My Secret Lover

decided
to have sunflowers. But still the issue of the cake. I don't even like wedding
cake. If it were up to me, I would go for a mountain of profiteroles. L
     
    Surely it is up to you? A
     
    Ask my mother. The more she says,
'it's up to you' , the more I know I should just go along with what the
'professionals' are telling me. L
     
    Have you done The List yet? That's
the worst. The sheer greed of it. I think I fell out of love with my wife on
the day she said, of the Royal Doulton dinner service under consideration,
'We're spending about £50 a head, why shouldn't they pay £24 for a dinner
plate?' I hadn't seen that side of her before. A
     
    You're married? L
     
    Was. 8. A
     
    Are you divorced? L
     
    Separated. 7. A
     
    You can't deduct points for personal
questions. I would have won long ago on that reckoning. Why? L
     
    The official reason is because of my
work. I am away a lot, in quite dangerous places. She couldn't handle it. A
     
    What's the unofficial reason? L
     
    She knew what I was like when she
married me, but she thought I'd change. I thought I knew what she was like, but
she did change. She became all wifey and materialistic. Or maybe I didn't know
her very well. A
     
    Did you divide the dinner service
when you split up? L
     
    No. I was delighted for her to have
it, soup tureen, gravy boat, the lot. A
     
    I'd better go to bed. Good night. L
     
    Good night. I'm glad we're talking
again. AX
     
    Yes. L
     
    Night then. AX
     
    Night. AXX
     
    Oh, for heaven's sake! Did you go to
a public school or something? L
     
    Yes. Good night AXXX
     
    I pretend to sleep through Andy
rising, Andy turning on the radio in the kitchen while he eats his cereal, Andy
practising his scales in the shower.
    I admit defeat only when he starts
prodding me. ‘What are we going to do today?’
    I yawn.
    ‘I think we’d better have another
look at china.’
    ‘China?’ he says, as if I’m talking
about another expensive honeymoon destination.
    ‘Apparently, we’re meant to have a
gravy boat.’

37
     
    ‘Miss, what’s a nuclear war?’ asks
Nikita.
    ‘Where did you hear it?’
    ‘My father said there’s going to be
one.’
    ‘Really? It’s a big war. Big and not
very nice, actually.’
    ‘Is it the same as a custard war?’
asks Ethan.
    ‘A custard war,’ I repeat.
    ‘What is a custard war?’
    ‘Do you mean a custard-pie fight,
when two clowns throw custard pies at each other? No, it’s not the same as
that.’ I laugh.
    ‘My father said there’s going to be
one with my mum.’
    ‘He means a custody battle, Miss,’
says Nicole, wearily.
    ‘Yes,’ says Ethan smiling. ‘That’s
it!’
    ‘It just means you never see your dad
again,’ Nicole informs him with the experience of one who’s been there.
    Ethan’s face falls.
    ‘That’s not necessarily true,’ I tell
him. ‘It’s a bit of an argument between grown-ups. Is your father picking you
up today?’
    ‘He’s in the air.’
    ‘In the air?’
    ‘Flying.’
    Do parents not realize how traumatic
it is for the children when they split up?
    I am going to have to have a word
with Ethan’s dad.
     
    There’s a meeting in the staffroom at
lunch to decide how the school should celebrate the Queen’s Golden Jubilee.
    ‘If we run off several hundred
outlines of the Union Jack, the children could colour them and use them as
flags,’ says Richard. He’s always got an educational agenda.
    I can see the room is going to divide
into those who think we should try and teach the children something, and those
who think we should have a good old patriotic knees-up. The Party People Party
needs a leader and I am prepared to take it on. Not as a matter of principle,
because if we could get beyond the prospect of Tony Blair as Queen, or, worse,
Richard Branson, then I would be a Republican, but out of sheer
bloody-mindedness.
    ‘They won’t flap,’ I say.
    The witches’ heads swivel in my
direction, relishing the first hit of the campaign.
    ‘Flags made of normal paper don’t
flap. I may not have had quite as many years’ teaching experience as you have,
but I do know about flapping,’ I tell him. I can feel support for me mounting.
‘Anyway, think of the expense of the crayons.’
    ‘Good point,’ says Richard.
    Trust him to back off instantly.
Coward!
    My supporters are looking to me for
leadership.
    ‘My suggestion is a garden party,’
I’m thinking on my feet, even though I’m actually sitting down. ‘A proper
garden