Chapter 16 #2
We absolutely needed to talk. We needed to talk about important things. Which I told him. We need to talk! My desperation screaming at him on that screen.
I sent it before it hit me what I’d done. I was miles ahead of him, and he was not where I was and I was being incredibly stupid and irresponsible with not only my own feelings but.
My expectations were insane.
So I slammed the phone back on my bedside table and went back to work.
The day went on, and we finalised our revised classroom plan, laid out the accommodation charts and booked my evaluation chats with my teaching staff.
I once again ignored signing off on the tax return, and ended up sat at my desk staring at Bailey Butcher’s file.
I should have locked it away with our other student files, but the kid?
He reminded me of something I didn’t want to remember.
Something that was long gone and forgotten, most of the time.
And me? Being me? I took the file with me next door and made myself a cup of tea. I never did, but today? I needed one. A sloppy proper tea in a mug in my tiny kitchenette.
I didn’t have milk here because I was a lazy human and Cook always sent me hot coffee, like clockwork.
And now I was standing here with my pathetic tea bag, laughing at myself.
Still holding the file. I couldn’t even remember having bought the tea bags, but clearly I had.
Perhaps they had been here for years? No tea for me then.
And me? Being me? I substituted the hot, warm comfort drink for…the only alternative my brain could whip up. I went and grabbed my phone and dialled his number.
“Hey,” he said. Funny how his voice sent so many emotions through me. Warmth. Calm. Chest full of butterflies.
“Sorry, I just felt like talking to you. Went to make myself a cup of tea. I never do, but I remembered all the tea, and I fancied one. So now I am standing here holding a tea bag that is probably vintage by now, and I have no milk. I can’t remember the last time I used this kettle.”
“Idiot,” he said. It was silly how much I smiled.
“I know.”
“Well, I’m in Tesco. It’s dinnertime, and I can’t be bothered to go home and I have a late diabetic clinic, so I popped out for a sandwich.”
“Oh.” I had no words. All the words were fighting with my sensible side, wanting to get out when I knew I shouldn’t.
“If I was closer, I would have brought you some milk. I’d even have made you a cup of tea.”
“I don’t think you would have had the time because I think I would have jumped you the minute you walked through the door.”
How he laughed was truly the highlight of my day, despite me cringing in my fancy dress shoes.
“I wish I could see you. What’s up with that? Why don’t you use WhatsApp like normal people?”
“I’m low tech and old school,” I grumped, despite still smiling.
“We need to change that; you said you have fibre broadband? Use it! I want to be able to see you.”
“Well. You’ve got a plane ticket to Glasgow with your name on it?”
Now, I was crossing the line. Fox. Get a grip!
“Is that an invite?” he said slowly. Like he was carefully choosing his words.
“Maybe?” I admitted, wanting to put my head in the sink and attempt to drown myself. Not smart. Not clever. Far too soon. Ridiculous…on a grand scale.
“Fox.”
“Noah,” I responded. He sounded like he was telling me off. Well. I was the headteacher, and my voice was way sterner.
“Don’t… I…” Here it was. His stutter. The frustration was clear, even over the phone. Now he would hang up on me and run away. I could read him like a book. Maybe.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I reminded him. “Just…”
“I’m still here.”
“Good.”
“I need to pay for my stuff and get back to the clinic. Sorry.”
“Okay. Will you ring me later?”
“Yes. What made you want to have a cup of tea?”
What kind of question was that? Apparently one that made me sit down on my little sofa, with the teabag still in my hand, Bailey Butcher’s file on my lap and zero regard for his diabetic clinic.
Then, somehow, I told him the story of a kid who was dumped at boarding school because he was an annoyance and a burden and swore he would never ever do that to his own kids. Yet here I was.
And Noah? Noah listened in silence as I then paced the room and ranted and shouted and cried.
Because I was an idiot. And because this kid was called Bailey, and it had just cracked my chest right open again because fucking Thomas had hurt me and he’d fucked with someone else and this kid was pretty much me, minus social services, and I couldn’t deal.
Also, the kid was… And I hated it. I hated that there was nothing I could do, and I couldn’t save people and kids got dropped off at weird schools with nothing but a dirty tracksuit on their backs, and nobody had washed the kid’s hair in probably weeks and that goddamn woman? Just driving off?
“It’s okay, Fox. Get it all out.” That’s all he said, standing in some supermarket down south. And he took the time, and he listened. Because I simply couldn’t stop talking.
He probably had no idea how much that meant to me.