Page 2 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem
‘If I would mark them for you,’ I said. Why did I say that? My big mouth let me down again.
He chortled and clapped me on the shoulder. ‘I knew I could rely on you. I’ll put them in your cubbyhole. They’re due tomorrow. Thanks so much. I’ll pay you back, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Like never.
‘You’re so kind. Well, I’ll be seeing you.’ He sauntered off.
Kind. That’s how most people describe me. I’m altogether too helpful for my own good, even when I’m not tired. And two weeks after a major operation, I was exhausted. My eyes strained to stay open as if they were stitched together with catgut.
I trudged towards the staffroom. I needed a coffee. It might eliminate some of the lethargy hanging around after the hysterectomy. But even if it didn’t, a coffee would help with something.
I entered the staffroom and grimaced at the worn furniture and shadowy corners. Even the florescent tubes had given up on life. Rather than a place to rest and recharge, our teacher’s lounge had the appeal of a vat of lumpy porridge with décor to match.
The peace lily that I looked after stood out as the only beautiful thing in the room. Someone had kept it alive while I’d been away. Thank you, whoever you were.
The filter coffee machine was empty. I’d have to make an instant coffee. Why didn’t other people refill it? I always did when I found it empty.
My watch read eleven o’clock. How was the class going? They might be playing on their phones by now. But they had to take individual responsibility for that. I wasn’t going to sit their exams for them. I couldn’t be in thirty places at once, even if I wanted to do it—which I didn’t. If only they would try... they could do it. Oh well, they could have their fun today. Tomorrow, I’d get them back on track. Hopefully, by then I’d be more like my old self.
Eleven in the morning. Terry might have gotten out of bed. He would be in for a surprise when he sees I hadn’t prepared his lunch today. I ran out of time. The lazy sod could damn well make his own sandwich.
Chapter 2
I STRUGGLED OUT OF my 2012 Toyota with a pile of assignments tucked under one arm and my handbag hanging from my other shoulder. My abdomen twinged in pain at the effort.
It had been a typical winter’s day in Christchurch—chilly but sunny—and the sun lay low in the sky, a real pain when driving home, thanks to the glare off the windscreen. Not to mention the other drivers on the road. Christchurch had the worst drivers in New Zealand, and most of them seemed to be on my side of town.
A moment after I closed the front door, Terry called out, ‘You didn’t make me any lunch today.’
‘You could get it yourself, couldn’t you?’ He had had nothing to do ever since being made redundant from his middle management job at the airport.
‘Not like you can, love,’ he grumbled. ‘You know I’m too depressed after losing my job. So, what’s for dinner, then?’
‘Can’t you wait until I’ve had a rest? I’ve been working all day. And see these?’ I showed him the bunch of assignments under my arms. Several fell out onto the carpet. ‘I’ve got to mark these tonight, and they’re not even for my students.’ I slumped into an armchair. ‘I don’t have the energy to cook tonight, Terry. Can’t you do it for once?’
‘You know I’d only ruin it. Hey, why don’t you nip out and get us some fish ’n’ chips? That’ll save you some time. I would go, but I’m still in my PJs.’
