Page 95 of Hot to Go

I nod quietly. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it. I am confident about some things – in the way that I’ve moved away from Paul, how I know I never want to go back there, but there is fear there too, some worry that it’s too soon, that Charlie could be another person who’d hurt me. It all sits there fighting with that energy that draws me to him like a magnet. ‘I don’t quite know,’ I say, deep in my thoughts. ‘I’ve jumped in, if you know what I mean.’

‘And how was the water?’ she asks, smirking.

‘Like the clearest bluest warmest ocean on a sunny day,’ I say, almost a little embarrassed to say that out loud.

‘Have you taken multiple dips?’

I nod, grinning.

She laughs. ‘Look at your face. Your stupidly young face. You know what I’m learning in my more advanced years? The universe throws you these people sometimes at the strangest times. You can watch them sail past and miss out, or you can reach out and catch them.’

The bloody universe again. I stop to look down at my coffee and then gaze up at this mystic woman and all her wisdom. Who sent her? Because do you know who she reminds me of? Shereminds me of my mum. The way she speaks with such clarity and heart. It’s a rare and wonderful thing.

‘That’s good advice,’ I tell her. She shrugs her shoulders. ‘You ever want to have a chat, Suzie, about divorce and all its intricacies then you come and see me. I’m in Maths.’ She reaches over and gives me the biggest and warmest of embraces.

‘I’m in French.’

‘Have you got a lot more work to do today?’ she asks, sipping at her mug.

And for a moment, I know exactly what I’m going to do with this day. ‘I’m working on a project of sorts. Just need to go to Art to steal some supplies,’ I tell her.

‘Well then, I never saw you,’ she says, pretending to close her eyes. ‘Just have faith, Suzie. It’ll all come good,’ she tells me.

I really hope so.

Charlie

‘Oi, oi! Mr Shaw!’ a voice yells from across the courtyard. I look over to find out who is screaming at me this Monday morning and it’s Tyler. Tyler from the trip, who I saw far too much of in Seville. I’m glad he bears no embarrassment but allows me to feel that all on his behalf. I put a hand up to wave to him. I envy the kids who stroll in here without the weight of the world on their shoulders, just a rucksack, a black puffer coat, most likely no pencil case but just a lone biro and the remnants of a calculator, possibly a protractor. The sun sits low in the sky this morning and I look up, trying to feel some warmth on my face. I guess wherever you may be, it’s the same sun wherever you go. I fell in love under that sun but that feeling was short-lived, conflicting. It’s made for a strange last few days of half term, where I spent a lot of time moping, treating us all to takeaways and playingCall of Duty. Basically, I morphed into my fifteen-year-old brother. There was a point where Brooke had to detangle my hair and spray deodorant at me, it got that bad.

Now I’m back at school and I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I guess I’ll just plaster on a smile and get on with it. Needs must. Maybe I should go and find her first? Tell her? I’d rehearsed something but maybe it’s best in an email so I can say everything I need to. I walk across the courtyard, up the stairs to my department, approaching my room to turn on the lights. At first, I don’t quite understand where I am. I assume because it’s so early and I’m not quite up that perhaps I’m in the wrong room, but then I look around and see that all my bunting has been re-hung, my flag sits proudly on the back wall along with a display of all the Spanish islands. I jump when I turn to my desk as there’s a huge cut-out flamenco lady there. Her skirt is made up of little balls of red tissue paper. On my white board are laminated months of the year and days of the week in Spanish, there’s an adjective and opinions wall, grammar tips for all the tenses. My display of badly hung fans is gone which is a bit of a relief. The kids were starting to refer to it as my OnlyFans wall. But as I walk to the back of the room, I see what could be described as a pièce de résistance, a tribute to Spanish football. Players are cut out and have little speech bubbles coming out of their mouths, with matching club shirts and colours. I go up to them all and read them, mouthing the words.

I then jump out of my skin. Some guitar music starts up in the background and I look around the room. Is someone in the room? Playing a guitar? I hope not. But I realise it’s coming from a speaker under the flamenco lady’s skirt. I go over to her and see she’s holding a note addressed to Carlos. I open it tentatively.

Hola, Señor Shaw,

Your wonky bunting was haunting my dreams so I thought Iwould come in and work my magic. There’s a switch if you want to turn the flamenco music off, it’s on a speaker under Carmen’s skirt – yes, she has a name. I also named your pens. I’m sorry for the Pedro Almodóvar head in the corner. He’s a bit scary looking, we might re-think that.

I did this for you because I didn’t know what else to do to make things right. Because you are an amazing and excellent human being. All the time we’ve shared recently has felt incredibly special. You make me feel not only safe but seen, loved, held at a time when I thought I’d never find something like that again. To say I like you doesn’t feel strong enough. I feel like we belong, like we could be everything together. I’m not married anymore. I’m in the process of ridding myself of Paul forever. I don’t know how you feel about that and I’m sorry I never told you. I just didn’t want to risk putting out the fire between us – to lose you again like I did in Mallorca. I didn’t want you to run away when my heart has only just found you.

Mademoiselle Callaghan

I stop in my tracks, almost unable to breathe.Then a knock on the door gets my attention.

‘Sir?’ It’s Lola and, quite interestingly, a young man with her. I smile seeing them together, in the same vicinity.

‘Lola, ¿qué tal?’

‘Super bueno,’ she replies. ‘Sir, this is Josh.’

‘Morning, Josh.’

Without him looking, she points at him excitedly. I’ll assume that means they’re talking and there’s a shine in her eyes which tells me this is a good thing. ‘My mum told me to come and give you this. It’s some wine and biscuits to say thank you for taking us on the trip.’

‘Well, that is super kind. Gracias,’ I say, taking the gift bag from her.

‘What happened in here?’ she says, looking around.

‘Spain exploded, obvs,’ Josh says, gravitating towards the football players at the back of the room.

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