Chapter 8

The rest of the day goes by fairly monotonously, until it’s time to go home. Heading to the office to pick up a book I left there this morning, I open the door right as Mr Hastidal walks out. “Oh! Sorry, I’ll get out of your way,” he says, that nervous look in his eyes back.

A short woman stands behind him, with a small frown on her lips. “Mr Ardis! You’re coming to the drinks tonight, right?” She asks, and I recognise her voice as Miss Jerries. I thought she didn’t care if I came or not?

Scratching at my tattoo, I nod slowly. “Uh, yes, thought I would, to get to know people.” She smiles, and Mr Hastidal looks up from the floor, smiling slightly at me. “Oh! Perfect, we’ll see you there then. I’m Miss Jerries, by the way, but we can introduce ourselves properly later,” she says, and I remind myself not to reply with ‘yeah I know I’ve been listening in on your conversations’ because somehow methinks that wouldn’t go down well.

“Right, nice to meet you. I’ll see you in a bit,” I say, moving to the side so they can both get out. They wave at me as they leave, and I awkwardly raise my hand in the same gesture, before darting into the room and grabbing my book.

I’m in and out of the room without having to talk to anyone, and then I’m speeding off towards my car, and driving home. I’m supposed to call Ailsa now, but I’m too tired, so I just drop her a text saying work was fine and I’m tired, so I expect she’ll call me later.

I hope so, I need a good chat with her.

Setting an alarm on my phone, I let myself nap for an hour, catching up on some of the sleep I missed last night before getting ready to go out for the work colleagues drinks thing. Can’t wait. I don’t want to go, but I wanted to get to know Miss Jerries anyway, and I feel like I should clear things up with Mr Hastidal.

I don’t want any workplace drama, I seriously just need a break from everything; my life has been way too stressful lately.

Taking the folded note from my pocket, I smooth out the crinkles in the corners, punching the address into my phone to find out where the hell I’m going.

After driving in circles for about 20 minutes, I eventually arrive at a small bar, and park my car on the side of the road. I’m a little late, so everyone should be here already. Stepping inside, I glance around - it’s a cute little bar, with semi-dark lighting, and little fairy lights strung up around the ceiling and across the windows.

“Mr Ardis! Over here!” Turning around, I spot Miss Jerries, Mr Hastidal and a few of the other teachers I don’t know. I shuffle awkwardly over to them, pasting a charming smile on my face as I bow my head slightly at them.

“Hello, it’s nice to see you all again,” I smile, like I actually give a shit about any of them. Well, Miss Jerries and Mr Hastidal seem nice, so I sort of care about them. I would be sad if they died, I’ll put it that way.

I hide my hands behind my back to conceal the fact that my nervous tic is going bonkers as the memories of people I care about dying zip through my brain, and my fake smile falters slightly. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths. Last night’s dreams really fucked me today.

“Mr Ardis, I was wondering where you moved from? Scotland?” Someone asks, and I peel my eyes open, looking at a man I don’t know, but assume I work with. Shaking my head, I place my hands in my lap beneath the table, so that no one can see them being all jittery.

Mr Hastidal is sitting directly next to me, and judging by the way he keeps side-eying me, I assume he’s already noticed, but that doesn’t really matter, he saw it multiple times this morning. “No, I grew up in Scotland, but moved to Cambridge for my first job. I moved around a bit after that, before deciding to give Aldeburgh a try.”

Mr Hastidal glances up at me, smiling slightly. “I grew up in Cambridge! I was there until I finished school, when I moved here,” he says, and I smile slightly, wondering if we were there at the same time.

“Oh? Why did you decide to move here?” I ask, trying to move the conversation away from me, hoping no one will ask the follow up question of ‘what was your first job?’ Or ‘why did you move around so much?’

Because I don’t really fancy replying with ‘oh well actually I was a policeman and then when I went undercover investigating a smuggling ring I had to follow the two main underbosses around for years whilst they tried to break their big boss out of prison!’

Luckily, Mr Hastidal answers before anyone has the chance to ask me a question. “Oh, there was this…turning point, when I was around 18. I finished college and university in Cambridge, before deciding at 21 that it was time for a new start, and I wanted to be close to water, so I moved to the closest coastal town, which happened to be here.”

I frown slightly, before wiping the expression from my face. “Aldeburgh seems like a good place to start again,” I say cheerily, ignoring how I don’t like water. I still think it’s evil, but I moved to a seaside town because it’s far away from everything, and more recluse. Still wish I wasn’t by water, though.

I have no special reason why I don’t like water, it just scares me. And then there was the time that person almost drowned, and although I saved them, I still get scared of myself or someone else drowning.

When my therapist said I should fight this fear by going swimming sometimes, I don’t think she realised I was literally moving to the seaside. Maybe it was too big a step, but I’m far away from all the cities I spent time in; far away from the high crime rates and constant danger.

And, far away from people. My paranoia is getting better with time, but being in a big crowd still makes me feel like I’m dying, so cities are out of the question.

“So, Mr Ardis, does your tattoo cover your whole arm?” Miss Jerries asks, and I snap my attention to her, realising most of the other teachers are chatting amongst themselves. Blinking, I nod. “Yes, it does.” She smiles friendlily, nodding her head in my direction. “I haven’t seen much of it, but it’s quite nice! How long have you had it?”

Holding my left hand in my right, I look at the tiny but detailed leaves which climb around my finger and hand, trailing up my wrist and under my sleeve. “I got it five years ago; my sister did it for me, she’s a tattoo artist,” I explain, watching the excitement on Miss Jerries’ face.

“Wow, that’s so cool! She must be very talented. I love artsy things, but I’m so terrible at it,” she says with a light laugh, before the ringing of a phone cuts her off. I suddenly realise it’s my phone, and I apologise before slipping it out of my pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

I know I said I wanted Ailsa to call me, but I didn’t think she’d do it right in the middle of a conversation I was actually comfortable to have. That’s not her fault though, she’s not psychic. Glancing at the people around me, I smile awkwardly, before accepting the call and getting up from my seat.