Sally. Freya North
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and he had demolished the sandwich in seconds without tasting it. Now it sat in his throat in a stodgy lump and felt as if it further protruded his Adam’s apple. Swallow as he might, he could not shift it an inch lower nor soften it at all. A drink was a possible solution.
The kiosk was a round structure with only one serving hatch. As Sally bought her cheese and pickle sandwich and carton of Ribena and walked away anticlockwise, Richard came from the other direction and exited clockwise. But there was no Chaplinesque crash and they each remained oblivious to the tantalizing proximity of the other. Sally had already disappeared behind the pandas and was wondering what bamboo tasted like.
Richard went to the reptile house to look at the crocodiles.
Are those Sally’s kids?
‘What time did Miss Lomax say we were to meet at the penguins?’
Yes, they are.
‘Two o’clock. Ten minutes’ time.’
The penguins, two o’clock, nine minutes’ time. As he stared at the crocodile, it flickered its eye shut, opened it again and stared back at Richard. He found it rather disconcerting and decided to arrive early at the penguins to ensure the best possible view. As he approached he could see Sally from the back, a posse of children surrounding her. They held her hands and all hopped from foot to foot – whether this was a bid to keep warm or an imitation of the penguins was not altogether clear.
They seem to like her, she’s probably their favourite teacher. Lenient, no doubt, but commanding respect and obedience.
Richard was puzzled at just how nervous he was, hands clammy and the sandwich had reappeared to pester his Adam’s apple. The contents of the butterfly house had taken residence deep in his stomach and the sawdust of the possums’ cage appeared to be in his mouth. As he approached he could hear her voice.
‘Ooh, wouldn’t you love to take one home with you?’ she cooed to her entourage. Richard was within a couple of yards of her. He could now see just how enthralled she was by her flippered friends. Up she was on tiptoes, bouncing, as she marvelled at their clumsy acrobatics.
She’s quite wonderful. Enchanting.
He walked past and around the penguin pool and took position on the opposite side. He stared at Sally but Sally was rapt. And anyway, Richard was the last person she was expecting to see at London Zoo on a Thursday lunchtime.
The penguins seemed to like their enclosure. Richard did too. A hilly maze of steps and slopes in blue and white, just like the Arctic, surrounding a generous pool of cold water. He would make few changes to it. Perhaps a bridge. Deepen the pool. A few hidey-holes in the side. New surfacing. The penguins never seemed to tire of running up and down and around in a complicated and irrational route to the water into which they joyfully tumbled. Natural entertainers, the bigger their audience, the more comic their antics. An audience and feeding time was the best possible combination; clapping and laughter encouraged them to catch their fish in the most elaborate fashion. And there was a fair-sized audience at two o’clock. But Richard saw only Sally. And he soaked up what he saw.
She watched one penguin in particular, slightly smaller than the others, his tuxedo glossy, his shirt snowy, his walk pompous and assertive. A fish had been thrown into the centre of the pool and two penguins, positioned on a ridge above it, looked at the water and shifted from leg to leg. Sally’s pal hurried along the ridge and barged into one who crashed into the other. Both fell in while he stood, shifting from side to side, proudly smacking himself with his flippers. He then belly-flopped into the water and surfaced almost immediately with the fish while his two comrades splashed about, thoroughly disoriented. Sally was thrilled and clapped energetically while jumping up and down on the spot, cheering. She had her hands splayed and ridged, bashing them together enthusiastically, her smile wide, her jaws well apart, her lips forced back to reveal every tooth in her mouth.
And then she saw Richard.
And she brought her hands together in one final clap. Her mouth was still open but the corners had dropped. She stood paralysed with her hands still rigid, as if in prayer. Richard beamed a broad grin in her direction. The penguins were satiated and dozed on their stomachs, heads and legs suspended. Richard waved his roll of drawings at Sally, Diana saw him and then turned to Sally who was still praying. Ah ha! she thought. Here is the reason for the swagger, the new wardrobe, the infuriating evasiveness, The Glow. Introduce me, Sal – oops, Sally. Do!
Richard had begun to stroll around the pool. Sally remained transfixed by the space he left. Though rosy and alive, her face spoke a glimmer of slow panic too. Diana saw this and acted upon it immediately.
‘Okay, kids, one last look at the creepy crawlies and then back to the coach,’ she more or less ordered, and though she was desperately intrigued by Sally’s stunned immobility, she tore herself away and went off in search of tarantulas and stag beetles. Sally remained motionless, her pose and poise reminiscent of church sculpture. She did not, however, feel her exterior stillness within. She was lurching and churning, not knowing what to make of the situation.
I hadn’t planned this. I don’t quite know what to do. What shall I do? Think. He should not have seen me like this. Soft. Penguins. Clapping. That won’t do. Think.
Richard was very near.
‘Wait!’ Sally suddenly cried after Diana. But Richard was there and Diana was not. He was unaware of Sally’s sudden crisis.
‘Hello, Sal!’
‘Hello, Richard. I must dash.’
‘Call me.’
The coach was a zoo in itself. Rubbery spiders careered through the air, jelly snakes and sugary polar bears littered the floor. The children were now chimps, charged with manic chattering, climbing all over the seats. Diana, still mittened, wasn’t that bothered about enforcing order and silence. She was more concerned and extremely inquisitive about Sally’s defiant silence. She nudged her with her elbow. Sally turned slowly towards her.
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘Who was that gorgeous man thing?’
‘Someone I sort of know.’
The women looked at each other. Sally wanted to look away but found the pull of Diana’s enquiring eyes too strong, too comforting. Still Diana searched Sally’s face. Sally felt safe and she also felt strong. She broke into a broad, conspiratorial smile. The camaraderie between the two women was intense, almost tangible. Knowing full well that she could trust Diana implicitly, Sally felt euphoric and, in hushed tones, she told Diana why.
‘I’ve been terribly naughty, Di.’
‘Oh, do tell!’ implored Diana, grasping Sally’s knee with mittened zeal but trying not to sound too keen. So Sally gave Diana an uncensored account in glorious Technicolor replete with close-ups. Though no detail of the action was neglected, she did, however, omit the underlying motive. There was no insinuation that this unbridled lust was driven by a carefully conceived plan. What Sally wanted was an approval of sorts, a ‘God, I wish I’d done that’. Diana did not disappoint her there.
‘This is the stuff of an airport groin-grinder! A veritable Jackie Collins bonk-buster. Wow!’
Sally was delighted. She did not expose the psychological bent of the situation, for not only did she fear the inevitable ‘It’ll only end in tears, someone’s bound to get hurt’, but fundamentally she wanted the fact that it was a calculated project kept all to herself.
Diana was quite exhausted when they arrived back at school.
When Sally arrived home she felt strangely depleted and a little anxious.
But I didn’t want him to see me like that. What can he think? Surely a true femme fatale wouldn’t go potty for penguins? She wouldn’t clap and squeal like a child. I don’t want to break the spell. I wonder if I have. He probably