Faye listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen.What now?she thought. Should she return to work alone, and make some excuse for Jake? He shouldn’t really teach so soon after an accident. He needed to rest. And if the head saw him, she’d have to come up with some explanation.
She heard the kettle boil again, and this time the unmistakable sound of Jake stirring a teaspoon in a mug. He must have successfully got a mug out of the cupboard without dropping it this time. She imagined that he was now sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. How did she know this with certainty?
She thought back to their first day together – another student teacher to take through their paces. They always had that same bewildered expression on their faces during their first day in the real world of teaching. The noisy corridors, playgrounds and classrooms. The endless paperwork and demands on their time. She could see the reality of their new jobs hitting them like a brick. At least Jake was more mature than the fresh-faced university graduates who were completing their postgraduate training on the job. Although he had been thrust straight in the deep end on Initial Teacher Training, rather than spending threeyears at university getting a degree, at least training primarily on the job meant he’d be under no illusions about what he was getting himself into when he qualified.
Jake might not have been so fresh-faced, but she had treated him just the same as the others. The day always started with a hot drink and a chance to sit and acclimatise in the staff room before facing the reality of the classroom. Jake always chose a cup of coffee.
‘I only had a tenner and some loose change in my pocket,’ said Marcus. ‘It was just enough to get a cab here last night. Jesus, what was I thinking?’ He stared up at the ceiling.
Faye looked at Marcus. ‘So you smashed the pane to try and get inside his house?’ Faye promptly switching back to the topic in hand, which was Jake’s broken back door.
‘Can the police arrest someone for breaking, not entering?’
Yes, it’s called criminal damage. She didn’t think it was a joking matter.
‘Ignore me. That was a stupid question. I don’t remember what I did, to be honest. It’s a blank. I must have attempted to get in.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘I’m surprised that I didn’t cut myself trying. Mind you, I’m sure some people would have been quite happy to see me bleed to death on their back doorstep.’ Marcus’s gaze settled on the kitchen door.
Faye ignored the strange comment. ‘You slept on his doorstep?’ Faye didn’t know why she was acting so surprised. It was obvious that was what he’d done.
‘Didn’t have much choice, did I? He didn’t come home at all last night.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I thought he was with a woman. God knows, he hasn’t been getting any—’ Marcus halted. ‘Sorry. I have a tendency to run off at the mouth.’
Faye knew Jake wasn’t in a relationship, but it sounded as though he’d had some dates since he lost his wife. Faye only knew this because she’d overheard him a couple of times whenhe’d answered his mobile, confirming restaurant reservations for two.
Marcus continued, ‘The next thing I know, I’m woken up by the back door suddenly opening, and then a mad woman running towards me, waving a garden fork at me. Just your typical Monday morning.’ Marcus grinned at Faye. ‘Do you accept my apology?’
‘Is that what you’ve been doing – apologising? I don’t think I heard one.’
‘Touché!’ exclaimed Marcus obviously enjoying the banter.
Touché?Faye looked at him, bemused. Did people really still use that word? She imagined they did in the sort of circles that Marcus moved in – his wealthy friends and family. Her thoughts deviated to Jake, alone in the kitchen. ‘You know what? I don’t think it’smeyou should be apologising to.’
‘No way!’ Marcus stood up. He eyed her warily.
‘Maybe if you talked to him …’ Faye gestured to the kitchen, her voice sounding reasonable.
Marcus returned to his seat. ‘Talking about it is no good, Faye; it won’t change things.’
She wanted to ask,change what?But it was none of her business. Instead she said, ‘It might.’
‘You have no idea what I’m talking about – do you?’
Faye shook her head. Whatever was going on between them, Marcus was probably pleased to hear that Jake hadn’t spoken about it.
Marcus asked, ‘So, if you don’t talk about your personal lives, what do you talk about all day?’
Faye shook her head at that question. Marcus made it sound as though they spent all day in the staffroom drinking coffee. In reality, they had little time for idle chit-chat about their personal lives in between team meetings, classroom teaching and preparation and planning of lessons – not to mention all thepaperwork. What little down time they did have was often spent talking about Natty, a subject they were both interested in and comfortable with.
‘I have a daughter.’
‘I know. Natasha, isn’t it?’
Faye was surprised. ‘How did you …?’
‘Jake of course. He talks about her. You know when he was with Eleanor, he wanted kids.’ He paused. ‘You did know he was married – to my sister?’
‘Yes.’
Marcus studied her. ‘He doesn’t talk to you, does he?’
