I shake my head. “I ran out of his flat and we haven’t spoken since.” I blush at the memory, burying my face in my hands. “What am I going to do?”
She peels my fingers away until I’m looking at her. I don’t point out that she’s moved from behind her desk, and there are now no barriers between us. It isn’t the time. “How do you feel about him?”
“Which him?”
“Niall. The last thing I heard he was just an annoying relic of your past. Somebody you’d rather forget. How did that all change?”
“We’ve become friends,” I whisper. “He waited outside the police station for me after Cameron’s arrest and took me for a drink. And then he invited me for dinner with him and his mum—”
“His mum?” she splutters. “You had dinner with his mum? Christ, this is serious.”
“Shut up! We were only friends then. We are still, I think, though I haven’t seen him since Saturday night.” I frown. “Maybe we aren’t even friends anymore.”
“So how did you go from having dinner with his mum to a tongue sandwich? You didn’t do it in front of her, did you? Because that would be all kinds of weird.”
“No. He invited me over on Saturday night.”
“Two nights in a row,” she interrupts.
“And?”
“I’m just saying. He invites you to meet his mum one night. The next he invites you over for a snog. Didn’t you think it was all a bit... much?”
“No,” I wail. “I didn’t think anything. That’s the problem. I should have thought, then maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Sweets, it doesn’t have to be a mess, not unless you let it. You just need to decide what it is you want to do. Whether it’s Simon you want, or Niall.”
She makes it sound so easy. But the things that look simplest on the surface end up being the most complicated underneath. At the end of the day I don’t know what the hell it is I do want. The lack of certainty’s making me feel sick.
* * *
On Thursday afternoon I’m fluttering around the classroom like a demented butterfly, picking things up, putting them in the wrong place and generally freaking out. A glance at the clock tells me it’s just gone two. Only half an hour until I see Niall again. For the first time since Saturday. I’m not ready for it. No solutions have been forthcoming, no decisions have suddenly been made. How can they when I don’t even understand what I’m deciding on?
I’m staring blankly into the supply cupboard when I hear the door to the classroom open. The drawn-out creak causes me to turn my head with nervous anticipation, but the person standing in the doorway
isn’t Niall. Instead, Lara walks in, her mobile clutched in her hand. She stares at the screen for a moment before she looks up at me. ”Um, I’ve just had a text from Niall. He isn’t coming today.”
“What?” Suddenly, I’m desperate to see him.
“According to him, he’s had an emergency.” She widens her eyes at the last word. “Apparently he sends his apologies.”
Apparently. What on earth does that mean? I shrug, trying to ignore the crushing sensation in my chest that feels way too similar to disappointment. “Nice of him to give me some notice,” I grumble. I’ve got about an hour to think of some way to entertain a group of rowdy kids. I don’t like the odds.
“Maybe he’s sick,” Lara says. “Perhaps a sudden wave of nausea has just engulfed him, chaining him to a porcelain prison.”
“He’s probably sick of me, I’ll give you that.”
“It could all just be a coincidence.” She doesn’t look convinced. “It doesn’t mean he’s avoiding you.”
“If he isn’t avoiding me, why did he text you? He has my number, he could have used it.”
I should be relieved. The moment I’ve been dreading all week has suddenly been postponed. It’s like turning up to an important test and finding out the teacher is off sick, and there are no question papers to be found.
But I’m not. It seems ironic that Simon has suddenly started talking to me at the same time as Niall has decided to ignore me. And wrong that I’m desperate for it to be the other way around. What does that say about my marriage? When I’d rather be talking to the man from my past than my husband?
I’m still stewing over it all when the children arrive. Allegra is first—bright eyed and red cheeked with excitement, because she’s being allowed a Saturday visit with her mum. The others follow close behind, with Cameron Gibbs the last to trail in. He pulls his Snapback up and gives me a nod. “All riiiight?”
“Nice to see you, Cameron.” I try to keep my voice even, stripping it of anything he could misconstrue. I count my efforts as successful when he just shrugs and walks to the back of the room. One of the few wise things my dad taught me, back when I was young enough for him to take an interest, was to celebrate the small victories. So inside I give a little jig.