Forbidden Lessons (12 page)

They were petty, puerile tricks, but it was the volume and constancy of them that had a devastating impact. Mrs Ayers’ fury and paranoia grew simultaneously. She was certain Susie was behind them, but could never catch her.

The two them remained deadlocked in loathing: Mrs Ayers lashing out with demerits and detentions and sending Susie out of the class for imaginary offences such as dabbing her nose with a tissue, or closing her pencil box "deliberately loudly", and Susie continuing her irreproachable schoolwork and secret campaign of torment.

* * *

Charlotte was finally trying out for the senior squad. It was a while since a Lower School girl had done so but Miss Partridge handled it in a deliberately low key manner. She simply called her to practice with the squad one afternoon. "I’d like you to come to play with the seniors on Wednesday."

Charlotte knew this was it. She was searing with determination. Nothing else mattered. Yet she had to make sure her schoolwork was perfect so there couldn’t be any excuse, any obstacle, for not letting her play.

"You’re getting more studious than Margery these days," Laura said. "First Latin, then all the running, now this."

"I don’t have a choice. It’s all or nothing."

She had to be careful she didn’t burn herself out.
 

* * *

If truth be told Susie was a little bored and tired. The warfare with Mrs Ayers was draining, along with losing her freedom every Saturday afternoon. But it needed to be sustained for a while longer.

Mr Peters’ incessant lechery was also a drag, nothing she couldn’t deal with, but it would have to come to a head at some point. Somehow she would need to turn that to her advantage.

Exeat had been amusing with the boys at St Duncan’s and now there was this dance that everyone was so excited about, but it wasn’t Susie’s idea of fun. Unfortunately her options for entertainment were limited.

Susie didn’t want to be at school. She wanted to go and work for her uncle in the family business, but her father wouldn’t hear of it until she turned eighteen. That was years away. She wouldn’t even be sixteen until the second half of term.

So she figured if she couldn’t do anything for herself, she may as well help the others. Laura’s fling with the German teacher amused her. Surprised her even. Not so much that Laura had been bowled over - who wouldn’t be in her shoes? - but that Mr Rydell had yielded. He really didn’t seem the type. He was no Mr Peters, certainly.

What were his motives? she wondered. Susie couldn’t conceive of people not having motives even if they were unaware of them themselves.

If they got caught, and to her mind it was inevitable that unless this thing burned out quickly they would, his career would be over and Laura would be expelled. He was a grown man, he’d survive, but she wasn’t sure if Laura would. Having mutually agreed to leave several schools herself - they’d never quite termed it expulsion - she knew what Laura was in for. And Laura wasn’t like her. It would break her.

"I need you to create a diversion so I can get inside," Susie said.

"What are you talking about? You passed the dress inspection." It was the night of the Lower School dance and they were all glammed up and ready to party.

But Susie had seen Mrs Ayers by the door. Even had she dressed in a burqa the Axe would have found fault enough to bar her.
 

"Trust me. She will never let me in. Scream, faint, anything. Just get the Axe away from the door."

Laura was puzzled. She knew Susie had some feud with the Axe, but she could hardly imagine things were this bad. She did what she could. "Mrs Ayers, I don’t want to be a tattletale, but I think I smelt someone smoking in the bushes."

Mrs Ayers stormed off, rage mixing with grim pleasure at the prospect of apprehending the culprit. The chance to excoriate some girl took priority over holding her own secondary dress inspection at the door. She had suspected Grace Grant would let her girls get away with murder.

Susie saw her chance and slipped in.

* * *

Grace Grant had in fact wrestled with herself over Susie’s attire. It wasn’t that there was anything about it that broke the rules; in fact it was arguably more modest than many of the other girls’ dresses. It was just… so sophisticated. So suggestive. The housemistress wasn’t closely across the latest fashion on the catwalks of Milan but she suspected that Susie’s frock wasn’t long off them.

It was black, clearly designer, and even more clearly designed for a woman at least ten years older than Susie. Unfortunately Susie filled it admirably well, with the result that even with minimal make up she looked about twenty-five.

"That dress will rewrite the rules," Grace Grant thought, predicting even more draconian guidelines for future non-uniform events.

She felt proud of most of the girls and happy for them. Even the plain Janes were glowing tonight. Margery was wearing Andrea’s slightly-too-roomy velvet cast-off, but was so relieved not to be in her dreaded rah-rah that she was lit up. In a quiet way she was a pretty girl, particularly with the cross-country running having burned off some of her puppy fat.

Charlotte looked spectacular in emerald taffeta. She was the tallest girl in the year and recently seemed to have embraced her height.
 

And Laura. Grace Grant didn’t know what to make of Laura. She was in midnight blue and black and looked exceptionally pretty. Beautiful, even. But there was something more. The only way that the housemistress could describe it was that Laura reminded her of Susie.

* * *

"Will you dance with us Sir?"

Mr Poynter’s round face was already perspiring as he tried to disco dance amid a group of girls. Despite the presence of the St Duncan’s boys the male teachers were usually in strong demand. Even Mr Lanaway had been dragged onto the floor.

Susie made a beeline for Mr Rydell. "Won’t you dance with us? All the other teachers are."

"You’re not even in my class, are you?" But he knew she was Laura’s friend and was doing this for her.

Being face-to-face with one another, albeit with the chaperonage of the rest of the group, was electric. He had never seen Laura dressed up and Susie had done a spectacular job helping her get ready.
 

Laura wanted to dance just for him, wanted everyone else to dissolve. Looking into his eyes she knew he felt the same. Trying to sneak out would be insanity, they would just have to be patient.

He couldn’t spend more than a couple of songs with them, he was technically on duty.

They danced among themselves and with some of the St Duncan’s boys. Charlotte and Susie had something of a prestige among them since it was known that they were dating sixth form prefects. The younger boys still danced with them but kept their distance.

"Why’s Margery spending so much time with Teresa Hubert?" Charlotte asked.

"She borrowed Andrea’s dress," Susie said. Laura felt guilty as she knew it was partly her fault that Margery had nearly been without one.

Margery felt neutral at the dance which was a step up from the misery she had expected. She didn’t dance with any of the boys but she was very content to feel that she looked normal.

Susie was aware of Mrs Ayer’s gimlet eye on her, but she ignored it. She was behaving as perfectly as she could. She itched to liven up the night by dancing on a table or spiking the punch but she restrained herself.

At the end of the night there was a single slow number, the only song where people danced as couples. This was still extremely chaste: any boy and girl dancing too close together received swift intervention. It was unofficially known as the "six inch rule".

Now time for my supreme sacrifice, Susie thought. Dragging Laura and Charlotte with her she marched up to where some of the teachers were standing by the side of the room.

"You’ll dance with me won’t you Mr Poynter?" Susie grabbed the history teacher, and whirled him round onto the dancefloor. Charlotte followed her cue, and reluctantly danced with the equally reluctant Mr Lanaway.

That left Laura with a green light to dance one-on-one with Mr Rydell. Best of all, they could talk.

"You look beautiful, it’s been torture all night not being able to speak to you," he said. "Though as beautiful as that dress is, I would like to rip it right off you."

Laura hoped no one could lip-read. She had to concentrate on trying to keep dancing as she wanted to just stand there and gaze at him.

"Then I would like to run my hands all over your body, until you were begging me to make love to you right on the middle of this dancefloor." He was smiling lightly as he spoke, so anyone watching them would have assumed he was making general conversation.
 

"And if you had read Goethe, you would know that quote," he continued.

Laura was momentarily confused then realised that Mr Poynter had just passed within earshot. 

They were playing with fire.

"Go on then, do it now," she challenged him when the History teacher had moved by. "In front of everyone." 

She moved her hands to her own body as she spoke, swaying her hips and smiling at him.

His eyes narrowed and she realised how nearly she could bring him to the edge of losing control. They both knew that he would deal with her hard, later.

* * *

"I’m not sure if that was entirely wise, dancing one-on-one with the girls," Miss Wingrove remarked to him later.

"I couldn’t see the harm. And Charles was getting into the swing," he said, referring to Mr Poynter.

"You’re not Charles Poynter. Even he ought to know better. I know this lot are only Lower School, but in an all-girls school, at this age, they’re touch paper. Just be careful."

At least he was no Mr Peters, Miss Wingrove thought. Thank God he hadn't been here tonight, with Susie Clarke wearing that incredibly inappropriate dress. 

Mr Peters had already approached the other English teacher with his offer to coach the participants in her poetry recital. Miss Wingrove was well aware that there was only one pupil he was interested in coaching, and it certainly wasn't to improve her poetic performance.

* * *

The excitement lasted well into the night with hardly anyone observing silence after lights out. Many had swapped addresses with St Duncan's boys and the excitement of half term lay ahead. Just one more day.

"I can't believe you three choosing teachers for the slow dance," someone said to Charlotte. "What a complete waste."

"Not if I get an A in history," Susie said.

Laura was incredibly grateful to her but Susie waved off her thanks. "It's not as though we were interested in any of those boys anyway. And at least you got some time with your man."

Her man. The phrase thrilled Laura, though she didn't know if she was entitled to it. Sneaking around all the time prevented her from feeling official.

"He looked like he wanted to ravish you right there. Don't worry, no one else would have noticed," she said as Laura looked alarmed.

They had bigger plans for the next night. Julian and Darius would be at the Sixth Form dance and planned to sneak out and meet them. Along with Jonathan, the boy Laura had kissed. She was going to have to let him down gently somehow, find some excuse. She could hardly tell him the truth.

It was the Sixth Form girls' turn for fun, but Susie and Charlotte bided their time. The fact that they had taken two of the biggest prizes would not go down well with the older girls so they'd had to keep things discreet.

"Won't we look awful if they meet us in school uniform and all the Sixth Formers are done up to the nines?" Charlotte said.

"They won't care. It will be dark anyway."

Margery wasn't actively involved in their plans, but was secretly wondering and hoping if the boy she had liked might be there.

Laura had rehearsed various break up phrases in her head. She had sought Susie's input to little avail as she had dismissed all of Laura's ideas. 

"You can't say 'it's not you, it's me' as everyone knows that's a lie. And you can't tell him that your studies are too demanding because that's obviously a lie to. And 'it's just not working' won't do because let's face it, there's nothing really happening to work or not, is there? A letter or so every month."

Susie's suggestion was to take a leaf from the Queen Mother's book and simply "never apologise, never explain."
 

But Laura couldn’t be quite that harsh.

* * *

Not having late prep on the eve of the holiday made it easier for them to sneak out of Michaelmas House to the main school.
 

They had arranged to meet the St Duncan’s boys at eight o’clock by the side of the hall. It was a cold night and Laura felt miserable with nerves.

Jonathan looked really happy to see her which made her feel even worse. She walked with him around the corner, girding herself for the difficult conversation. Unaware, he put his arms around her and went to kiss her. "Don’t," she said.
 

Before she could start explaining she looked up. Mr Rydell stood there, just a short distance away.

His face was like ice.

He came over to them. "Neither of you should be here. Get back to the hall immediately," he told Jonathan who shot her a worried, apologetic look and left.

"And you, this way."

He dragged her to the nearby Art room which was unlocked.
 

Inside it was dark, lit only by lights shining through the window from outside. He didn’t turn a light on. Instead he gripped her shoulders and kissed her savagely. His mouth bruised hers, his teeth grazed her lips.

She was thrilled to be with him, relieved that he wasn’t rejecting her, but terrified of his anger. "It wasn’t what you think," she began when he broke off.

"I don’t care what it is, Laura, I need to make you understand why you are not going to mess around with some schoolboy."
 

"But…"

He silenced her again with his mouth on hers, tearing off his jacket. He pushed her against one of the tables and tugged her underwear down from under her skirt.