Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
“ H ow about the Jam Pot?” asked Nisha. It was lunchtime in the staffroom and she was outlining her school trip master plan to Dan and Chrissie. They’d agreed to meet up to discuss it after work, and Nisha was suggesting the café on the high street.
“Ah,” said Chrissie, looking beseechingly at Dan.
“We don’t go to the Jam Pot,” said Dan. He lowered his voice. “Well, at least Chrissie doesn’t.”
Nisha furrowed her brow. “Er, why? Do you have some kind of coffee and toast aversion?”
“Well, I don’t do coffee, as you know,” Chrissie reminded her, setting her hands on her thighs and readying herself for what was next. “And I am trying to reduce my wheat intake.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “But that’s not why, though, is it?”
Chrissie sighed. Nisha was watching carefully, her eyes moving from Dan to Chrissie and back like she was watching a tennis match. “No. That’s not why. So,” she said, pausing to take a breath, “my ex-wife’s partner runs the café.”
Nisha flushed very slightly, which struck Chrissie as a little odd. But she carried on speaking. “We divorced a couple of years ago. It was a bit messy. Her new partner seems lovely. But it would be weird to go inside.”
“Wheat content notwithstanding,” said Dan, patting Chrissie’s knee. “Seymour, the woman who runs the place, is actually very sweet. But Chrissie and I tend to favour the Vine.”
Nisha didn’t say anything for a moment, so Dan filled the gap. “The bonus is that the Vine serve alcoholic drinks as well.”
“Well, count me in,” said Nisha, as though the previous conversation hadn’t happened. Chrissie wondered whether it had triggered thoughts of her own separation with Jake. But before she could consider probing any further, the bell went and the three agreed to pick up where they’d left off at the café bar.
By the time they’d had a couple of drinks – Nisha on beer, Dan on rum and coke and Chrissie on white wine –the whole plan had been put together. They would go to Paris with the class for three nights and show them the sights. They’d go by coach and travel on Le Shuttle.
“Oh my goodness, I’m so excited,” said Nisha. “I never got to do anything this cool when I was in primary school. They’re going to love it.”
“You bet they are,” replied Chrissie. “I can just see it now. We’ll be drifting down the Champs-Elysees, showing them the Arc de Triumph, the Eiffel Tower and how amazing it is to be able to speak another language.”
“Right,” said Dan, “much as I’m with you on all this, firstly, we will have a class of kids with us. They will be less drifting down the Champs-Elysees than creating chaos at every step, and you know it. It will be hard work. You must know that.” He paused and sipped his drink.
Nisha giggled. She said: “But it will be fun chaos. School trips are the happiest of all my school memories. I always loved a sleepover.” She locked eyes with Chrissie briefly, before looking away. Chrissie felt her heart pound in her chest for reasons she chose not to think about.
“But secondly,” said Dan, “what about the cash? Some of these kids have literally nothing at home. Their only proper meals all week come from the school kitchen. I know some of the families will be able to pay, but what about the others?”
“It’s a good point,” said Nisha with a frown.
“I think if we do this, we need to make sure every child can come, if they want to,” Chrissie added. This was what her life was about now, making good things happen for others.
They all fell silent, and took the opportunity to take sips of their drinks. Nisha spoke first. “Well, when my footy team in London went to a tournament in Europe a couple of years back, we managed to get a local company to sponsor us to bring the costs down. This would be a much smaller undertaking. Maybe we should see if anyone’s willing to sponsor us?”
“Yes,” said Chrissie, feeling the energy surging through her. “That’s it, we can get a sponsor. And I know just the person to ask for help.”
“Well, you two ladies seem to have it all sewn up,” said Dan.
“We’re women, thank you very much,” replied Nisha, a faux frown on her face. She smiled. “But yes, we’re all over it.”
“Excellent,” he said. “I have marking to do. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
He gathered his things, kissed them both on the cheek, and then left.
“Another drink, my lady?” asked Chrissie, emboldened by the wine.
“Ugh, you can stop with that, I’m not Penelope Featherington, and you’re not Colin Bridgerton!” They both laughed. “But yes, I’ll have another of these.” She waved the almost empty branded beer glass she was holding.
By the time Chrissie had returned to the table, and the overhead lighting had been turned down, and a member of staff had put a lit tealight in a jar between them, the bar was definitely on evening mode. “Aha, thanks,” said Nisha. She gestured to the room and spoke again: “It would seem that romance is on the agenda.”
“I, er, well, I mean.” Chrissie fumbled with her words, her hands shaking as she put the drinks down. Had she missed an episode?
“They obviously think so here,” continued Nisha, grinning her most winning smile. “Check out the candles on all the tables. And isn’t that Lionel Richie coming through the speakers now? Old school.”
“Very old school,” said Chrissie, relieved they had moved on from her stumbling faux pas. Of course Nisha didn’t mean they were having a romantic moment. Of course not. If Chrissie knew anything about the modern-day Nisha, it was that she was probably straight. She needed to have a word with her runaway imagination.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” asked Nisha, her strong arm holding her pint to her lips as she finished speaking.
“I suppose not,” said Chrissie, holding her breath and wondering where the heck this was heading.
“What happened with your marriage?”
Chrissie let out the breath she’d been holding. “What happened?” she sighed. “I wrecked it.”