‘Right, so when we go back to class after lunch, that’ll probably be your best chance, before we go to maths. Just tip it out into her bag. It’s open at the top, isn’t it, no zip or anything? Or get up and pretend to get something if that’s easier, and slip it in as you walk past. Once you’ve done that, put the plastic bag into the bin in our classroom on your way out. Then there’s no way to link it back to us if she tells.’
Back in the classroom, I sat at my desk, trembling from head to toe. Claire and Joanne chatted artificially to each other in their seats across the aisle from me, jittery and skittish with anticipation. Maria walked into the room with Esther, both of them laughing as they passed down the aisle. Maria was studiously avoiding my eye but there was a telltale flush on her chest as she hung her bag on the back of her chair and sat down in front of me. Her hair was neatly tied in a ponytail.
I put my hand into my bag and felt the sandwich bag, smooth and slippery, the tampon a squelchy lump between my finger and thumb. Was I really going to do this? I could feel Sophie brimming with supressed laughter to my right, and I anticipated the warmth I would feel as I basked in her approval later. I would be the one whose arm she sought as we walked into town after school, not Claire. Maybe she’d ask me to sleep over so we could relive what we had done, giggling together under the covers, partners in crime. I closed my hand a little tighter on the bag and its gruesome contents.
I tried not to look at Maria as I began to pull the bag out; tried to force myself to visualise what would happen if I didn’t do it, how scornful Sophie would be. I pictured myself walking home alone, studiously avoiding the sight of Sophie clinging ostentatiously to Claire as they swanned off into town together. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them, the first thing I saw was the nape of Maria’s neck, white and vulnerable, the clasp of her gold heart necklace just slightly off-centre.
Instantly I felt as though I’d sunk into a warm bath. Relief suffused me as I realised that I wasn’t going through with it. I pushed the plastic bag back into my school bag with a shaking hand. Despite what I had already done to Maria, the way I had callously thrown aside our friendship, I couldn’t do this to her. It felt so calculated, so gross, so spiteful. And although part of the relief I felt was for Maria, and how thankful I was that this wasn’t going to happen to her, it was also for me. I was relieved that I wasn’t the sort of person who would do something like this. I had thought for a horrible moment that I was.
There were only a couple of minutes left before the bell would go for maths. Sophie’s leg pressed against mine under the table, and Claire and Joanne were openly staring, willing me to action. I knew Sophie was looking at me too, but I kept my eyes fixed on our form teacher, her words like a foreign language, floating meaninglessly over the pounding of the blood in my head.
The pressure against my leg lessened, and that was when I realised that Sophie was taking matters into her own hands. She reached into my bag and took something out, something that she held in her closed fist. If Maria hadn’t hung her bag on the side of the chair nearest to Sophie, I don’t think Sophie could have done it without drawing undue attention to herself, but she simply reached across me, shook the bag and withdrew her hand all in one smooth motion. For a final touch, she slipped the sandwich bag back into my school bag with a pointed glare at me.
I don’t know exactly what Sophie was expecting in terms of a reaction from Maria. I heard Maria say to Esther that she needed to check if she had her maths textbook. Before I knew it, my hand shot out and tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Maria. There’s something I need to —’
She cut me off as soon as I began to speak.
‘Leave me alone,’ she said in a low, cold voice without looking up from her bag.
‘No, I know, but please —’
‘I said, leave me alone.’ This time she did look at me, hardening her face, determined not to betray the slightest hint of emotion.
I sat back, defeated, as she opened her bag and started to reach in. It felt as though the whole world was holding its breath. Her hand stopped. I could feel rather than see Sophie’s anticipation next to me, but if she was hoping for screams and histrionics she was disappointed.
Maria stared into her bag for a few seconds, the blood that had rushed to her face whilst she was speaking to me seeping out of it, leaving her skin pale and thinly stretched over her bones. She withdrew her hand, inch by inch, and stood up slowly.
‘I’m just going to the toilet. I’ll see you in maths,’ she said to Esther. Her voice was low but impressively steady.
As she left the room, she turned to look at me, her face impassive. If she was close to tears she didn’t show it. The impression she gave was one of sheer fury, the kind that can fling objects across the room with its power. Without speaking, she told me she had the measure of me now, that she would make sure I would live to regret this day. I sat motionless at my desk, and felt a cold chill of fear trickle down my spine.
Chapter 14
2016
Usually I wake as soon as Henry pushes open the door, but the morning after my dinner with Polly, the first thing I am aware of is his warm body slipping under the duvet in the semi-darkness, his hair tickling my face as he snuggles into me. I glance at the clock; it’s nine o’clock already, he’s slept much later than he normally would. I pull him closer, burying my nose in the nape of his neck, wondering as I always do when he will lose this delicious smell. He won’t smell like this when he’s fifteen, but what about in five years’ time? Will I still be able to breathe him into me like this? Sometimes I wonder what the effect of all this love will be on him later in life. All the experts seem to agree that you can’t give a child too much love, but what if you can? What if you smother him with it, or ruin him for ever by raising his expectations of how other people will feel about him? Nobody will ever love him this much again.
He sighs happily. ‘What day is it?’
No matter how many times we practise the days of the week he is still none the wiser, each new day a delicious surprise.
‘Saturday.’
‘Is it a Daddy Saturday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh good.’