Patrick ordered us two teas and sat me down at a Formica table. I picked up a tomato-shaped ketchup dispenser and began picking at the green plastic frill around the stalk mouth.
When the tea arrived, steaming and more welcome than any other cup of tea in the history of history, Patrick leant down low and said, ‘Now, what’s this nonsense?’
I wanted to cry. He sounded so – oh, so everything I’d ever wanted. But then I shifted on my chair, feeling a residual burn that reminded me of all the sex I’d had with Damian over the past 24 hours. I wasn’t worthy, and I was never going to be.
‘I have an unconventional sex life.’
He blinked, shook his head again, but quicker this time.
‘What’s that got to do with leaving teaching?’
‘Oh, don’t be naïve.’
‘Are you telling me you’re a paedophile? A necrophiliac? Anything else illegal?’
‘God, no, of course not. Jesus, Patrick.’
‘Well, then, if it’s no business of the law, it’s no business of anyo
ne else’s. Is it? Or am I missing something?’
‘I joined this sex cult. Well, no, that’s not how it was at all. Sorry, that sounds really lurid. What I did was … I surfed the net for people who shared my interests. Then I met up with a few. We did stuff. But it all got a bit elaborate and there was emotional fall-out and people got hurt, so … I feel awful and shit and like the worst human being ever.’
Tears were coming. I derailed them with a big gulp of tea.
‘Oh, Cherry.’ Patrick didn’t sound shocked. He didn’t even sound disappointed, or not much. ‘Listen, I …’ He looked around the room, as if the peeling paint might give him a clue what to say next.
‘I might understand a bit more than you expect,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t know what you’ve done, whether it’s swinging or dogging or whatever, but as long as you can keep it out of school, I really don’t give a toss. Well, I do give a toss, obviously, because I did have a few hopes, but don’t mind me. Don’t mind me.’
‘I do mind you.’ This was worse than shock and horror. He was writing me off, setting me free. I didn’t want that.
‘Thanks. Thanks for minding me, but please don’t give up teaching. Though if you want to leave I’ll understand … I’ll give you a glowing reference. But, on the other hand, please don’t go. Look.’ He drew himself up, visibly manning up after this rather shambolic speech. ‘OK. Tell me. Tell me the worst. What was this bizarre sex thing you were into?’
‘If I tell you I’ll have to find a new job. I won’t be able to face you every day knowing that you know.’
‘I’ll take the risk. I’m just wondering …’ He seemed about to make a grand confession, but he pursed his lips instead.
‘It was SM,’ I said, as casually as I could. ‘You know. Whips and rubber and that. Just always been a bit drawn to it and thought it would be fun to experiment. Experiment got out of hand.’
Patrick swallowed. He put a hand through his hair, disarranging the perfection of it.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Right. I see. And you, er, did the whipping, or …?’
‘No, the other way round.’
‘And you met people over the internet?’
‘Yes.’
He sat back and stared up at a cobweb on the light fitting for ages.
‘I want to tell you something, Cherry.’
‘Oh?’
‘After I applied for divorce, I registered with a website. I’d always wanted to explore this certain side of myself, but Lynn wasn’t interested and I certainly wasn’t going to force the issue.’
I put down my tea and let my eyes pop.