Page 85 of Hot to Go

‘Oh, it’s my thing, is it?’ I say, laughing. ‘I mean, I’d like to think you were quite into my thing. Without wanting to sound presumptuous.’

She laughs. I want to make her laugh like that for a long time. I really do. Maybe we have a bit longer to define what this is but, like the skyline, it feels infinite, interesting, full of possibility. We start to hear Lee’s voice echoing with some anger down the hallway and we look at each other. Maybe this can all wait. I put a hand around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head, her hair smelling sweetly, and then we turn to make our way down the stairs.

‘I AM A TEACHER! NOT A VALET! CARRY YOUR OWN BAG!’ we hear as we hit the bottom of the stairs.

Suzie looks at me, brushing my hand. ‘I’m just going to give Lee some moral support,’ she tells me, smiling.

I follow her figure as she walks away from me, snapping back into the present as I realise I was supposed to be looking for a child. Tyler. Tyler. Tyler. I look down a now empty corridor and see his room door still shut. I go over and bang on it a bit more loudly with my fist. ‘TYLER! TIME TO GET MOVING!’ I bet he’s one of the ones who’s gone to McDonald’s. Lee is going to flip. Otherwise, we’ve possibly lost a child and that is also not great. Did we account for him? Or leave him to sleep at the Royal Alcazar? I’ll have to go back and call his mother. I bang on the door again, no answer but I put my hand to the door handle and it turns. I tentatively enter the room. ‘Tyler?’ I turn to see him lying in his bed, huge earphones over his ears, a phone in his hand and WHOA, something else in his other hand. ‘TYLER!’ He doesn’t move. I mean, his hand keeps going but he still can’t hear me. I pick up a pillow from another bed and throw it at him, trying my best to avert my gaze. Assoon as it hits his head, he scrambles off the bed, trying to hide what he’s just been doing and pulling his earphones off.

‘SIR! SIR! I’M SORRY!’

I face the wall and I hear him trying to organise himself. ‘You absolute lemon. What the hell are you doing?’ I ask.

‘I was just…’

‘NO! Don’t answer that…We are leaving in literally ten minutes. Mr Jones is fuming. You’ve got to come, now.’

‘I’ve got to…?’

‘NOOOO!’ I scream, trying not to laugh. ‘Just…get your bags together and make sure you don’t forget your…things…’ I say, pulling a face. This is not funny.

‘Sí. Lo siento, señor,’ he says, trying to think a bit of Spanish might save him. ‘Are you going to tell my mum, Sir?’

‘I might need to tell Mr Jones to discuss,’ I say. ‘Possibly a detention.’

‘For wanking?’ he asks.

‘For making us miss our flight. Just get yourself sorted,’ I say in between desperate laughs.

‘Oh…’ he says. I hear him scampering about, zipping up his bag. ‘I had a good time on this trip, by the way, Sir…’

I could tell. I still face the wall. I might never be able to look this kid in the face again. ‘That is good to hear, Tyler.’

‘Did you have a good time?’ he asks me, a little too cheekily.

I pause. ‘You’re talking about Miss Callaghan, aren’t you?’ He laughs heartily. ‘Hurry up and get your stuff…gilipollas.’

‘I know what that means, Sir…’ he tells me. ‘The tour guide told us.’

‘Then this trip has been a success if you ask me. Come on, let’s go home.’

PART FOUR

LONDON

NINETEEN

Suzie

A thing. That’s what Charlie called it. A thing and I quite like that. If things involve good sex in squeaky bunk beds, stolen moments on rooftops and falling asleep on each other on airplanes, him stroking my arm under a scratchy airline blanket, then I like the idea of a thing. Maybe that should be a new definition for the kids to use. I would like to be responsible for that and have people make TikToks in my honour.

We sit at opposite ends of the coach now and flash passing smiles at each other, in between trying to get teens not to take pictures of their friends sleeping and listening to their inaudible mumble rap where everyone seems to know the lyrics despite there not being any words. I haven’t minded this trip at all but it will be a relief to deliver these children home to their parents, to forget the responsibility you have and the fact their energy levels fluctuate from apathy to bouncing off the walls.

‘COME ON, MISS! DANCE WITH US!’ one of them shouts.

I am not a performing monkey but I’m also game if themoment allows. I move my shoulders up and down and everyone cheers. Further down the coach, I see Charlie laughing. But not dancing. I shake my head at him. I wonder what to suggest when we get back to school. Shall I invite him back to mine? Is that too much? I don’t even know where he lives but I’ll assume his siblings are there. I’d like to meet them, but that feels too soon. It’s late on a Monday. Maybe I should suggest something casual. Shall we go and get a pizza? Shall we see where this thing goes? I would text him if I had a phone. Damn you, Paul. But at the same time, it’s also a relief not to be dealing with that, to have had space from his constant interruptions. The coach finally rolls to a halt outside the school and out of the window, lines of cars and anxious parents wait to collect their little darlings.

‘DO NOT LEAVE ANYTHING ON THIS COACH! I will not care!’ Lee bellows down the aisle, and I laugh. The students all line up patiently, there are mumbles of thank yous as we all clamber off and I step outside. I already felt that burst of cold autumn air at the airport but to see the familiar buildings of the school and the dark sitting in the air, it really lets me know that we’re home, this isn’t Seville anymore.

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