A leopard never changes its spots

In the New Year, Hannah went to see Brunhilde, the senior mistress. Despite the controversy surrounding her instatement to the post by Adams, Brunhilde was good at her job and, in her role as child protection officer, she needed to know that the rumours concerning Justin’s affair with Phoebe whilst she was still a pupil at the school were in fact true: Phoebe herself had now confirmed them.
During their brief meeting together, Brunhilde listened intensely as Hannah turned sneak, recounting all that Phoebe had told her over the Christmas holidays. It was her way of hurting Justin.
‘She also told me Justin had a threesome with Judy and Arnie, two of his musician friends,’ she continued tearfully to the senior manager. ‘With Arnie having just gone for a job in the music department, think what would have happened to all of our reputations if he’d got the job and that information had leaked out!’
As senior mistress, Brunhilde knew it was her duty to inform Terry Adams what had been going on under the nose of the school: there was nowhere else for the information to go.
Maybe she could, at last, use her influence over Adams to get him to take remedial action against the overtly wayward bachelor.

Tired and dehydrated at the end of a busy half term, Hannah drove the children to Wales to stay with James her ex-husband so that she could enjoy the half term break sightseeing in Washington D.C., on her own. With her return journey from the States delayed as a result of a visit to a local hospital to be treated for her dehydration, she was forced to arrange for someone to look after the children when they arrived back at Queensford from their holiday, someone she had wanted to avoid at all costs: Justin.
‘Hi, Justin. It’s me. I’m coming back from Washington a day late because I’ve been ill. Would you be able to look after the kids for me when they get back from Wales and take them out for a pizza or something? I’ll pay you back and explain everything when I get home. Oh! And would you stay the night with them so that they’re not on their own?’
When she finally left her Washington hotel, dragging her heavy suitcase behind her through the streets to the subway and finally to the airport, Hannah began to count down the miles towards home, to her own country, where she could recover and be herself again, where patient welfare came first and insurance documentation second, to be with her children. Being ill in a foreign country had been a physically challenging experience and one she would never want to repeat.
When she finally arrived back at Queensford, the back door key was resting on the dresser in the living room. She had hoped against hope he would have kept it, a signal that he wanted to come back into her life. Bizarrely, the key had become a symbol of the strength of their relationship. As long as it was in his possession, their relationship was ‘On’; if she found it placed discretely under papers in her pigeonhole in the common room, she knew it was all ‘Off’, once again.
Phoebe came to see how she was feeling.
‘Justin looked after the kids for you when you were in Washington and he took them out for a pizza. He didn’t mind doing it,’ she kindly explained.
‘It’s only what I would have expected from him,’ explained Hannah frankly, wondering how Phoebe knew all about her predicament. She thought of her on her sofa with Justin on Christmas Eve.
On their first visit to the local supermarket after returning home from their holiday, Hannah and her daughter Charlotte had already sat down to a quick snack in the customer cafe when to their surprise they noticed Justin march up to the food counter for a coffee and then plant himself down at a table as far away from them as he possibly could have gone. Hannah’s eyes followed him closely as she carried on chatting with her daughter, unaware that Justin’s temper was quickly rising. Suddenly, without any warning, he got up from his chair.
‘Oh, my God!’ whispered Hannah, smirking to her herself. ‘He’s coming this way!’ She had read his intent almost immediately and she felt strangely in control of the situation as Justin quickly approached their table.
‘You owe me money for the pizza,’ he shouted in a rage, standing menacingly over Hannah whilst Charlotte looked on silently, rigid with fear.
‘No, I don’t owe you anything,’ she countered quickly, thinking of all the meals she had cooked for him over the years. ‘You, in fact, owe me.’
‘Did our relationship mean nothing to you that you couldn’t come over and sit next to me?’ he spluttered, his agitation at her nonchalance towards his presence immediately clear.
‘You could have come and sat over by us,’ she returned, thinking they were in the cafe first. ‘Look, why don’t you sit down and talk,’ she said in a conciliatory manner, reaching out to touch his hand. He was beginning to make rather a spectacle of himself and Hannah was afraid other people in the cafe would notice his aggression once the background babble had subsided.
‘No, I won’t!’ he stormed. He pulled his arm away roughly in an effort to avoid her touch, like a spoilt child unable to get its way.
Finally, as they both watched his dramatic exit from the cafe, Hannah and her daughter found themselves laughing at the silliness of it all. But the scene had proved yet once again.
That Justin was one very angry man.

‘So why did Wyatt Lowe suddenly return back home to South Africa just before Christmas?’ asked Hannah inquisitively one evening during a trip out to a pub in the centre of town with Ester, a teaching colleague and friend.
‘He had no choice in the matter, really,’ replied Ester, giving the immediate impression she knew all about the mysterious affair. She had been a close friend of Wyatt’s ever since the first day of his arrival at Queensford’s junior school and she was a little unwillingly to say anything further on the issue.
But Hannah wanted to press her friend further. She wasn’t one for school gossip but she sensed there was something more sinister to Wyatt’s sudden disappearance than at first met the eye.
‘So how seriously ill was his mother?’
‘Hannah, his mother wasn’t ill at all!’ Ester laughed, her eyes rolling in their sockets.
‘What do you mean his mother wasn’t ill? That’s what everybody at school’s been told!’
‘Oh, Hannah!’ Ester exclaimed, impatiently. ‘Wyatt was found on the Internet and reported to Adams!’
‘What do mean he was found on the Internet? Do you mean he was looking at porn? In school?’
‘Well, actually, it was a bit more than that. He was looking at images of boys.’
‘My God!’ exclaimed Hannah, her jaw dropping. ‘Wyatt used to teach maths to my son! And games!’
The boys’ changing rooms! Where the boys would strip off for games and then be forced to take a shower after their exertions! Had Wyatt ever leered over her son, only ten years old at the time? A cold shiver went down Hannah’s spine.
‘I don’t think he would have done anything to the boys at the school,’ Ester continued, prompted to defend the actions of her friend in response to Hannah’s looks of disgust. ‘He wasn’t that sort of person; nor was he that desperate or stupid.’
‘But you can’t be sure, Ester. In the middle of a small market town, with nothing to do? I didn’t even realise he was gay!’
Ester laughed in her face. ‘Of course he was gay! Very gay! But I knew him, Hannah. He was a friend and I know he wouldn’t have harmed any of the boys.’
Hannah remained unconvinced. ‘But how was he getting his sexual satisfaction?’
‘With men, of course!’
‘But where?’
‘I don’t know where but he wouldn’t have touched the boys even if he’d been desperate.’
When Wyatt had first arrived at Queensford, Hannah had met the young maths teacher in The Maid Marian pub after the traditional cheese and wine party for new staff at the school had finished. He seemed friendly enough and Hannah was genuinely interested to know why he was teaching in England.
‘My partner is sponsoring my time here. She’s in business so she’s got plenty of cash to spread around,’ he had replied to her innocent question.
‘That’s pretty decent of her,’ commented Hannah, thinking the scenario strange but nevertheless accepting of his word. ‘Will you not miss her?’
‘Oh yes, I will but we’ll catch up with each other at holiday times.’
From that time on, Hannah was drawn not only to Wyatt’s open and affable manner but also to his acutely intuitive assessments of the petty politics of the junior school teaching staff. To decent professionals such as Hannah and Ester, his moans and groans about the bullying and sexist antics of some of his male colleagues never failed to fall on deaf ears as they just merely mirrored the same sort of goings-on in the senior section of the school.
‘So what’s Wyatt going to do in Pretoria now that he’s back home?’ Hannah asked, thinking he would be unemployable as a teacher given his history at Queensford.
‘He’s got a job in a boarding school.’
‘He’s still teaching? Didn’t Adams report him to the authorities?’
‘Of course he didn’t! Adams just wanted the whole affair dealt with as swiftly and as quietly as possible. It would have been bad press for the school.’
Hannah could not believe her ears! Here was yet another paedophile at Queensford School and Adams was sweeping it all under the carpet!
As he did with Wally, she thought!
‘I know Wyatt, Hannah,’ continued Ester, sensing her friend had taken the news badly. ‘He wouldn’t touch the boys. Trust me.’
But Hannah remained unmoved. The man had already sown a tissue of lies about why he was teaching at Queensford and who was to say his lies would not continue in South Africa.
Surely, it was only a question of time before the elusive paedophile was caught?

When Hannah returned to Queensford after a teacher training day in London on managing difficult staff, she had gleaned two important points. Firstly, Justin’s behaviour with Phoebe on her sofa could get him the sack for gross misconduct and secondly, the letter she received from Terry Adams about the incident with Ewan Hogg in The Maid Marian pub constituted a written warning. She arranged to see Adams to discuss the issue of the contentious letter without further delay.
‘I’d like to put the records straight, Mr Adams, about the letter you sent me a year and a half ago about the situation with Ewan Hogg in The Maid Marian Pub,’ Hannah began, as she took a seat in front of Adams’s large oak desk in his study.
‘What do you mean?’ he enquired, his glasses glistening in the sunlight streaming into his room.
‘I’ve discovered the letter qualifies as a written warning, according to the criteria laid down in the school’s disciplinary procedures. Consequently, in the light of the behaviour I’ve endured from both Ewan Hogg and Norma Shezakowsky, I don’t think it’s fair to have this letter on my employment record without some sort of explanation. At the time you sent it, I did try and explain what they had done to me, how they had both bullied me, but you said I’d either imagined or exaggerated it all. So today, I would like to highlight the things I failed to inform you about when we last discussed this issue.’
‘The letter isn’t a written warning, Hannah,’ Adams explained, attempting to resist the housemistress’s need to off-load her grievances against her two colleagues, both members of the disreputable Games Group. Hannah sensed his reluctance but was determined to continue regardless.
‘I don’t want to be contentious, Mr Adams, but you will find that the letter is a written warning. Nevertheless, I still want to take this opportunity to set the records straight. I would like to tell you how humiliated and alienated I felt, for almost a year, when Ewan Hogg referred to me as ‘Miss’ in front of my colleagues and pupils, implying I was some sort of draconian disciplinarian. This is not my correct title, as you well know. And how he called me a ‘cow’ when I reeled off the job interviews I’d been invited to at some of the top public schools in the land. And the way he quietly called me a ‘bitch’ as I passed him on the stairs one day, on my way to my classroom. At the time, I thought I’d imagined it but as his behaviour worsened towards me, I knew my hearing hadn’t let me down. And then there’s his wife, Cruella. She always ignores me but I make sure I don’t do the same to her. And, if you remember, Mr Adams, I’ve already informed you of his comment ‘Hannah doesn’t count’ at the summer camp in the New Forest.’
‘Yes, I remember that incident,’ Adams interjected, supportively. ‘And what about Norma Shezakowsky? What has she done to you?’
‘Norma is a little more subtle in how she’s behaves: constantly leaving memos about games in my pigeonhole when she could have just as easily spoken to me in the common room, or always changing the start and finish times for games so that it looks as though I am late or incompetent. Any new ideas are always slapped down as laughable and she used to run and tell tales to Penelope the deputy head every time I passed an opinion. She also gossips about other games coaches behind their backs, which is very embarrassing. As a science teacher, Mr Adams, I don’t mind doing my bit for the games programme like every other academic teacher and I’ve proved that by arranging to pay for child care so that I can teach it but…’
‘You had to pay for childcare so that you could teach games?’ asked Adams frowning, interrupting her flow.
‘Yes. And I only found out recently that the school after-care programme would have looked after my children for free as it does for other teachers at Queensford.’
‘Yes, that’s correct. And Mrs Shezakowsky as head of girls’ games didn’t tell you this?’
‘No, she didn’t. Looking back, I’ve paid out a lot of money for childcare and all I was doing was carrying out my duty to the school, although it did seem a little unfair my games commitment went on much later after the rest of the senior school had finished for the day. Unfortunately, it’s water under a bridge now and I’m not necessarily asking for the school to reimburse me but I think it’s time you knew this sort of unprofessional behaviour has been going on. It’s not for me to speak for other female members of staff, but there are others who have suffered similar instances at the hands of both Norma Shezakowsky and Ewan Hogg.’
‘Well, I can assure you, Hannah, that I keep the letter you are referring to just here and that I will not make mention of it again,’ he announced, opening the bottom left hand drawer of his desk to show her where he kept a copy of the letter.
‘Thank you,’ replied Hannah, once again naively accepting his assurances.
‘May I ask what you intend to do with this information?’ he asked, quickly realising she had grounds for bullying against both of his unpopular members of staff.
‘Nothing, as long as it doesn’t happen again,’ replied Hannah, noting the change in his attitude from the time they had last spoken about the affair. It was clear he had committed a faux pas, especially failing in his duty to inform her that the letter he’d sent had been a written warning.
After their meeting, Hannah noted in her diary that no written reply to the accusations she had made against her two colleagues had been sent to her, no written record for the future.
But at least, on the surface, Terry Adams had at last accepted her word.

Practices for Mozart’s ‘Requiem’ began in full earnest just before Easter of that year. It was the part of school life which Hannah loved the most: the thrill of putting on a reasonably polished musical performance on the turn of a sixpence. She had also managed to convince Phoebe to go along to the weekly practices in the music department with her, discerning it would act as a red rag to Justin if both of his ex-girlfriends were sitting in the same room, together, whilst he accompanied choirmaster Boris Arnold on the piano. After the scandalous events of Christmas Eve, she also half-expected Justin to ignore her; after all, that was one of his defining trademarks. But it was the way he ignored Phoebe during each practice which worried her most.
It was clear Justin was seeing Phoebe again.

‘Well, I can’t say I’m too disappointed,’ she admitted to Lorna the technician the next day, ‘because I know it won’t last long. Phoebe bites her nails and even though she’s a nice girl at heart she hasn’t got a lot to say for herself.’
‘What I can’t make out,’ Lorna pondered, ‘is what is he playing at? He’s certainly tempting fate by going out with her again; particularly as rumours of the sofa episode have travelled around the staff.’
Hannah agreed. As far as she was concerned, he was now persona non grata for doing so. It also gave her another opportunity to get her revenge on him by telling her close friends, quite openly and without fear, of his renewed relationship with Phoebe. People had long memories and for Justin to be seen in public once again with his ex-pupil would remind them of their sordid past together.
When the evening of the concert finally arrived, Hannah made a special effort to look stunning. By chance, she was seated in the front row of the choir, next to Phoebe, with Justin being confined to the back with the tenors. Boris Arnold took centre stage to conduct.
Two of Justin’s women – in the choir.
All of a sudden, at the raising of Boris’s baton, the orchestra burst into the first movement of their programme. Hannah watched intently as the musicians focussed their attention on their instruments. She noticed Heidi passionately plucking her cello, occasionally making brief eye contact with Justin several rows away.
Another of Justin’s women – in the orchestra.
With the auditorium and balcony areas full to capacity with the friends and families of the members of the choir and orchestra, Hannah spotted Kristina and Jessica Riley, Tom Riley’s mother, listening attentively to one of the soloists.
Two more of Justin’s women – in the audience.
My God, Hannah thought, suddenly feeling humiliated and self-conscious. There are five women in this room who’ve had a disastrous relationship with Justin Rupert! What am I doing here? Sitting next to Phoebe, of all people! On the stage for all to see!
When the concert finally ended to rapturous applause, Hannah was thankful she could escape to the safety of her school flat despite knowing that Justin would continue his socializing down The Maid Marian pub with the new woman in his life, Phoebe. It had been a most enjoyable evening but one which she found increasingly hard to keep a superficial appearance that all was well with her.
The great pretender.

Despite her visit to Venice over the Easter holiday, Hannah continued to be in turmoil over Justin’s relationship with Phoebe, especially as he had begun to regularly park his car on her parents’ driveway just a short walk up the road from the school. To Hannah, it was an indication they were more serious about each other than she had at first imagined but when rumours of excessive all-day drinking at The Carpenter’s Arms reached Hannah’s ears over the May bank holiday weekend, she wondered how long their relationship would last. The bachelors were at it again, grabbing as much attention for themselves as they could.
Apparently, the highlight of the day-long drunken episode saw Grunt unceremoniously rip off Justin’s trousers, exposing his impressive genitals to the hand-clapping admiration of their fellow revellers and several completely innocent bystanders. Of course, she could imagine the scene perfectly because she had witnessed a similar occurrence before, when Justin had openly enjoyed his friends’ unhealthy attention towards him. Like the time he was goaded into continuously running around the mini-roundabout just outside the same pub, in the freezing cold of a very late winter’s night, drunk, stark naked. It seemed Justin had perfected the habit of exposing himself in public.
Although there was a funny side to the bachelors’ outrageous behaviour, it did not take long for Gordon Chester, the deputy head, to report the situation to Adams. It seemed ludicrous that Fat Boye, Justin and Grunt were behaving in this way, right underneath the nose of the school, and in the presence of pupils.
As one of Fat Boye’s long-standing friends, Bertie Challenger was concerned for the general health of his friend after the incident.
‘On the basis of how much he drinks every night, I reckon Fat Boye is spending at least £7,000 a year on booze,’ he declared after pumping some data into his small pocket calculator.
Well, thought Hannah, a housemaster with up to sixty young boys in his care. Not much of an example, is he?
There weren’t many stories about Fat Boye’s misdemeanours, other than those of his legendary drinking. He was much cleverer than that, preferring to dump controversy on other people’s doorsteps rather than on his own. But even Fat Boye, in his important role as housemaster, would sometimes let down his guard. At an all-night farewell party at The Carpenter’s Arms the night before he left for a year-long sabbatical in New Zealand, Fat Boye could be seen running around the pub, from one bar to the next, in a circle, drunk, and just like Justin, stark naked. With his excessive weight, it must have been a very unpleasant sight!
His success with women was remarkably sparse but the night he met a ballerina out on the town his luck seemed to have changed for the better. However, it was only when he had lured the young lady back to his flat and enticed her to bed with him did he realise there must have been a terrible mistake. One could only imagine the shocked look on his face as the dancer unashamedly unscrewed her wooden leg from its housing whilst she sat on his bed to undress.
But it was the story Justin divulged in the strictest of confidence, which left the most sinister impression on Hannah’s mind: Fat Boye’s attack by a group of young men. Physically forced to kneel on the floor in front of them with his hair being mercilessly pulled, Fat Boye was compelled to give each and every one of the men oral sex. One could therefore be forgiven for thinking that Fat Boye’s experience would explain why, at the very least, he appeared sexless and, at the very most, gay.
His secret was out.

Back at work after the May bank holiday break, Hannah quickly tired of Justin’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge her. It was humiliating to be constantly given the cold shoulder and this fuelled her pursuit of him, engineering her movements to bump into him to get whatever issue was annoying her off her chest. To his face, she seemed conciliatory and caring but behind his back, she hated him with a passion, looking for ways to damage him in the eyes of her friends. She felt trapped in a feeling of hopelessness, unable to recognise she was treading the shifting line between loving and hating him.
When one of the technicians in the science department arranged a blind date for her with one of her friends, Hannah knew there was life after Justin. It was a revelation! When her date turned up in his tuxedo to escort her to a dinner at one of the college dining halls in Cambridge, Hannah could not believe her eyes. At over six foot tall, Charles was a hunk and, despite his very large lips, he was the ultimate Adonis. When people passed comments about his extraordinary looks, Hannah only wished for one thing: that the information would get back to Justin. She badly needed to get under his skin and what better way to achieve it than through Charles.
It was only when Hannah’s relationship with Charles had renewed part of her lost self-confidence and self-esteem did she find the strength to approach Justin about the way he continued to ignore her in work. She also wanted to let him know about Charles, straight from the horse’s mouth. Apart from that she could never resist the temptation to find an excuse, any excuse, to talk to him. With the sound of organ music reaching her ears, she knew where she would find him: the chapel.
The chapel door creaked as she slowly pushed it open. Immediately, Justin stopped playing and turned on his seat to directly face her.
‘Ignoring each other in work just can’t go on, Justin,’ she began calmly, walking up the chapel aisle towards him. ‘I’m getting on with my life and I’m having a great time. I’m also seeing somebody else and he’s absolutely gorgeous. Can’t we just be friends?’
‘I’ve been depressed since Christmas,’ he explained, seemingly relaxed and amenable as he climbed down from the organ seat to stand next to her.
She wondered why he was feeling depressed. Going out with Phoebe was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Justin. Anyway, let’s put a stop to all of this upset. Please let’s be friends.’
‘Yes,’ he replied, smiling gently. ‘Let’s do that.’
When a greetings card unexpectedly appeared through her front door a couple of days later, Hannah knew immediately who it was from: Justin. The fact she had been seeing Charles had spurred him into action: to get her back now or to risk losing her forever. His highbrow literary quote about forgiving one’s friends and his declaration of love hit right at the spot he intended. She had really tried hard to mean what she’d said in the chapel; after all, she had progressed too far in moving on from Justin to throw it all away now. But behind the pretence, she knew herself only too well: she still wanted Justin back, and now that her relationship with Charles had started to fizzle out, Justin’s arrival back on the scene suited her well. He would never know that she had been keeping it a secret from everyone that her Adonis just wasn’t interested enough to pursue her any longer.
Resisting the immediate urge to contact Justin, Hannah rang him later that day from the supermarket car park, tears streaming down her face. After all this time, after all of the pain she had endured, he was still missing her.
‘It’s me,’ she said into her mobile telephone.
‘Hi.’
‘I got your card. It upset me.’
‘I knew you’d be upset.’
‘I miss you so much. I can’t help it.’
‘I know. I miss you as well.’
There was a slight pause before she pressed on with what she really wanted to say to him.
‘I love you, Justin.’
‘I love you, too.’
‘Will you come around tonight to see me?’
‘Yes.’
When he arrived at her school flat later that evening, Hannah felt an irresistible desire to ask him to stay the night.
‘I would love to but this time I want to do things right.’
‘Yes, I understand what you’re trying to say,’ she replied, pleased with his attempt to make genuine amends.
‘You must also realise that if we’re to get back together again, then we must forget everything that’s happened in the past.’
‘Yes. OK.’
Whilst she accepted this request was the only way forward for them both if she wanted him back, it was nevertheless a convenient way of wiping his dirty slate clean. When he suggested they meet in Cambridge to talk further and that they drive there in separate cars, Hannah’s happiness turned to puzzlement. Who was he frightened of? Of course, it could only be one person: Fat Boye!
‘We belong together,’ he began, once they had sat down with their drinks in a corner of one of their favourite old pubs in Cambridge. ‘And I’ve thought about you every day.’
‘I have as well,’ she replied, smiling nervously. It was good to be in his intimate company once again although she felt sad that the depth of her feeling towards him had unexpectedly diminished. ‘And we always forgave each other, no matter what,’ she added.
‘Yes, we did but forgiving each other and then getting back together like this cannot go on forever.’
‘No, I suppose you’re right. So what did you do with yourself when we stopped seeing each other?’
‘I just used to spend all of my time staring at the wall, in my living room. Did you ever discuss me when you were with Charles?’
‘Do you think I’d spend my time with a gorgeous guy like that discussing you?’ she could not help asking in return. Speaking her mind never did get her anywhere but she wanted to unsubtly remind him of how he had never talked about her to his recent string of female lovers.
‘So what happened between you and Phoebe?’ she asked, trying to deflect the conversation away from her almost non-existent relationship with Charles.
‘I just got bored with her and, towards the end of our relationship, I just didn’t have any feelings for her at all.’
Hannah looked at him blankly, trying to hide her inner distaste for his coldness. He had been with Phoebe since the beginning of the year, about six months in all, and here he was admitting he had no feelings for her. What was he playing at? Was he only with Phoebe for the sex? Or did he do it to make Hannah jealous?
‘We never seemed to do anything together, just sit in with a video or a DVD but we’re still good friends with each other and there are no hard feelings. Like me, she also felt the relationship had run its course and that it was time to call it a day.’
But that’s exactly how we used to spend our time together, she thought! But at least in my case I had the excuse of bringing up two children as well, on my own!
‘Whilst we were together, she told me lots of things she’d got up to,’ he continued, ‘like how she’d been seduced by Judy.’
‘Seduced by Judy? You’re joking?’ exclaimed Hannah.
‘No, I’m not. It appears Judy was a wicked woman and Phoebe, by all accounts, had no choice in the matter, although I’m sure if she didn’t want to do anything she wouldn’t have given in to Judy’s advances.’
‘But how could you be friends with Phoebe now you are no longer going out together when you couldn’t be friends with me?’ she asked directly. ‘And I hadn’t done anything to you!’
Justin found it impossible to deny her observations. Throughout their frequent break-ups, which he usually instigated, he was incapable of giving her either eye contact or a polite cursory greeting, probably indicating the true depth of his feeling towards her, negative or positive.
‘You don’t know what you’ve got until you’ve lost it,’ he finally offered, as some sort of recompense for his past failings. ‘And if I can’t make my relationship work with you, Hannah, then I can’t make it work with anybody.’
Hannah was bewildered. She had never heard a sentiment being expressed like this before.
And she did not like it one bit.

‘So how did you find out about Heidi?’ Justin asked, one evening on the telephone.
‘I put two and two together the evening I was looking for my umbrella in the music department and then Wallace confirmed it after your comment at Penelope’s leaving party. But why did the two of you split up? You were only together for a couple of weeks!’
‘Heidi was gorgeous but she used to get up at about six every morning and bounce around with her Tigger toy, trying to wake me up. I wasn’t impressed by that at all!’
Hannah burst out laughing, trying to imagine Justin struggling to retain his sleep quota whilst Heidi noisily zoomed around his semi-slumbering body.
‘I want to reassure you though, we never made love in the time we were together. Nothing ever happened between us.’
‘You didn’t make love? But you slept with her, didn’t you?’ asked Hannah, surprised yet secretly pleased.
‘Yes, I did but we just did other things.’
Hannah had heard a similar explanation from Kristina the previous Christmas and found it hard to imagine how such a thing could happen between two healthy, consenting adults.
‘Did you know it was me outside Heidi’s flat that evening? When I rang the doorbell?’
‘Yes. In fact, I was pretty annoyed about that because Heidi’s landlady also heard it and gave Heidi a right telling off the next day.’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said, remembering the evening well. She had foolishly parked her car outside Heidi’s flat so that she could give Justin a piece of her mind and to warn Heidi about his bad behaviour. When there had been no answer at the flat, she damaged the rear end of her car reversing out from her tight parking space. She never did seem to learn her lesson. ‘Anyway, I’m glad we’re back together again.’
‘So am I. But tell me? Who let down my tyres at half term?’ he asked, unexpectedly.
Hannah gulped. It was yet another embarrassing situation to explain away. Over the same weekend as Justin’s debagging by Grunt, Fraser Campbell’s two daughters had persuaded Hannah to go with them to The Carpenter’s Arms for a drink. Whilst Fat Boye, Justin, Grunt and some of their pupils remained drinking in one of the bars, Hannah and her friends camped in another, hoping that the two warring parties would not meet except on their way to the public toilet. On their way back home, Hannah noticed Justin’s car parked on the main school driveway. It was a favourite place he would use when he wanted to let Hannah know he was around. Suddenly, a hissing sound greeted her ears as the two sisters proceeded to let down his tyres.
‘Don’t! He’ll only blame me!’ she exclaimed, afraid the sisters would regret the consequences of their actions but at the same time enjoying the thought of Justin’s car being stranded. But the girls ignored her unhindered. They had both voiced their distaste for the man and each in their own way wanted their revenge for the manner in which he treated women and, in particular, Hannah.
‘I didn’t do it but I know who did,’ she replied, determined not to get Frazer Campbell’s two daughters into trouble, although Justin might have suspected them anyway. ‘And another thing, I also know that Fat Boye blamed me for letting down the tyres and called me a ‘fucking bitch’ in the process!’
‘Look, I know a lot has been said behind my back and I realise I’ve been just as bad, but we have to put all of that behind us if we’re to work at this relationship, one last time,’ he continued, suddenly letting the tyre issue go.
Hannah frowned at his comments. It was true she had made her feelings known about his poor behaviour but only to her closest friends and they were unlikely to go running to Justin’s camp to tell tales. So what had he been saying about her behind her back? Plenty, no doubt. And then it struck her. There was someone who would betray her trust and tell him everything she had discussed about him.
Phoebe.
Hannah liked Phoebe and if she had passed on a few home truths to Justin then good for her but it left Hannah with a feeling of bitterness that her crime of standing up to the might of her bachelor colleagues had created such a wake.
‘You’re the best lover I’ve ever had,’ he whispered passionately, as he returned to his rightful place on top of her once the air had been cleared between them and only the bedroom talk remained.
‘And you mine,’ she returned, putting the ‘On’/'Off’ nature of their relationship to the back of her mind. ‘You are the love of my life, Justin.’
Whilst Hannah and Justin basked in the renewed joy of each other’s company, it was a different matter in work. Glares from friends across the common room, particularly from Lorna, soon started to unsettle Hannah.
‘What the hell are you doing, Hannah? Please don’t tell me you’re back with that toss-pot!’
‘I know what it must look like, Lorna, but we both love each other and this time we’re going to try and make it work.’
‘Look, he treats you as if you were his mother. Don’t come complaining to me when it all goes pear-shaped again.’
‘Just ignore them,’ Justin advised angrily, after she had reported her friend’s reaction back to him. ‘It’s got nothing to do with them.’
But deep down, Hannah knew Lorna was right. It was strange to be back together again and Hannah soon found herself struggling against their combined nervousness to find things to talk about. They really did not have a lot in common with each other anymore.
She had at last moved on, both in her heart and in her mind.

A few months before The Anne Affair, Hannah updated her computer facilities at home and it went without saying that Justin, as temporary lodger, took predatory advantage of their free and easy availability. Whilst he slaved over his word-processed essays for his master’s degree, insisting she read what he had poorly written so that he could correct them, Hannah found herself increasingly at his beck-and-call. She didn’t really mind checking his work and waiting on him; it was just the extra pressure on her own busy schedule and financial constraints which bugged her, albeit in secret.
Two years on, Justin had finally completed his thesis and when he proudly presented her with a copy to read she smiled with pleasure at the leather-bound fruits of his labour. However, having leafed through several of the detailed pages in some of the later chapters, she turned to the front of the thesis, to the acknowledgements. All of a sudden she stopped in her tracks, unable to speak. There before her eyes was an acknowledgement, not to her and the role she had played in getting him to this point, but to Penelope and Danny! Admittedly, they were his friends but what contributions had they made to the final product? Even Fat Boye’s name was mentioned! What could she say to Justin after reading that? Surely this relationship will never work!
She remembered how Fat Boye had loudly broadcast to his cronies in the common room that he was proof-reading Justin’s final dissertation but it was his sly, indirect manner put on for her benefit which had upset her the most as she listened just a few feet away. Maybe Justin had wanted to hurt her by leaving out her name, she mused. Maybe he just wanted to avoid a long-term reminder of a part of his life he wished to forget.
Like so many other parts, she thought.
And then she remembered Bertie’s assessment: that Justin used people. How true those words were! He had used her computer and electricity, had eaten her food and drank her wine, and was sexually serviced and entertained to boot! It seemed that Justin would never change his spots and she would always lack the courage to say anything to him.
But from this moment on, she determined, I will never again fall for the same dirty trick.