Forbidden Lessons Part 5

He was the first boy who had ever shown interest in her, or at least she had thought he had, and it hadn't gone further than looking at some museum exhibits together.

So Margery threw herself into her schoolwork as usual, burying herself in prep, keeping up her record of straight As. None of them noticed that she was unhappy. Her diary was her primary confidant, as it was for Laura.

"Dear Diary, I miss him when I don't see him, and I miss him when we don't speak. For the first time I understand that verse in Song of Songs - that thou wert as my brother - just to be with him, anyhow, would be enough. Everything feels as though it's growing darker."

10. Crossing the line.

Laura was running another errand, delivering a pile of photocopied forms on behalf of the school secretary. She had been pa.s.sing by the staffroom after the last lesson of the day and been commandeered.

The empty English cla.s.srooms seemed eerie at this hour. It was still light, but starting to fade. She hurried through them, and finished with the modern languages block: first French, then German.

She honestly wasn't expecting Mr Rydell to still be in his cla.s.sroom. She had a.s.sumed he was in the staffroom, amid the clink of teacups and conversation that always emanated from that mysterious sanctum.

About to walk in and drop off the last papers, she stopped dead when she saw him by his desk.

"I had to deliver these," she said.

"Come in." He was cleaning something off the blackboard.

She entered, walking past him to put the forms on his desk. As she turned to go he looked at her and she stopped, looking back up at him, and they both stood there.

Moments pa.s.sed. Too long to ignore. She could not speak.

Teachers and pupils do not stand gazing into each other's eyes, in silence. Not like this. She was half his age. But the line was already crossed.

He took a step towards her. His hair fell over his forehead, his eyes dark grey, chiselled features tense.

"I've been fighting this for so long."

A muscle twitched as he clenched his jaw. He was looking at her, serious, no joy in his expression. His eyes seemed almost sad.

Her stomach was lurching. It was the moment she had longed for, dreamed about, and yet it felt more like a terrible taboo than ecstasy.

He stroked his hand down the side of her face, moving her hair back.

"This is something that could ruin both our lives," he said.

She couldn't speak. She wanted to tell him that she didn't care, that she only wanted to live for the moment. But she was terrified.

"Wanting you this much... it makes me willing to risk everything."

His lips came down on hers, warm and firm, and her first sensation was relief. At last! Then joy, and terror, and desire. His tongue invaded her mouth, exploring her, tasting her. It was a union: so different from French kissing the St Duncan's boy, or the boy from her holiday.

She was in his arms, and he was holding her gently at first, then more strongly, pressing her harder against him as his own desire for her grew.

Her head was spinning, racing. There were two of her: a wild, abandoned purely physical Laura who wanted and needed him as though she was drinking him in. Her hands felt his body, his warmth, the firmness of his muscles, the flat, hard planes of his chest through his shirt.

Then there was a panicking, mind-whirling, Laura-of-thoughts with a thousand questions and doubts and anxieties. What if someone came in? What if someone saw them?

Then he turned her so her back was against the wall and pushed her hard up against it, his pa.s.sion increasing. He crushed his body against hers, bruising her lips as he kissed her. She felt as though he was devouring her.

His hand moved over her breast, feeling it through the thin wool of her school jumper, making her body arch and press towards his. His lips were on her neck, he twisted his fingers through her hair to draw her closer to him.

His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me...

And then he broke away. Ran a hand through his own hair, moved away. "G.o.d, this is madness." He was speaking to himself.

She was left breathless, torn away.

He regained some composure. "You must go. This is completely wrong."

Overwhelmed, she fled.

The coldness of the evening air revived her enough to straighten out her appearance in the nearest cloakroom before going into prep. Thank G.o.d there was no one else around. Her hair was everywhere, falling around her face. Her clothes were rumpled and coming apart. Her lips were bruised and swollen.

Shock put her into survival mode. She tucked her blouse back in. Splashed her face with water and dried it. Smoothed and tied back her hair.

Then she leant on the basin and hung her head, closing her eyes for a few seconds.

Everything throbbed.

Like an automaton, she rushed to get her books and to join the others before the second bell went. Would they notice anything amiss? She felt like she was naked, that the whole world must be looking at her and knowing. She felt that there was writing all over her, that everyone would be staring. She held her head low, tried to hide in the crowd, sat down and huddled herself over her work.

A sharp nudge. WHAT'S WRONG??? Charlotte was looking at her, concerned.

ALL FINE she scribbled back, erasing it almost immediately. She wasn't fine. She would never be fine again.

Somehow she found a still place inside her. It enabled her to get through supper, go through the motions of conversation, walk back with the others, use the bathroom, get ready for bed.

"I'm so bored of me," she told Charlotte. "Tell me an exciting story about your life."

Charlotte launched into a tirade about Teresa Hubert and Miss Partridge.

In one evening she had learned to act. To dissemble. To stash real-Laura deep away, in the still place.

She suspected that Susie was not convinced, but she didn't care. She dreaded her dreams tonight, she knew they would be confused, and she feared she would talk in her sleep.

What was going to happen in their next German cla.s.s? How could she face him? Did he hate her now? Had she ruined his life?

Would she ever feel like that again, be in his arms again?

And she wondered what he was doing now. Her mind reached out across the dark playing fields, to where the groundsman's cottages were. He would be alone, she thought. She feared he was angry. She missed him.

"Dear Diary, everything has gone wrong."

As it was, sleep evaded her. She lay for what seemed like hours, hearing the others breathe, Margery snoring slightly. Her pillow seemed alternately too hot or icy cold when she turned it. Her mind kept racing, she felt alternately excited and worried.

In the end she got up and crept to the bathroom. She sat on the cold tiles, her arms wrapped around her legs.

Then someone came in. It was Susie. "Come with me." Susie led her to the fire escape - it was strictly forbidden to go out on it, but had to be left accessible nonetheless. Occasionally people sneaked out on it to smoke.

The night air was freezing by then, there would be an early frost tonight. It made the stars brighter.

"I like it here," Susie said. She kept her voice low. There weren't any teachers' windows nearby, but it always paid to be careful. "I often come here while you guys are sleeping. I can't sleep as early as lights out."

The fire escape was on the side of the building, so there were no panoramic views of the playing fields, but you could see about half of them. Not as far as the cottages, but Laura had looked through the dorm windows at them beforehand. No light had been on.

"So what's happening?" Susie said. "Is it Jonathan?"

"Who?" Laura was momentarily thrown.

"Obviously not then. Jonathan - your supposed boyfriend from St Duncan's."

He always signed his letters Jon. But even if he hadn't he seemed so remote, so long ago now, that she would have forgotten anyway.

"So is it a girl then? As I said I won't judge. My cousin's gay." Susie couldn't see how it could be another boy, Laura had never mentioned anyone else, and there were no boys anywhere around that she could think of. There was a younger lad who helped the old gardener but he was simple.

"It's Mr Rydell."

When she spoke his name, it was as though the whole night sky rang with it. It pealed across the playing fields, she was sure he must hear it. All the world was echoing with it.

Susie wasn't unduly shocked. "You have a crush on Mr Rydell? He's very good looking, I can't blame your taste. Or has he been mean to you or something?"

Mean? Laura couldn't imagine him ever being mean. He was the absolute inverse.

"It's not... a crush as such," she said.

Susie waited. The words were on Laura's lips but she struggled to say them. Would Susie believe her? Would she think it was wrong or stupid?

"I was in his cla.s.sroom earlier, and..." It was so hard to articulate. Putting it into words, the enormity of what had happened.

"And?"

"We kissed."

"Christ!"

Susie was silent for a moment, absorbing the news, and Laura dug her nails into her thumbs.

"I take it that this was ok? I mean he didn't force himself on you?"

G.o.d no. How could he? Laura started to explain. Briefly, without too much detail. How he looked at her. How he had sat and spoken with her several times. How it had just happened in the German cla.s.sroom. How he had suddenly told her to leave.

Then it was all too much, the brief exhilaration and the fear and the anxiety, and the isolation she felt. Bottling up how she felt about him for weeks had been hard enough. Then today, and having to keep it from everyone. And not knowing where she stood now, what he felt, what she could expect next time she saw him. Now it was all out and she couldn't stop the tears.

Susie put her arms around Laura and hugged her. "It's going to be ok. It'll work out."

11. On edge.

Laura couldn't touch breakfast the next morning. The others noticed her loss of appet.i.te and how pale and tired she looked. She had barely eaten anything the evening before so she was able to attribute it to still being unwell. Susie cast her a sympathetic look but kept her confidence.

It was two more days until Monday and the next German lesson. She had the whole weekend to wonder if she would b.u.mp into Mr Rydell. But she felt deep down that he would avoid her.

It was torment. Everywhere she went she found herself surrept.i.tiously looking out for him. Wondering, hoping beyond hope, that he would appear.

Concentrating on Sat.u.r.day morning lessons was hard enough at the best of times because the weekend had pretty much arrived, and everyone was longing for lunch after which they would finally be at leisure. Hockey teams would play home matches or be driven off in the school coach to play away games but everyone else could do what they wanted.

This particular morning was agony. Laura could only stare at the clock, wondering if she might see him between lessons, or after lunch.

She would have liked to spend some time with Susie but unfortunately Susie had detention.

"Let's talk later this afternoon," she told Laura at lunch. "I'm in the clink for Geography yet again, but they'll surely let us out before nightfall."

In the history of Francis Hall there had never been hostilities as venomous as those that had broken out between Mrs Ayers and Susie Clarke.

It was Mrs Ayers' fault for starting it. She had been in a particularly foul mood the first time Susie came into her Geography lesson, and attempted to give the girl a demerit for not having the right textbook. When Susie quite rightfully and politely pointed out that it was her first day and no one had given her any books yet, Mrs Ayers shrieked at her for answering back and tried to give her a detention as well.

Most girls would have backed down, but Susie did not. The matter escalated to Mrs Grayson, who was forced to find a resolution that was fair to Susie without enraging Mrs Ayers. There was no way to do this without revoking the demerit and the detention, effectively meaning that Susie had won. No amount of Mrs Grayson phrasing it as an "unfortunate misunderstanding" could save Mrs Ayers' humiliation. She had never lost before.

From that moment Mrs Ayers hated Susie with every fibre of her being and poured forth the full force of her venom upon her. As a result, Susie decided that Mrs Ayers would have to be destroyed for once and for all, but knew she was going to have to play a very long game to achieve this. The alleged blood of Machiavelli didn't run in her family's veins for nothing, so she was prepared to take her time.

To start her campaign, Susie became perhaps the most exceptional student of Geography that Francis Hall had ever witnessed. She was a bright girl, and it didn't take much more than a bit of extra study to excel in a subject like Geography. The hours spent in the library poring over the names of cloud formations and trying to memorise the rivers in Africa she considered to be the equivalent to equipping a suit of armour. Putting in extra hours on her homework was loading her gun.

"Mrs Ayers really has it in for you doesn't she?" someone commented, when Susie's latest, flawless essay was given a C.

Susie made it as difficult as possible for Mrs Ayers to give her demerits and detentions. She was always on time, her hair and clothes were immaculate beyond measure. She was a neat girl anyway so this wasn't hard.

Despite this, Mrs Ayers continued to hand out punishments for the slightest, most spurious reason. Susie never complained. She simply used the detentions to study even harder at Geography. Her zeal mystified the others, who couldn't see why anyone would put in so much effort for The Axe.