looked away again. “I don’t know him.”
He had replied too quickly. Was he lying?
Helen turned towards the hall. “I’ll go and ask Louisa.”
Gary grabbed her arm. “Don’t.” His fingers were digging in. He realized and let go. “Sorry, I didn’t mean … It’s probably best if you give Louisa some space for a while.”
“So tell me why that man sent her into meltdown?”
“It sounds like the same man who trashed her garden a few months ago. He pulled up all the plants and smashed the fountain in the pond. He was about to hack down the wisteria in the front when they came home. It cost Damian a fortune to put it right.”
She thought of the first time Sascha had spoken to her, blunt and accusing when he realized she was English. She could see that anger turned on a British garden. “Did they call the police?”
“Damian told him to get lost. As far as I know he hasn’t returned until today, although I think I saw him parked up outside school once.”
The face she saw at the Howards’ fence, was that Sascha? She ought to have told Gary but it seemed a bit late to mention it. “Will they call the police now he’s come back?”
“No idea.” He looked away.
He was doing it again, shutting her out. She was sick of him withholding things. “I’ll ask Sascha when I see him at the pool,” she said.
“God, Helen, you know his name? You need to keep away from him. You can’t go there after this. He might be dangerous.”
“I was alone in the car with him and he was fine until we got to Number Ten. Whatever his quarrel with the Howards, it doesn’t involve me.”
“Of course it involves you. You’re part of this community whether you like it or not. We owe it to our neighbours to show some solidarity.”
He sounded like Louisa again. Helen was surrounded by the neighbourhood mafia and Gary was doing his best to join it. Her resentment boiled over. “Why don’t you show me some solidarity? Don’t you dare take the pool away. I’m bored brainless here. You’ve taken everything else. My career, my house, my swim squad.” She broke down and sobbed.
Gary rested an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard for you to give up your career. But it’s not forever. Why don’t you ask Damian about the supply list for teachers?”
She shook off his arm. “How nicely do you want me to ask Damian Howard? How high up the waiting list do you want me to go?” She looked him in the eye. Surely he knew about his head teacher’s extracurricular antics. His face hardened, then he nodded. An unspoken understanding passed between them.
He pulled her towards him and she felt his lips on her hairline. “I shouldn’t have said that about the pool. It’s up to you.”
She wanted to stay mad at him despite the warmth of his breath through her hair. She forced herself not to respond.
He held her at arm’s length. His fingers played on her shoulders, soft and conciliatory. “I want you to be happy.”
“I want that for both of us,” she said. She kissed him.
She felt him relax, let out a sigh. He must be as relieved as she was that the squall had passed.
“I was going to tell you about something that you might like, but it can wait,” he said.
“What? Tell me.” She suddenly thought of half-term. Perhaps he was going to surprise her with a trip. She still hadn’t mentioned her idea of visiting the German lakes, maybe he’d come up with the same thing.
But he looked away. He was still bloody doing it.
“Just tell me, Gary.”
He sighed again but didn’t look at her. “The Elementary School runs an after-school swim club. They need more volunteer teachers.”
It wasn’t what she was expecting, but it was still good news. “That’s amazing. How do I sign up?”
“It’s not coaching and the kids are beginners mostly.”
It sounded like a lifeline. She’d be teaching again.
“So you’re interested then? You’ll give them a call? No backing out?”
“Why would I want to back out?”
He fetched his briefcase, handed her the school newsletter and studied her face.
She read the headline: Swim Club Needs Helpers. Below it was a colour photograph. She recognized the perfect chestnut hair before she read the caption: Club Chair Louisa Howard. She threw the newsletter at him.
I offered to get the first round while Liz and Cheryl hunted down an empty table.
I hovered at the back of the bar scrum, reckoning on a fifteen-minute wait and wishing I had sharper elbows. When someone got served, a gap opened and the crowd regrouped. My arm bumped against the tall man next to me.
He smiled down. “Is it always like this?” he said.
“I’ve only been once before so I don’t know.”
“It’s my first time,” he said, taking a £20 note out of his pocket and waving it at the bar staff. He must have landed in this undergraduate watering hole by mistake. I concluded it would be his last visit too.
“Hello, can you serve me, please?” he called out when a harassed-looking barmaid came within range.
It was worth a try but all the staff were feigning deafness and not catching anyone’s eye. But to my surprise the girl looked up and took the money from his outstretched hand.
He turned to me. “What’s your order?” It was kind of him to save me queuing longer.
When the barmaid passed over the tray of drinks, she giggled and gave him a broad smile. He thanked her and refused to let me pay him back. “Where are you sitting?”
I pointed to where Cheryl and Liz had found the last free booth. When he put the drinks on our table, the girls shuffled along to make room for both of us. They must have thought I’d picked him up. I stayed standing and thanked him for the drinks. A blush grew on my neck and face. What must he think of three little girls assuming he’d be interested in one of them? But it was the second surprise of the evening: he sat down next to Cheryl and asked her name.
When I sat opposite him, he turned to me. “Where do you usually drink, then, if not here?”
