To Be Honest(29)
“Sir?”
I’m sorry, I might be getting better at wearing Miss Mint’s clothes and teaching and living in her life but it’s not a natural thing to say, oh, hi there Archibald.
“On your news,” he says, his Movember bristles bristling. “You and Taff must be so excited.” He leans in and I heave, ‘cos his breath’s rank, his hair’s slicky and he might be headmaster but his own needs some taming.
“Two become three, like that old Spice Girls song.” He looks pleased; keeping up to date’s hard and so mostly he slots in the world ‘old’ and gets away with it, even when he’s completely wrong.
“What? Sorry, I ...”
“We took the plunge in 1975,” he mists. “Our first was so tiny. Hard work. But so much fun,” he enthuses. “So much character when they’re small. People said we were young ... too young ... but of course with the economy now, people have to wait, don’t they ..?”
He looks at me squarely. “Well, anyway Phoebe. Won’t keep you. Just let me know what you need when it comes to time off.”
The adverbs I’m guillotining slide to the floor.
Oh my god, I’m pregnant.
* * *
“You’re not pregnant,” Miss Mint says. “I’m not pregnant, I mean. We’re buying a house. Taff and I.”
We’re in French 2 at lunch and there’s postcards all over the walls saying bonnes vacances and salutations with pictures of la mer and la plage, glossy gateaux and chateaus and I think of Mum.
Miss Mint’s brought my French book along ‘cos she had it this morning and guess what? She’s scared.
Turns out Miss Mint’s not great at French. Turns out I’m better than her. Turns out the thought of us maybe not swapping back and her taking mocks next term freaks her out entirely, which I find hilarious to be honest, when she’s buying a house in real life.
“But your house is gorgeous.”
She rests from declensions and clenches her fists. I’ve lent her the diamond; I stare as she twists.
“It’s got some bad memories.”
She leaves it at that.
Outside, it’s like the world’s pausing. The field’s a damp, trampled carpet. Remembrance assembly’s tomorrow and our pounds are for Help the Heroes, Alicia reminded me yesterday. I asked her who hers was. She said her brother. I don’t know whose mine is. Maybe Dad. Maybe not. Miss Mint used to be. But I’m not sure now.
“Are you going round tonight, then?”
We’re back to Josh. Miss Mint says after French he legged it at break and she looked everywhere but then Erin was moaning about her mum not letting her see Joe Brannigan, so she couldn’t look long.
“Yeah,” I say, and leave it at that.
I’m a bit cross ‘cos Josh’s not got my letter yet. I thought she’d have slipped it into his bag in tutor but it all went wrong, she says. Debono went mental ‘cos she’d lost her staff planner, so sent Miss Mint off to find it in science. Then Miss Mint saw Mr Morlis taking pictures of the rain with his tutor group and stayed ‘til the bell went, quizzing him.
“What did he say?”
“We’re doing well, apparently. Three days in, three nights down ... if we’d lied so far, he thinks we’d know.”
“How?”
“He says we just would. Says if we don’t tell the truth, we’ll feel great pain, or something. I haven’t; have you?” She looks at me suspiciously.
I think of my teeth, how they throb in the night; how it could be ‘cos I didn’t tell Miss Anderson what I really think of her hair in staff briefing this morning. But I don’t mention this, ‘cos I’m going to see Mum on Saturday. I don’t think my teeth hurt ‘cos of that, anyway.
She says she’s had lunch and I say oh, what? ‘Cos my pasty was yum. She says a boiled egg.
I get her to write it in French and we leave it at that.
* * *
I hitch a ride home with Mr Morlis again; it’s just easier, as long as Olly’s not around.
“What should we do with your car?”
He’s right: it’s been parked in the car park for three days now. I’ve not lied outright about why, but someone’s bound to ask soon what’s the matter with it.
“We’ll get it on Sunday.”
Strange saying ‘we’. Taff’s rung twice. Well, more than that but I’ve missed most of them. Taking a call in the school day’s like juggling jelly, as Mum would say. We don’t talk for long. He asks how the day’s gone and I say fine but I like listening to him more, so I ask lots of questions. It takes my mind off me.