Page 8 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

Chapter 4

THURSDAY ARRIVED. I hauled myself out of bed as if I hadn’t slept at all. I’d done too much too soon. Even having a walk earlier in the week had stretched my minimal reserves of energy. Teaching history classes and doing the paperwork and assignment marking and planning the next set of classwork had worn me down, and it was only my first week back at school.

I dragged myself to the school despite my nauseous exhaustion. Graham avoided me as if I was going to call in one of the many favours he owed me for stepping in to cover for him so often. At the sight of me, he turned on his heels and sped off down the corridor like a startled gazelle.

I managed an hour. A single class. My students were subdued. Having my head on the desk for half of the lesson may have given them the impression I was below par. I was done, and I plodded to the principal’s office.

‘I’ve got to go home,’ I told Bruce. ‘I wasn’t ready to return to work, and now I’m paying the price.’

The principal didn’t argue. I obviously needed rest more than anything. ‘Why don’t you take the rest of the week off, Heather, and see how you are on Monday?’

‘Thanks. I will.’

‘Do you need anyone to drive you home?’

‘No, I can manage.’

I took my time getting to my car. It was raining, but I didn’t mind. The coolness was refreshing. Maybe it helped prevent me from falling asleep on my feet. I’d drive home with the windows open so the chilly wind would keep me awake.

Terry might not even be up yet. His lethargy wasn’t caused by exhaustion or depression, though. Rose was right about that. He would not hunt for another job. In his mind, I would work and look after him. Well, today he could look after me while I rested and recovered a little.

I turned into the driveway and braked sharply. Someone had parked a little blue Suzuki there, right in front of the garage. It wasn’t familiar. Whose was it? A friend of Terry’s, I guessed, but it was early in the day for him to have visitors.

I backed out of the driveway and parked on the side of the road and got out. I had a box of assignments in the back of my old Toyota. Grunting with the effort, I fetched them and headed for the front door. I let myself in and dumped the box on the kitchen table.

Terry wasn’t downstairs. No surprise there. He hadn’t made the effort yet to drag himself down to the sofa and switch on the television.

I trudged upstairs. I needed to lie down. My lady bits—what remained of them, at any rate—were sore as hell and my energy was sapped like an over-used battery long past its best-before date.

‘Can you make me a cup of white hot chocolate, please, Terry?’ I said as I opened the bedroom door and stepped in.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Terry was up, all right. Up to no good. He and a lady friend stared back at me in shock from the bed. They were both stark naked.

I stuck my hands on my hips and asked the obvious question. ‘What the hell is going on?’

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