Page 44 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
I nod. It was the one time he’d ever spoken to me in this classroom bar from telling me he was present each morning. He thought it’d be all ‘painting and stuff’ and I explained differently. He may have even smiled at me. Those were the tiny moments that kept me in teaching, the ones where I thought I was being useful. Do I miss it? I think I do. I miss a job where I feel proactive and the kids actually speak back to me.
I try to imagine Joe in this scenario and it feels so far away, part of some distant future where I’m middle aged and have taken to gardening and sensible loafers. Is he going to be a chair loller at the back? The gobby one who we suspect deals drugs out of his rucksack? The sports star all the girls fawn over? The organised school council member? Who’s the Yasmin King here? None of these lot, I hope. She’ll make an appearance no doubt and I hope they all are wiser to her game.
I always laugh as these characters never change, not even from when I was at school. I was Tamara, who stands away from Joe but observes from the back of the group. She has in-between hair that she’s not sure whether she wants to grow out or keep short and a fringe which she may trim herself with kitchen scissors. She excels in some but not all subjects, her tights are bobbly but she always has gum. That was me. She sees me looking at her and smiles. I like seeing myself in all these kids. I also like how every day in this job is different. How you’d walk into the form room one day and there’d be two girls scrapping in the corner over Leon with the good hair; or the next day, they’d all be gathered over someone’s phone watching something ridiculously unfunny involving a famous TikTok star whose name is a series of initials.
‘Did it hurt, Miss? When the baby comes out? My cousin had a baby and she said she like had two epidurals and the second one meant she couldn’t feel her bits for days and she like wet herself like all the time.’
And just like that, when I was going to launch into a speech about the beauty of childbirth and my experiences, Leena does that for me. We applaud how Leena wears a sensible coat to school but she needs to take breaths in between sentences.
‘Well, it hurt. That bit is true.’
‘Like a really bad toothache?’
Yes, but in your vagina? It’s not a pain I dare to bring to mind and not one I need to share. I want them to see me as human but not to have intimate knowledge of my undercarriage.
‘Is it true you can grow teeth down there?’ she continues.
‘I think that was just a horror film, no?’ I reply.
‘Nope, it can happen.’
‘Something to ask Mr Fields in the science department, maybe?’
She nods enthusiastically. How can I ask her to film that conversation?
Joe grabs on to one of the onlookers’ fingers and there’s a collective coo.
‘We always thought you weren’t married?’ asks Imogen. Imogen is a sweet girl but we have to tell her off far too much about the length of her skirt. It’s a glorified belt. A handbag is also not a school bag.
‘I have a boyfriend. His name is Will.’
‘Really?’ she replies. I’m not sure whether to act offended that she thinks it’s not possible.
‘But the Year Elevens said they always see you down the pub with Mr McGill from geography.’
I laugh. ‘Sean? I mean, Mr McGill?’ They all laugh. I think they like finding out that we have actual first names too.
‘We have juice on our lunch breaks, I’ll just clear that up.’
‘Yeah, whatever, Miss,’ Imogen replies, cackling.
‘Sean is just a mate.’
A voice pipes up from behind us.
‘I didn’t realise you knew him?’ asks Connie Wharton, the PE teacher covering my class.
‘We did teacher training together.’ His mum still irons his underwear.
Connie nods and looks over at the baby. As with the majority of PE teachers, she is lithe and eighty per cent Lycra. You’d imagine she’d be the sort with a very neat baby bump and who snaps back into shape when the baby leaves her body. I don’t know her all too well but I know she is big on hydration and reusable cups.
‘And the bell will be going soon so let’s say our goodbyes to Miss Callaghan and, boys, I need this room back how we found it. Chairs and tables, please.’
She claps her hands which is something I would never do and I collect our belongings. I feel I need to say something but I won’t. I’ll be back. I’ll teach some of you. I’ll see some of you in the corridors. Stay awesome and make good choices. Don’t do drugs. But I don’t. I wait for the bell to ring and see them all file out of the classroom with smiles and waves. I follow them as far as the stairwell to the staff room.
‘CALLAGHAN!’
I hear the voice boom from behind me. Sean, you idiot. He comes up to hug me from behind which is probably what fuelled the rumour that this baby is his. I remember these hugs. This is what got us through our degrees, break-ups and awful teaching placements. This and alcohol. He still smells of Lynx Africa and whatever floral fabric softener his mum uses.
