A Dozen Second Chances. Field Kate

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СКАЧАТЬ it plain enough when he left that he wasn’t interested; that she was my niece, my problem. ‘She’s not with me.’

      ‘Eve …’

      His hand landed on my arm and for a moment I was too stunned to shake it off.

      ‘Hello! Sorry to be so long.’ Tina returned at last, no sign of water, but a glass of wine in her hand. ‘But I see you’ve managed perfectly well without me …’

      ‘And I see you’ve managed to turn water into wine,’ I said, jerking my arm away from Paddy’s hand.

      ‘Sorry! I was looking for a water fountain, but then I ran into the teacher from my Facebook group and she dragged me away for something better.’ She smiled and stepped around me, her eye on more interesting company. ‘Hello. Pleased to meet you. What a fascinating talk! I could have listened for hours.’

      ‘You should have been on the front row. I might have gone on longer if I hadn’t faced a bored kid who seemed more interested in what he could excavate from his nose …’

      The sound of Paddy’s laugh grated on my nerves. I didn’t look, didn’t want to see how that cleft in his chin deepened when he laughed, see how many more laughter lines he had earned around his eyes during our time apart. I studied a black and white school photograph that was hung on the wall, rows of young faces, of students who would probably now be grandparents; the prime of life behind them, whereas mine sometimes felt as if it had never started. Unlike the man I could sense was watching me. What a lot of living he had squeezed into the last seventeen years.

      ‘Are you ready to go?’ I asked Tina.

      ‘There’s no hurry …’ She crumbled under the look I sent her and swiftly downed her wine. ‘Of course, I can’t miss my taxi.’ She turned to Paddy. ‘Do you do many school talks? I’d love it if you could come to ours.’

      ‘There’s no money in the budget for that,’ I said. What on earth was Tina thinking?

      ‘I don’t charge for school talks. I’d be happy to come. Where is it?’

      Before I could instruct Tina not to tell him – although I hadn’t worked out how I could do that – she gave him what he wanted.

      ‘Inglebridge High in north Lancashire. Would you travel so far?’

      ‘Sure. I’d be happy to.’ Paddy pulled out his wallet and took out a business card. ‘Here. Get in touch when you’ve worked out some dates.’ He held out another card to me. ‘What do you teach?’

      ‘I don’t.’

      The card dangled between us. I put my hands in my pockets, indicating as clearly as I could that I had no intention of taking it.

      ‘Eve, can’t we catch up sometime? There are things …’

      ‘No.’ I cut him off. ‘I have nothing to say, and there’s nothing I want to hear. Not every bit of the past deserves raking up, does it? You should know that better than most.’

      *

      Tina was unusually quiet as we returned to the car and set off home, and I was too busy concentrating on negotiating the country roads in the dark to break the silence. I was glad to have something to focus on other than the past few hours. The sight of Paddy had knocked me more than I had anticipated, stirring up all the old feelings for him. Feelings of hate, not love – that had died long ago.

      ‘Pull over here,’ Tina called, banging on the dashboard like an overenthusiastic driving instructor. ‘This pub’s nice. A bit gastropub with the menu, but fine for a couple of drinks.’

      I turned into the car park obediently, and we wandered into the pub. It was an attractive place, tastefully decorated with a wooden floor, expensive wallpaper and cosy fabrics. A roaring fire and an abundance of lamps gave the place a romantic feeling – the sort of place where lovers might curl up in a corner, oblivious to the rest of the world. Or so I imagined. Romance played no part in my life. But that’s what I’d chosen, so how could I complain?

      I found a table within range of the fire, and Tina brought over a glass of wine, and a cranberry and lemonade for me. For the first time in many years I longed for a shot of alcohol to numb my feelings.

      ‘I’m only having the one,’ Tina said, conveniently forgetting the one she had already had at the school. ‘I have 8B first period tomorrow. I need my wits about me. If I have to teach them in Year 9, I may stage a one-woman revolt. Hannah White never stops rubbing it in about how brilliant 8A are. Apparently, some of them can even spell medieval …’

      I laughed and began to relax, glad that we didn’t appear to be heading towards a post-mortem of the earlier part of the evening. Although I wouldn’t be sorry to hear of Paddy Friel laid out on the mortuary slab … I sipped my drink, batting away the unworthy thought. I’d suffered too much loss to know that death wasn’t something to be flippant about.

      ‘Talking of Year 9,’ I began, remembering a piece of school gossip I had overheard today. ‘Did you know that the Biology lab …’

      Tina put down her glass with a decisive bang.

      ‘Stop changing the subject,’ she said. I had thought I was continuing the subject, but she gave me no time to protest. ‘You and Paddy Friel. Come on, spill the beans. I’ve never met anyone who’s dated a celebrity.’

      ‘He’s not a celebrity.’

      ‘He’s been on the telly.’

      ‘So have thousands of other people. That means nothing, nowadays. You can’t be impressed by him. His only talent is putting on an Irish accent and waving his hair around.’

      ‘You mean he’s not really Irish?’

      ‘His name is Nigel, and he was born and bred in London.’

      Tina looked crushed and I felt a fleeting twitch of guilt, but not enough to stop me continuing. ‘It’s an image he cultivated – calling himself Paddy, drinking Guinness, laying on the thick accent – all he needs now is to start talking about leprechauns. I bet he hasn’t set foot in Ireland for years. The whole thing is a sham, to make him more popular and presumably richer. Cut open Paddy and you’ll still find a weak and cowardly Nigel inside.’

      ‘Don’t hold back! Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you. You really don’t like him, do you?’

      ‘I hate him.’

      When Tina flinched at the word, I sat back against the cushioned chair, swirling my cranberry juice. I had given the instinctive answer, but was it true? I had loved him once, but I didn’t now. I had hated him once, but that had been seventeen years ago. I hadn’t spent the intervening years sticking pins in a voodoo Paddy doll and cursing his name. There’d been no time for that, even if I’d felt inclined; I’d had Caitlyn to look after. My life had carried on, a satisfying one in many ways, especially where Caitlyn was concerned. Paddy Friel had rarely entered my thoughts, except when I’d been unfortunate and switched on the television at the wrong moment.

      So no, perhaps I didn’t hate him now. But if I was being forced to examine my feelings, I’d never managed to reach indifference either. As for forgiveness … there weren’t enough years СКАЧАТЬ