Page 79 of Textbook Romance

‘Is something wrong, Miss?’ she asks, sensing a change in my mood.

I shake my head. It feels like life encroaching on that lovely bubble I have with Jack again. Maybe that’s what holds me back from liking him too much, talking too much about what our future looks like because, deep down, I was also a bit hesitant that it would go anywhere. Not that I viewed this as a fling. It was certainly starting to feel like more than that, but because in our lives, I see huge forks in the road. I don’t want to give my kids even more emotional upheaval in trying to understand a new relationship. I don’t want him to feel like he had to jump into my life and fit into it, rather than live his own. He’s too good a person for that. I think when you’ve seen your own life fall apart, you don’t wish that for people you know, for people you care about. You only want good things. I watch as I see him and his group exiting the services and scramble around trying to ensure that it looks like I haven’t been snooping on his phone. That wasn’t a good move in any case. I put the phone down on his side of the bus as the door enters.

‘All good?’ he asks me.

I nod. ‘Right, our turn, girls. Did you want anything? A coffee maybe?’ I ask, attempting to play it cool.

‘I’m good.’

‘Oh… by the way, when I was looking at your maps, a message from Sarah came up.’

‘Oh, cool,’ he says, taking his phone and going through his messages. I watch him as he reads the messages then writes a reply. I wish I could ask the young boy behind him to peer over and see what he wrote. I really do.

Jack

I don’t know about these kids but I am learning shit loads today about science and maths, and I’ve seen a boy solve a Rubik’s Cube in twelve seconds. I seriously double high-fived him. I’d never seen anything so incredible. I think he appreciated the celebration but was slightly confused by my overexcitement. This exhibition is happening in a series of university buildings and for this last part of the day, we’ve allowed them free rein in this science centre, praying that they will make their way back to us.

‘Please, please, please. You have half an hour and then we need to get back on the road. Please go round in pairs. Don’t attempt to go into the student union bar and please don’t lose my clipboards,’ Zoe tells them all. They all hang on her every word, nodding. I can’t lie. We have the well-behaved maths crew, but I guess that’s better than dragging kids around a castle where they don’t want to be. They all disperse in different directions and Zoe breathes a sigh of relief.

‘It’s been a good day. Chill. Here,’ I say, handing her a cup of tea and putting a hand to her back. I rest the hand there a little too long, but she doesn’t seem to mind. It’s been a strange day like this where we’ve had to keep an acceptable distance from one another so as not to scare the children – any brief contact has, therefore, almost had to be planned, appear to be accidental, though it makes me clench my fists in frustration. I follow her as we settle on some stairs that open out to a huge quad dotted with trees, benches. It’s a perfect spot to people watch and take a well-deserved breather, the early winter sunshine a welcome relief. I watch as she pulls her scarf over her face.

‘Are you cold? Do you want to go inside?’ I ask her. ‘Or maybe I can sit closer to you? We can share bodily warmth.’

She shakes her head.

‘Are you just worried about another sex debacle?’ I ask her and she laughs in response.

‘Here, at least get close enough to have a crisp,’ I tell her, offering my pack over to her. She puts a hand in my packet, our hands grazing, and I see her smile.

‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘There are no children around. I believe you can just call me Jack.’

She smiles. I’m not quite sure but since the minibus, Zoe has been a tad quieter. I’m not sure if it’s fatigue or the stress of having to keep eyes on all these kids but she stares out into the quad now, looking at all the students rushing to lectures and the curved sprawling architecture of the modern buildings.

‘It’s super fancy here, eh?’ I say.

‘Very. It’s certainly very different from a London comprehensive,’ she says, studying my face. ‘Tell me how you met Sarah again – wasn’t it at university?’ she asks me, out of the blue.

‘Yes, we were both botanists – proper plant geeks. Why?’

‘Oh – you know, being here I was just curious. There’s so much I don’t know about you. University to me feels like it was a lifetime ago. I can’t believe this might be Dylan in a few years.’

She seems pensive and I desperately want to hold her hand. ‘So you were a numbers geek at uni?’

‘Yep. I loved the maths. But I had a terribly blunt fringe, too. That was a mistake,’ she jokes. ‘Why plants?’ she asks me. ‘Botany?’

‘When I was little, I was very into rainforests. I remember I had one of those fact files for Christmas and I knew all the names of the trees and the animals, and I became a bit fixated. That’s not very sexy, is it?’

She breaks into laughter. ‘I don’t know. It shows a passion for something, it shows you care. I see it with your nephews, too, Dom. In how much you care for them.’

It feels good that she sees that in me. ‘I’m good with trees, actually. It’s my specialist subject. Go on, quiz me.’

She leans back, giggling. ‘The man is telling me he’s good with wood.’

I cock my head to one side and point to a tree in the vicinity. ‘That is a London plane tree. From the Platanaceae family.’

‘Impressive,’ she says.

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