The forty-minute ferry ride to the Isle of Wight was choppy to say the least. Ninety children bustled around the café as they were allowed to leave the coach, stretch their legs and visit the toilet. The teachers seized the moment for a hit of caffeine and kept watch for children going green as the boat rolled from side to side. Abby already missed Jessica and Grace but as she watched Portsmouth disappear from view she was pleased to be heading off on an adventure – a fabulous distraction from everything at home. Encouraged by the bubbling children she felt an air of anticipation growing inside her, maybe even a touch of excitement! As the dramatic Jurassic coastline grew in the Solent-splashed window they returned to their coaches and waited expectantly for the final part of the journey to begin.
Twenty minutes on and they were winding their way along a sparse country road, enthusiasm waning as the coach swayed from side to side; even the cheekiest children in the back seat had given up pulling faces at the teachers in the coach behind. “Are we nearly there yet?” droned with increasing frequency from the travel-weary children. Abby watched carefully, wondering which of her three known motion sickness sufferers might erupt first. Ironically, as she attempted to calculate how many hours it had been since their foreboding parents had dosed them up and waved goodbye she couldn’t help but notice Jake Price, a child not on her ones-to-watch list, turn a pasty shade of grey. Realising this was not a good sign she flew from her seat, sick bucket in hand, and reached him just as the entire contents of his stomach left his mouth in one huge heave.
Relieved to find most of it had landed in the bottom of the bucket, Abby fought back the impulse to retch building in her throat and attempted to ignore the warm, moist seepage she could feel across the top of her trainers. Recognising the imminent danger of others following suit – Abby included – Patty flew like a woman on a mission into salvage operation mode. The ever-prepared teaching assistant instantly set to with paper towels and disinfectant before passing out her entire – and as Abby couldn’t help but notice, somewhat considerable – supply of chewy mints in an attempt to appease everybody’s senses. If she weren’t still holding the sick bucket Abby would almost certainly have given her a hug!
When they finally arrived at the activity centre and left the coach everybody breathed a refreshing sigh of relief before being pounced on by an extremely enthusiastic instructor who magnanimously ignored the stench they were omitting and keenly introduced himself as Justin – their leader and number one port of call for the duration of their stay. The children were instantly in awe of him and hung on his every word as he rallied them into cheers for each of the activities on their itinerary. A list of events that made Abby fear that her perfectly manicured nails were doomed and instilled her with more than a touch of trepidation, despite her best intentions to retain a spirit of adventure. Following Justin’s lead they all collected their luggage and walked towards a large, slightly shabby-looking building.
“Not the usual one then,” Patty lisped, holding a chewy mint to the side of her mouth and strutting up next to Abby.
“Sorry?”
“This building – we’re normally on the other side, the newer bit,” Patty added, gesturing towards the opposite direction to where they were walking.
Typical! Abby sighed as they entered the maroon double doors leading to the place they would call home for the next three days.
The room Abby was designated was down a long corridor, apart from the other teachers but opposite a room of giggly year six girls. It was small and a bit scruffy. Abby sat on the slightly damp, too-soft bed and looked around. It wasn’t great but it was a bit of space she could briefly call her own. A few months back she would have hated the thought of the solitude but now she was learning to control the equilibrium of her mind more, albeit with varying degrees of success, and felt she could cope.
As Abby considered unpacking her bag and the likelihood of spiders crawling amongst her things if she did, there was a knock at her door. She opened it to be met by Bradley.
“Hi, I’ve been sent this way as male lookout to protect you ladies. I am stationed to the right of the stairs should you need me.” He gestured through the double doors to the stairwell and the boys’ corridor beyond as he spoke.
“Thanks Brad,” Abby smiled, “but I think us ladies,” she motioned down the girls’ corridor, “will be just fine.”
“Well, I’m just saying, because you never know…” he mused, reaching up to the corners of the doorframe. The shift in stance accentuated his strong physique and his t-shirt lifted just enough as he stretched to reveal a hint of his firm stomach.
Abby blushed as she realised she was overly staring at the fine hairline of his happy trail. Oh lord! She felt a strange tingle as she blinked, attempting to shake off the image. Gathering her senses, she put her hands on her hips. “Now I am sure you have unpacking, or organising or something to do,” she stated in her best I-am-not-fazed-by-you voice.
Bradley grinned an infectious, cheeky grin and lowered his voice. “You know, if you keep refusing my offers, Mrs Turner, I’m going to start taking offence!” he teased.
“Oh, is that so?” Abby giggled.
Bradley Hunter was one of those people who commanded attention through their cheeky front and charm, and generally got it. He had the male primary school teacher X factor. He was the one who had the children right where he wanted them, behaving, ready to listen and eager to please. In fact most of the staff, the Head included, responded to him similarly. He did a good job, he was clearly passionate and a good teacher. Abby had always slightly envied his energy and enthusiasm.
Over Brad’s shoulder Abby could see mayhem erupting in the room opposite as eight year six girls attempted to choose beds, unpack and put duvet covers on quilts, a task many of them had never done before. They had been placed together because they were friends but the way things were going Abby knew that wasn’t going to be the case for long. She pointed over Bradley’s shoulder. “I best sort them.”
“Ouch! Good luck with that!” He laughed and went to walk away. “Just kidding,” he added, stepping back into view. “I’ll help.” Dropping his bag outside Abby’s door he joined her as she ventured into the pandemonium of the girls’ room.
Several demonstrations, one child stranded in a duvet cover, a disaster averted when a lost teddy was found and the job was eventually done. With fifteen minutes left until their team briefing and activities started, Bradley returned to rally the boys and they all set about putting on trainers and grabbing waterproofs ready to take on the great outdoors. Before leaving her room, wishing she looked more Lara Croft than Ray Mears in her shorts, Abby checked her phone; there was a voicemail from Simon. Worried that something might be wrong, she pressed play. When she heard Jessica’s chirpy voice she stopped panicking and grinned.
“Hi Mummy, I miss you but Daddy is being funny. He is taking us to the park later and doing pizza for tea. I love you. Hope they are being good for you! Bye. Oh, and Grace says hello.” At which point Grace could be heard chipping in with, “Hello Mummy!” in the background. Smiling at her phone, Abby also noticed a text from Simon:
Hey wife, I bet you look great in khaki, feel free to send a pic – I always knew you had a thing for the crocodile hunter! Be careful and have fun! xx
Considering the nature of their last proper conversation the playful tone of the message took Abby by surprise; at first she was unsure about it, feeling that she should be cross when really she just felt amused. It was refreshing. She was tired of so much tension between them. As horrible as her talk with Simon had been, knowing more of the details somehow made her feel more able to deal with it (perhaps her Scott traits weren’t going to let her down after all… empower yourself with the facts, assess and overcome!) and she didn’t want to be bogged down with the complications of their relationship while she was away. That was what she was escaping, after all. She answered Jessica and Grace with a text – she didn’t want to speak to Simon if she called – and then pondered answering Simon’s message. Biting her lip, unsure whether she should actually acknowledge it at all, she typed a quick response and pressed send before she could change her mind.
Crikey!!! You should be so lucky; all evidence of me in khaki is staying in the IOW! And don’t worry, I will look out for danger, danger, danger!
Rather pleased with her homage to the late Steve Irwin, she left the room.
The team briefing turned out to be more chanting with Justin and being introduced to six equally keen instructors in their late teens to early twenties – a kind of crossbreed between sporty and hippy types – who stood on a wall and called out the names of their activities. The children, already in groups chaperoned by teachers and teaching assistants, fell into line depending on their activity timetable. Up first for Abby and her group was the zip wire, an activity she felt confident she could do with all the enthusiasm of Julie Walters in Educating Rita – minus the pink pyjamas. After that it was the welcome campfire, hot chocolate and toasting marshmallows. That she knew she could do!