Madam

by Phoebe Wynne

‘To enrich their minds, Rose. There’s no need to fixate on exams.’

  ‘But … what about the league tables? Hope sits at the top of most of them!’

  ‘Oh Rose, you already know the answer to that – our influence extends far enough to modify those things.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, our Fifths will take their GCSEs, so some of it is true. But our Sixth have got the knowledge, that’s what matters.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rose added scathingly, ‘my Sixth should be able to discuss Greek tragedy heartily at one of their dinner parties.’

  Emma touched her glasses and gave Rose a warning look. ‘Honestly, Rose, you’re being ridiculous. Frances must be rubbing off on you … are things any better there?’

  ‘Frances?’ Rose settled her tray heavily on the table opposite Emma. ‘I haven’t really seen her since we got back.’

  ‘It’s only been a week or so. I hear she’s been struggling lately.’

  Rose felt a bitter sting, and wondered whether she should try to reconcile with Frances, the only person that had even partially understood her. Should she apologise for pushing her away after that meeting on Affiliates Day? Could she then challenge Frances on the dressed-up girls she’d seen in House See, or anything else she didn’t yet know? Rose didn’t think her heart could handle any more surprises.

  Instead, she attempted a new conversation: ‘The girls are pleased to have Clarissa back.’

  Emma shuffled neatly onto her bench. ‘Yes. Poor thing, I was speaking to one of her house tutors this morning.’

  ‘What was wrong?’

  ‘Well, if you really want to know,’ Emma set her arms on either side of her tray and leaned towards Rose, ‘she had a termination.’

  ‘A termination?’ Rose couldn’t conceal her shock. Emma’s eyes widened with the piece of gossip as she picked up her fork.

  ‘Of course, it’s completely confidential – it would decrease her Value enormously, if they knew she was no longer intact. In fact, I don’t even think—’

  ‘She’s been sleeping with someone?’ Rose spluttered. ‘Not her suitor?’

  ‘No, no, that’s forbidden,’ said Emma, horrified.

  ‘Does she have a boyfriend at home then? Is that why she was away for so long?’

  ‘The house tutor said there might be a cousin,’ Emma shrugged. ‘Hardly matters now, it’s all been corrected. Her father was very severe with the Headmaster; he said he wants to pursue it.’

  Rose ignored her food and stared across at Clarissa’s Sixth table. The girl was talking animatedly at her friends. She seemed fine, but perhaps that was all part of her training. ‘She won’t be punished, will she? I mean, surely it’s a family matter?’ Rose thought of the bareheadedness punishment, imagining those auburn curls of Clarissa’s falling away around her pretty face.

  ‘She won’t be punished. But it really is top secret, Rose,’ Emma warned.

  Rose felt a nudge of irritation as she turned back to Emma. ‘So the system doesn’t always work then, does it?’

  Emma laid down her fork and peered at Rose through her glasses. ‘Well, I don’t know what you mean about that, but it’s been dealt with.’ She paused. ‘And after what happened last year, they had to really take care of it, and what with Clarissa being head girl …’

  ‘What happened last year?’

  ‘You know.’

  ‘No,’ Rose said loudly, ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Hush,’ Emma whispered, leaning forward, ‘the poor girl died during the operation.’

  Rose’s hand formed a fist on the table. ‘Oh my God. That was a termination? This has happened before?’

  ‘Actually,’ Emma’s eyes were narrowed conspirationally, ‘that was the first time it’s ever happened. It was one of the games staff who interfered with her. And now Clarissa with this cousin. We really do have to ensure it doesn’t happen again.’

  Rose leaned her head against her hand. ‘What was her name?’ She looked up at the Founder’s painting in spite of herself, the tall slim windows letting in slips of sunlight alongside his portrait. ‘Emma, do you realise that girl shouldn’t have—’

  ‘Good afternoon, you two. Bon appétit.’

  Rose jolted. Vivien settled herself on Emma’s bench, putting herself opposite Rose. The movement was charged and precise, and Rose was hit with the heady scent of Vivien’s expensive perfume.

  ‘I wanted to ask, ladies. How is the disciplinary phase going?’

  Rose found that her hands were shaking; she gripped her tray.

  ‘Very good, Vivien.’ Readjusting her glasses, Emma smiled brightly at the deputy head. ‘All seems well.’

  Rose could see a touch of pink in Emma’s cheeks; she looked down at her plate, trying not to notice the swivelled heads of the Sixth now looking over at them.

  ‘Decent reports from your observers, Rose.’ Vivien’s mouth was crooked as she scrutinised her. ‘I hope you are continuing to see the light as it were.’

  ‘Yes.’ Rose winced at her own voice.

  ‘I thought I’d arranged for you to attend a session in House See, but the matron tells me you didn’t turn up.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rose’s heart seemed to flutter in her mouth. ‘I did, but … I was suddenly unwell.’

  ‘I’d like to have you involved with House See. Those girls are interesting, I like that Lisa. I suppose you are our innovation as much as they, and we ought to bring you all up together.’

  Rose nodded, not knowing what else to do.

  ‘Well, good. Let’s hope that settles that. Because we do rather need your help with the Ball; you’d make a splendid addition to the team, Rose. It’s as important for the Lower Sixth debutantes as it is for the Upper Sixth and their suitors. The Lower Sixth will have their “coming out” in September, so this is a formal preview. Good.’ Vivien stood up and directed her last comment to Emma. ‘I’ll be very pleased to tidy up this little problem.’

  After the deputy head had left the hall Emma pulled off her glasses and rubbed them against her blouse.

  ‘Thank you for not repeating what I just mentioned, Rose. About Clarissa’s termination.’ She tutted at herself. ‘I shouldn’t have told you. You’re already in a precarious position.’

  Rose surveyed Emma. ‘You’re terrified of Vivien, aren’t you?’

  ‘No. Heavens, no.’ Emma continued to push her glasses against her chest.

  ‘All of you, you’re terrified.’ Rose felt a sickness rise in her chest. ‘That’s how this place survives.’

  ‘No, no. You’ve got me wrong there.’ Emma hooked her glasses back on her nose. ‘Anyway, thank you for not saying anything. Please do not repeat it.’ She glanced at the tables around them, before continuing with her meal. Rose, however, had lost her appetite.

  20.

  The weather improved with the beginning of May, and the seascape changed with it. But for the first days of the month an unbearable white met Rose’s eyes at every window: a soft damp mist, unmoving and unforgiving.

  The porters told her it was the ‘haar’ come in from the water, and that she mustn’t go for any walks or she’d lose her way from one metre to the next. Of course, they reminded her, she wasn’t allowed outside alone, anyway.

  On one afternoon, Rose was informed she had an important note from the secretaries waiting for her upstairs. Fearful of bad news about her mother, Rose grabbed the note on her desk and scoured it, still panting from the rush up the stairs from the common room.

  Miss Christie. Please go to classroom Rec 2, next period, for Worship. Cover teacher needed. Vivien insisted on you.

  Rose sucked at her teeth, tasting the almond biscuit she’d had with her tea. She’d only ever covered a few of Emma’s lessons, in her own classroom. There were no teaching instructions, either. Worship? But Hope had no chaplain, and the lesson wasn’t in the c
hapel. Rose checked the clock on the office wall, she was already late.

  She met Emma at the door; hopping to the side, she slid past. ‘Emma. Remind me where the Rec classrooms are?’

  ‘In the older part of the building, just beneath us and further along. Through that wonky door.’

  ‘Which wonky door?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, you should know your way around by now. It’s where that Conversation was back in September.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rose thought about it. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But, hang on … it’s Wednesday.’ Emma seemed suddenly anxious. ‘Rec 2? Have you really been sent to cover one of those lessons? They aren’t usually for the academic staff.’

  ‘Really? Look …’ Rose showed the note to Emma.

  ‘Then you’d better go.’ Emma’s mouth was tight and wrinkled. ‘You’ll need your keys for the door. Good luck.’

  Rose didn’t have time to question Emma’s anxiety. She pushed past stragglers in the corridors and found her way to that wonky door, her fingers fumbling to find the right key.

  As she stepped into the passageway a cloud of acrid incense hit her in the face. She inched her way down the dark corridor, so much narrower than the ones she was used to, and much less busy than her previous visit. She followed a hollow, authoritarian voice through to Rec 2, a room she’d only passed by last time.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Rose said as she nudged open the door, ‘I wasn’t really familiar with the location …’

  Rose wasn’t prepared for what met her eyes. The deep crimson of the walls was denser than she remembered, the wooden floor a mess of scattered red cushions. But Rose’s gaze was drawn to the portly man outstretched on a long velveteen couch, bare-chested and rickety-legged with a pair of socks pulled up over his ankles. His briefs were unbuttoned and split open for the full extent of his erect penis to be seen. Rose blinked stupidly as she saw a figure kneeling at the man’s side, holding his penis upright like a fork. It was a woman that Rose didn’t recognise.

  Rose backed towards the door, thinking she had the wrong room, that she’d caught a pair of lovers together. But seven older girls were gathered behind the woman, observing her as she bowed over the outstretched man on the couch, a heavy book open at her side. Above the woman’s bent head a thick sign was nailed to the wall: No Penetration.

  The woman turned around to lift her face to Rose, her forehead prominent and her eyes deep-set in her face. ‘Oh good, Madam, you must be our additional female. I don’t think we’ve met, I’m one of the auxiliary pastoral staff from Honour. I’m afraid we’ve started without you.’

  Rose was rooted to the spot as the woman turned back to the man’s figure. Averting her eyes, Rose stared at the girls, whom she now recognised as Sixths. Their faces wore less make-up than usual, and they each had their long hair tied back in low ponytails.

  The woman raised her voice to address the girls, reciting some lines she seemed to know by heart. ‘Men desire and deserve your full attention. Intuit what he is thinking, what he is needing – if you can become that missing piece, then you will learn to give love and be loved on command.’

  ‘Please, is this –’ Rose stammered. ‘What is this?’

  ‘This is Worship, Madam,’ the woman answered matter-of-factly, not losing focus as she resumed her work. ‘It’s part of Practice, for Coupling. Our designated volunteer for today is Sir from History.’

  With renewed horror Rose saw that the man naked and spread out was Ashley, a ridiculous grin drawn across his face, his pubic hair a glistening mess.

  ‘But … what?’ Rose was midway between fury and tears.

  There was a tickled laugh from one of the Sixth, as several faces gave Rose haughty and judgemental looks. Turning away from them, she noticed a strange metal instrument bolted to the wall: long and wide, man-height, with leather straps.

  ‘Would you like to contribute, Madam?’

  Rose’s face snapped back to the woman. ‘Would I … what?’

  ‘Are you a member of house staff, or—’

  ‘I’m a teacher.’ Rose breathed heavily, inhaling the thick incense, trying not to look down at Ashley’s grinning face. ‘I’m a teacher.’

  A few of the Sixth tittered.

  ‘Settle down, girls.’ The woman turned to face them, then looked up at Rose. ‘Yes, Madam, all right. I can see now that you’re very young; I had thought you were older and might know a thing or two. Just observe with the girls then, please.’

  ‘No, no. God, I don’t –’ Feeling something come up her throat, Rose held her hand to her mouth. The muscles in her stomach contracted as she began to retch. The woman’s face was struck with alarm as Rose rushed through the door. She ran down the dark corridor, pressing her hands over her mouth, desperately trying to hold in her horror as the Sixth laughed behind her. But out it came, fluid and repulsive against the harsh stone wall.

  Rose held her burning teacup, tugging at the string of the teabag. Her hands were still shaking. The water turned a blushing raspberry pink against the white porcelain.

  Lessons for Coupling, the so-called “innovation” of House See, Discipline and Value, fulfilling requirements – the numerous pieces of information Rose had absorbed now created a rich, horrifying tapestry, whose patterns Rose recognised, no matter how jarring the logic.

  She thought bitterly of Frances’s clear blue eyes. Her heart leaked desperately to confide in her, but every time she’d seen her in passing, the woman’s face was hard and full of complicated thoughts. Emma’s had been no less thunderous when Rose had returned, horrified, to the Classics office, so she’d buried herself in the underground lair of the common room.

  ‘Seen the invitation for the Summer Ball – isn’t it splendid?’ John tittered, suddenly next to Rose.

  Rose had seen the glossy invitation, offered up as an example on the noticeboard. The card opened out with the school’s emblem and details of the evening, just three weeks away. The ribbons that bound the invitation together were undone and falling down the wall, the same ribbons that the Juniors wore in their hair. Rose wondered if she could tug at the invitation, unstitch the ribbons and draw them tight around someone’s neck – the Headmaster, or his deputy, or perhaps even herself.

  ‘Yes, John,’ Rose replied instead, ‘it’s splendid.’

  ‘You won’t find my name on the staff list,’ he continued with a jerky movement. ‘I’m invited to the event. I’ve been working hard, I’ve even got some foreign ambassadors on the list, and a head of industry.’

  Rose glanced at the frail skin on his hands as he passed the ribbon of the invitation through his gnarled fingers.

  ‘Headmaster needs me, I’m one of the direct agents. Being taken over now by the young upstarts. Still, it’s essential that I’m there, everybody knows me.’ He reared his head importantly. ‘I’m organising the alumnae dinner in July, at the Banqueting House in London, just trying to decide on the keynote speaker …’ He nodded at the staff list on the board, littered with names. ‘Anyhow, you’ll be on there, somewhere.’

  ‘Will I?’ Rose darted forward to find her own name. Front of house. She closed her eyes for a moment to stall her anxiety.

  ‘I’ve sorted my own little table, and I’ve requested an excellent wine.’

  Rose saw a few names at the bottom, appointed to monitor House See bedtimes.

  ‘Will House See be … closed again?’

  ‘Of course,’ John nodded.

  Rose wondered briefly if she could while the evening away with Hanako and her friends in that soft dark green room. ‘I’d rather be with them. Can roles be swapped?’

  John didn’t respond, and Rose looked at him sideways. She didn’t know if he hadn’t heard, or was choosing to ignore her. She tried again. ‘What about the younger girls, are they locked up too?’

  ‘The Junior and Intermediate performanc
es take place before the dinner. Then they return to the houses. The Lower Sixth are all involved in the Ball. The ones arranged will be joining in; the few others will waitress and do hair, that sort of nonsense.’

  Rose nodded. ‘So there’s plenty for me to do in the Junior and Intermediate houses, instead of front of house.’

  ‘Well, I gather you’re not supposed to have any kind of direct communication with the girls – front of house will prevent you from doing so. The Headmaster has a plan for you,’ John nodded as he wandered over towards the armchairs. ‘Quite honestly, I don’t know why. I caught the Seconds thundering down the main corridor yesterday morning, shrieking about some Celtic tribe. I gather that was down to you.’

  Rose’s cheeks grew warm as she turned away, daring to mutter, ‘I imagine that it was.’

  The three Moirai moved past her in their stream of neverending gossip, latched on to one another, three times symmetrical in their beige shirts and skirts, their scowls and their drooping mouths. Rose overheard their comments for the first time.

  ‘One of the governors was asking me about it.’

  ‘Yes, I know they take an interest. Funny how our Classicists are cursed. Perhaps she should consult the famous Delphic oracle for what to do next.’

  Rose tilted her head to listen as they wandered towards their swoop of armchairs, with no thought of dulling their voices.

  ‘There is no next. She should just get on with it; I don’t even know why there’s been such a fuss. She and her polyester suits.’

  ‘We have to experiment with new staff. Hope needs a future.’

  Rose wiped off the smudge of her lipstick from the lip of her teacup, first with her finger, and then more thoroughly with the edge of her sleeve.

  ‘She doesn’t want to take the same route as her father did, does she?’

  ‘True! And making such a fuss about things here – going on and on to the Headmaster about the exploitation of young girls when he did what he did.’

  Rose moved quickly as her teacup tumbled to the floor. ‘How dare you?’ she called across to the Moirai. ‘You don’t know anything about my father.’