Sam looks surprised and a little hurt. ‘I thought we could have a catch-up. I know you don’t want to hear about… you know… Daisy and all that, but there’s other things – how do you think Henry’s getting on at school? He never tells me anything.’
‘Fine, he’s fine. Make an appointment to see his teacher if you’re that interested. I’ll see you later.’ I practically run away, not to Sophie, but to the relative privacy of the toilets. I lean against the cubicle door, feeling my heart beating all over my body. I put my hands on either side of me, pressing against the wall, as if that will stop me from falling. I can still feel the heat of his hand on my arm, his eyes on my tongue.
The rush of optimism I felt a short while ago has totally dissipated. When my breathing has slowed to something approaching normal, I go back into the hall and across the room I see Sophie and Sam deep in conversation, his hand on her arm. My stomach gives a little twinge. The jokey flirtation of their teenage friendship always upset me, and although I have kept it carefully filed away, my jealousy has never been far from the surface, threatening to burst out, ugly and full of accusation. There’s also something else, something about the way his hand rests on her arm, that bothers me. I look around for someone to talk to. It’s only ten o’clock, I can’t admit defeat and leave yet.
Esther and Brett are sitting on the other side of the hall, holding hands and chatting animatedly to a couple of women I vaguely recognise. Brett has hardly left her side all evening, holding her hand, his arm around her. I guess she’s more nervous than she seems. For the next hour I sit with them, nodding and smiling if anyone looks at me, laughing when they laugh, barely joining in the conversation. Being the first to leave seems like such an admission of defeat, but as soon as others start to do so, citing babysitters and early starts, I make my excuses too. I can’t face saying goodbye to anyone else and I don’t want to risk another encounter with Sam anyway, so I find my coat and slink out of the hall, dropping my name badge on the table as I go.
In the school car park I call the taxi number I carefully programmed in earlier and ask them to come as soon as possible, sitting on a low wall to wait. The sound of the music from the hall rises every time the doors open to expel small groups, coming out in twos and threes to smoke. All of them laugh about how rebellious it feels to be lighting up on school property, as if they’re the first ones to think of the joke. My breath streams out as I sit unseen in the darkness and I pull my coat around me more closely. I’ve forgotten my gloves, so I fold my arms and tuck my hands under, hugging myself tightly.
‘Hello again,’ says a voice from the shadows.
‘Oh my God, don’t do that to me!’ I jump up, clutching my chest.
‘Sorry,’ says Pete. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was hoping you were still here though.’
‘What on earth are you doing skulking around out here?’
‘I couldn’t stay in there. Sophie was being so vile to me, and I don’t know anyone else. I didn’t want to drag you away from your evening, so I thought I’d wait out here for you.’
‘How long have you been out here?’
‘Not sure. An hour?’
‘But why are you waiting for me? What do you expect me to do about it?’
‘Sophie booked us into a B&B, but I can’t go back with her now.’
‘A B&B? On your third date?’
‘I know, I know.’ Pete looks slightly shamefaced. ‘Anyway, I thought maybe you could give me a lift back to London.’
‘A lift? I can’t drive, I’ve had loads to drink. I’m leaving my car here and staying at the Travelodge. Taxi’ll be here soon.’
‘Oh, shit.’ He looks miserable. ‘What the fuck am I going to do? The last train from Norwich back to London goes at ten. I’ve missed it by miles.’
I can’t help smiling. ‘It’s your policy that’s got you into this. Why don’t you come back to the Travelodge? I only booked it today, I’m sure they’ll have rooms. Where’s your car, or did Sophie drive?’
‘No, I did. She doesn’t have a car. It’s here too.’ He gestures up the school drive. ‘We drove over from the B&B, I was going to come and collect it in the morning.’
‘OK, well, we can come over together tomorrow.’
We are silent in the taxi, both wrapped in our own thoughts. I check in first, then Pete enquires about a room.
‘Sorry, we’re full.’ The young girl behind the desk is supremely uninterested in what this means for Pete.
‘What, you’ve got nothing? Not even… I don’t know… a room that’s not made up? Or one you keep back for emergencies?’
‘Emergencies?’ the girl repeats, as if Pete has suggested he engage in some sort of deviant sexual practice with her. ‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He looks at me pleadingly. ‘What am I going to do?’
We both know that there’s only one solution that doesn’t involve him calling another taxi to drive him around the cheap hotels in the area, one after another, in the vain hope that one will have a room. He knows that he can’t suggest it though – it’s too presumptuous – so he is tacitly leaving it up to me. I can’t let him spend the night on a park bench. I turn to the girl.
‘Does the bed in my room come apart? I mean, can you make it into two singles?’
‘No.’ She looks from me to him, her interest piqued.
‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ Pete says hastily. ‘Oh my God, this is kind of you. Thank you so much.’
In the room, we are studiedly polite to each other, taking turns in the bathroom. I thank God I brought decent pyjamas and he declines to take anything off other than his overcoat.
‘Look, you don’t really have to sleep on the floor,’ I say when he emerges from the bathroom. ‘Just stay on your own side, OK?’
‘Of course. That would be great. If you’re sure.’ Pete gets under the covers. If he was any closer to the edge he would be on the ground. I climb into my side and turn off the bedside light.
‘Good night then,’ I say stiffly.
‘Good night. And thanks again.’
I pretend to fall asleep straight away, and soon his breathing evens and slows – either he’s pretending too or he really is asleep. I stare at the hump of his back, barely visible in the darkness. At the time it felt like a basic human kindness to let Pete share my room. He seems totally decent, apart from his questionable taste in women. But here in the darkness I feel vulnerable. Who is this man? Eventually I fall into an uneasy doze, waking every half-hour or so until around four o’clock when, exhausted, I fall into a deeper sleep.
I slowly become aware of the noise of the TV news, and turn over. Light streams into the room between the gap in the curtains. The bed is empty, the door to the bathroom open.
‘Pete?’
No reply. I look around blearily. His shoes and coat are gone.