Gerry Hargreaves was officially off-limits (Georgia’s words, not hers) while he was one of Georgia’s teachers. So, technically, he’s now fair game.
The bonus things about Gerry are as follows: he’s safe, he’s kind, he's never inclined to criticise her or her parenting. And, okay, these might not be attributes to set her loins alight, but Heather’s not after that. She’s resigned to there never being an all-consuming love that distracts her from the crossword or causes her to miss her stop on the bus. But Gerry is a safe, reliable option and someone Heather imagines she can companionably fill a few hours with. Nothing more.
‘Thanks.’ She smiles, and her cheeks tingle as she totters through the entrance, grateful she’d chosen heels for the aesthetics, but most definitely out of practice on them.
Her hands, she notices once inside, are somewhat clammy. Why’s she feeling so shy and self-conscious? Gerry’s hardly a stranger; she’s known him for decades. She steals a sideways glance at him as they make their way to their allotted table. He’s swapped his thick-framed glasses for a flimsier pair and his hair has noticeably receded. Okay, he might not exude the same rugged animalistic charm that Scott-Bloody-Reynolds displayed outside her hotel room, but Gerry won’t go abandoning her and leaving her bereft. As though to prove this point, Gerry smiles the same kind and reassuring smile he’d graced her with all those years ago when he’d mentored her during her brand-new teaching career. Gerry had been the Art Department Lead and without him, she may well have floundered when her lesson on finger-painted self-portraits collapsed into a student pile-up and ruined thirty school uniforms.
As well as counselling her through the imposter syndrome, the self-doubt, the tricky students and the challenging parents, he’d helped her prepare for the marking of her sixth former portfolios and supported her when Tony Anderson began a one-student campaign to discredit her, simply because she’d correctly assessed his project work at a grade ‘B’.
The attraction (or was it gratitude?) she felt for him all those years ago went through a gradual evolution during that first term: a heightened awareness when he touched her on the wrist when a lesson went well, appreciating a hidden wink when her behaviour management strategies finally worked, accepting a hug when her independent assessor graded her observed lesson “a triumph”.
By the time the semester was out, Heather and Gerry were heavy petting in the staff room after Parents’ Evening and full-on fondling in the art department store cupboard after the end of term Christmas party.
Heather places her hand over her belly in an unconscious gesture as they near their table, and the past comes flooding back to her. Their brief flirtation had come to an abrupt halt when Heather had a lapse of judgement and fell pregnant by her dad’s boss, Dougie.
Does Gerry still see her like that? It does look that way. He seems keen to impress as he rushes ahead to pull her chair out for her, and there’s an awkward kerfuffle around the table when three of them: she, Gerry and the attentive server, are all pulling at the high-backed dining chair together. Heather smiles across the table at Gerry once seated. Despite the initial awkwardness, it’s nice to be in a restaurant where the company treats her with respect and courtesy for a change.
‘I can’t tell you how pleased I was when you messaged,’ Gerry says as he removes his corduroy blazer, revealing the same knitted sweater she’d removed during a steamy fumble after the faculty social twenty years ago.
‘It’s nice to see you, too,’ she replies.
‘Drinks?’ Dan, their sombrero-wearing waiter for the evening, asks.
‘Margarita for me, please,’ says Heather.
Gerry nods his approval, ‘Same.’
They have a perfectly pleasant conversation over their sizzling chicken fajitas discussing Georgia’s university experience (as her sixth form tutor, Gerry’s reference was pivotal in Georgia securing her place at St Andrews); the current state of art education in Scotland; and those individuals missing from the Morningside Secondary Annual Art Exhibition. The Art Department routinely invites all current sixth-formers, art teachers, and alumni to the summer exhibition. IncludingHeather. Over the years, she has received nineteen(!) invitations, and hasn’t shown up once.
‘I always made sure you were invited,’ Gerry says, fuelled by a second Margarita.
‘I’m so sorry, I guess I was –'
‘Busy, yes. Of course. I get it.’
He must notice her embarrassment, because Gerry changes the subject (he really is a gentleman) and shows her photographs of his most recent art acquisitions.
‘Are you still painting?’ he asks.
Heather drains her second drink of the evening.
‘No,’ she says, ‘no –'
‘-time. Of course. You’re busy.’
He waits until dessert to askthe question.
‘So, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened back then? Did I get it wrong?’ He looks at her intently. ‘I just thought we were … you know. Going somewhere. Before you met … the other guy, that is. I guess no one feels good about being dumped out of the blue.’
He chuckles and shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but his eyes tell a different story.
Heather squirms. She knows her every emotion will be plastered across her face, evident to anyone who cares to look.
And Gerry cares. That much is indisputable, given the way his hand has gradually edged across the tabletop and now sits aligned with her elbow.
How can she describe the visceral animal attraction that arose between herself and Dougie? And why? That’s bound to be Gerry’s real question, even if it’s not the one he articulates. Heather has analysed this forensically (and all the other bad romantic decisions she’s ever made) with Claire.
Perhaps in her twenty-nine-year-old head, there had been a certain appeal about the juxtaposition between her ownperception of Dougie, (a well-dressed, assured, self-made business owner at forty-two), and the monstrous corporate whipper snapper her father described when talking about his new boss. It had been treachery in her father’s eyes. Heather was brought along to the work’s Christmas do to soften the atmosphere between her father and Dougie and to encourage Dougie to see her father in a different light.
