The Learning Curve (52 page)

Daisy stared.

No. He didn’t approach her. Instead, he turned and walked away along the pathway, then up some steps towards the shops, nowhere near Miss Hobbs’s bench. Then he wandered round the other side of the bandstand, making himself no longer visible. Daisy followed him to the bridge crossing the little river beside the bandstand, then she stepped slowly towards the path leading behind the bandstand. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t allowed here. She looked back to Miss Hobbs. Miss Hobbs was now sitting on the bench, her bag next to her lap, her head up, eyes shut. She was sunbathing, her long hair fanned out behind her, falling down the back of the bench. Daisy stared at her hair. It looked different here. The curls had become even tighter, like ringlets, and the colour had gone light and glossy. It was beautiful. Daisy glanced further back, towards the pier. She couldn’t see Mr Samuels anywhere. Or Miss Taylor. When she looked back at Mr Pattison, he was now glancing left and right, left and right.

Where the hell was Oscar? She looked back again and there he was; she could just make him out, running back to her, his socks falling down. When he reached her, she spoke quickly.

‘Postman Prat is definitely waiting for someone.’

She pointed at Mr Pattison.

‘Good,’ said Oscar. He held up a disposable camera. They did a high-five. Then they looked back at Mr Pattison.

He’d gone. Vanished. They stared left, then right. Then they looked up, towards the shops, behind the bandstand, and both gasped at what they saw. There was Miss Taylor. Coming down from the shops. In a rush. They raced back, and stood on the other side of the river, where they were allowed to be, pretending they were looking into it. They didn’t know Miss Taylor very well because she had never taught them. They didn’t know the limits of her temper, or the strength of her humour. They didn’t know her at all. She was swinging a carrier bag against her legs and a handbag over one shoulder. They moved behind a tree, and Oscar got his camera ready. But she was walking too quickly. When she reached the path, she turned right along it, away from the restricted area. They looked at each other. Why was she doing that? Where did it lead? It was a strictly forbidden area for the children, and all the teachers were meant to be contactable throughout the treasure hunt.

They followed.

The river went on for ages, leading them across the city centre where they both looked at the pebble mosaic of a mermaid, into the upper gardens and past the war memorial. She was now walking very fast. She checked her watch and sped up until she was almost running. And then, all too soon, she slowed down again. She was now approaching some tennis courts. And there, standing in front of them, looking cross, was Mr Pattison. Miss Taylor gave a small wave.

He called out, ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ to which she replied, ‘Oh, gimme a break.’

Daisy and Oscar stopped and slipped behind a tree. Oscar
held his camera to his eye. He had to lean it against his face to stop it shaking.

Miss Taylor and Mr Pattison met with a fierce kiss, their mouths like magnets. It actually made a noise and Daisy and Oscar stifled a snort. Then Daisy whispered, ‘Told you,’ and Oscar gave her a swift elbow to the ribs. Then he realised he had to wind on the camera. Luckily, Miss Taylor and Mr Pattison were still kissing. Daisy was staring with undisguised disgust on her face. ‘They look like they’re eating each other,’ she whispered. ‘I’m gonna vom.’

Oscar held the camera in place and, concentrating hard, pressed his finger firmly down. The camera clicked so loudly that he and Daisy leapt up and fled, almost falling over in their haste.

When they reached the bandstand, in a fraction of the time it had taken to go the other way, they collapsed on the grass in hysterics and caught their breath.

‘Do you think you got it?’ asked Daisy eventually.

Oscar shrugged. ‘Who cares? I’ll just tell my dad.’

At teatime, they sat apart from everyone else again, at the far end of the dining hall, observing the teachers. Miss Taylor and Mr Pattison acted like nothing had happened, and Mr Pattison was wandering down the aisles, teasing the kids, passing them anything they needed and occasionally chatting to Miss Hobbs.

Oscar asked Daisy how she had known they were an item. She told him that she hadn’t known, she’d guessed, just from the way she looked at him during assembly.

‘What? All lovey-dovey?’ asked Oscar.

Daisy shook her head. ‘No. Angry. Like my nan looks at her boyfriends when they annoy her.’

Daisy then asked Oscar why his father thought that Mr Pattison and Miss Hobbs were an item in the first place. He told her that Mr Pattison had told him.

Daisy took this information in slowly.

‘Well then,’ she said. ‘He’s a big fat liar.’

‘Or he’s two-timing Miss Hobbs,’ said Oscar. ‘That’s horrid!’

‘Well, most men are shits,’ Daisy explained. ‘My mum told me.’

‘My dad isn’t!’ retorted Oscar.

‘No.’ Daisy nodded. ‘You’re right. Not any more.’

They turned to watch the reformed Mr Samuels, who was sitting with all the other adults, including Miss Hobbs, but not talking to anyone.

‘But on the plus side,’ Daisy continued, ‘it does mean that Mr Pattison thinks he needs to put your dad off. Which means he thinks – or is scared – that your dad and Miss Hobbs might actually get together.’

Oscar frowned. Daisy sensed he needed more information.

‘Maybe Miss Hobbs has told him she likes your dad, or something. Why else would he need to make up that lie?’

Oscar shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand any of it.’

‘Well, don’t you worry,’ said Daisy contentedly. ‘I do. And I’ve decided. I’m going to be a private detective when I grow up.’

Oscar looked at her with something approaching awe and fear.

The next day, Oscar and Daisy accidentally left the camera in their dorm, so couldn’t get the film developed. They wouldn’t have had much time anyway, as the class
went on a day-trip to an adventure playground and there wasn’t a chemist in sight. They had decided that they had to give Oscar’s dad proof when they told him of their discovery, so it would have to wait another day. On the coach trip to the playground, though, they were able to finish the treasure hunt.

was the mermaid they’d seen in the city centre.

was the war memorial.

It was easy once you got into the swing of it. You just had to remember that Mr Pattison was a self-righteous, pompous twit. It also helped having gone beyond the restricted area before all the other kids.

The next day was meant to be a full day doing the treasure hunt. Because Oscar and Daisy had finished theirs, they were going to do some more spying and Oscar could get his film developed. He was so excited he could barely sleep all night. As it happened, they didn’t have any luck with the spying, but after lunch they sat behind the bandstand, where they knew – thanks to following Mr Pattison – that they would be invisible to everyone else. They fought over the photos.

‘I took it!’ shouted Oscar.

‘If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have known anything!’ shouted back Daisy.

They opened them together.

The photo was blurred, and mostly of Mr Pattison. But if you looked really carefully, you could make out a bit of Miss Taylor’s hair. And, through his legs, some of her skirt. It was proof enough. It reminded them both of the kiss and they made loud, slurpy noises on their arms and laughingly pushed each other away a lot, to compensate.

Then they practised how Oscar would tell his dad in the most dramatic and important way possible. He needed quite a lot of tutoring on this from Daisy, so it was decided that if his dad bought him a thank-you present, Daisy was to get half of it.

It wasn’t until after tea that Oscar got his father alone. There was one hour before bedtime, during which he was meant to be reading and then getting ready for bed. He knocked on the adults’ dorm door. His dad opened it. He was alone. The others were all either chatting to some children, preparing things for tomorrow or having their turn to get rat-arsed.

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ announced Oscar. ‘Something very dramatic and important.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Daisy and me saw Mr Pattison kissing Miss Taylor yesterday,’ he blurted. ‘I mean,
really
kissing her. Like he was angry.’

He waited for his father to start crying and hug him. Mark stared at his son.

‘How on earth do you know this?’

‘We spied on them! Look! I took a photo.’ He thrust the photo in front of his dad’s face.

Mark jerked his head back and blinked at it.

‘Bloody hell,’ he whispered. ‘What the hell am I looking at, Oscar?’

Oscar could barely get the words out.

‘You’re looking at them kissing. Look, that’s her hair, behind his head. And that’s her skirt through his trousers. You have to squint a bit –’

His dad pushed the photo down. ‘I meant “What the hell have you done?”’

‘I took it!’ cried Oscar excitedly. ‘To show you! We spied on them! Daisy knew it all along!’

‘What on earth has got into you, Osc?’ his dad whispered.

Oscar backtracked. ‘I told Daisy what you said about Miss Hobbs and Mr Pattison. And she said Mr Pattison was Miss
Taylor’s
boyfriend, not Miss
Hobbs’s
boyfriend. And she was right. She thinks men are shits. Is that true, Dad?’

His dad just stared at him.

‘Well, aren’t you going to do anything?’ asked Oscar. ‘Tell Miss Hobbs? Tell Miss Taylor? Tell Mr Pattison?’ He paused. ‘Buy me a bike?’

‘Tell Miss Hobbs?’ repeated his dad. ‘And be the one to break her heart about the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with? And then hope she falls into my arms out of gratitude?’

‘
Yes!
’ cried Oscar. Gosh, his dad was such an idiot sometimes. ‘Daisy would like a bike too, but I said I couldn’t promise. But she was ever so good, though. She’s going to be a private detective when she grows up. She really helped –’

‘Is that what you do with our secrets?’ shouted Mark. ‘Run and tell Daisy? Are you going to tell her about my job, too?’

‘No!’

‘And as for you wanting a reward for spying on someone, I’m absolutely speechless.’

‘But –’

‘I’m . . . I’m so disappointed in you, Oscar, I don’t know what to say.’

Oscar went hot. He wanted to hide from his father, but he wanted a hug at the same time.

‘Well, I’m going to tell Miss Hobbs if you’re not,’ he said, his breath coming fast.

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ shot his father.

‘I’m not an idiot!’ shouted Oscar. ‘You are!’

‘Oscar!’

Oscar raced out of the room. He went straight to bed and lay curled up, face to the wall. Daisy tried to get him to talk but he just pushed her away.

That night, Mark decided not to join Rob in the lounge. It was Ned’s turn to stay sober. Janet joined Rob, though, and drank him under the table. Unfortunately, Nicky had decided to as well, unable to spend another evening in the company of Amanda and Martha and finding it impossible to stay still when she knew Mark was with the others. By the time she realised he wasn’t joining them, she knew it would have looked too forced to walk out. She was stuck with the wrong crowd again.

After the first night, Miss James had forbidden any of them to drink too late, so after an hour, Rob, Janet and Nicky returned to the dorm. They found Miss James fast asleep, her raucous snoring punctuating the whispers of Amanda, Martha and Mark, who were all sitting on Amanda’s bottom bunk. Nicky felt so envious she could
almost taste it. Rob held the door open for Nicky, and when she caught Mark’s eye briefly, he looked away.

After the events of the first night, a nocturnal routine had evolved in the adults’ dorm. Ned was strictly forbidden to sleep on the mattress next to his bed until Miss James had used it three times. She had always done this by midnight, and after then, Ned lay in the middle of the dorm, letting out thunderclaps that shattered everyone’s dreams. The novelty of these violent outbursts had worn off and no one found them funny any more. Revenge was taken by stepping on his sleeping face en route to the bathroom. By the end of the trip, Miss James had a bruised coccyx, hip and knee, and Ned had a swollen jaw.

Oscar woke early the next morning, remembered the argument with his dad, and didn’t speak to Daisy once, all the way through breakfast. Afterwards they sat on the grass and tried to forget everything and pretend they were doing the stupid treasure hunt. Daisy told Oscar that if they couldn’t work on his dad, they were going to have to work on Mr Pattison or Miss Taylor.

‘I don’t want to help him,’ said Oscar. ‘I hate him.’

‘No, you don’t,’ said Daisy impatiently. ‘You’re angry with him. Because you love him so much. But because you’re emotionally stunted you can’t handle the emotion. All men are emotionally stunted. My mum said.’

‘But Miss Hobbs loves Mr Pattison.’

‘No, she doesn’t,’ said Daisy evenly.

‘How do you know?’

‘I know.’

‘Oh just leave me alone!’

‘Don’t you want Miss Hobbs and your dad to be together?’

Oscar gave a shrug. Then he thought of how he’d ruined everything the night Miss Hobbs had come to their house. He had to make it up to his dad, even if his dad hated him for it.

‘Don’t think of doing it for your dad,’ said Daisy, reading his mind. ‘Do it for you.’

Oscar nodded. He thought of Miss Hobbs spending time with them at the weekend, going swimming with him, and introducing him properly to her eldest niece.

But what should they do next? They tried thinking of something conclusive, something brilliant, but all they could come up with was leaving the photo on Miss Hobbs’s pillow.

No. That was immature and cowardly, they decided. It was also not a good enough photo.

So, they decided to do what any good detective does when he or she doesn’t know what to do next. They were going to do some more spying. And this time they needed to be able to hear what was being said. And there was only one way to do that.