,’ he said, looking up at her, ‘about this adult conversation.’

‘I really ought to check on the children,’ she managed to say. ‘No peace for the wicked.’

She went and joined Rob.

Mark sat still at the front of the coach. He only got up when Rob returned twenty minutes later. They swapped places without a word.

THE HOSTEL WAS
located, the luggage unpacked, the coach dismissed and the children settled before the teachers realised the full implications of Miss James’s booking mistake. Nicky was the last to hear about it, because she’d been busy dealing with two bunk-bed disputes and one severe case of homesickness leading to vomiting. And that was just the children.

She had popped her head round the door of what she’d thought was the female teachers’ room, only to find everyone in there, except Miss James, whose voice could be heard arguing with the hostel manager from the other end of the corridor.

‘Apparently,’ Rob grinned gleefully, ‘there seems to have been a “miscommunication” and we’re all in the same room. So it looks like you girls are bunking in with us.’

Nicky was concentrating so hard on not looking at Mark that it took a while for this information to sink in. She ended up staring at Rob for ages. He continued to smile at her as he lay slowly back on the bottom bunk nearest the door, putting his arms behind his head.

‘So,’ she said slowly, ‘we’re all in here together? Men and women? Together?’

Amanda, Martha, Mark, Ned and Janet all nodded slowly.

‘Er, Robert, did you just call us “girls”?’ Amanda asked. She was lying on the bottom bunk opposite Rob, on her stomach, her legs swinging in the air and her chin on her hands. She looked like something out of a Busby Berkeley number.

‘Anyway, who says this isn’t
our
room?’ Martha added, leaning against Amanda’s bed. ‘And
you’re
bunking in with
us
? There’s a lot more women than men.’

‘Good point, sister!’ exclaimed Amanda. ‘After all, Miss James would hardly have forgotten to book
herself
a room, would she?’

This was met with an awkward pause. It was the first mention of the fact that this was all Miss James’s fault. Nearly the entire room tried to ignore this comment. Martha, however, was not going to let that go. She was just entering the bitching phase of her job. She’d been at the school for a whole academic year now, so no longer thought of herself as new. She felt secure, and she had got over the honeymoon period long enough ago to have started picking fault with everything. At the same time, she was still fresh, and disillusionment had yet to set in, so there was a youthful, almost positive energy to her bitching. ‘That’s right!’ she responded happily to Amanda. ‘It’s
our
room and the
boys
are bunking in with us! Ah dear!’ she laughed. ‘This is all
so
typical! Good thing the old bat’s retiring, eh?’

The room went quiet again. Miss James’s retirement was not something Rob, Nicky or Ned wished to dwell on, let alone within this context. Ned had been informed by Miss James on the coach that he hadn’t got the headship, but
would be considered for the post of Deputy, should a vacancy occur. He had gone back to his seat without looking at Rob or Nicky.

‘Whoops!’ giggled Amanda. ‘Don’t mention the war!’ She did a stage wink at Martha.

Martha giggled. Amanda then asked Martha if she wanted to share a bunk with her. Nicky turned her back on them to stop the premonitions of them sharing secret diaries next. She was feeling too low to be able to tolerate them.

For want of anything else to do, she studied the room. It was long and narrow, filled to bursting point with four wide, tall bunk beds; two in each corner, facing the centre of the room. The space dividing them all was so narrow that you could easily reach across and pull the hair of your sleeping neighbour, should you so desire. The door at one end led on to the noisy corridor, the other to the communal bathroom. On the other side of the corridor lay the children’s dorms, far too near for comfort, but then this ‘holiday’ was not about comfort.

Already the space between the beds was full of rucksacks and clothes. Amanda and Martha were now sharing the left corner bunk, at the bathroom end, and next to it Ned had done an impressive job of hiding himself on the bottom bunk, leaving just his well-darned socks visible. He was below the top bunk where Miss James’s bag lay. That left two bunks, both at the corridor end. Rob lay proprietorially on the bottom bunk to Nicky’s left. Opposite him, on the bottom bunk to her right, sat Mark, very still, eyes down. In the middle of the room stood an imposing Janet, looking cross. No change there then.

Nicky looked down at Mark. He didn’t move. She turned
to Rob. He grinned and winked. She looked over at Amanda. Amanda was overtly observing her, a knowing smile on her lips.

She just didn’t know what to do. If she shared with Mark, it would mean climbing above him every night and, more terrifyingly, climbing down every morning after a full night’s tormented sleep, her hair looking like a crocheted two-piece. What if she talked in her sleep? What if she talked in her sleep about him? Or worse, what if
he
talked in his sleep? Worse still, what if he talked in his sleep about Amanda? Even worse than all that, what if he looked keen on her in front of Miss James and Miss James assumed Nicky would become a full-time mum in two years and give her job to Rob? The less she had to do with Mark the better. But if she took the bed opposite him, he’d have an even better view of her and, more relevantly, she’d have a spectacular bird’s-eye view of him and she’d expend so much energy trying not to watch him, she’d have none left for the kids. On the other hand, if she slept above Rob, she wouldn’t put it past him to try and join her on the top bunk as soon as lights were out and start their family right here, right now. She was still standing, trying to decide, and she knew Amanda was still scrutinising her. Maybe she should sleep in the showers.

She looked at Janet.

‘Well,’ she shrugged at her. ‘Where do you want to sleep?’

‘At home,’ replied Janet shortly, before climbing the ladder above Mark’s bed.

Nicky turned to Rob.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Looks like we’re sharing.’

‘I thought you’d never ask!’ he grinned. ‘Do you prefer going on top?’

The room wolf-whistled. Oh dear God, thought Nicky as she climbed up the ladder above Rob. It was going to be a long, long week.

At first, Pete thought that all they’d talk about was Rob, Nicky and Amanda and what might happen on the trip. But they didn’t. They’d spent all day together now – an unprecedented amount of time together, alone – and they hadn’t mentioned the others once. Not only that, but it hadn’t even been his idea to see the matinée. They’d sat with their legs over the backs of the chairs in front, gripping firmly on to their sweets, popcorn and fizzy drinks and laughed hoarsely at each other’s jokes, which were all funnier than the ones in the film. When they came out, they blinked in the afternoon light. The weather was turning.

‘I’m starving,’ said Pete.

‘Me too,’ said Ally. ‘What shall we eat?’

‘Pizza?’ he suggested.

She nodded for a while. ‘Mm,’ she decided eventually. ‘Perfect.’

Meanwhile, Rob had arranged for a brisk beach walk along the East Cliff towards Boscombe. It only took one hour to get the children ready and just half an hour to find Miss James’s glasses. They were under Ned’s bed and by the end of the walk he had almost finished apologising.

By the time they had all made it to the beach, Nicky was ready to throw herself into the sea. She was dwelling on Mark’s comments on the coach. If the man of your dreams didn’t want children and you did, it was a no-brainer. Walk away. She’d heard stories where women assumed they’d
changed their blokes’ minds only to discover ten years on that he’d gone and had the snip one lunch hour. She wanted Mark, but not as viscerally, as desperately, as her primeval need to have babies. And she wasn’t in the business of changing a man’s mind purely for her selfish needs. She was, however, heartbroken. She was bringing up the rear of the crocodile, holding hands with the spasmodically weeping homesick child and envying her. If only going back home would sort out all her problems. From the back, she had an all-too perfect view of everything. She could see the black bruises of clouds as they hurtled across the white sky, she could see the foam roar off the grey sea, she could see the piercings on every teenager who passed and she could see Janet’s back. It was getting closer and closer to Mark’s back as they trudged onward and ever onward. They would make a good match, she thought. Was he going after every single staff member in turn? She felt a pang every time Janet looked in profile towards him and smiled. Nicky had no idea Janet’s lips could go up. And then, if Nicky wasn’t very much mistaken, through the sea spray, she actually saw Janet laugh. Nicky knew it was a laugh because her shoulders shook. Good God, the woman was almost as tall as he was. She was so tall they could even kiss just by accident.

Feeling sick of the sights Bournemouth had offered so far, Nicky forced herself to look elsewhere. She scanned the crocodile and, halfway down it, spotted Amanda and Martha deep in delicious conversation. Watching them did actually take her mind off things, because it soon became apparent that she was witnessing the beginning of something deeply significant. For here were two women sharing their first
bonding bitch session, a vital, primary stage in a certain kind of intense, female friendship; a moment where the dynamics and hierarchies are seared into the friendship’s unique, impenetrable psyche. They were embarking on a voyage of discovery of shared hates. And from the look of things, these two were going to be bosom buddies for a very long time.

She looked at the front of the crocodile and there could just make out Rob walking next to Miss James, a humble half a step behind, his hands held behind his back. She felt a tinge of admiration, almost pride, instead of jealousy, so she forced herself to take this one step further and imagine herself becoming his lifelong partner. At least her children would have long legs and fierce ambition. This intriguing thought gave her no stirrings of ecstasy, but on the plus side, it gave her no heartache either.

Tired from too much thinking, she decided to turn her attention to the children. Perhaps she should just spend time with them this week. Yes, that would do her good. If there was one thing to stop you dwelling on worries you couldn’t control, it was being with children when they needed you most. Nothing focuses your mind quite like a child being sick. She squeezed the child’s hand she was holding and they exchanged pallid smiles. Then she tried to find the back of Oscar’s head. She couldn’t find it. At first she panicked, but stopped herself and scanned the crocodile again. Second time round she realised why. Oscar was looking at her, his face an indistinct blur through the cold rain. She was just about to wave when he turned away. He didn’t look back once during the entire walk.

Two hours later, they returned to the hostel as bedraggled, bone-weary and bored as they were drenched,
all in need of a hot chocolate and warm blanket. One child was heard complaining of frostbite. Nicky made a decision. She would forget all about the adults on this trip, forget about the job, about Rob’s surreal suggestions, and all her conflicting feelings for Mark. She would pretend she was looking at the children through a microscope.

She spent the rest of the day solely in their dorms, talking to them, listening to them, and helping them get ready for bed. She stayed with them until the very last one had fallen asleep (until the middle of the night, of course, when at least one would wake up hysterical with homesickness or fear of the dark, or both). The evening dissipated faster than the sea spray, which she could almost taste on her skin and in her hair. Oscar was already asleep when she went to say goodnight to his dorm.

Later that evening, they had their first teachers’ meeting and Nicky was pleased to discover that she was almost too exhausted to care about all the tensions and undercurrents in their small, stuffy dorm. By now all she really cared about was her sticky, salty hair. It was going to take hours to dry unless she slept on it wet, which never created a good look the morning after. If she’d been given a choice now of whether to become Headmistress or wash her hair, she’d have chosen the latter.

Rob’s itinerary was the major topic on everyone’s mind.

‘I suppose,’ said Miss James, flashing him a big smile, ‘that we find ourselves in a position where making a compromise is the only choice.’

Nicky’s eyes turned involuntarily to Mark, and then, as a pathetic subterfuge, she gave everyone else an identical look. They were all sitting, two per bed, on the top bunks in their
room. Miss James had hoped – as they all had, in fact – that the lounge would be free every evening, and they could conduct their meetings in it just like last year. But the hostel was doing very well this year and apparently three families wanted to use it. Miss James was planning to demand a refund at the end of the holiday. Janet’s first job of the holiday was to keep notes of absolutely everything that went wrong, no matter how small. No one was in any doubt that Janet was the woman for the job. Clearly, Miss James’s friendship with the manager had been overstated.