“Ah,
I see I have finally caught your attention.”
“Do
you believe it’s possible to spend your whole life loving only one person?”
Annie asked.
“If
you’re lucky enough to find the right person, why not?” responded Fletcher.
“I
suspect that when you go to Yale in the fall you’ll be surrounded by so many
bright and beautiful women, I’ll pale by comparison.”
“Not
a chance,” said Fletcher. He sat down next to her on the sofa and put an arm
around her shoulder.
“And
in any case, they’ll quickly discover that I’m in love with somebody else, and
once you’re at Vassar, they’ll discover why.”
“But
that won’t be for another year,” said Annie, “and by then
. .”
“
Shh
. haven’t you noticed that every man who meets you is
immediately jealous of me?”
“No,
I haven’t,” she replied honestly.
Fletcher
turned to look at the girl he’d fallen in love with when she’d had a flat chest
and braces on her teeth. But even then he couldn’t resist that smile, her black
hair, inherited from an Irish grandmother, and steel-blue eyes from the Swedish
side of the family. But now, four years later, time had added a slim, graceful
figure and legs that made Fletcher grateful for the new fashion of
mini skirts
.
Annie
put a hand on Fletcher’s thigh, “Do you realize that half the girls in my class
are no longer virgins?” she said.
“So
Jimmy tells me,” said Fletcher.
“And
he should know.” Annie paused, “I’m seventeen next month, and you’ve never once
suggested
. .”
“I’ve
thought about it many times, of course I have,” said Fletcher as she moved her
body so that his hand touched her breast, “but when it happens, I want it to be
right for both of us and for there never to be any regrets.”
Annie
nestled her head in his shoulder. “For me there wouldn’t be any regrets,” she
said, placing a hand on his leg.
He
took her in his arms. “When are you expecting your parents back?”
“Around midnight.
They’re attending another of those never-ending functions politicians seem to
thrive on.”
Fletcher
didn’t move as Annie began to unbutton her blouse. When she reached the last
button, she slipped it off and let it fall to the floor. “Your turn I think,”
she said.
Fletcher
quickly unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside. Annie stood up and faced him,
amused by the sudden power she seemed to have over him. She unzipped her skirt
slowly in the way she had seen Julie Christie do in Darling.
Like
Miss Christie, she hadn’t bothered with a petticoat. “Your turn I think,” she
said again.
Oh
my God, thought Fletcher, I daren’t take off my trousers. He slipped off his
shoes and socks.
“That’s
cheating,” said Annie, who had removed her shoes even before Fletcher knew what
she had in mind. He reluctantly pulled down his trousers, and she burst out
laughing. Fletcher blushed as he looked down at his pants.
“It’s
good to know I can do that to you,” said Annie.
“Would
it be possible for you to concentrate on the words, Nat?” asked Mr. Thompson,
not attempting to disguise his sarcasm. “Take it from “But here the lady comes.
Even
dressed in her school uniform, Rebecca stood out from the rest of the girls Mr.
Thompson was auditioning. The tall, slim girl with fair hair cascading down her
shoulders had an air of self-confidence that captivated
Nat,
and a smile that made him respond immediately. When she returned his smile, he
turned away, embarrassed to have embarrassed her. All he knew about her was her
name.
“What’s
in a name,” he said.
“Wrong
play Nat, try again.”
Rebecca
Armitage
waited as Nat stumbled through his words,
“But here the lady comes...” Rebecca was surprised because when she’d stood at
the back of the hall and heard him earlier, he had sounded so totally
self-assured. She looked down at her script and read, “Blame not this haste of
mine. If you mean well, now go with me and with this holy man into the chantry
by: there, before him, and underneath that consecrated roof, plight me the full
assurance of your faith; that my most jealous and too doubtful soul may live at
peace.
He
shall conceal it while you are willing it shall come to note, what time we will
our celebration keep according to my birth. What do you say?”
Nat
said nothing.
“Nat,
had you thought of joining in?” suggested Mr.
Thompson.i
“So that Rebecca can at least deliver a few more lines? I admit that the
adoring look is most effective, and for some might pass as acting, but this is
not a mime we’re performing. One or two of the audience might even have come to
hear the familiar words of Mr. Shakespeare.”
“Yes,
sir, sorry sir,” said Nat, returning to the script.
“I’ll
follow this good man, and go with you; and having sworn truth, ever will be
true.”
“Then
lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine, that they may fairly note this
act of mine.”
“Thank
you, Miss
Armitage
,
I don’t think I need to hear any more.”
“But
she was wonderful,” said Nat.
“Ah,
you can deliver an entire line without pausing,” said Mr. Thompson. “That’s a
relief to discover at this late stage, but then I had no idea you wanted to be
the director as well as play the lead.
However,
Nat, I think I have already made up my mind
who
will
play the fair Olivia.”
Nat
watched Rebecca as she quickly left the stage. “Then what about Viola?” he
persisted.
“No,
if I’ve understood the plot correctly, Nat, Viola is your twin sister, and
unfortunately or fortunately Rebecca bears absolutely no resemblance to you.”
“Then
Maria, she’d make a wonderful Maria.”
“I’m
sure she would, but Rebecca is far too tall to play Maria.”
“Have
you thought of playing
Feste
as a woman?” asked Nat.
“No,
to be honest, Nat, I hadn’t, partly because I don’t have the time to rewrite
the entire script.”
Nat
didn’t notice Rebecca slip behind a pillar, trying to hide her embarrassment as
he blundered on. “What about the maidservant in Olivia’s
household
?”
“What
about her?”
“Rebecca
would make a wonderful maidservant.”
“I’m
sure she would, but she can’t play Olivia and be her maidservant at the same
time.
Someone
in the audience might notice.”
Nat
opened his mouth but didn’t speak. “Ah, silence at last, but I feel confident
that you will be rewriting the play overnight, in order to ensure that Olivia
has several new scenes with Sebastian that Mr. Shakespeare hadn’t even
considered.”
Nat
heard a giggle from behind the pillar. “Anyone else you fancy for the
maidservant, Nat, or can I carry on with casting the play?”
“Sorry,
sir,” said Nat. “Sorry.”
Mr.
Thompson leaped onto the stage, smiled at Nat and whispered, “If you were
considering playing hard to get, Nat, I’m bound to say I think you’ve blown it.
You’ve made yourself more available than a whore in a Las Vegas casino. And I
feel sure you’ll be interested to learn that next year’s play will be The
Taming of the Shrew, which I feel might have been more appropriate. If only
you’d been born a year later, how different your life would have been. However,
good luck with Miss
Armitage
.”
“The
boy must be expelled,” said Mr. Fleming.
“No
other punishment would be appropriate.”
“But,
sir,” said Fletcher, “Pearson is only fifteen, and he apologized to Mrs.
Appleyard
immediately.”
“I
would have expected nothing less,” said the chaplain, who until that moment had
not offered an opinion.
“And
in any case,” said the principal, rising from behind his desk, “can you imagine
the effect on school discipline if it became known that you could get away with
swearing at a master’s wife?”
“And
because of the words, ‘bitchy woman,” the boy’s entire future is to be
determined?”
“That’s
the consequence of such ill manners,” said the principal, “and at least, this
way, one can be certain he’ll learn from it.”
“But
what will he learn?” asked Fletcher. “That you can never afford to make a
mistake in life, or that you must never swear?”
“Why
are you defending the boy so vehemently?”
“In
the first lecture I ever heard you deliver, sir, you told us that not to stand
up and be counted when an injustice had been done was the act of a coward.”
Mr.
Fleming glanced at the chaplain, who made no comment. He remembered the lecture
well. After all he delivered the same text to every new entering class.
“May
I be allowed to ask you an impertinent question?” asked Fletcher, turning to
face the chaplain.
“Yes,”
said Dr. Wade a little defensively.
“Have
you ever wanted to swear at Mrs.
Appleyard
, because I
have, several
times.
”
“But
that’s the point, Fletcher, you showed some self-restraint. Pearson didn’t, and
therefore he must be punished.”
“If
that punishment is to be expulsion, sir, then I must resign as president of the
student government,
Principal,
because the Bible tells
us that the thought is as evil as the deed.”
Both
men stared at him in disbelief.
“But why, Fletcher?
Surely you realize that if you were to resign it could even affect your chances
of being offered a place at Yale?”
“The
type of person who would allow that to influence him isn’t worthy of a place at
Yale.”
Both
men were so stunned by this remark that neither spoke for some time. “Isn’t
that a bit extreme, Fletcher?” the chaplain eventually managed.
“Not
for the boy in question it isn’t, Dr. Wade, and I am not willing to stand and
watch this student sacrificed on the altar of a woman who gets her lacks from
goading pubescent boys.”
“And
you would resign as president to prove your point?” asked the principal.
“Not
to do it, sir, would be only one step away from what your generation condoned
at the time of McCarthy.”
Another
long silence followed, before the chaplain said quietly, “Did the boy apologize
in person to Mrs.
Appleyard
?”
“Yes,
sir,” said Fletcher, “and he followed it up with a letter.”
“Then
perhaps probation for the remainder of the term would be more appropriate,”
suggested the principal, glancing at the chaplain.
“Along
with the loss of all privileges, including weekend leaves, until further
notice,” added Dr. Wade.
“Does
that seem to you a fair compromise, Fletcher?” asked the principal, raising an
eyebrow.
It
was Fletcher’s turn to remain silent.
“Compromise,
Fletcher,” interjected the chaplain, “is something you will have to learn to
live with if you hope to become a successful politician.”
Fletcher
didn’t respond immediately. “I accept your judgment, Dr. Wade,” he eventually
said, and, turning to the principal, added, “
and
thank
you for your indulgence, sir.”
“Thank
you, Fletcher,” said Mr. Fleming as the student president rose from his place
and left the principal’s study.
“Wisdom,
courage and conviction are rare enough in a grown man,” said the principal
quietly as the door closed, “but in a child...”
“Then
what is your explanation, Mr. Cartwright?” asked the dean of Yale’s examination
board.
“I
don’t have one, sir,” Nat admitted.
“It
must be a coincidence.” “It’s quite a coincidence,” said the dean of academic affairs,
“
that large sections
of your paper on Clarence Darrow
are word for word identical to those of another student in your class.”
“And
what’s his explanation?”
“As
he submitted his independent study a week before yours, and it was
hand-written, while yours was typed, we haven’t felt it necessary to ask him
for an explanation.”
“Would
his name be Ralph Elliot, by any chance?” asked Nat.
No
one on the board commented.
“How
did he manage it?” asked Tom, when Nat returned to Tail later that evening.
“He
must have copied it out word for word while I was over at Miss Porter’s
rehearsing for Twelfth Night.”
“But
he still had to remove the thesis from your room.”
“That
wouldn’t have been difficult,” said Nat.
“If
it wasn’t on my desk, he would have found it filed under Yale.”