The Perfect Neighbours. Rachel Sargeant

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СКАЧАТЬ “I’m glad you came here tonight,” he said.

       I smiled and happily melted into my drink. He liked me, didn’t he? I asked him his name.

       He grinned. “You can call me Shep.” But then he leant over to Liz and asked her about her course.

       A bubble of disappointment rose and popped inside me but I made a show of flicking my hair behind my ear, telling myself there were plenty more postgraduates in the sea. He had to be a postgraduate; he was definitely older than us.

       When Liz told him we were on the same course, he turned to me. “Have you done a sandwich year in France yet?”

       I told him about Lyons, but it was like playing ping-pong. His attention moved back and forth between Liz and me. Then he looked at Cheryl, and she launched into a monologue about her set books. His eyes flicked to me. I waited. It was as if he had an invisible thread that could draw me wherever he wanted.

       My patience was rewarded. “Do you miss Lyons?” he asked. When had any boy asked Liz or Cheryl an intelligent question like that? Shep was treating me like a grown-up.

       I paused, deliberating on how to be intelligent back. “On the one hand, I miss the opportunity to speak French. But, on the other, it’s time to finish my degree and go out into the wider world,” I said, sounding like a GCSE essay.

       “You’re wise,” he said, nodding. “You’ve got your head screwed on.” He picked up his glass, and I admired his hands. He was the only drinker with well-manicured nails, and an ironed shirt. I asked him about his course.

       His expression grew serious. “I’m not a student.”

       Had I blown it? Miskeyed the conversation? What would a grown-up do now? “What’s your job?” I asked.

       “Civil servant.”

       What now? Could I ask what that meant?

       “My dad’s in the civil service,” Liz called down the table. “What branch are you?”

       “I’m a shepherd,” he said.

       Liz laughed and made a joke about his name. As we listened to her account of her dad’s admin job, Shep whispered to me: “I’ll explain what I do later.”

       I blushed; there was going to be a later.

       Two engineering students stopped at our table, and Liz and Cheryl went into all-out flirt mode. My eyes strayed to Shep. Every time one of the others spoke, he listened intently and nodded. He had the most beautiful eyes and he trained them on whoever was speaking. I sighed, feeling jealous, and tried to look away. But he caught me staring.

       Eventually the girls went to the bar with the engineers. It was just Shep and me at the table.

       “Was it hard to find a flat when you came back from France?” he asked.

       “I’m in a student hall,” I said and realized that made me sound like a baby who couldn’t live on her own. “But it’s Moser Hall. There are only third years on the first floor. And fourth years, like me.”

       “Let me get us another drink,” he said. He found his way through the crowd to his friendly barmaid. Liz, Cheryl, and the boys were still queuing and looked peeved at his success. I gave them a thumbs up and we all laughed.

       “Did you miss home when you were in Lyons?” he said when he returned with my wine.

       “My father was ill. It was hard not being there.”

       His face was full of concern. “But things are fine now?”

       I shrugged, blinking back tears. “I think so but you know how it is with cancer.”

       “You’re a caring woman, Fiona.” He rested his hand on mine.

       I think I smiled. I meant to, but how was I supposed to function after he did that? Although a million watts of power surged through me, I didn’t move my hand away. My blood thundered round my body, but I managed to sit still. Two grown-ups together in companionable silence. A couple.

       He fetched out his phone. “I’ve got to read this.”

       I watched his face as he looked at the text. When his expression didn’t change, it gave me hope that it wasn’t important. But he put the phone away and said he’d been called into work. He gave a tight smile that showed how annoyed he was. “Will you be here next Friday?”

       “I might be,” I said. Grown-ups played it cool.

       13

      Wednesday, 5 May

      Helen expected to have trouble getting into the school campus out of hours, but Klaus, the security guard, opened the gate and waved her through from his sentry box. He must have recognized Gary’s car. He didn’t look surprised to see a woman driving it. Did he know Gary’s wife was living here now? Probably. She stiffened and pressed the accelerator; the entire school knew her business.

      She parked in the main car park and took the path round the science block. She knew where the pool was as she’d found it when she was looking for the library. But she would have located it anyway; the chlorine smell was a guiding beacon. It was a favourite smell. Home. She smiled and broke into a jog.

      The door into the pool foyer was open. She stepped in and embraced the heat. There was no one about but she followed voices to a group changing room and went in.

      “Come and sit anywhere, Helen. We’re casual here,” Louisa said, bestowing her with a smile that lengthened on the word “casual”.

      Helen waited for two young men to move along the bench to make room for her. In pressed polo shirts and shorts, they resembled army physical training instructors, all cropped hair and muscles. The seat was lower than she judged so she made a crash landing and her handbag slammed into her hip. No one noticed because they were looking at Louisa.

      “I’m sure you know everyone,” Louisa said to her.

      The only familiar face was Mel Mowar’s. Mel a swimming teacher? She didn’t see that one coming, but it fitted Mel’s default position at Louisa’s right-hand side.

      Helen scanned the other faces, looking for identifying marks, a habit she picked up as a school teacher. To avoid the embarrassment of not recognizing a pupil or a parent in the street, she made sure their features were imprinted on her memory. It was going to be much harder to memorize this lot with no distinctive clothing style to go on. Louisa was the only one not in a white polo shirt. Hers was coral pink and it enhanced her skin tone.

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