Page 7 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

Nisha had a commanding presence in the classroom, and the children seemed to respond to it in spite of the inevitable first day excitement.

The morning passed in a whirl of handing out books and pencils, answering questions about whether or not Hardev’s father really was Spiderman, as he insisted, and checking that Francis was getting on ok.

Lunchtime came as a welcome relief. “Well,” said Nisha, “we made it. Well done, us.”

“Half a day down, umpteen more to go,” replied Chrissie, with a laugh. Saying it out loud reminded her of the reality of her situation. “But yes, I think we got through ok. The children always struggle the first day back, particularly when it comes to sitting still and paying attention, so I reckon we did well. Aside from Dottie’s lap of honour for getting all her maths questions right, at least.”

Nisha laughed. “Coffee, I think.”

They settled down together in the staff room. Chrissie was beginning to feel more comfortable with Nisha, although each time she thought back to that summer, a shudder tore through her heart. That couldn’t go on all year, surely?

“Good afternoon, ladies,” said Dan, settling himself down beside the two women with his Lego themed lunchbox.

“Hey, bab,” said Chrissie, happy to have safer company.

“So, how was your morning?” asked Dan. Nisha took the opportunity to describe the Spiderman incident in all its glory, and the classroom drama that had followed. Chrissie allowed the conversation to flow over her as she ate the falafel salad she’d made that morning.

Her mind drifted to the many lunches of instant noodles she had shared with Nisha that July, once their A levels were over. They would sit on the lawn on a blanket, surrounded by books, talking endlessly about everything and nothing. It was a hot summer and it felt like it would never end. There was football on TV every day, constant stories about David Beckham and England’s chances in the World Cup, Shakira and Coldplay on the radio, and they didn’t have a care in the world. Until they did.

“So I realised then that I needed to make a change,” said Nisha, her voice breaking into Chrissie’s reverie.

“Yeah, I get that,” said Dan, opening a tiny Tupperware box filled with grapes, and popping them into his mouth one by one.

“And this job came up. It seemed like a sign,” Nisha went on. “After everything that happened, coming home didn’t seem like such a bad thing to do. I was always happy in Birmingham.”

“And who can resist the pull of the People’s Republic of Kings Heath?” said Dan, smiling.

“Well, absolutely. Chrissie and I spent many happy days here when we were young.”

Dan’s head snapped up from his grapes. “You know each other?” he said. Chrissie froze.

“Yeah, we were at school together,” Nisha replied casually.

Chrissie could hear the blood roaring in her ears. “A long time ago,” she said.

Nisha frowned slightly and looked down at her own lunch. Dan eyed Chrissie quizzically before Nisha stood up. “I guess I should get set up for the afternoon,” she said, almost sprinting for the exit.

“Now there is totally a story here,” said Dan. “How is it that you omitted to tell me that you actually know her, that you were at school with her?”

Chrissie felt guilty. She should have been more open with her friend. “It’s complicated,” she replied.

“I’m not going to pry,” said Dan, “much as I’d love to.” He winked. “It’s your business. But are you ok? You seem a bit off.”

“I’m fine,” Chrissie told him. “It was all a long time ago. We were friends and then had a bit of a bust up before we went to uni. We never saw each other again after that, so it’s just a bit awkward to be honest.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie. “I’m sorry, Dan. I should have told you I knew her.”

“Don’t worry, bab,” he said, “we all have our secrets.”

Chrissie was relieved. Dan was a good friend. She didn’t want to lose him.

Chapter Six

“Do you ever think about what happened to the others?” asked Rae.

Chrissie and Rae were having a glass of wine together in the Vine on Kings Heath High Street. It was midweek, and just beginning to get dark outside. There was always a mixed crowd in the café bar, representing the diversity of the south Birmingham neighbourhood that boasted its own, albeit tiny, Pride parade.

“Yes,” said Chrissie, more open than usual, thanks to the two glasses of sauvignon blanc she’d already imbibed. “I think about Athena.”

“Your ex?” said Rae.

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