Page 49 of Hot to Go

‘You said that about Mallorca.’

He forces a laugh under his breath. ‘Well, today I had to have a conversation with a mum about her Year 7 kid who’s not settling in well and I didn’t want to cut that sort of conversation short. In Mallorca, I was in hospital. Had a nasty fall, concussion and a broken wrist,’ he explains.

I stop for a moment as he holds up said wrist and shows me a small scar. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘So I’ll assume you’re not a native Mallorcan. You were there on holiday?’

‘A stag do for my brother.’

‘Ouch,’ I tell him. ‘That part about those girls being my cousins is true. We were there celebrating Meg’s fortieth.’

‘The cousins who grew up in London?’ He shakes his head, chuckling, and I know what he’s thinking. I lied too. ‘I rang the villa. I tried to leave a message but I told them to contact the French party who had rented the place so I’ll guess that message never got to you,’ he tells me.

‘It didn’t.’

We both sigh loudly and hold each other’s gaze. It’s clear now why our dalliance came to such an abrupt end. However, there is more that complicates this situation.

‘What about your family?’ I say quietly. ‘You have a kid? Kids?’

He laughs. ‘I thought that might have tipped the balance a little too. You didn’t really give me time to explain that.’

I go silent because, next to the deceit, I can’t help feeling sadness at the thought that he belongs to someone else.

He creases his brow; I assume because he’s trying to concoct some bullshit story. I’ve been here before. ‘The abridged version is that I am the eldest of four siblings. Our parents died in a car crash when I was twenty-two and I have legal responsibility for all of them, but the youngest two especially, who are eighteen and fifteen. Their names are Brooke and Sam.’ He exhales then walks away from that desk to put something in the bin.

I don’t have an answer. If he made that up then that is bloody impressive, but I feel a surge of emotion knowing that it’s true. Is that why he lied? He has people depending on him. Now I feel bloody awful.

‘Suzie,’ he says, approaching me again. ‘Whatever you think of me, I never parked Mallorca. I think about it all the time. When I saw your face in that assembly, do you know what it was like for me?’

‘Shock?’ I mumble, laughing.

‘Magic. Like a wish had been answered. Like you just reappeared out of nowhere. Pouf!’ I bite my lip when he says pouf because there is a hand action to match and his words make my jittery heart a little calmer. ‘I get the anger, but know I never intended to lie or keep anything from you to hurt you. That’s not what I do.’

Why is he looking at me like that? Why is he being nice? I’m angry with him. I laminated things. I made a poster today to which he made zero contribution. His eyes are so intensely blue I can’t look away, can’t speak.

‘Look, we can’t take back what happened. Happy to park it all if you want. We can just be colleagues with history and I will never speak of any of it again.’

‘Peut-être,’ I mumble.

He exudes a sad smile. ‘You’re not French now, you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, to feel something you don’t…’

I pause. ‘Oh, I was never pretending…’ I tell him, before cupping my hands to my mouth.

‘I heard you. I didn’t think you were…’ he mumbles.

Am I red? I feel like I could be a bright shade of rose at this point. And in a rush of sheer need, I walk up to him, my heart pounding to feel so close to him again. He looks down and I put a finger to his chin, a hand to his cheek and kiss him. I remember this. Too well. There are so many times I close my eyes to search for the memory of this feeling, I feel it everywhere like static, like a wave drowning me in pleasure.

‘Hello! Hello!’ a chirpy voice calls from the doorway and we part immediately, jumping back to see a lady in a pinaforedragging a hoover behind her. ‘I am here to empty your bins and clean up. Are you staying?’

Charlie exhales gently, his gaze not leaving mine.

‘No,’ I tell her. ‘We were just leaving.’

Charlie

Does this school have CCTV? This feels like something I should double-check for safeguarding and my professional interests. I just kissed someone on school grounds. That’s not great. I mean, it’s not as bad as the whole faculty seeing me on a big screen dancing around with a thermal sock on my penis but I’m new here; I think kissing in classrooms is generally frowned upon.

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