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I’m an English teacher at Perstead School – one of the top private schools in Canterbury. I do really enjoy it but, at a certain point, teenagers are just teenagers and, to put it plainly, you can get them to give a shit aboutOthelloor you can’t.
It’s funny because we all remember what it was like at school, anticipating the holidays, looking forward to those weeks off. As a teacher, I still feel that way. I can’t wait because, for the first time since I bought the house, it will be the first holiday I have with it finally finished. I can actually enjoy it. No tradespeople, no painting, no eating beans so that I can pay the electrician.
The staff room at Perstead is more like a trendy café meets a WAG’s living room. You know when you see influencer houses on Instagram and they’re just a swatch of shades of grey? That’s what this room is like. I suppose it’s supposed to look high-end and classy but there’s something kind of cold about it – almost clinical, too. It’s so clean you’re almost scared to eat your lunch here. The staff room does have its perks, though. There’s a coffee machine that would put a Starbucks to shame – which I get a lot of use out of – and the different seating zones make it a great space for working or relaxing, either alone or with other members of staff.
Speaking of which, Angie, my best friend, is sitting on one of the sofas with two gigantic chocolate muffins in front of her. Angie is a maths teacher and it’s funny because we both think the other person has the harder job. The thought of tackling trigonometry makes me feel physically sick. I want to say that after my GCSEs I dumped it from my mind, but I would be lying if I said I ever felt like I had an understanding of it in the first place. The kids here definitely know more about maths than I remember. Angie, on the other hand, is intimidated by all things English. Anything much more than a casual message and she will often run it by me before she sends it. I often point out to her that English must be easier because even the text box where she composes messages can check her spelling and grammar, which she will counter with the existence of calculators, but Istillwouldn’t know how to do trigonometry, even with a calculator, so I think that settles it.
‘I got you this,’ she tells me, pushing one of the muffins my way as I take a seat next to her. ‘Chocolate, orange and cranberry.’
That’s another great thing about working here – when it comes to Christmas, they go hard. Festive menus, multiple Christmas trees, decorations everywhere you turn.
‘You angel, thank you,’ I reply. ‘I need it today.’
‘Had enough of the festive fun?’ she asks through a knowing smile.
Why is it that work is so much harder, and drags on for so much longer, when you’re not doing any actual work?
‘No one is interested in playing games,’ I say with a sigh as I slump back in my seat. ‘They’re running out the clock, the same way we are. Half of them are just sitting, chatting, messing around on their phones. The other half are dancing for TikTok. I’m politely declining their invitations to join in.’
‘You would almost certainly go viral,’ Angie says through a snort. ‘With your crap “dad at a wedding” dance moves.’
‘I can’t even be mad at you for saying that,’ I reply. ‘This muffin has more sense of rhythm and grace.’
‘And yet you’re an amazing skier,’ Angie says, leaning back next to me. I feel her body tense up as she realises she has potentially put her foot in it.
‘Shit, sorry,’ she says quickly. ‘I’m not trying to remind you of it, or try to convince you to come with us but… are you sure you won’t come with us?’
Just before last Christmas – before Declan walked out on me – we booked a Christmas skiing holiday with Angie and her husband Bill, and our other couple friends Ari and Brian, and Anne and Jules.
I shake my head.
‘I’ve got Mum with me now,’ I remind her. ‘I don’t fancy leaving her home alone in my house.’
Angie laughs.
‘Are you sure?’ she asks again.
Initially, when Declan and I broke up, I couldn’t think of anything worse than still going on a cosy couples’ holiday, being the only one who was single. I know it’s not my friends’ fault, and no one ever tries to make me feel bad for being single – in fact, they work overtime to make me feel better about it, and ensure that I know how much better I am without Declan – but inevitably it would have been a problem sooner or later. Whether it was sharing ski lifts or playing boardgames where you’re in teams of two, my single status would have made things slightly off.
‘You’reour friend, not Declan, he’s not coming, but you still could,’ she persists. ‘It won’t be the same without you – and if the whole squad is away all Christmas…’
‘I know you think I’m making this up, but I promise you it’s true,’ I insist. ‘I really am looking forward to a nice, quiet Christmas mostly alone in my newly completed house. I’ve cleared my calendar, I don’t have any work, no social obligations of any description. Mum is a surprise but I’m sure she’ll behave. Honestly, it’s going to be great. I’m just going to relax and appreciate all my hard work.’
‘Well, you’ve certainly earned it,’ Angie insists. ‘But it won’t be the same without you. Declan, on the other hand, would have made the whole thing less fun. His chaotic energy was exhausting. I wonder what he’s doing now. Surely he can’t last long without someone to sponge off? I’ll bet you anything he still doesn’t have a job.’
I smile. You’ve got to love a supportive friend who will badmouth your ex forever.
Declan was chaotic, she’s right. I mean, the proof is in the break-up. Talking me into buying a fixer-upper, putting allmycash into it, getting a big, fat mortgage and then abandoning me with the lot. We haven’t interacted in months now. He’s vanished. At first, I was worried sick, terrified that something horrible might have happened to him. These days, for his sake, he would be better off if something horrible had happened to him, because if I ever see him again… I’m the mug who spent years propping him up, while he was trying to make a living as an artist or a writer or whatever his latest creative whim was – I think one of our last arguments was about him wanting to buy a double bass.
After the initial shock of him abandoning me wore off, honestly, all I felt was relief. We may have bought the house together, but I am so much happier living in it alone. It would have been so easy to stay with Declan forever – well, not easy, he was actually quite difficult to live with, but you know what I mean, when you’re with a person for a long time, it’s hard to make a change. Being alone has allowed me to create a space that is me through and through, and I couldn’t be happier with it. Would it be nice to have a boyfriend? Well, yeah, in theory. I miss the idea of a boyfriend; someone to hang out with, cuddle up to when it’s cold, go on holidays with, take to family parties and friends’ weddings. I don’t miss Declan, though, not now that I can see what my life is like without him, versus what it was like when I was with him.
‘I’ll be honest, it does sound lovely, having the house mostly to yourself, having no obligations, no work-work or house-work,’ Angie enthuses. ‘Just think, you can get home this evening, jump into your pyjamas, and leave them on until next year if you feel like it.’
‘That’s the plan,’ I reply with a smile. ‘Although I’ll probably dress for a shopping trip here and there. Otherwise, it’s a home alone Christmas for me. Well, with my mum, of course.’
‘You’ll probably enjoy having her around,’ Angie says. ‘She’s a fun mum. She’s not like my mum.’
‘I love your mum,’ I insist.
