Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
T he frost made Kings Heath Park look sparkly, with trees emerging glistening through the mist. Chrissie was in her favourite baggy yellow woolly hat and her pink wellies, and Nisha was wearing a purple beanie and her walking boots. Their gloved hands were clasped together as they strolled.
“Look,” said Chrissie, “the pond is iced over in places. The moorhens are walking along the surface.”
Nisha laughed. “They look so funny. I love that you notice things like that.”
“What can I say, I’m observant,” said Chrissie, squeezing Nisha’s hand. “I noticed you, after all.”
“I think you’ll find I’m hard to miss,” replied Nisha, the hot air emerging from her mouth as mist.
“You may be right,” said Chrissie, grinning. “Especially that day you were playing football over there in the pouring rain.”
“Ha, yes, that was a great day,” said Nisha, taking her hand out of Chrissie’s in order to put her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. “And not least because you kissed me.”
“Oh God, yes. I had a bit of a moment that day,” said Chrissie.
“Well, my love, I’m glad you did.”
“That’s a nice thing to say,” said Chrissie, feeling warm. “And talking of moments, I need to tell you that I’ve decided to apply for that teacher training place that Ernest’s been advertising.” She clenched her teeth, waiting for Nisha’s response. “I got all nervous the other day when I went to talk to her about it.”
“Well I hope you didn’t kiss her,” jested Nisha. “But seriously, that’s awesome. You will be an incredible teacher.”
“Do you really think so?” asked Chrissie.
“I do,” said Nisha. “I’ve learnt from you since we’ve been working together. And while I’d miss having you in my classroom next year, it would be amazing to see you teaching your own class.”
“Thank you!” exclaimed Chrissie, relieved to have the support of her girlfriend.
Nisha’s phone started to vibrate in her coat pocket. They were so close, Chrissie could feel it. Nisha took the phone out and looked at it, frowning. “I should take this,” she said. “Why don’t you order us teas in the café over there and I’ll join you in a sec.”
“Sure,” said Chrissie, wondering who was calling Nisha on a Saturday morning in December.
Chrissie sat at a formica-covered table with two steaming cups of tea. The windows of the café had begun to cloud, the heat of the people inside battling with the cold outside. She’d bought a couple of flapjacks too, to keep them going. It had been fifteen minutes, but she wasn’t concerned. Nisha had had a whole life before they’d reunited, and had many friends, and of course family.
Finally, Nisha came in. Chrissie couldn’t place the expression on her face. She looked like she was frowning, but in thought, perhaps, rather than unhappiness.
“You ok?” asked Chrissie.
“Yeah, sure, just a friend asking a favour,” said Nisha, sitting down. “Thanks for the tea. I needed it. I think I’ve lost the sensation in my toes.”
Chrissie gave Nisha an appraising look, but decided to leave it. It was Nisha’s stuff, not Chrissie’s.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I got us a sweet treat to help encourage the blood flow,” said Chrissie.
Nisha looked down at her phone without replying. She seemed to have forgotten their earlier conversation about teacher training.
“I was thinking we should do the Christmas market sometime this week,” said Chrissie, trying to bring Nisha out of her funk.
“Yeah, why not,” Nisha replied, looking up briefly, before poking her flapjack with her index finger.
“What’s up?” asked Chrissie, finally, not sure she could pretend any longer that Nisha’s demeanour hadn’t completely changed.
“Sorry,” said Nisha. “I just wasn’t expecting that call.”
“I can tell that,” said Chrissie, “but what was it? If it’s ok to ask, that is. I don’t want to pry, but you look a bit shell-shocked.”
“I guess I am.” Nisha took a sip of her tea. “It was Jake.”
Chrissie’s eyebrows almost leapt off her head. “Jake. Your ex?” Her mind was racing, not so much because he’d called, more because of Nisha’s complete change in mood.
“Yes,” Nisha replied.
“I didn’t think you were in touch with him,” said Chrissie.
“I wasn’t, you’re right. But recently, since you and me happened, I felt I owed him a bit of an apology. I ran out on him – as you know, a bit of a habit of mine,” said Nisha.
“You told him you were sorry you left him?” said Chrissie, feeling fingers of fear begin to creep into her brain.
“Sort of,” said Nisha. Then she looked up and saw Chrissie’s concerned face. “No,” she added, “not like that. Our split was a joint decision. I wasn’t apologising for that.”
“Ok, so tell me what’s happened now,” said Chrissie, trying to hang on to her breath, her balance, her centre.
“I emailed him a few weeks ago to say I was sorry I’d left London without sorting things out properly. That was wrong of me. The relationship was over, but I didn’t handle the difficult stuff well, and, as you know, I ran to Birmingham.” Nisha took a small bite of her flapjack, clearly still mulling something over.
“And he called you?” asked Chrissie, keen to understand what was happening here.
“Yes, he did. And given I was the one who’d emailed him, when I saw his name on the phone, I knew I had to answer. When I first left London, I ignored his calls, and eventually he just gave up calling,” said Nisha. “He was calling to say thanks for apologising.”
“Well, I guess that’s good,” said Chrissie, trying to be adult and reasonable and not dissolve into a pool of jealousy.
“Yes, I think so,” Nisha agreed. “But he also had something else to say. He was letting me know that the head teacher at the school I used to teach at with him has left unexpectedly, and they’re looking for someone to act as head for the next twelve months. Given the school is in a challenging area, with children with all sorts of complex needs, they want someone who’s already familiar with it. He’s deputy at the moment, and he’s been asked to approach me by the Chair of the Board of Governors, to see if I’d be willing to act as head teacher from January.”