Fall From India Place

CHAPTER 5

“Miss?”

“Miss Nichols?”

“Miss!”

I jerked my head up, my unfocused gaze refocusing on the class in front of me. They all stared at me in question.

Shit. I’d completely zoned out. Unfortunately, that had been happening more and more lately. Ever since I’d found that bloody photograph of Marco and me, I kept being assaulted by memories of my time with him. It was beyond distracting and annoying.

I blinked a few times, trying to shake the specter of Marco as I searched my desk and attempted to remember what the hell I was talking about.

Right. Of Mice and Men and symbolism.

Pretending I hadn’t just taken a nap in the Halls of Forgotten Youth, I pushed on like I was perfectly aware of my surroundings and what we were doing. “So?” I sat down on the edge of my desk. “To end our discussion on symbolism in the book, why do you think Steinbeck titled it Of Mice and Men?”

Looking around the room at my third-year class, I saw a lot of brows furrowed in thought. The one brow that was usually furrowed in thought, however, today wasn’t. Tabitha Bell was one of my students who continually answered questions. She was bubbly and clever and I could usually count on her to fill any awkward silence. During the parts of the class when I had been fully present that day, I’d noticed that she was just looking down at the table and I didn’t hear a peep coming from her. I’d decided not to force her to participate. Something was clearly up.

“Come on, guys, think about it?” I urged.

The bell rang.

“Okay,” I said over the sound of their packing up and rising chatter. “Listen,” I called out, drawing their attention back to me. “I want you to come in tomorrow with an answer to my question. Why do you think Steinbeck titled it Of Mice and Men?” I was more than a bit annoyed with myself. We hadn’t been able to discuss it in class because of me, and I knew at least ninety percent of them would Google it and seize on a multitude of right answers they hadn’t come up with themselves.

Watching them hurry from my class to get to lunch, my eyes fell on Tabby. “Tabitha.”

She looked up at me as she was passing, her eyes rounded in surprise.

I gestured to her and she made her way over to my desk, silently waiting as the room emptied.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned. “You were awfully quiet in class today. It’s not like you.”

Tears suddenly shimmered in her young eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. If you’re having any issues with the work, I’d like to know so I can help.”

“Class is fine,” she sniffed. “It’s just…” Her lips trembled. “I saw Jack Ryan kissing Natasha Dingwall this morning.”

I stopped myself just in time from curling my lip in annoyance. Jack Ryan was in my fourth-year English class along with Jarrod. Whereas Jarrod was merely cheeky, Jack Ryan was a mouthy, disrespectful, women-hating little shit. “Is Jack your boyfriend?”

Tabby shook her head and I almost sagged in relief. “No… but I thought…” She wiped at the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks and I had to stop myself from rounding the desk to give her a hug.

“Tabby” – I ducked my head to look solemnly into her eyes – “today this feels like the end of the world. Tomorrow? Not so much. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Looking anything but convinced, Tabby mumbled her thanks and quietly departed the room.

I stared after her, feeling bad but knowing she’d be okay. I knew because I’d been there. It felt like hell in the moment, but I was pretty sure time healed all.

Sometimes when you came across stupid photographs, however, it nicked the scar a little.

“There you are!” Anisha Patel, a fellow English teacher at the school, rushed toward me as I walked into the department staff room. She was grinning, her dark eyes glittering with excitement. “Please tell me you don’t have a date to my wedding because I want to set you up with someone.”

I stared at her in confusion. “I’m invited?”

Nish was lovely. In fact, I got on really well with the English department. They didn’t act superior to me because I was a probationer; they just welcomed me aboard. Still, Nish and I had known each other only a couple of months so I wasn’t expecting an invitation to her wedding. She talked about it every day, just as much as she talked about her gorgeous construction worker fiancé, Andrew, a guy whose boss often worked on projects for Braden and Adam.

Nish looked mortified. “I didn’t invite you? Of course I did. Didn’t I?” She waved it off. “Well, you’re invited to the reception. Of course you are. Here.” She strutted back over to her purse, dug around a bit, and pulled out an envelope. “An invitation.” She held it out to me.

I smiled as I took it. “That’s really nice of you, Nish, but I wasn’t expecting an invite.”

“Hush. Of course you’ll be there. And can I set you up?” She clapped her hands together excitedly. “I know this guy and I’ve told him all about how gorgeous and smart and funny you are, and after the bad luck he’s had in the past he really needs to date someone like you.”

Although flattered… “Thank you, Nish, but I’m not really —”

“When was the last time you went on a date? I never hear you talking about men. Oh.” Her eyes widened and she leaned in to whisper, “Do you like women?”

“No, I’m not a lesbian,” I replied, not annoyed that she would think I was gay but annoyed that my perpetual singledom caused people to assume I was gay, rather than that maybe I was just happy being alone until I found a guy I could stand to be around long enough to commit to. “I’ll bring Cole to the wedding.”

“Ah, so something is going on there with that boy. Knew it!”

I looked over at my colleague Barbara, who seemed amused by the whole thing, and said, “Why is everyone man crazy at the moment? There is more to life.”

Barbara grunted. “Preaching to the converted.”

I sighed and looked back at Nish. “Cole and I are just friends, but I’m bringing him to the wedding. No setups.”

“Speaking of boys” – Eric, the department head, grinned up at me from his sandwich – “apparently you have a number of admirers, Hannah.”

I grimaced. “Are you talking about students?” I shook my head, walking over to the fridge to get my sandwich. “It’s just because I’m close to their age.”

“I think it’s more to do with the fact you wear pencil skirts, high heels, and sexy secretary blouses.” Nish sniggered. “And of course you look like that.”

My colleagues laughed teasingly at my scowl.

“So do you want to know who fancies you?” Eric grinned cheekily.

“No. Definitely not.”

“Jarrod Fisher is in Rutherford’s class. He got into it with another boy who said some inappropriate things about you. Both got punishment exercises. And then there’s my sixth-year. A kid asked me this morning in front of the whole class whether I thought he had a chance with you.”

I groaned into my sandwich, making them laugh, but the truth was it wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world to know that some of the minors you were teaching were having inappropriate thoughts when they looked at you. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“Okay. Back to Cole then,” Nish said. “You’re absolutely sure that it’s just friends between you two? Because that picture you showed me… if I were ten years younger…”

I smiled. “He’s good-looking. But he’s my best friend. It’s not like that between us. Anyway, I’m too busy with this placement for a relationship. No matchmaking, Nish. I mean it.”

I sat in my old bedroom on the new single bed, staring at the boxes in the corner where I’d stuffed the picture of Marco. I felt like it had been haunting me, and the only way to stop it was to put it in the boxes I’d eventually store back at my flat.

Hearing a chorus of laughter downstairs, I smiled. It was Sunday. My home had always been a happy one. I was lucky to have two parents who had such genuine affection and respect for each other. They’d rarely argued. Most of the arguing had been between Dec and me as we got older. I gave a small huff of laughter. I guess that hadn’t changed much.

I smoothed my hands over the comforter of the new bed. Despite the changes this place still felt safe somehow.

A knock on the door surprised me, jolting me out of my reverie. Jo’s head popped around the door, followed by her bump and then the rest of her. She smiled as she looked around, her long strawberry blond hair swinging in its ponytail. “This brings back memories.”

When I was younger and Jo and Cole started coming to Sunday lunches, I’d bonded with Jo. Ellie was a great big sister, but she was very overprotective and a little too idealistic and romantic for me to confide in. Admittedly, I’d inherited that same romantic streak from Mum, but I was a little more reluctant to believe in fairy tales. Jo was more like me. She had her feet firmly planted on the ground, even when her head took a wander into the clouds. Before dinner she and I would sneak off to my room and I’d tell her all the secrets I couldn’t tell my overprotective family.

“Do you remember Marco?” I found myself asking.

Jo stopped and turned to me, her green eyes round with surprise. “How could I forget? Your first big crush.”

It was so much more than that.

I looked away, ignoring that flash of pain.

“Hannah?”

I glanced back at her to find her frowning.

“What made you think of him?”

I shrugged, attempting casual and hopefully not failing. “Mum asked me to throw out some of my old things. I found a photograph of Marco in the boxes. It brought all the old memories back, I guess.”

Looking pensive, Jo strode toward me and lowered herself onto the bed next to me. “That’s not surprising,” she said quietly. “I imagine you have a few regrets where Marco’s concerned. He left Scotland before anything could happen between you.”

I felt a flip of unease in my stomach. I hated keeping things from the people I loved.

“You really changed after he left,” Jo continued softly. “You became serious even before…”

My eyes found hers. “I guess that’s what regret does to a person.”

Jo took my hand. “You’re only twenty-two, Hannah. Plenty of time to find ‘the one.’”

Forcing the pain away, I smiled at her. “I know that.”

The fragments of the past can become restless ghosts, relentless in their haunting, unless you decide to take a stand against them to exorcise them. I think I’d just needed to say Marco’s name out loud to someone, to admit that I’d been thinking about him. It probably would have meant so much more if Jo knew the entire truth, knew the whole story between me and Marco, but it was enough for me to realize that what she’d said was true. I was too young to be haunted. I couldn’t let this resurgence of a life better forgotten ruin the life I wanted to make for myself.

I determinedly exorcised those memories, leaving them behind in my old room and venturing back into the present as I walked downstairs to join everyone.

My parents’ dining room was filled with chatter despite the fact that not everyone had made it to Sunday lunch this week. Ellie and Adam were at home because William had had a fever the night before and the three of them were exhausted. Jo’s uncle Mick and his wife, Dee, were on holiday in Las Vegas, so they weren’t with us, but Jo, Cam, and Cole were, as were Liv, Nate, Lily, and January. Joss and Braden were with us, too, along with Beth and Luke.

Mum had set up a kiddie table at the end of the room where Lily, Beth, and Luke sat with Mum, who was this week’s kiddie table chaperone. She had January in her arms as she watched over the wee ones and tried to feed herself.

“So, I need a favor and it’s a bit late notice,” I said to Cole over the children’s noise. Thankfully he was sitting next to me.

“I’m intrigued.” He raised an eyebrow. “Proceed.”

I smiled, rolling my eyes. “Well, your majesty, I’ve had a last-minute invite to my colleague’s wedding reception and I need a date. It’s next Saturday.”

“What time?”

“It’s just the after-party, so I guess we don’t need to be there until about eightish.”

“No problem.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Begging Cole for a date?” Declan grunted at me from across the table. The boy had supernatural powers of hearing. “That’s a little pathetic, Hannah.”

“Are we in a pissy mood because you had to surgically remove your hip from Penny’s?” I gibed in return. “Tell me, Dec, how does it feel to be whipped at eighteen?” What can I say? My little brother brought out my mature side.

He glowered at me. “She’s at her nana’s today.”

“With her whip?”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

“And whiplash-free.”

I could hear Cole laughing beside me, which pissed my brother off even more.

“Seriously?” Dec smirked. “When was the last time anyone wanted to date you? If you need some pointers, I’m happy to help. Let’s start with your face. You might want to do something about that. Plastic surgery maybe?”

“Oh.” I flinched as if I’d tasted something sour. “If we’re going to mock one another let’s keep it smart. I refuse to go into a battle of wits with the witless. It’s too easy. And rather insulting.”

“Children,” Mum called over to us, tsking. “Don’t make me remind you that one of you is an eighteen-year-old and the other is a twenty-two-year-old high school English teacher.”

“Elodie, don’t spoil the fun,” Cam complained. “These two are my weekend entertainment.”

“I’m thinking about filming them and creating a weekly blog,” Joss agreed.

Before I could think up a clever retort, we heard my mother tsk again loudly. “Beth, eat your greens. They’re good for you. Come on, eat your peas.”

“I don’t want to,” she whined, and we turned to watch her push her plate back. “They’re little fuckers.”

The room stilled, my mother’s gasp the only sound.

The laughter built up inside me and promptly exploded as Cole gave a bark of laughter. I collapsed against him, my face in his shoulder, and laughed until my belly hurt.

I could hear everyone’s laughter, and looked across the table at Joss to see that she was the only one mortified.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I asked, “How?” hoping she understood the question.

“I said it once,” she lamented. “Now she won’t stop saying it.”

“Mummy?” Beth asked, confused by our reaction.

“I still don’t understand.” Mum pinched her mouth together in affront.

Joss sighed. “I dropped a jar of peas and I thought I got ’em all, but I found some renegades later on and forgot Beth was there when I did.”

“Little fuckers,” Beth said promptly, obviously remembering the moment when Joss encountered the renegade peas.

That set us off again.

I had tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Baby, I told you, you can’t say that word,” Joss told her softly, ignoring the rest of us. “It’s not a nice word and Mommy was wrong to use it.”

Beth gave Joss a hilariously sly look that suggested she was intrigued rather than cautioned.

We were off again, Braden’s laughter louder than anyone’s. “Christ, next she’ll be repeating it in school.” He rubbed his eyes, his expression smoothing out from hilarity. “If she does, I’m leaving you to explain it.”

“What happened to being in this together?” Joss grumbled.

“She gets it from you, so you’re best equipped to deal with it.”

The look Joss cut him was not one of amusement.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” I said, picking my fork back up.

“Jocelyn’s?” Braden asked as Joss asked, “Braden’s?”

“Exactly.”