‘The way I see it you only have a couple of options,’ Adam says as we sip pints of lager in a mock-Tudor pub on the South Bank. It’s a bit like sitting in a theme park. I half expect a fat out-of-work actor dressed as Henry VIII to appear and start singing ‘Greensleeves’. I suggested the venue. It’s on neutral ground. I’m trying to act as if everything is normal between us. Which it is, in so far as he is concerned. Business as usual.
As for me, I have been struggling for things to say. Suddenly tongue-tied with the person I found it so easy to reveal my whole life story to. The only person in the world, now, who knows everything about me. Except, of course, for the fact that I may have succumbed to an arbitrary crush on him.
‘Should I get you a whiteboard?’
He gives me a ‘very funny’ look. The one I imagine he gives his Year 7s when they start playing up. It works, too. I shut up and listen.
‘You could try and find out where they’re meeting up next – although God knows how you’re going to do that. Patrick is never going to let you have access to his phone again …’
‘Bea’s phone?’ I chip in.
I shake my head.
‘And anyway, my guess is they won’t be leaving each other incriminating messages any more. Not since the last time. Anyway, my point is that even assuming you could find out that information, what are you going to do? Take Michelle along to catch them in the act? Imagine how humiliating that would be for her. OK, so you get your big shocker revelation, but I think it would be cruel.’
‘I know. You’re right,’ I have been thinking about this a lot. If I’m going to do anything I need to do it in the least painful way for Michelle.
‘So that’s out of the window. You could do something anonymous. Send her a letter or something, but that seems pretty heartless, too.’
‘Plus she wouldn’t believe it. Why would she?’
‘You could tell Bea and Patrick that you know all about them but that you won’t tell Michelle if they break it off.’
‘He’d just get someone else. He’s never going to change.’
‘Agreed. Or – and this is my preferred, grown-up, best-friend option – you just tell her. You cushion it as much as you can. Then deal with the fallout.’
I let out a sigh so loud the couple at the next table look round.
‘The first thing Patrick will do is tell her about me and him.’
‘Well, you always knew that. You just have to decide whether you’re going to come clean or not.’
‘God no! If I tell her, this’ll all have been for nothing. Why do you think I went to such lengths to delete the text message?’
‘I’m scared,’ I say. ‘It’s all going to get so nasty.’
‘Well,’ Adam says, ‘there’s no way there can be a happy ending for everyone. And that’s not your fault. That’s Patrick’s fault.’
‘Fuck, I wish I’d never started this.’
‘You didn’t. He did.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For making me feel better. Or, should I say, helping to stop me feeling so shit.’
‘To be honest it’s only because I can’t bear to see you moping around any more. It’s like having a drink with Eeyore.’
I manage a laugh. ‘Well, thanks anyway. Even if it was for purely selfish reasons.’
‘Anyway,’ he says with a smug look on his face, ‘enough about you. I have a date tomorrow night.’
‘Oh …’ A little knot forms in my stomach. ‘Someone from Other Half?’
‘No. A real live human woman. She’s the mother of one of my Year Eights. I got to know her when I had to give him detention. She came to the school to complain.’
‘Nice,’ I say and then I realize it sounds sarcastic. ‘I mean, that she cared enough to find out what was going on.’
‘I was a bit frightened of her at the beginning, to be honest. She’s very feisty. I can see where he gets it from.’
‘Isn’t it against the rules? Teachers and pupils’ parents?’ I’m clutching at straws here, as you can tell, but I don’t want Adam to find himself a girlfriend just when I’m starting to think I might like him myself.
He snorts. ‘Hardly. At least I don’t think so. It’s never come up before.’
‘So how did it get from “Your son’s a psycho” to “‘Fancy a drink”?’
‘Actually, she asked me. I was scared to say no in case she hit me.’
‘Isn’t it going to be a bit odd, having to face little Johnny across the classroom when he’s seen you in your pyjamas?’
‘Steady on. We’re only going for a drink. And his name’s Jordan.’
‘Isn’t that a girl’s name?’
He gives me a look.
‘So, at least you know what you’re in for. You don’t have to worry about whether or not she looks like her photo.’
Can you see what I’m doing here? I’m trying to elicit details about how good looking or not Adam’s date is. I know it’s pathetic, needy and all round unacceptable, but I’m all out of dignity. I need to know.
‘Exactly. No nasty surprises like with you.’
I laugh like I’m meant to but, actually, that hurt.
‘She’s a looker, then?’ I keep my tone light, like I’m making a joke of it.
He thinks about it for a second. This gives me hope. Although hope for what, I don’t know. Me and Adam would be ridiculous as a couple, even if he was interested in me.
‘She is. Actually, she looks a little bit like you, which is just weird.’
‘Well, that must mean you don’t fancy her then.’
‘Not necessarily. With you it was a combination of the way you look and your God-awful personality that put me off.’
I know he’s joking and I know I’m not meant to take anything he says seriously, but I feel a bit wounded, and it must show because Adam’s smile drops.
‘You know I’m joking, right? Have I upset you?’
‘No. Of course not. I’m fine,’ I say as a pair of large tears plop onto the table. What the hell is happening to me?
Adam looks horrified. Puts his hand on my arm. ‘God, Tamsin, I’m so sorry. I was just being stupid. I thought you’d laugh.’
‘I know. It was funny. I’m just in an odd mood, that’s all.’
‘Is this still about the mugging? I can see you home tonight by the way.’
‘Don’t be daft. It’s the other side of London. And I’m not worried about that. I’ll get a cab and ask the driver to wait till I’m inside.’
‘What then?’
‘Nothing. Just ignore me. I feel really stupid.’
‘I should have censored myself. It didn’t even occur to me you might not find it funny.’
‘I did! I do. Please don’t start thinking you have to edit what you say to me.’
‘It’s the Michelle thing, isn’t it? It’s all got too much?’
‘Yes,’ I say, deciding on the path of least resistance. Although, to be fair, if I dwelt too much on the Michelle/Patrick situation it probably would bring me to tears.
‘You don’t have to speak to her at all, you know. You could decide to just forget you know anything. Let them all sort it out themselves.’
‘You know I can’t do that. I’d still lose Michelle anyway because I can’t bear to go round there any more. At least this way she might not waste her whole life married to someone who doesn’t even care about her.’
‘Just get it over with. The stress is going to finish you off.’ He puts his hand on my arm when he says this. I look down at his stupid sausagey fingers with their stubby nails and another tear edges its way out of the corner of my eye.
‘I know.’