by Anna Archer
“She did not,” said Dulcie. “She’s just wearing a WonderBra.”
“Just because you’re flat chested,” snapped Jasmine. “And I see you’ve still got a boy’s haircut, Dulcie.”
“Is it always like this?” asked Manny, still staring at Eve.
Eve snapped herself out of it. It was never like this. She was usually so on-the-ball.
“She’s too busy looking at you, Manny, to discipline us,” said Jasmine, turning in her seat and angling her huge bust their way.
“That’s enough,” said Eve, addressing the whole class. “We need to get this right. I’ll be seeing you all for five hours of PE, and you’re all taking biology as well so I’ll see you for another five hours there.”
Kitty waved. “Plus you see us every morning and afternoon in form time.”
Jasmine signalled to her teacher and Manny. “Plenty of opportunity to watch their chemistry.”
Eve clapped her hands. “And we’re done. That’s enough silly nonsense for one day.” She focused on the group. She’d initially found it hard when starting at the school two years ago to hear the girls talking so openly about same-sex attraction, but upon raising her concerns with Mrs Howard she’d been told she should treat it in exactly the same way she’d treated the mixed-sex bantering that occurred at the schools she’d trained in. Girls yapping on about which boys they fancied. Boys making silly comments about the female teachers they fancied. All of it was inappropriate but mostly harmless and should be tolerated momentarily before moving on. Unless it crossed any lines, obviously. She looked around at the girls. They hadn’t crossed any major lines yet, they were just being silly.
“Please remember you’re in the sixth form now. I expect a more mature approach.”
“I told you she liked you, Manny,” said Jasmine.
Eve slammed her hands on the empty desk in front of her. “I said enough!” She waited for total silence and attention. “Thank you. Right. I thought we’d start today with some sport psychology. The topic of aggression. We’ll look at the difference between aggressive and assertive behaviour, the different theories of aggression and the different strategies we can use to control aggression.”
Kitty giggled.
“Is something funny?”
“Why are we starting with this?” she asked with a smirk.
“Well it was either aggression or arousal and the mood you’re all in today I think aggression’s the safer topic.”
Kitty giggled again.
“Oh grow up, Kitty,” snapped Jasmine. “It’ll just be the theories of arousal, right, Miss Eden? Like in GCSE, the inverted U theory and the catastrophe theory.”
“Yes, fantastic, but we’ll start with aggression. Can anyone tell me what they think the difference between aggression and assertion is?”
Kitty laughed as she put up her hand. “Assertion is when there’s no intent to harm. Aggression is when you send your opponent off on a stretcher because you’re frustrated that you’re about to lose.”
“Fantastic,” said Eve before noticing the change in atmosphere. “A different example please, Kitty,” she said quickly.
It was too late. Manny had swiped the syllabus from her table and was storming – with a slight limp – out of the classroom. “Wait!” said Eve, as the door slammed shut.
Chapter Six
Sitting in front of Mrs Howard’s large desk in the wood-panelled office, Eve felt very foolish indeed. Not because she’d chosen aggression to start with – she’d ordered the syllabus in the same way for the past two years – but because Manny had come straight to the head teacher. “She reported me?” asked Eve.
Mrs Howard lifted her hands to the room. “She just raised some concerns, but I reassured her that your examination results are exemplary and that you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m not sure that I do where she’s concerned.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well she’s so…”
“So what?”
“So…” Eve shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Was aggression really the right topic to start with?”
“I honestly didn’t think anything of it. Like I said to you yesterday, I know she’s famous. I know she was the face of the Women’s World Cup. I remember her long purple hair whipping around in a high ponytail, her kissing her girlfriend, the news of the loss, but I don’t follow football, it doesn’t really interest me, she’s never really interested me and now I’m at a disadvantage because I should have known she’d react badly to learning about aggression on her first day at school.”
“I’m not asking you to pander to her.”
“I certainly won’t do that.”
“Just acknowledge who she is and what she’s been through.”
“You told me to treat her the same way as everyone else.”
“Just get to know her. You’re her tutor and her mentor and you’ll be teaching her for ten hours a week, not to mention any afterschool clubs she gets involved with. You need to get this right, Eve.”
Eve nodded.
“I’ve sent her to the TV room. You have a free next. Get to know her. You’re the only teacher who wasn’t here when she was and you appear to be the only teacher not in absolute awe of who she is and what she’s achieved.”
“You want me to suck up to her?”
“No, just give her a chance. She’s a great girl and an asset to us here at Ridgecrest.” Mrs Howard stood from her desk to signal that the conversation was over.
“Right. I’ll go to the TV room.”
“Just don’t turn on the news. They’re covering her arrival this morning. It’s not particularly friendly.”
Eve stood up and smiled. “Don’t turn on the TV. I think I can manage that.”
****
Walking down the corridor to the snug that was hidden away next to the caretaker’s office, Eve made sure she inhaled lots of long, deep breaths. The TV room, or snug as it was formerly known, was the place the teachers used to go for cigarettes when smoking wasn’t banned from all buildings and the room had never lost the foggy smell of smoke. The woven fabric chairs didn’t help; sponges that had soaked up years of smog, slowly emitting their stench each time someone sat down. The curtains were the same; every time they were yanked closed to plunge the room into darkness for the TV, a waft of ancient fumes filled the air.
Eve knocked, before wondering why she was knocking. She paused. She was feeling nervous. How strange given the fact that she didn’t really care who Manny was. Obviously there had been that initial shock yesterday when Mrs Howard announced the superstar would be returning to the school, but that was simply surprise. It certainly wasn’t excitement or intrigue. She knocked again. Or was it? She was definitely interested in Manny’s story, but no more than she’d been interested in little Kitty’s story when she’d first joined her form, under nourished and unable to look anyone in the eye, and Jasmine too, flaunting her wealth with new school bags and shoes each week, and constantly talking about the ways she was going to improve her own body, to brand it, as such, to fit in with what she believed to be fashionable. Eve pushed open the door. All of the girls at the school had a story, Manny’s was just more public than most.
“Turn that off!” said Eve, towards the TV that was shining in the darkness causing a silhouette around Manny’s statuesque body.
“Excuse me?” said Manny turning around.
Eve flicked on the lights. “You’re not allowed to watch that.”
“Excuse me?”
Eve looked at the scene. An eighteen-year-old famous woman, standing in a school uniform, watching herself in that very same school uniform on TV. “Mrs Howard sent you in here for some time out, some space.”
“It’s the TV room, what am I meant to do?”
“Smoke?”
Manny laughed.
Eve corrected herself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just always so overwhelmed by
the smell in here.”
“It’s not me.”
“I know.”
Manny smiled. “Because you noticed my perfume earlier?”
Eve reached for the remote and turned off the news report. “What are you doing, Manny?”
“Looking at you. Wondering why you’re here.”
“Mrs Howard sent me.”
“Here at Ridgecrest in your cute tennis skirt with your long blonde hair, cute smile and slightly serious glasses.”
Eve stared at the sharp cheeks and piercing eyes. Nothing about Manny was cute. She was strikingly addictive. The type of person you had to keep looking at because she had so many layers under the exquisite outer shell.
“You’re assessing me,” said Manny.
“I’m not,” replied Eve.
“Shut the door.”
“No.”
Manny walked around the chairs and past Eve, gently shutting the door. She took control of the remote and turned the lights back off. “Sit down. Listen to what they’re saying about me.”
Eve stared around in the darkness; Manny had taken a seat at the front. “I don’t think we should have the lights off.”
“It’s the TV room. What do you think I’m going to do? Pounce on you?”
“Of course not.”
“So sit down.” Manny tapped the sunken woven-fabric chair next to her own. “I won’t bite.”
Eve glanced to the door. This was ridiculous. Why did she feel so vulnerable? She’d often come in here with the GCSE and A-Level girls on their own to watch and assess playbacks of their sporting performances. This was no different. Edging past the chairs, Eve took a seat next to Manny, inhaling her soft perfume. This was very different. Manny was a woman. A woman who’d already lived an exciting life and shouldn’t be back posing as a school girl.
“It’s on every news channel,” said Manny nodding towards the TV.
Eve turned her attention to the screen. A suited female reporter was outside the school gates talking to the camera. “Is this live now?”
“I think they’re still there. The footage of me arriving this morning is on a loop, but look, she’s saying it’s not long until I’m due out at the end of the day.” Manny tutted. “And here we go. A replay of that tackle.”
Eve watched the screen. Manny Jones was flying through the air in slow motion, her right leg outstretched, showcasing her huge thigh muscles in shorts that were already too tight. That was something else Eve had remembered from the World Cup. Females in football kits that were much shorter and more fitted than their male counterparts. “How’s your knee feeling now?”
Manny turned in her seat. She smiled. “No one ever asks me that first.”
Eve stared into the sharp blue eyes. They’d changed from piercing to warm. “What do you mean?”
“Like today. When I said I wanted my sport to be swimming. You literally didn’t bat an eyelid.”
“You can choose any sport.”
Manny laughed. “I think I quite like you.”
Eve didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know what she should be feeling. Could Manny be a friend? A colleague? She certainly wasn’t a normal sixth form student. “How old are you.”
“Not like that, Miss Eden!”
Eve gasped. “No! I didn’t mean like that either! I was just… I was… You’re eighteen, right?”
“Nineteen next week. You?”
“Twenty-three.”
Manny lifted her hands to the room. “And this is what you want with your life?”
Eve ignored Manny’s reference to their dimly-lit surroundings and nodded. “I love teaching. I think the school’s great and I get to be sporty every single day.”
“Not if you’re in a classroom with me for ten hours a week.”
“Eight. Two are practical lessons and the rest of my timetable’s full of outdoor activities with the lower half of the school. Mrs Howard’s decided she wants to teach the GCSE group again this year.”
“I knew she’d hate being the head teacher.”
“Were you two close?”
Manny raised her eyebrows. “You’re two years in and this all-girls’ school has already rubbed off on you.”
“I didn’t mean like that.”
“I’m teasing you.”
Eve smiled. “You promised you wouldn’t.”
“I break my promises.”
Eve felt the butterflies flutter for the first time that day. Here she was, sitting inches away from the famous Manny Jones. She turned her attention back to the TV, cross at herself for getting drawn into the hype. “Your knee. How is it?”
“A torn cruciate ligament. Surgery that day. Possible limited flexion for the rest of my life. I only came off my crutches last week. This knee brace is holding me together.”
“What about physio?”
“Are you offering?”
“Surely England have offered, and your club must have—”
“United? Of course they have. I’m teasing you.”
“Again?”
Manny smiled. “It’s becoming a habit.” She paused. “But yes, I’ve had more assessments than I ever knew was possible. Contrary to public belief the world of football doesn’t hate me.” She nodded towards the TV. “The public might hate me, but my investors hoped I’d be okay.”
“You might be. Ligament injuries can take months to improve.”
“Six to nine months officially.” Manny shook her head. “But I’ve had all the tests. It’s over.”
“Maybe at the top level but there’s still a chance—”
“Hey, I liked you because you didn’t care who I was or that I wasn’t interested in football anymore.”
Eve turned her attention back to Manny. “If I’m honest I don’t know much about you.”
“And I don’t know much about you.”
“You’re not meant to.”
Manny laughed. “Got it. You’re that stereotypically hot but standoffish PE teacher.”
Eve blushed. “Since when has that been a thing?”
“And you look even cuter when you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed. I’m just…” Eve cleared her throat. “We need to get this right, Manny. We’ll be spending a lot of time together and we need to respect each other and our boundaries.”
Manny laughed.
“What?”
She pointed back at the TV that was now playing a montage of the teams she’d played in. “I’ve spent the past two years travelling the world in the company of women age twenty-five to forty. We were teammates, colleagues and friends, and here you are, a twenty-three-year-old woman who I probably have loads in common with, telling me I can’t be on the level with her.”
“Of course you can be on the level with me.”
“So chill out.”
“Just don’t cross that line.”
“What line?” Manny smiled before laughing and speaking again. “What line?”
Eve stared at the sparkling eyes and taut cheek bones. “That line. Now focus. What’s your plan for the rest of the day? Are you going to tittle-tattle to Mrs Howard about any other teachers?”
Manny laughed again. “Touché.”
“I know what I’m doing and I’m good at my job. If you honestly want to come back to Ridgecrest and get your A-Levels then I’ll support you.”
“Thank you.” Manny turned to her teacher. “I do. And I’ll stop being an idiot. I take things seriously once I set my mind to them.” She pointed at the TV. “And I know this interest will die down. I have my whole life ahead of me so I need a plan for the future.”
“Swimming coach,” said Eve with a nod.
Manny laughed. “Athletic, cute and funny, you’re a triple threat, Miss Eden.”
Eve turned her attention back to the TV that was replaying the horror tackle. The only threat around here was Manny Jones.
Chapter Seven
Pulling open her laptop, Manny adjusted her position on her childhood bed. Bei
ng back at home fulltime was going to take some getting used to. Maybe her mum was right? Maybe it was time to redecorate? Looking around at the posters and trophies, Manny smiled. This is where it had all begun, the hopes and the dreams, the daring to believe. She smiled. It had always been so lovely to return home for the simple reason that it grounded her. The posh hotels and first-class flights were great, but they weren’t what motivated her, the people on these posters had motivated her, as had the thrill of receiving one of these small trophies, but mostly it was the simple joy of playing week in week out. She sighed. Maybe it was nice coming home because she knew it was temporary – a quick stay in her childhood bedroom to re-ground her before jetting off on some all-expenses paid sponsorship commercial, or all-televised cup game. The thought that she was back for good would take some getting used to.
“How was it, darling?” asked Manny’s father, Giles, waltzing straight into the bedroom. “Your mother told me you had a wobble this morning.”
“I didn’t have a wobble; she had a wobble.”
“This is hard for her, darling.”
Manny studied her father. He was one of those people who honestly believed everything he was saying, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. A yes man at a successful marketing agency with the responsibility of pulling in the big clients. She’d often wondered if her education at Ridgecrest was just a ploy he could use when wining and dining prospective punters: Sign with us and you too could put your children through private education. Or: Look, I must be doing something right if my daughter goes to private school. Quite how he was spinning the fact his privately-educated daughter had let the whole country down she didn’t want to know.
Manny shrugged. “She’ll pull through.”
“Go easy on her, would you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. At least look at some of the offers coming in.”
“Why? I know what I want. I’m like you, dad, determined.”
The tall man grew an inch in height. “You’re right. You’ll be a phoenix in the flames, rising from the ashes with a new world-class career in some academic field or other.”