Sunday 14th January

I can’t believe I left that wedding yesterday. Thankfully, Jill stepped in to make sure the execution of everything went perfectly. Well, as perfectly as it can when your dog’s eaten your rings. Apparently, Benny heaved and retched the whole way through the ceremony. It seemed to get a good laugh from the crowd with some saying he was revolted at all the love talk.

The bride and groom weren’t best pleased with the rings their bridesmaid had managed to collect for them. The bride ended up with a diamanté Playboy Bunny ring and the groom had a Metallica Ninja Star ring. I mean, why were they inviting people like this to their wedding anyway? I think it’s their own fault.

I’m woken from my glorious lie-in by my phone ringing. Dammit, when will I learn to leave it on silent? I’ve only just spoken to Jill.

Hugh’s name flashes up. Oh God. He’s obviously heard about the farce that was yesterday and he’s calling to give me a bollocking. I sigh. I could ignore it, let it go to voicemail, but then I’d only be delaying the inevitable. I take a deep breath and press accept.

‘Hi, Hugh,’ I say wearily into the phone.

I brace myself for this wrath. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not normally a shouty boss. I’ve got used to feeling like we’re more partners than boss and employee. But that’s part of the problem. I’ve become too comfortable with him.

Plus, I haven’t had as much bad luck with weddings before as I have lately. He obviously thinks I’m taking my finger off the pulse.

‘Hi Nads, how are you?’ he asks, concern clear in his voice.

Nads? He never calls me Nads. I think back over the last year. Nope, I don’t think I’ve heard him call me it once.

‘Err... hi, Hugh.’ I can’t help but sound as thrown as I am.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asks, his voice soft and tender.

Am I imagining this phone call? Am I still asleep? Maybe dreaming the whole thing, including the nightmare dog scenario yesterday?

I decide to take the bull by the horns and address it before he does.

‘I take it you’re calling about yesterday’s wedding? You must have heard what happened?’

‘Yeah,’ I can almost feel his grimace. ‘I popped in to lock up last night and Jill filled me in. Said you’d left.’

‘I’m so sorry, Hugh. I don’t know what got into me.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Nadine. I’ve put you under a lot of pressure over the last year and I often forget that you’re a normal human being with limits. I mean, I can’t remember the last weekend you had off. Can you?’

I wrack my brain. Well, we have weddings on weekends so it’s not the right time.

‘It’s kind of a weekend job, though.’

‘Regardless, Nadine. I think you expect too much from yourself. I want you to take a few days off.’

‘You’re... you’re not firing me, are you?’ I ask, my voice wobbling slightly.

He scoffs a laugh down the line. ‘Of course not! Nadine, you’ll always have a job here, for as long as it’s open. I just think you need to de-stress a bit.’

‘I’m really fine,’ I insist. Jesus, he’s acting like I did gut the dog. ‘Has Jill said something to you?’

‘No, why? What would she say?’

That I was close to gutting a dog.

‘Oh, nothing.’

‘I just want you to be nice and refreshed for cousin Clara’s wedding. That’s the one that really matters.’

I scoff. ‘No pressure then, yeah, Hugh?’

He laughs down the phone. ‘No pressure.’

But I know there is. I need to stop riding Hartley about his choices of marrying Clara, even if they do want different futures, because this wedding is turning out to be one of the most important of my career. So, I need to make sure it runs perfectly, regardless of any personal feelings.

I agree to having tomorrow off just to shut him up and end the call, jogging downstairs to make myself a cup of tea.

‘You alright, love?’ Mum asks, already in the process of making us both one. She’s a good woman.

‘Yeah,’ I sigh, lifting myself up to sit on the counter. She raises her eyebrows at me. She’s always telling me off for sitting like this, but she lets the cat walk all over the worktop and that’s far more unhygienic. That thing licks her own arse. ‘Hugh’s just told me to have the day off tomorrow. Try to relax.’

She laughs. ‘Even as a little girl, you’ve never been able to relax. You go from being "on" to sleeping. There’s never been much in between.’

I sigh. ‘I can’t help how I am.’

‘And you shouldn’t apologise for it,’ she says with a nod. ‘After everything you’ve been through, you can’t blame a girl for wanting to distract herself.’

‘Gee, thanks, Mum,’ I snort, taking the tea from her.

She sighs. ‘You never want to talk about it but remember that it happened to all of us too.’

I sigh. I often forget that she lost her granddaughter too. But it’s still different. She didn’t feel that baby growing inside her for nine months. She didn’t have her entire relationship break down and then have to move back to the family home. To say my life ended along with Belle’s is an understatement.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I know you grieved too, but... I just don’t want to talk about it.’

She smiles at me. ‘Why don’t we just relax today? You were so busy on the run up to Christmas we never had a chance to just sit around and watch Christmas films.’

‘You’re suggesting we watch Christmas films, in January?’ I ask in amusement. ‘Doesn’t Lydia have a list of wedding jobs we need to get on with?’ The woman’s a slave driver.

She laughs. ‘I’ve told your sister to start giving more of her jobs to her bridesmaids. They need to earn those expensive dresses.’ I mean, she is right, but I can’t believe she’s told Princess Lydia that. Normally she can do nothing wrong. ‘And why bloody not enjoy some Christmas films?’ she laughs. ‘It’s still cold enough.’

I can’t help but feel a massive affection towards her in that instant. I jump down and engulf her in my arms. Where the hell would I be without this woman?

‘Let’s do it.’

* * *

Monday 15th January

I’m back at the school today. It’s so different being in a high school compared to the old primary school I used to work in. I actually feel self-conscious. I walk past a group of boys rehearsing, when they start wolf-whistling. Assuming it must be for one of the girls, I carry on walking with my head down.

‘Alright, Miss?’ one of them shouts towards me.

I turn to look at them and notice the main lad giving me a cheeky wink. I swivel to see if someone is behind me. Are they talking to me?

‘You’re a right fitty, Miss!’ another one shouts. His mate barks out a laugh.

Well, what the hell am I supposed to do in this situation? You don’t get this kind of crap with five-year-olds. I’m blushing before I can reason with myself to play it unaffected. And now I look like I’m enjoying it. They might even take it as encouragement. Think I’m a horny Mrs Robinson type who fancies a gang bang in the car park.

‘Boys!’ Hartley booms behind me. ‘Leave Miss Roberts alone.’

I smile at him gratefully, hoping to God my cheeks aren’t as heated as they feel. ‘Thanks.’

‘You can’t blame them really,’ he grins, like a teenage boy himself for a second. He quickly recovers himself and plasters on an impassive face.

‘Huh?’ Does he think I’m leading them on? Dressing slutty or something? I look down at my black pencil skirt and salmon blouse. It hardly screams harlot. In fact, I make a real effort to deliberately dress conservatively. I don’t like exposing body parts, especially in the wedding industry. You don’t want the grooms staring at your tits.

‘I mean they’re not used to seeing gorgeous teachers.’

Did he just call me gorgeous? What the hell is happening here?

‘They’re used to women in their fifties in lots of plaid.’ He bends over in a chuckle.

Oh right. He wasn’t calling me gorgeous. Just saying I’m better than a fifty-year-old. Hardly a raving review, the cheeky bastard.

I smile tightly. ‘I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.’

He straightens up, attempting to wipe the smile off his face. ‘There is.’ He stares at me just a bit too long, our eyes connecting like magnets. He breaks away first, clearing his throat. ‘I was thinking you could help with some painting of the props today. That cool with you?’

‘Yep,’ I nod, glad of the subject change. ‘Fine by me.’

He shakes his head.

‘What?’ I can’t resist asking. I want to know what he’s thinking.

He scoffs a laugh. ‘You’re just so easy going. I’m not used to dealing with women without an argument in every conversation.’

I laugh. That’s a little awkward. He’s clearly talking about Clara. But I’m not falling into that trap again. Talking about her will only have him getting pissed off at me again. Better to ignore the bait.

And me, classed as laid back? That in itself is hilarious. If Florence was here she’d piss her pants laughing.

‘Anyway, must get on.’

I rush over to where the paint pots are, some students already painting. Anna’s there painting a tree.

‘Hey,’ she smiles, her big brown Bambi eyes troubled.

I casually walk up to her. ‘Hi. How are you?’

She forces a cheery smile, looking around her to see if I’m drawing attention to her. ‘I’m okay.’

I smile kindly, placing my hand on her shoulder. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, you know.’

She looks over at Hartley who’s watching us intently. He quickly looks away. Discreet Hartley, real discreet.

‘Does Sir know?’ she asks, her eyes drooped, as if already knowing the answer.

‘Yeah,’ I nod with a grimace. ‘I didn’t tell him though,’ I insist quickly. I don’t want to lose her trust. ‘He overheard us the other day.’

She sighs. ‘I thought so. He’s been treating me differently.’

Differently? I bloody hope not. If he’s treating her like a little slut, I’ll kick his arse myself.

‘He’s not being a dick to you, is he?’ I ask, my voice rising despite me trying to talk myself down from the increasing anger growing inside me.

She snorts a laugh, then does an eye roll. ‘No. He’s just being a bit overprotective. Plus, I can see he’s disappointed in me. Every time he looks at me it’s as if I can see him thinking “what wasted potential”.’ She looks to the ground with a sad smile, her spine bowed over.

I rub her shoulder. ‘He’s not disappointed in you. He’s disappointed for you, because he saw a bright future for you and he’s scared it’s all going to go down the toilet.’

She sighs. ‘And is it? Am I doing the right thing?’

‘What do you mean?’ Do you want an...’ I look around to make sure no one is listening. Luckily, they all seem oblivious. ‘Abortion?’ I whisper.

‘No,’ she says sternly with a shake of her head. ‘But what if my parents don’t support me? What if they force me to...’ she looks around to check no-one is paying attention, ‘you know. Get rid.’

God, the thought of parents forcing their daughter to do that makes me feel sick. Where the hell has the compassion in the world gone? But she must be overreacting. Everyone dreads telling their parents they fucked up, but the fear is normally worse than the aftermath.

‘Surely they wouldn’t?’

Her eyes fill up with tears. ‘You don’t know them,’ she says, her voice wobbling. ‘They’re strict Italian Catholics.’

Oh Jesus. I once went to summer camp with a girl from that background. She felt so bad after snogging Jake Weilders that she did the rosary. It took forever. So long I had to make new friends. Easy going sluts are far more fun, as it turns out.

‘So surely they don’t believe in... you know... the other option.’

She shakes her head about, clearly trying to pull herself together before anyone notices she’s about to burst into tears. ‘That doesn’t mean they’d allow me to keep it after.’

After? Wait. She’s not saying... no, she can’t be.

I grab her arm and pull her over to the side, further away from everyone.

‘Are you seriously telling me they’d make you go through a pregnancy only to then have it adopted?’ I whisper-hiss, barely able to conceal my disgust.

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I could just be worrying for nothing. But, I just... I don’t see them congratulating me.’

Okay, that sounds a bit more normal. She’s clearly being a drama queen.

‘They’d be weird if they did. But listen, if they try to force you into doing anything you don’t want to do, then call me.’

‘Why are you so nice?’ she asks, crossing her arms across her chest, her body angling away from me. ‘Are you trying to groom me or something weird you hear about on the news?’

‘What?’ I splutter. ‘Of course not!’

Although I can’t help but be impressed that she watches the news. So much potential.

‘I was only joking,’ she shrugs. ‘Well, half-joking at least.’

‘I guess I feel a little protective of you for some reason,’ I admit, reminding myself not to get too attached. She isn’t a temporary replacement for Belle.

‘Do you have kids?’

The simple question that never fails to throw me. I steady myself, and try not to react, but it’s hard when you feel as if you’ve been kicked in the heart.

‘No, I don’t.’

It’s not a complete lie. I don’t have any kids. That doesn’t mean that I never did.

She smiles brightly at me. ‘Well, you’ll make an amazing mum one day.’

I feel the liquid pool in my eyes before I have a chance to reason with my emotions. I was an amazing mum. That didn’t stop it from happening though.

‘Thanks.’ I shake my head, desperate to change the subject. ‘So, are you going to tell me who the father is? Please don’t tell me it’s one of those tools.’ I point over towards the lads that wolf-whistled me.

Her eyes fall to the floor. Oh crap. It is.

‘No way!’ I shriek, unable to hide my surprise. ‘Which one?’

‘Ben Payne,’ she admits on a sigh.

As if I know which one that is. I look over, just in case they’re wearing name tags today. Damn it, just my luck.

‘And I’m guessing you haven’t told him?’

She shakes her head. ‘Look at him. He’s an idiot. There’s no way he can help me. I can’t believe I even did anything with him. But you know... vodka.’

I smile, patting her on the shoulder. ‘I really do.’

* * *

At the end of the day I’m helping Hartley to clean up. It’s shocking how much mess teenagers can make with just a bit of paint. I swear there’s more paint on the floor than on the actual props.

‘God, kids really are rubbish at tidying up after themselves, aren’t they?’ I moan, scrubbing off a particularly stubborn bit of dried on paint. I hope to God he was supplying them with washable paint and not the stuff you put on living room walls.

‘Yeah, sorry. You shouldn’t have to do this. I keep forgetting you’re not actually on the staff. You go on home.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind.’ More like I don’t want to leave him. Or don’t want to go home by myself to watch my parents cuddled up on the sofa. It’s sad when you’re jealous of your parents' relationship, with only the family cat for affection. And she’s shit at conversation.

‘So, I saw you talking to Anna earlier,’ he starts, appearing to be vague. I know better. Here comes him digging for information from me.

‘Yep,’ I nod, choosing not to elaborate.

He waits for me to supply more information, but I avoid his gaze, forcing him to talk.

‘Did she tell you who the father... no, scratch that, that makes it sound too mature for these idiots. Who the baby daddy is?’

I roll my eyes, but nod. ‘Yes.’

He looks at me, waiting for more. ‘And?’

‘And I don’t think I should tell you. She told me in confidence.’

‘Oh, come on, they’re kids!’ he says sharply, his jaw tense.

It pisses me off that he can disregard her emotions so easily, just because she’s only sixteen. If anything, at sixteen is when you feel the most emotions, all at once. Everything is the end of the world. Only in her case, it might just be.

‘She may only be sixteen years old, but she has a wise head on her shoulders. She’s going to be fine.’

He scoffs, eyes narrowed at me as if I’m mental. ‘Jesus, do you live in cuckoo land? This is the worst thing that could have happened to her.’

I scoff back at him. Jesus, he’s a drama queen.

‘I really think you have the wrong perspective. She’s pregnant, not dying.’

‘Her future is!’ he shouts, throwing his cloth back into the soapy water. ‘God, why does it always happen to the ones with the most potential?’

I get that he’s frustrated, but he needs to see that this isn’t the end.

‘If she works hard, she can have it all. Go to college or something. It’ll just take longer than she originally thought.’

‘Oh, don’t give me that crap,’ he barks back. ‘You don’t believe in all of that having it all stuff, do you? Be honest, one or the other always suffers.’

‘Not always,’ I snap, the feminist inside me flaring her nostrils in rage.

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree.’

I don’t care what he says. I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure Anna has every opportunity possible open to her. If her parents or Hartley won’t fight for her future, then I will.

‘We’ll just have to do that,’ he snaps, taking the bucket and storming off.

Yeah, thanks for helping out tonight, Nadine. Arsehole.