12
The following week I have my first formal observation with Alex followed by a customary weekly meeting. As usual, he highlights all the areas I need to work on and then smoothly moves on to praise my behaviour management and curriculum knowledge. He says all this in such a monotone I miss the fact he’s giving me a compliment until it’s well and truly over.
Then, he coolly informs me that I’ll be planning a school trip. He gives me a sheet with details of potential places and a stack of forms to fill. A trip proposition with a budgeting section, a draft letter to parents and carers and a permission slip. It’s all Greek to me, and I’m frazzled by the foreign paperwork and the weight of responsibility that settles on my shoulders straight away. He finishes by saying the trip needs to take place at the end of October, which is over a month away. When he leaves, my mind is playing a game of Tetris, attempting to slot all the new pieces of information into an orderly pile but failing. Thanks for the heads-up.
Over the next few weeks, I get to the manic state of working before work, working through my lunches and working past sundown. Not only am I planning and marking books well into late evenings, but at the weekends, I also do my ECT coursework while trying to organise this blasted trip.
As the autumnal chill starts creeping into the classrooms, a few changes happen around the school. A week after my altercation with Alex in the toilet, school lunch leftovers began appearing in the staffroom. The selection usually includes a tray of stale flapjacks, a bowl of dried chips or rubbery macaroni cheese, but I always happily tuck in. When I question the sudden influx of canteen food in the staffroom, Becky informs me that Jane said it was a waste to be chucking leftovers away. I can’t complain about this, but not all changes are for the better.
Noticeably, a few members of staff start avoiding my eyes, and a few even give me a direct cut. For a few days, I puzzle over this occurrence until I walk past Dan and Samantha, key stage one teaching assistants, chatting by the staff toilets and overhear Samantha telling Dan how Danielle told her that I got my job because I was sleeping with Alex at the time. The speculations evolve further over the next day, and it reaches my ears that apparently after I got my job, I refused to continue sleeping with Alex and that’s why he’s been so hostile to me.
The gossip makes me so livid I spend my lunch in the disabled toilet on the phone with Lydia who is ready to gut them all with the teaspoon she’s currently scooping out her low-fat yogurt with. I prevent her from storming into our school and committing multiple homicides. We dissect the topic thoroughly over Indian-Nepalese food at Lydia’s the next day. Catherine, always the voice of reason, eventually manages to dissuade Lydia from pursuing her violent urges.
On the other hand, Becky and I have become friends of sorts. She’s still on the shy side and can be very quiet at times, but she’s always nice and never imposes on me. She checks on me during some lunches, and I sometimes buy her coffee from the local Costa in exchange. We often get into small talk about cats, food or The 1975, a band we both like. Everything about our camaraderie is uncomplicated and comforting.
Despite all the gossip harrying my person, Becky openly condemns it, which is a fresh breath of air compared to the covert Cruella de Ville vibes from Danielle who always beams my way whenever we’re in the same room. John doesn’t help the situation by openly flirting with me whenever Alex is around. I’ve long had the feeling he’s got a hidden agenda of pissing Alex off.
My bank account balance dips dangerously to two-digit numbers mid-month thanks to too many friendship-building coffees, so I once again text Aaron about not receiving his repayment plan, but infuriatingly he stays AWOL.
A few weeks later, the trip day arrives, and I find myself trapped in an odd feeling of déjà vu. The coach is cramped with twenty-eight ten and eleven-year-olds and six members of staff plus the coach driver. I’m sitting in the front because I still haven’t gotten over my travel sickness. The subtle smell of budding teenagerhood, salt and vinegar Pringles and Danielle’s Carolina Herrera perfume is not helping with the queasiness.
The tension in the coach is denser than wading through Oobleck. There seems to be a below-average amount of blinking, and everybody is watching everybody like we’re playing Wink Murder and I didn’t get the memo. Becky’s attention keeps steering towards Alex who’s sitting in the middle of the coach next to John, and the two males keep throwing daggers at each other.
At the back of the coach, Danielle is seated next to Rob, the year three teacher roped into the trip despite his best efforts. When spying on Alex, she keeps yawning into her hand while Rob is talking one hundred miles per hour and scrolling down his phone. I bet he’s talking about his copywriter girlfriend. He’ll talk to anyone about her, whether they’re willing to listen or not. A vindictive part of me feels like gloating, but I’m a fully grown adult so I only gloat on the inside. Maybe the corner of my lip lifts a notch, but who cares?
A commotion in the middle of the coach makes my gaze fix on John who is manspreading and encroaching on Alex’s personal space. Alex looks like he’s ready to gut him. He tells John to move, but John frowns and says something that makes Alex’s eyebrows rise in a challenge. A moment later, John shifts his invading knee, and Alex goes back to gazing out of the window. When Becky catches me watching, she leans in.
‘Apparently, Alex had a stern conversation with John last week, and since then, they’ve been ready to challenge each other to a duel.’ Despite Becky’s over-dramatic words, I appreciate her forthcomingness.
‘What was it about?’ I lean closer. The school’s ways must have rubbed off on me because I can’t seem to stay away from any gossip that involves Alex. I feel deeply ashamed but not ashamed enough to stay silent.
‘Unprofessional behaviour on school premises and spreading slanders.’ She pushes her chestnut hair behind her ears with jittery hands. ‘I know John can sometimes be a bit cheeky .’ She pauses before she adds, ‘But I feel this is only going to fuel John and Danielle further.’
She gives me a meaningful look, not wanting to directly say that the gossip was about me, but I catch her drift. I can’t stop the sigh that escapes my lips. I feel so enraged at the unfairness of the whole situation. I’ve landed in the middle of something that has nothing to do with me.
As soon as my insides start gurgling halfway through the journey, I pop a mint leaf in my mouth and chew. Someone coughs somewhere behind me, and when I turn my head, I catch Alex looking at me strangely. I force myself to face the front again, but my cheeks are heating, a well of memories flooding my mind.
John and Rob swap seats, Rob ending up sitting next to Alex who is as antisocial as they come. When Rob tries to initiate a conversation, Alex freezes him mid-sentence. Rob hurriedly plucks out his phone and carries on scrolling. Lydia would have had a whale of a time on this coach. She’d probably ask for a bag of popcorn.
Finally, after an excruciating hour, we arrive at Newley Farm. All the children line up, eager to embark on their adventure, while I fight hard not to puke in the nearby bramble bushes, visualising taking in the fresh air, a wildflower meadow and butterflies, my pretend happy place.
After all the kids are counted, they’re led by Alex and Danielle, closely trailed by John, Rob and Becky towards a red-brick farmhouse surrounded by kitchen gardens on one side and a paddock and vast fields on the other. I hang back, pretending to be busy looking at an oak tree with a rope swing dangling lopsidedly in the chilly wind to my right while I’m trying to persuade my body not to vomit out my breakfast.
Life is good. The sun is shining, and I haven’t embarrassed myself and gotten the nickname Miss Pukey. That is until I realise they’d abandoned me with all the lunches and equipment. The coach driver gives me an impatient look, informing me while loudly chewing spearmint gum that he needed to be on his way about five minutes ago.
Dressed in my favourite ’90s green-and-grey lumberjack shirt tucked into high-waisted flared jeans decorated with embroidered flowers, I fear I’m overdressed for the task. I scan the muddy path decorated with four-by-four tread marks leading towards the house, trying to find an easy route that doesn’t exist. The brown cowboy boots that I bought on Vinted for twenty quid are already caked in the slimy greyish mud that surrounds the farmhouse. It can only get worse from this point. I sigh but heft the heavy bags, nevertheless. I can show Alex I can fix my problems and that I’m not a quitter. Also, I know that nobody will need the equipment until after lunch so nobody should notice me gone or witness my embarrassment.
Five minutes later, I’m lugging three massive bags filled with lunches, water and equipment towards the house. I’ve only made it halfway when my left arm starts going dead. There’s a fifty-fifty chance they’ll have to amputate it if I don’t do something about it right now, but I know that if I put the bags down, I won’t be able to pick them up again.
The nape of my neck starts sweating, and I make an exaggerated huff slash growl to defuse the tension in my body that I hope nobody will ever hear.
Just as I’m thinking I might have avoided anybody witnessing the lowest point of my career so far, a familiar person strides purposefully towards me with a frown. When he realises what I’m doing, he sort of freezes mid-step. It would have been almost comical if the person didn’t have a mop of ginger hair and the coldest green serial-killer eyes. Once Alex is back in motion, like Frankenstein’s monster reanimated, his frown deepens and the corners of his lips shape into an unpleasant upside-down ‘u’.
My body simply stops collaborating. My gaze snags on the shape of him and refuses to move away from his form. It’s the way he moves that sends my pulse off the charts and into outer space. His walk has always been predatory, like a panther. Both the forest green jumper and dark blue jeans he’s wearing mould around his athletic body perfectly, making my breath uneven. Despite his off-putting scowl, my heartbeat speeds up and it angers me to no end that my body still reacts this way to him. I’m sure that if I were a guy, I would have a massive boner right now.
‘Why are you carrying the bags on your own? Everyone’s waiting inside,’ Alex grumbles. My proverbial boner is gone. He huffs something under his breath that sounds a lot like John and arsehole , but I would not imagine in my wildest dreams this version of Alex would ever say anything this unprofessional.
I get all defensive, and the bags drop to the mud with a splat. A fine spray of mud covers his jeans from boot to knee. I don’t feel regret at the sight of what I’ve done. Instead, my achy arms cross and my chest puffs up like an over-inflated balloon ready to pop with the lightest of touches. I’ve had enough of being people’s pincushion. Just because I like to keep to myself doesn’t mean I will let people walk over me.
‘You can’t seriously be angry at me. I’m trying my best here, but it’s only me and a lot of bags that seem to be packed with sand and bricks just to spite me. Nobody prepared me or informed me I’d be a porter or that I would get involved in heavy labour because I would have worn my combat boots.’ I point to my ruined mud-dip-dyed jeans and add, ‘And overalls.’
I huff hair out of my face with irritation and push it back, hoping it stays there forever. When I push it back for the third time and it falls back, I’m ready to explode. What happens next makes me utterly still. Alex invades my space and pushes the stray hair behind my ear, skimming the shell of my ear with his fingertip for a moment. I’m so shocked I run out of steam, and words. Officially, my rant is over.
‘I’m not angry,’ he starts. My eyes narrow in disagreement. At seeing my reaction, he presses his lips together, making the rosy colour go deep pink. ‘…with you,’ he finishes. Suddenly, he seems oddly out of breath. Startled, I realise that he’s holding in his temper, and what shocks me more, I believe him.
I shift my weight from left to right because I didn’t expect him to say that. I’m suddenly reminded of his impatient flare-ups aimed at his mother, the world and general human stupidity. I’m starting to gather that maybe his detached air has been a mask all along because one moment he looks utterly beyond himself but the next, he seems composed. I guess he hasn’t changed that much after all.
He picks up all three bags off the ground, hefting two of them over his shoulder with ease, not caring that he’s smearing mud all over his jumper. We carry on walking towards the farmhouse in tense silence.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, he informs me, ‘John and Rob were supposed to help you with those. I specifically asked them to carry those bags so you could lead the trip. You deserve to reap the benefits after planning all of this.’
A surprised oh escapes my lips. I think that it’s sort of nice that somebody is vexed on my behalf, that is until he spoils it with, ‘You should have asked somebody to help when you realised you weren’t getting any.’ Either he’s really bad at this social communication thing called polite conversation or he’s trying really hard to piss me off again. I can’t quite decide. Either way, I’ve reverted to grrr mode.
‘I can fix my own problems. Thank you very much.’ I throw his previous words back at him. At my comment, his shoulders stiffen, his cheeks turning radioactive hot. I think he’s feeling embarrassed.
We’ve reached the door of the farmhouse when John’s cheerful voice announces from behind us, ‘I’ve got this.’ I grimace at his unhurried approach. He offers me a quick grin, not reading my rigidness. ‘Sorry, Holly. I promised to help and then I got stuck.’ His unhurried attempts to take the bags from Alex’s hands don’t give me apologetic vibes.
Alex’s frown becomes glacial as he moves out of John’s reach. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look. ‘Is that why Holly was hefting all this baggage on her own?’ He speaks to John in deadly slow words. ‘Because you got stuck?’ He says stuck like it’s a foul word. ‘Stuck doing what precisely?’
‘I told you I was fine,’ I say to Alex, not wanting to make a big deal of this, but he’s not listening. I can tell John is enjoying this a little too much.
‘What if she’d had an injury? The school would have been liable.’
My breath lodges in my lungs like a ball stuck in a blind turn in a ball-in-a-maze puzzle. Is that why he’s so angry?
At first, John only puts his hands up in defence. Then he does something that puts me positively in a fouler mood, if that’s even possible. He places both his palms on my shoulders. Alex looks like he’s going to breathe fire and incinerate him on the spot.
‘Holly, all good?’ John mumbles into my ear, digging his cold hands into my shoulders.
I shake him off, step out of both of their reaches and nod stiffly, wanting to be anywhere but here. From now on, I’m Switzerland.
‘See, Alex? No harm done. You need to loosen up a bit. Come on, Hols,’ John says jovially and takes my arm like I’m a Victorian lady in need of a chaperone. I only follow out of shock.
Once safely inside the house, I step out of his reach once more. I barely notice my boots leaving a muddy trail on the white tiles as I try to lose John, but he’s hard to get rid of, like a tick. He’s happily chatting about something like nothing has happened, but his words are going straight through me.
‘Stop this,’ I grind out and turn around, coming face to face with him.
In an instant, his easy demeanour vanishes, and his eyebrows rise in question.
I elaborate, ‘Stop using me to get a reaction out of Alex. Is this some sort of a twisted game of yours?’
‘That’s not…’ he starts but trails off as soon as he catches my expression. ‘OK. I’m sorry.’ His eyes lower in what looks like shame, or a very good attempt at appeasing me. ‘It’s not a game. I won’t lie, I get a kick out of needling him. For some reason, whenever you’re near, he’s easy to rile, but I really like you.’
I huff in disbelief.
‘Really.’ He moves closer to me, but I step back. He pauses, uncertain. ‘I just don’t like the way he talks to you, and I feel a bit protective of you. That’s why I keep winding him up. I know you don’t see me like that, but if you ever wanted to go out or something, let me know.’ He scratches his ear like he’s nervous. Before I have a chance to say anything, he leaves me behind, gawking in puzzlement.
When I finally join the rest of the adults, Alex has split people into two groups for the first two activities. I end up with Danielle while John ends up with Rob and Becky. Go figure.
The paddock smells distinctly of rotten chestnuts and pigs. The bucket in my hand is heavy, and whenever my arm wobbles, the apples bob from side to side. The strong smell of too-sweet apples reminds me of the homemade cider my nan used to make.
A hairy brown pig with a button-like nose approaches two girls from my group. Evie, the quiet girl from my class, and Amira, a much chattier girl with curly hair, snort with laughter as Rupert the pig makes some truly disturbing oinking noises after they shake their bucket and a few loose apples escape over the edge. I watch with amusement as another pig joins the feast, a truly feisty sow called Molly, who quickly polishes off all the leftover apples Rupert hasn’t had a chance to scoff. At finding out that Molly has eaten his breakfast, Rupert makes an angry burp-like sound that sends the girls into another fit of laughter. I can’t stop the grin spreading over my features because I’m happy for someone to finally draw a laugh out of Evie. I wonder whether Alex paired them together knowing they would hit it off.
Absentmindedly, I gaze at the adjacent paddock that houses guinea pigs and rabbits in wooden hutches. Not for the first time, I focus on a ginger head that’s shining in the sun as bright as a new copper coin. From this distance, I can see his hands are full of fluffy white bunnies. I start walking towards the fence to get a closer look, persuading myself that I need to check on Evie and Amira who have wandered off.
When I get close enough to distinguish the words between Alex and a blond-haired boy I have in my lower maths set, I hide from their sight behind an oak tree while pretending I’m collecting acorns for the pigs.
‘If you don’t want to hold the rabbit, that’s OK. I used to be scared of rabbits when I was your age. It was the big front teeth.’ Alex pushes his front teeth over his bottom lip, and the boy laughs. Alex’s voice is so soft my knees feel unsteady. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak like this before.
He carries on, ‘If you want, I’ll hold Eddie for you, and you can stroke him or just feed him. I’m told Eddie really likes dandelion leaves.’ The boy nods eagerly, and Alex smiles in encouragement. My insides semi-melt until I’m reminded that he was a right pain in the arse to me a mere hour ago.
Alex lifts his eyes as if he can read my thoughts, and his lips open slightly. At the fear of being discovered eavesdropping, I stumble back, but my arm snags on a low-hanging branch, and I lose my footing. The bucket in my hand topples and half of the apples spill to the ground with multiple thuds.
I refuse to see whether Alex has spotted me and start picking up the apples without delay, my cheeks reddening.
After picking up most of them, I straighten, but something nudges against my calf with such force I have to hold on to the fence to not topple over. Something wet and rough scrapes the leg of my jeans. In a panic, I spin to be confronted by Molly’s hairy, and a bit too eager for my taste, countenance. I peek down my leg and sigh. A long trail of drool decorates my ruined jeans. I put two and two together and just about push down the bile rising in my throat. Thankfully, I can’t spot Alex anywhere.
‘Oh my god, Holly, are you OK?’ Danielle’s affected voice comes from my right. I throw a few apples to my left just to divert Molly’s attention elsewhere, and she happily trots in the direction of the tossed crunchy treats. If only Danielle could be distracted that easily.
When I spin on my muddy heel, Danielle is hovering by the oak tree, judging my slimy, muddy jeans while pretending to be concerned. To my annoyance, her black hair is gleaming immaculately in the autumnal sun, and her cream mohair jumper and Hunter wellies only add to her posh country airs. Next to her, I look like I’ve waded through various bodily fluids. I get so angry at her pretending to be nice and at having the worst day ever while everyone is seemingly having a blast, I’m close to letting loose. If Danielle knew what was best for her, she would have left it there.
‘That was so awful,’ she coos, like I’m a baby that needs to be pacified, and her long gel nails clutch my shoulder. I try to wriggle out of her grip, but she’s a vulture gripping a carcass.
What is it with people and pigs today? Everyone seems to want to touch me or invade my personal space.
‘You were so distracted there. I thought the pig was going to pull you over.’ When she says the word distracted , her eyes land somewhere over my shoulder. Unable to stop myself, I follow their direction, searching for Alex who’s no longer there. It’s an automatic reaction, but I pay for it dearly when I turn back. Danielle looks victorious, her pouty pink lips split into a ghost of a grin.
Fake concern scrunches up the sides of her nose. ‘Do you need to sit down for a minute?’
What a two-faced bitch. I bet there’s a story brewing in her head already. She’s probably wondering how she can spin it to get the most reaction. Attacked by a semi-wild pig while staring longingly at her ex-lover.
‘Cut the crap, will you?’ I say without preamble, surprising even myself. Between her and John, I’ve had my fill of people trying to manipulate me. Everything in her expression changes with my words. At first, she looks shocked, her painted eyebrows almost disappearing in her black fringe, but when I don’t back down, her expression turns nasty.
‘You should be careful what you’re saying around the children, Holly.’ She scolds me like I’m one of her pupils. It vexes me to no end.
I instil zen into my voice. ‘And you should be careful what you spread around the school about me. I’ve had enough of your toxic gossip. If you have anything to say about me, you can say it to my face.’ Judging by her stunned expression, she didn’t expect me to be so direct, but I haven’t finished. ‘I don’t appreciate you talking about me behind my back, and I can’t imagine Alex does either. We’re both human beings and deserve more respect than that. Just because you work in a primary school doesn’t mean you should behave like a ten-year-old.’
At the mention of Alex, she perks up. I stop her there.
‘If I hear you spreading any more gossip, I will go directly to Jane and accuse you of defamation. I don’t think you would appreciate a warning on your record. Also, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling her how you fiddled with the maths mid-term test results spreadsheet so it looked like you got better data than you actually did.’ She blanches. She didn’t expect me to know, but I’m not stupid. Plus, I regularly rummage through her folders.
I put my hand up before she spouts any more venom.
‘Enough gossip about Alex. If you have any issues with him as your manager, fair enough. Go and speak to Jane or Alex himself. Those are the appropriate channels. If you have a problem with him on a personal level, I guess that’s your own issue, and as such, should stay where it belongs. One would think you’re obsessed with him.’
‘Don’t stick your big nose into other people’s business,’ she lashes out. I suppress an urge to touch my nose and check its size. Her voice dips low like my words have hurt her, and I see it then and there. I just about stop myself from flinching at the realisation. Something has happened between her and Alex and for a short moment, I squirm uneasily. Did they date? Or worse, did they have a fling? Various scenarios flash through my head until it starts spinning. I shake to clear it.
I feel like screaming, like I need to be anywhere but here, so I thrust my bucket forcefully into her hand. ‘I’ve had enough of swine for today. You can take over.’
When I spin on my heel, my eyes catch something coppery through the trees on the other side of the fence, but I walk away too fast to really focus on it.