Page 78 of Textbook Romance

‘Stop it,’ I tell her.

‘I know that look.’

‘I’m just excited about my impeding STEM trip.’

‘Yeah, whatever, Mrs Swift. I am going to love you and leave you,’ she says, peering into the bus. ‘Have a lovely time, everyone!’ She leans into me. ‘Have fun, Mrs Swift.’

‘Miss Callaghan, Mrs Swift,’ Jack says, trying to act normal but brushing against my hand intentionally. I hold my breath as he does this. He can’t do this all day. I won’t cope. His school look hasn’t changed bar a backpack this time. I hope he read the letter and packed a waterproof coat, lunch and a pencil case with a calculator.

‘I did say eight o’clock, Mr Damon. It’s five minutes past eight.’

‘I am sorry.’

‘Well, to make it up to us, you can drive the first leg to the services.’

‘Deal,’ he says, putting his hand out so I can shake it.

‘Be good, kids,’ Beth jokes, interrupting this little moment, allowing Jack and I to part ways and get this trip on its way. It’s like a day out with ten children tagging along who are bloody good at Rubik’s Cubes.

‘Morning, everyone!’ Jack says, waving to his passengers, before settling into the driver’s seat where he plugs his phone into the cradle, connecting it to the minibus stereo. He starts the engine and presses a few buttons until music starts blasting through the speakers. I can’t seem to control my reaction and have to put my hand over my mouth, looking out of the window.

‘Is this RAYE, Sir?’ asks a voice at the back.

‘It is! It’s my new favourite. I had a dance to this a couple of weeks ago,’ he says, smiling to himself as he grapples with the gearstick. With who, Mr Damon? Pray, do tell.

‘Let me know if you have any requests. Just no Oasis.’

I stop for a moment and look at him curiously.

‘No Oasis?’ I ask.

He starts reversing and the ping of the minibus starts to echo through the carpark. ‘Just can’t stand them.’

‘Ditto,’ I reply. ‘Ditto.’

I’m never sure what these school trips will be like. I suppose I hope that there’ll be a singalong on the bus and the children will be brimming with excitement about a day away from school and some provision for adventure and alternative learning. What really happens is that you’re terrified that you have sole responsibility for these kids. What if I lose one of them? What if one of them wanders off? What if the bus breaks down on the motorway and we have to live in a layby forever? Never say that I’m not an optimist. It’s been a hell of a drive and one that’s now taken us to Fleet Services where we’ve stopped so the children (and I) can relieve ourselves, and the children can get excited about us allowing them to buy super expensive sweets.

‘Boys with me then,’ Jack announces to the bus as children clamber over each other. I look at my watch. I’ve scheduled fifteen minutes for this stop which also allows me to buy more coffee. Jack turns to me smiling. ‘You OK, Miss?’ he asks me. I don’t know why he looks so well. I want to say it’s youth without sounding condescending, but he just looks like he’s rolled out of bed and done nothing more than thrown on a shirt, trousers and boots. He gets out of the bus and stretches his hands over his head, revealing a slice of stomach and the waistband of his underwear. I avert my eyes to avoid blushing in front of the kids but exhale coolly to know I’ve seen a hell of a lot more than that. ‘When I’m in there, can you just check Maps again? I might come off the M3 early if the traffic is still bad,’ he tells me, before herding his small group of boys towards the services building. I have control over his phone. That feels like next level intimacy – my kids won’t even let me do that much – but I do as I’m told, studying junctions and red lines on maps. As I scroll, however, a message pops up.

You keep ignoring me and it’s bloody infuriating.

It’s from Sarah. I should ignore it. Not my phone. Not my boyfriend in reality, so it’s bad for me to even feel a hint of jealousy or interest in any of this. I will just assume it’s the same lovely Sarah who delivered Dylan back home safely to me.

I need to tell them as soon as possible so please make a decision.

My interest is well and truly piqued now. A decision about what? Jack hasn’t mentioned anything to me. I wonder if it’s important, something he has to reply to now. Maybe it’s as simple as a party invitation and she needs to know for catering. If this is the case, then I feel her fury as people who don’t RSVP are galling. Maybe I have found that one thing about Jack that’s vaguely annoying.

And I’ll say it out loud, if you don’t take up this opportunity then you’re bloody stupid. Just bloody say YES.

Does this mean he’s turned down an invite to a really good party? Instinct tells me probably no. I shouldn’t get involved. I shouldn’t even tell him I’ve seen this. I should look up directions and routes and just mind my own business, but I open up his messages and scroll up. Shit. He’ll know I’ve read this. I’ll just say I have fat fingers and plead ignorance. I look through the message chain – a lot of it is Jack just ignoring Sarah, but I come to one message from about two weeks ago.

This is what I was talking about last night. Please please consider it. I’m not asking you because you’re a mate but I really think you’d be amazing at it. S

I follow the link and it takes me to a page detailing a conservation project in Borneo. I scan the page and find a small news box talking about how a Dr Sarah Jarvis is leading a small team of botanists to conduct some research out there, and I put two and two together like the good mathematician I am. Jack has never mentioned this. He took me to Laser Tag, we’ve kissed in a stationery cupboard, and had sex in that time but this was never something that came up. The messages track back to the weekend after we first slept together. I guess I am just a casual thing, so this is maybe something not to discuss with me. But I can also understand why he wouldn’t mention it to me as it would involve him leaving. Leaving me. By that measure, though, is this why he hasn’t said yes? Is it because of me?

‘Miss. Is there a shop at the university? I said I’d buy my mum something.’ I can’t seem to answer. ‘Miss?’

‘I guess we can find something, Bonnie. We need to find you a lunch, too, don’t we?’ I tell her.

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