The Sun in Her Eyes (24 page)

‘If you say so.’

He purses his lips. ‘I want to prove it to you, now. Where do you live?’ he asks suddenly, as the bus veers off towards Highgate. The last stop is at the bottom of Highgate West
Hill, but I live at the penultimate stop, which is fast approaching.

‘Just up the road from the Bull & Last.’ I indicate the button to alert the driver to stop, but before I can lean past him, he presses it himself.

‘Me too.’ He grins at me and stands up, shoving his book into his backpack. ‘Have you got to rush home? Can I lend it to you?’

I let out a surprised laugh. ‘Do you really want to prove me wrong that badly?’

He cocks his head to one side and I follow him off the bus. He spins round to face me on the pavement, raising one eyebrow as he slings his backpack over his shoulder.

‘Okay,’ I decide on impulse. ‘Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.’ I laugh. ‘Even though it’s my birthday…’

Just thought I’d throw that in there.

‘Is it really?’ he asks attentively. ‘How old are you? I’m just up here,’ he adds, nodding ahead.

‘Twenty-three,’ I reply.

‘Happy birthday.’ He smiles.

‘Thanks.’

‘Not going out to celebrate?’

‘Nah.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ve got plans on Saturday with some friends, and I’ve got to work tomorrow.’

‘Don’t we all.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a teacher,’ I reply. ‘You?’

‘Advertising.’ He smiles in a cutesy bashful way that makes butterflies unfurl in my belly.

It finally occurs to me to ask what his name is.

‘Ned.’ He holds out his hand.

‘Amber,’ I reply as I shake it. His grip is firm and warm and it sends a thrill spiking up my arm.

This is so weird. This sort of thing never happens to me. I’ve just been chatted up by a gorgeous guy on a bus! Hang on, is he chatting me up? Or is he just being friendly?

‘I’m staying here.’ He points at a whitewashed Georgian terrace.

‘Nice.’

‘It looks better from the outside.’

As I begin to follow him up the wide steps to the front door, I find myself hesitating. Am I really about to enter a house with a total stranger?

‘I’ll hang here,’ I say awkwardly. I don’t suspect him of being a serial rapist, but really, what would I know?

‘Oh! Yeah, okay,’ he says quickly. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

I shift from foot to foot as I wait for him to return, feeling increasingly stupid. I could’ve been in there. Now I’ve probably scared him off.

He wrenches the front door open and bounds down the steps towards me, handing over a thick black book. The artwork features two hands cupping a red apple.

‘Thanks.’ I smile up at him.

He’s slim and about six foot tall, at a guess. He’s dressed casually in a charcoal-grey hoodie, light-grey cords and navy Con verse trainers.

‘I guess I’ll drop it back to you when I finish it?’ I suggest tentatively.

‘Um, well, I’m only living here temporarily,’ he replies, jamming his hands into the pockets of his top.

‘I didn’t think I’d seen you on the bus before,’ I say.

‘You haven’t been looking.’ He grins. ‘
I’ve
seen
you
.’

‘Have you?’ I balk in surprise.

‘I’m not a stalker, I swear,’ he says quickly, pulling his right hand out and almost touching my arm with it. ‘You’re just kind of hard to miss.’ He sighs and
looks away, but by now I’m beaming like an idiot. ‘Fuck me, I’m sounding like a twat again,’ he mutters.

‘Do you want to come to the pub for a quick drink?’ My question spills out of my mouth so impulsively that I don’t even have time to think about it.

He returns his gaze to mine and smiles. ‘Sure.’

‘So what’s with the temporary accommodation?’ I ask as we set off back towards the gastropub on the corner.

‘I’ve only just moved to London. I’m crashing on my mate’s sofa while I flat-hunt.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Brighton originally, but I went to university in Manchester.’

‘Cool.’

‘What about you? Are you Australian?’

‘He’s smart,’ I tease.

He smirks. ‘How long have you been over here?’

‘About five years. I’ve got a British passport, so I’m not going anywhere for a while.’

Golden light spills out of the pub’s large glass windows. Ned opens the chunky wooden door for me, ushering me into the warm interior.

‘Quick, grab that table,’ he urges. ‘What are you drinking?’ he calls, heading towards the bar.

He returns with a glass of wine for me and a bottle of beer for himself.

‘Cheers. Happy birthday.’

We chink glass and bottle and take a sip. Ned’s smiling at me when he places his beer on the table between us.

‘So, Amber,’ he starts, and I note how much I like it when he says my name. ‘What and who do you teach?’

‘Maths to GCSE and A level students,’ I reply.

His eyes widen and he nods, seemingly impressed.

‘What do you advertise and who for?’ I ask in return.

‘Christ, I can’t answer that. Anyone and anything. I’ve only just got this job, and at the moment they’ve got me coming up with ideas for a cosmetics brand.’

‘Do you get any freebies?’ I ask cheekily.

‘I’m sure I could if I wanted them,’ he replies. ‘I haven’t had anyone to give them to.’

‘No girlfriend?’ I raise one eyebrow.

He looks a bit put out. ‘Do you think I’d be here with you if I did?’

I shrug, warmth radiating outwards from the pit of my stomach.

His brow creases. ‘You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?’ he asks a touch warily.

I shake my head. ‘No.’

His shoulders sag with relief. ‘Phew.’

Drinks roll into dinner, and before I know it it’s pub closing time. He walks me back to my flat, his shoulders hunched against the freezing March air. He’s only wearing his hoodie
and the wind has picked up. Even I’m shivering and I have a coat, scarf and gloves on.

‘Sorry, you should have gone straight home. You’ve got twice the distance to walk,’ I say.

‘I thought the alcohol would warm me up,’ he mutters, his teeth chattering.

‘Honestly, I’ll be fine walking from here.’

‘Shut it,’ he snaps, elbowing me.

I step closer and hook my left arm through his, rubbing his back with my other hand. Ned chuckles and leans into me and I have a sudden desire to step up onto my tiptoes and kiss his exposed
neck. He glances down at me and we lock eyes for a moment.

I’m feeling incredibly edgy by the time we reach my flat. I want to invite him in for a coffee, but I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, plus I have to get up early in the morning
and I’ve already drunk way too much…

‘This is me,’ I say, coming to a stop outside my red-brick 1970s apartment block. I glance at him to see that his lips are pressed together in a hard, straight line. I swear they
have a blueish tinge to them.

‘Can I lend you a coat?’ I ask worriedly.

He shakes his head quickly. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he insists.

‘Just come into the lobby for a minute to warm up,’ I urge.

He nods and follows me up to the communal front door while I unlock it. I’m pretty certain now that he
isn’t
a serial rapist.

The door swings shut behind us with a clunk and I turn to face him. He folds his arms across his chest.

‘Jeez.’ I stare at his mouth with wide-open eyes. ‘Your lips really
are
blue. I’ll be gutted if you die of hypothermia before I see you again.’

He grins, but his teeth are still chattering. ‘That’s encouraging to know.’

I take off my gloves and reach up to press my knuckles against his face. ‘Damn, you’re cold.’

His hazel eyes gaze steadily at me, making my heart flutter uncontrollably.

‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’ he asks out of the blue.

‘Nothing.’ I shake my head determinedly.

‘Do you fancy going to see a movie or something?’ he asks.

‘I’d love to,’ I reply with delight, not even bothering to act cool about it.

‘Give me your number, then,’ he says.

We arrange to meet in Camden after work, then I unravel my red scarf and wrap it around his neck. ‘So you don’t die,’ I say jokily.

I jolt as he places his hands on my hips and tugs me closer.

‘I won’t die,’ he vows solemnly, and then he smiles as I tilt my face up to his.

His lips are cold, but his mouth is warm, and it is, without a doubt, the nicest first kiss I’ve ever had. My breath hitches as he draws away, and I am so close –
so close
– to asking him to come upstairs, but somehow I find the will to resist. I like him too much to risk throwing this away on a one-night stand.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he says with meaning, adjusting the scarf.

I watch with a dreamy smile as he pushes out through the door and hunches his shoulders against the wind.

‘How’s Ned getting on at home without you?’

Tina has no idea that she’s about to open a whole can of worms.

I take a sip of my cola and stare into the depths of the fizzy, dark liquid, unsure how to respond. We’re at the pub near her work, sitting inside because it’s raining today.

‘Things are a little tense between us at the moment,’ I reply, carefully placing my glass back on the table.

She looks concerned. ‘Oh. Sorry to hear that. What’s wrong? Is it because you’ve been away for so long?’

‘That doesn’t help.’ I sigh, remembering the awfulness of our conversation on Sunday night. That was two days ago, and even though Ned convinced me that we needed to speak
face-to-face before I made any more declarations involving the D word, I’m still freaked out that I even thought it. I feel like I’m losing perspective on everything.

‘We’ve had a difficult year,’ I reveal.

‘In what way?’ she prompts.

I swallow. ‘I had a miscarriage last year.’

She gasps. ‘Oh Amber, I’m so sorry. I had no idea!’

‘Not many people know. We found out at our twelve-week scan.’ I lean back in my seat and scoop my hair away from my neck, suddenly feeling a bit stuffy. ‘He was so excited
about starting a family. He has three brothers and they’re all married with kids. He
adores
being Uncle Ned.’ My heart pinches as I stare disconsolately across the room.
‘I don’t know…’

‘What?’

‘He says he doesn’t blame me…’

‘Why would he blame you?’ she asks in confusion.

In my final year at school before I handed in my notice, I taught a rowdy class of predominantly boys. They were fifteen going on sixteen and one of them in particular –
Danny – developed a crush on me.

It was fine at first – he was just a bit cheeky and would compliment me on my hair or what I was wearing. I didn’t think it was that big a deal and, let’s face it, I’m no
shrinking violet so I was confident I could handle it.

But after we returned from Christmas break, his attitude seemed to shift. When he looked at me, he did so with more defiance, more dominance, more aggression even. I began to feel
uncomfortable.

As the weeks passed, I became aware of whispers and sniggers when I walked into the classroom or passed him and his mates at break times. The way he drawled my name –
Miss
–
came with meaning, meaning that implied he had certain rights to me. I suspected that he was spreading rumours that we were having an affair.

I was already several weeks’ pregnant at the time and, when I confessed my suspicions to Ned, he was outraged. He wanted to go into school to give Danny an earful himself, but instead he
urged me to take it to the head.

Mr Bunton, a big, bolshie man with a seemingly very high opinion of himself, had only just started and I’d taken an instant dislike to him. I didn’t want to get him involved.

Ned insisted that, at the very least, I should tell Gretchen, my flame-haired firecracker of a friend. She was also the deputy head.

But nothing serious had happened with Danny – I thought it was child’s play and would all blow over. Frankly, I was mortified and didn’t want to cause a fuss or draw unwanted
attention to myself.

Then I found an anonymous note on my desk, suggesting I might like to deliver oral rewards for good work to
all
of my male students, and not just Danny.

I was sickened. I felt like these pupils could see through my clean-cut façade to the person I was underneath. I would have done anything to stop everyone else from finding out.

Ned hit the roof when I finally told him. He was furious at me for putting myself and my career at risk by not trying to resolve the situation sooner. Maybe his rage came from a place of love,
but I was angry with him for failing to be emotionally supportive. I nearly died of embarrassment when he rang Gretchen himself.

She brought me into her office and I begged her to keep the whole thing low-key. But, to my dismay, she told me she had a duty of care towards both her staff and her pupils, and insisted on
bringing in Mr Bunton.

The whole thing was deeply humiliating and stressful. Danny’s parents were contacted and he confessed to the lie so there was no need for social services to get involved. He was made to
apologise and he was excluded from my class, but he was very bitter about it. I’m sure he was being ridiculed by his classmates.

After that, I tried to avoid him wherever possible, but if we passed each other in the school grounds I could sense hostility radiating from him.

Not only did I feel scared, I began to feel bullied and harassed and a shadow of my former self. Ned urged me to go back to the head and insist on a more satisfying resolution, but I
couldn’t see the point. I didn’t know what else could be done, and more than that, I was too embarrassed to bring it up again. So I hid away in the staff room whenever I could.

One day, when I was feeling particularly rotten with morning sickness, I stiffened my resolve and went outside for some fresh air.

Danny and his friends were playing football on the field so I steered clear of them, but when the lunch bell rang I noticed one of my female students crying. She had just broken up with her
boyfriend, and I was so distracted comforting her that I didn’t see Danny coming.