Forbidden Lessons (4 page)

"That’s ok then, it’s all the gimpy ones that do that. They never notice stuff like that. Nor will Tyrrell."

* * *

They had Double German that day which Laura had been waiting for all week. She had obsessed about her perfecting her homework while trying to conceal her efforts from the others. Mr Rydell was wearing a tie with grey stripes today that matched his eyes.
 

Laura had long ago learnt to suppress laughter by digging her nails into her thumbs. Getting a fit of the giggles in certain situations was a lethal route to detentions and other punishments, but sometimes it was hard to help it. Particularly when the choirmaster’s toupée slipped while conducting a particularly vigorous anthem in chapel.

Now she used her nails to try and control her lurching stomach and the blushes she was certain kept coming to her face whenever she caught his eye. Which she was sure was more than normal, but was it because she kept looking at him too much? She tried to concentrate on staring down at her textbook.

Teresa Hubert had tried quite a different homework strategy to Laura. She had deliberately messed hers up so she could beg Mr Rydell for extra help. This met with short shrift.

"If you require more study time I can arrange it with your housemistress for Saturday afternoon, and you can redo this week’s exercises and give them to me on Monday," he told her.

Teresa looked horrified. This was practically a voluntary detention.

"No, I won’t need that, I have enough time in the evenings," she said.

"Be sure you use it."

He turned away from her and started on the subject of German’s compound nouns. The textbook gave some examples, and Mr Rydell wrote another couple of unfeasibly long examples on the blackboard which he assured them were genuine words.

Laura looked up. "Are they like Old English words?" she said.

He was surprised by this. "Are you studying Old English?"

"Mr Peters showed us some Anglo-Saxon verse at the end of last term."

"Those tend to be called kennings, they’re used in a more figurative, poetic sense, but yes. German shares certain features with older forms of English than it does with more modern English." He smiled at her. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile, certainly at her, and it dazzled her. To keep herself focused she dug her nails into her thumbs so hard they nearly bled.

* * *

The Geography teacher Mrs Ayers loathed Michaelmas girls. Some years ago she had applied to be housemistress of what was considered to be the best house in the choicest location but had been turned down. She had later managed to secure the equivalent position at the smaller Whitsun House, but the rejection still rankled.

Woe betide any Michaelmas girls with lost garters or untidy hair around Mrs Ayers. Whilst she might show leniency towards Advent or Lammas girls and always turned the blindest of eyes to her own Whitsun inmates, anyone under Grace Grant’s care could expect the full force of her venom in a slew of demerits. No wonder she was nicknamed "The Axe".

"Your socks are down - both of them. Double demerits!" she snapped at Charlotte when she passed them in the courtyard.

"Oh come on, that’s unfair, it’s never more than one for both, they’re not separate offences," Charlotte protested.

"Would you like a third demerit point for answering back?"

Charlotte had no choice but to bite her tongue. Three demerit points meant Saturday detention, which meant no hockey matches. Which was not only disappointing but would bring the wrath of Miss Partridge upon her as well.

When the Geography teacher had finally gone the others offered their sympathy. "I’m almost surprised she didn’t just give you the third," Laura said.

"I’m not. Giving someone three points in a single day, so that they get detention, might be scrutinised. It’s pretty harsh. Gi-Gi might even protest it," Margery said.

"Still not worth the risk though. I absolutely have to play in the match against Everleigh College or Hubert will get my position as right wing and even keep it if she sucks up enough."

* * *

Laura had written to her parents but it would be a wait until their permission slip for her dietary change came through. Until then she was doomed to force down the foul school chow, doing her best to slip what she could to Charlotte. She had tried secreting something awful in her blazer pocket the other day which she had pre-lined with A4 paper.
 

But it leaked everywhere and she got a scolding from Matron, who ironically thought she was smuggling out extra food to eat later. "You finish your meal at the table and nowhere else. Snacking only makes girls fat."

Thank God for her tuckbox. Maybe she could try to replenish its stores in Welchester. She hoped a diet of predominantly Mars Bars wouldn’t make her break out in acne.

* * *

"Dear Diary, he smiled at me today. Me and only me. It felt like the sun came out. Oh I wish we had German every day. I wish every single lesson was German. Why can’t I be in the sixth form already, doing German for A-Levels? They get to see him daily, sometimes twice. Whereas I’m languishing on starvation rations."

It poured that afternoon: wet and grey and grim under a leaden sky. One of the staff had asked Laura to fetch a pile of books from one of the English classrooms at break-time, not realising it was raining so heavily. Laura obliged as you often got bonus points this way. These would help offset Mrs Ayers’ endless demerits towards the overall House total.

As good luck or ill Fate would have it - she wasn’t sure which, afterwards - she came back up around the corner to collide straight with The Axe. It was a pure accident - not helped by the rain in her hair and eyes - and Laura slipped up on the wet path and fell, with the books scattering. The dumpy Geography teacher maintained her own balance quite well. Less so her temper.

"You stupid girl!" she shrieked. "Why can’t you look where you’re going? You’ve bruised me and damaged all those books. A triple demerit and detention this Saturday!"

Laura, whose knee was throbbing with pain, could only look up at her in misery.

"I think that may be unfairly harsh, it’s wet and slippery and she was carrying a large load." It was Mr Rydell. Amid her shock, Laura braced herself for The Axe’s fury. She would never suffer to be corrected by a newer and thus junior member of staff.

"She should look where she’s going when carrying valuable school property. She crashed into me quite deliberately! These Michaelmas girls have no consideration or discipline."

"With respect, I witnessed what happened and it was a clear accident. I would be happy to make a report as such to the Head," he told her. He had lowered his voice as though he was only addressing the other teacher, but Laura could still hear. Realising her defeat, Mrs Ayers stormed off. "Now let’s get out of the rain. Are you hurt?" he asked, turning to Laura.

"I’m fine." She clearly wasn’t, her knee was grazed and bleeding. Her blood was mixing with the rain, streaking down her leg and making it look worse than it was.

"I expect you’ll need to see the nurse for that. I’ll carry the books for you. Where were you taking them?" Laura told him. "Very well." They picked them up together.
 

She turned to head towards the nurse’s room, which was back in the direction of the English rooms.

Then he called after her.

"Laura?"

She turned back. "Yes sir?"

"I’d like to see you in my classroom after lessons finish, if you have time before prep."

There was usually a break of around twenty minutes between classes and first prep, when they did an hour of homework before supper.
 

"Of course." Her mind was racing in anticipation. She wished he hadn’t seen her like this, her hair a bedraggled mess, sprawled clumsily on the ground. And what did he want to speak with her about?

* * *

Laura could not concentrate at all in the final two classes that day. The first was Maths, to which she was late anyway due to visiting the nurse’s room. Fortunately you always got a note and there was a large bandage on her knee to bear additional witness. Teresa Hubert muttered something about "clumsy clot" and sniggered with her friends, but it washed off Laura entirely.

Finally it was History and she felt bad when Mr Poynter twice asked her something and she hadn’t heard what she said. He was such a nice, earnest man. "I am sorry, sir, I think I’m a bit distracted by my knee." He was all kindness when she pointed out her bandage though Teresa rolled her eyes.

Charlotte and Margery were dying to find out what was up with her, but she didn’t have time to tell them. She also didn’t have time to fix her appearance. Laura was the unofficial beautician of the three: she could manage quite spectacular feats with talcum powder, charcoal smuggled from the art room and even fountain pen ink, since actual make up was banned at Francis Hall.
 

But today she had no choice but to rush off, with her bedraggled-now-dried hair and undecorative bandage.

* * *

The modern languages classrooms were in a newer block behind and below the dining hall. Each classroom opened from the exterior wall, which was glass paned from ceiling to floor, giving them plenty of natural light but creating rather a goldfish bowl effect. It was easy to be distracted in class by other people walking outside, though no one should be around at this hour.

Mr Rydell was behind his desk arranging some stacks of exercise books. The door was open so she couldn’t knock but she didn’t want to walk right in. She hovered momentarily, but fortunately he looked up almost immediately and told her to come in.

"Have a seat," he said, indicating one of the desks in the front row.

"I wanted to speak with you because I was concerned about what I saw this afternoon," he said, getting straight to the point. "Is there any reason that Mrs Ayers would be so angered with you?"

"It’s not me in particular," Laura said. She noticed that the rain had also left his hair more dishevelled. It fell over his forehead slightly, making him look younger. She wondered how old he really was.
 

"Is she always like that?"

Laura didn’t want to come across as sneaky or whiny, but neither could she lie. No one else in the school would paint The Axe in a flattering light if he asked them.

"I think sometimes things can get competitive with House points," she said.

"House points?"

"She runs a different house and sometimes there’s rivalry over points." She hoped it didn’t sound as stupid to him as it did to her. The sad fact was that it was actually true.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her. She felt pressured to continue.

"I know it sounds petty, but things get like that here. It’s her whole life, here." As she said it she felt a touch of empathy with The Axe for the first time, and a kind of shuddering dread at a life that would turn someone to be that way. "You know what school is like. People get… institutionalised." It was a word she had heard her father use to describe the prison service but she thought it fitted here too.

Mr Rydell raised his eyebrows.

"Oh I didn’t mean you!" Laura said in horror. "Not everyone. Just some people, some teachers. Especially with it being a boarding school and so… closed in."

"It’s all right," he told her. "I do know what you mean, it’s easy for teaching staff to get that way. And quite remarkable how well you understand."

He had called her remarkable. It gave her courage. "Why did you become a teacher then?"

He looked at her, and for the second time ever that she could remember, he smiled. It made her feel warm inside. "Truthfully? For the holidays."

"The holidays?"

"Don’t mistake me, I enjoy teaching and find it extremely rewarding. But I wanted a career where I would have plenty of time to myself. An office job with four weeks a year doesn’t allow for much travel, or taking sabbaticals for research."

"What about a university position?" Laura asked.
 

"Academia was on the cards. Still is," he said. "But you have much less choice, at least initially, over where you might end up. School teaching lets me more or less pick and choose what area of the country I end up in. Even overseas."

The prospect of him leaving them to go overseas was awful. She hoped it would never happen. She was already thinking of taking German A-Level if she did well this year.

"So how do you cope with it?" he asked. "Being so closed in?"

"Mainly I read. There are places you can find where you can be undisturbed."

"Like by the tennis courts?" He was referring to the other day, when he had found her skipping lunch.

"That’s one place. A lot of nicer places are out-of-bounds." She didn’t mention that she frequented these nearly as much, but being caught with nothing but a book was a pretty minor offence. Cigarettes or alcohol, more usual reasons for breaching the bounds, were the serious sins.

It was getting late, and the bell sounded for prep. "You’d better go," he said. "Thank you for coming."

* * *

If she had struggled to concentrate in classes, her mind was absolutely whirling now. This was going to be the least productive prep ever. And then it was going to be completely frustrating at supper having Charlotte and Margery grill her in front of everyone.

Charlotte nudged her elbow. "Where have you been?!" she had written at the top of her exercise book.

Laura glanced around the room to see where Miss Quayle was. The new Biology teacher was supervising early prep that evening and she took her duties rather zealously. She wasn’t as bad as the Axe but she was planting herself firmly on the wrong side of the popularity fence among the girls, compared to Miss Wingrove and Mr Rydell who had landed on the good side. She was already getting called The Quail as well.

"Wait until tonight," she wrote back. "Supper too un-private." Was that even a word? Once Charlotte had read it, Laura quickly erased it.

Margery looked at them from across the table. She was hopeless at reading upside down. "Tonight," Charlotte mouthed at her. Margery frowned. "TONIGHT" Charlotte mouthed more obviously, then quickly bent her head down as Laura nudged to warn her that Miss Quayle was approaching.