The Teacher's Secret (25 page)

She is unused to having time to spare. She is unused to being alone. In the afternoon, she hires some DVDs and in the evening she watches them. For dinner, she has a third of a bottle of wine and a packet of chocolate biscuits.

When, finally, she takes herself off to bed, she is scared she won't be able to sleep, that she will lie awake all night. But she does sleep and when she sleeps, she dreams.

In her dream, she is wandering; walking around a building she doesn't recognise. Emily is lying in her arms and Nina holds her, as closely as she can, her head resting in the crook of Nina's arm. Her daughter has been dead for some days, it seems, and for all these days, Nina has been carrying her. The building, she realises, is a hospital and Nina finds herself in a room with a bed and a couple of chairs. A woman is sitting in one of the chairs while Nina sits on the bed, still clasping Emily to her. The woman starts to ask questions of Nina: her name, her address, her religion, her education, her height, her weight.

Nina begins to answer the questions but soon stops. ‘This is all very well,' she tells the woman, ‘but tell me this: how can I leave her?'

The woman's answer is simple: Nina must completely immerse her daughter in water then go. So Nina does. She leaves Emily immersed in water. Some hours later, when she returns, she sees
to her great surprise that Emily is moving, as though waking. As she scoops her out of the water and holds her tight, she can see that her little girl is alive. And even though her joy is all-encompassing, somewhere in her head is a voice warning her that the water will have harmed her daughter and must have damaged her brain.

In the morning, she wakes to confusion and alarm, needing to speak to Emily, needing to check that all is well and she is safe. She calls Steve's mobile and waits anxiously for him to answer it. But the call rings out. She tries again, but there is still no answer. So she rings Colin.

‘Colin,' she says, trying to sound upbeat. ‘It's me, Nina.'

There is, she thinks, a hesitation before he answers her. ‘Hello, love,' he says.

Hearing his voice makes her want to cry. Her only comfort is knowing that Emily is with him.

‘Colin,' she says, ‘I—can I speak to Emily? I just wanted to say hello to Emily.' Her words are staccato and anxious.

A pause. ‘She's not here, love.'

‘What?' Panic shoots through her. There has been an accident, she thinks. There has been an accident and no one has told her. ‘Is she all right?'

This time the silence is longer. ‘She's fine, love. She's just with Steve.'

Confusion dampens her relief. ‘But aren't they with you?'

‘No, love,' Colin tells her gently. ‘They're not.'

She struggles to keep her voice strong. ‘Oh,' she says, ‘where are they then?' Forcing out the question makes her want to retch.

He doesn't answer.

‘Will they be back soon?' she asks.

‘I'm not sure, love,' he says quietly. ‘I'm really not sure.'

No more questions
, she tells herself,
no more
. But she can't stop herself. ‘Did they stay over at her place?'

He could feign ignorance. He could pretend not to know what she means. But she knows he won't.

‘I think so.'

‘Okay.' Her voice is a whisper.

‘I'm sorry, love,' he says. But that's not what she wants to hear. She doesn't want to hear that he is sorry. She just wants him to make things right again.

‘Do you know her? This woman, do you know her?'

Colin sighs. ‘Sweetie, I've known Sue Rankin since she was fifteen years old.'

That, in itself, feels like a betrayal.
Well, don't call me sweetie, then
, she wants to scream.
If you know her so well, don't call me sweetie.

And in that instant, she sees exactly how it will be. The family gatherings, the dinners, the get-togethers. They will all be the same, only Sue Rankin will be there instead of her. Sue Rankin will get out of the car with Steve, Sue Rankin will chat to Colin and there will be nothing awkward about it because, as it happens, he's known her since she was fifteen years old.

In the distance, Colin's voice is gentle, soothing, apologetic. But Nina listens to none of it. What's the point? Because now it is clear to her. He comes with Steve. That is the truth of it. He is Steve's father: he comes with Steve, and he goes with Steve. Whatever the situation, whatever the circumstances, he belongs with Steve.

But she'd thought he was hers, too.

Only when the call is over does Nina think about what he has told her. That her little girl has been there, overnight, and that she, her mother, has discovered this only by accident.

How could he? How could he take her there? How could he do that? The more she dwells on it, the more infuriated she becomes.

She rings Colin again. ‘I need her number,' she says. ‘If Emily is there with her, I need the phone number.'

There's a pause, and she hears him draw a breath. ‘I might have a number here somewhere, love,' he says to her, ‘but you're going to have to give me a minute.'

She hasn't got the patience to wait even a second. She listens as he puts the receiver down—she knows the house so well she can practically see him doing it, laying it face down on the kitchen bench while he rifles through the address book. There is a crackle as he picks up the phone again.

‘Love, I've got a number here. I can give you that, if you like.'

If you like—
she takes exception to that. This isn't something she wants, this isn't something she would
like
; as a mother, this is something she
needs
. She has no choice. Doesn't he understand that?

‘Thanks, Colin,' she says quietly. ‘That'd be good.'

She writes the number down on a scrap of paper, then as soon as she's hung up she transfers it into her mobile phone. And because she can't bear to write any part of that woman's name, she writes only her initials: SR.

Now she needs to ring her. Now she needs to ring her to find out what the hell she's doing with a man who is not her husband and a child who is not her daughter. Her heart pounds as she waits for the call to connect, for the number to start ringing.

But it doesn't start ringing.

It's been switched off.

She's turned the bloody phone off, that's what she's done.

Nina has never been an impulsive person and yet, minutes later,
she finds herself driving to a house she may not be able to find again. She knows the suburb, but the street name eludes her. She considers asking Colin for it, but how would she explain herself? Instead she tries to think back, tries to search her mind for it; for the address Sue Rankin had given to her. Drunk as she'd been, she'd at least managed that much.

An L. The street name starts with an L, Nina decides. And the more she considers it, the more certain she becomes of it. So she stops the car and, opening up to the index of the street directory, runs a finger down all the streets beginning with the letter L. It must act as a trigger because suddenly the street name spills out of her. It doesn't start with L after all. It starts with V. Sue Rankin lives in Valley Street.

When she gets to the street, she drives slowly, looking for a house that is familiar. As it happens, it's not difficult to find. In the whole street, there is only one red-brick house with a painted porch. In the daylight, it is a plain house; a drab house in need of work.

Once she has parked, she stays in the car, waiting to see what she will do next. She surprises herself by getting out of the car and walking up to the house.

As she approaches the porch, that night returns to her, crystal clear in its focus. She recalls a sensor light, and when she looks for it, there it is. There, too, are the filmy curtains pulled across the floor-length window beside the door. And there, right there, is the doorbell. And there, too, in her mind is Sue Rankin—unsteady beside her, leaning on her as she fumbles for her keys, her breath sharp with alcohol, her hair too dark for such a pale, pinched face.

Her anger, freshly fuelled now, outstrips any last hesitation as Nina lifts up her hand to press the doorbell once and again and again and again.

The urgency of the ringing brings the sound of hurried footsteps and suddenly, there she is: her husband's mistress, in a purple sloppy joe and a pair of pyjama pants. Without make-up, her face is lined and her skin is aged. At another time, this might give Nina some comfort. Today, it just enrages her further.

At first, Sue Rankin looks blank. Then something clicks and her face changes. Her eyes retreat and her lips part a fraction. ‘Nina,' she says.

‘Is my daughter here?' Her voice, cold and clipped, makes the woman flinch. Nina is happy to see this. ‘Well, is she?'

The woman nods.

‘And is my husband here, too?'

She doesn't answer.

Nina hears her voice rise. ‘What do you think you're doing? What the hell do you think you're doing in this awful house with my husband and my daughter?' A pause, then, but not for long. Not long enough to wait for an answer. ‘Do you know what you are, Sue Rankin? Do you know what you are? You're despicable, that's what you are.'

The woman says nothing. She could slam the door closed but she doesn't. She simply takes a step back and turns her head away from Nina.

A voice comes from inside. ‘Suzi, what's happening?'

Suzi.
Suzi Q. Again the party returns to her. Is that when he started calling her Suzi? On that night, and on all the other nights she'd known nothing about? Is that how the name stuck? Or did it go back further than that? Has she been his Suzi Q since she was fifteen years old? Is that how long it's been?

He is beside her, then—beside Suzi—and they are at the door together, standing so close they might be arm in arm.

‘What's going on, Nina?' he asks her.

His question infuriates her. ‘You're asking me what's going on? You're asking me? How about I ask you what's going on? How about I ask you what you're doing standing there with your slut beside you? How about I ask you what the hell you're doing here with this bitch?' These are words she never uses, words she didn't know she had in her. ‘Well?' she screams, and only as the tears slip into her mouth does she realise she is crying. ‘Answer me!'

It is then she notices that the curtains have parted and that someone is watching them. It is Paige, standing in the gap, her eyes wide, her mouth trembling.

Somehow, she finds herself back in her car and somehow, she manages to get herself back home.

Once inside, she calls Marina to tell her what she has done: that she has behaved like a madwoman in front of her student; that she has called her mother a bitch, and worse; that she doesn't know how she'll be able to face the girl that week, and what she'll say to explain it. Apart from the truth: that her mother has destroyed Nina's marriage and for that Nina hates her.

Marina is silent.

‘What do I do?' Nina demands. ‘Tell me: what should I do?'

‘You shouldn't be teaching Paige,' Marina says finally. ‘It's too much for you and it's not fair on her, not now. You know that, don't you?'

She doesn't know that. It's the first time she's even thought about it.

‘And, Nina,' Marina continues gently, ‘you know the best thing you could do?'

She doesn't know that, either.

‘The best thing you could do is to get out of Stenton—get a transfer to somewhere that's well away. In your place, Nina, that's what I'd be doing: I'd be getting right out.'

Rebecca

It would be untrue to say that, over the last months, the time has flown. That is not how it has been. It would be more truthful to say that the time has not been dragging the way it did in the early weeks of Emmanuel's absence. She is unsure why. Perhaps it is simply a matter of acclimatisation: he is there and she is here and she has accepted that this is how it is. For even though their reunion is approaching, still it is not so close that she has begun to count down the days—although she has begun to think of it in weeks, now, instead of months. Today, it is 25 June, the school term will end on 6 August, and three days later, she and Sebastian will fly out. In just over six weeks, then, they will all be by the sea, in Brindle. But only for a couple of days; after that they will venture further afield: up and down the coast, and then inland, too. A grand adventure, this is how he has described it to her, and she likes the thought of that: of a grand adventure before the return home. She and Sebastian already they have their tickets, and their entry visas, too, which, to her surprise, had been no easy thing. Even for a stay as short as
theirs, there had been forms and additional forms, followed by a queue at the consulate so long she'd felt like screaming by the time she made it to the front. The whole business of it irked her: why make it so difficult?