by Kiki Archer
‘Ok where do you want me to start? sighed Bea, fashion glasses safely back in their Gucci case.
Freya felt childish. Being in Bea’s presence sometimes felt overwhelming. ‘Don’t be silly. Look I am just so glad you have finally let me come back here, your room is so beautiful, you are so lucky.’
‘I know; my brothers are at boarding school so it is just me and dad a lot of the time. Mum is forever travelling with her art and yes, I guess I am lucky.’ She paused and looked at Freya perched uncomfortably on the edge of her bed. ‘Are we ok?’
‘Of course, why wouldn’t we be?
‘Because I am gay.’
Freya giggled nervously, ‘I know, you announced it in front of an Ofsted inspector in History today! Seriously though, I am really pleased for you. Does your dad know?’ She had spotted the wink in the huge oak hallway.
Bea flicked her hair, ‘Does he know? He is the one who opened the closet door and said peepo!’
She laughed, still aware of the slight awkwardness between them. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Him and Mum, they outed me to myself.’
‘Like what?’ It was all so intriguing.
‘Well when I was about fourteen they would have these chats like... “Do you know that most gay women have a ring finger longer than their index finger?”’
Freya looked at her own hands and made a mental note to Google that later.
‘So I would look and say, well my ring finger is longer than my index finger and they would say, “Oh really what do you think that tells us? Does it tell us that you are gay? Or does it tell us that the statistics are incorrect? Or does it tell us something else. Let’s analyse”’
Freya scrunched her eyebrows in disbelief, ‘That’s awful.’
‘No not really, it was all done with a bit of fun and they have tried their hardest to be the typical liberal parents.’ She reached across to her iPod and it lit up with the smooth sound of Adele. ‘I think they just saw something in me and wanted me to avoid the turmoil of having to think I had to try things out with guys to prove something to myself or to others, or to avoid the saga of coming out to them or whatever.’
‘What else did they say?’ asked Freya finally making herself more comfortable.
‘Well they would tell me stories about when I was younger and I would sit with my brothers watching Blind Date. We would all tie scarves around our eyes and pretend to be the picker and I would only pick from the women saying that they were nicer than the men. I don’t know just stupid things. A typical tomboy I guess.’
How things have changed thought Freya looking at Bea and her seductive feminine beauty. ‘So what happened?’
‘They just had open discussions about sexuality, they love to analyse everything. I think that’s where I get it from.’ She laughed and shook her head in remembrance, ‘I was walking around a shopping centre with my dad, I think I was twelve and we were playing a game where we would squeeze each other’s hand when we saw someone we thought was attractive, and obviously he was being stupid and squeezing when he saw someone with a massive cleavage or short skirt, but he said that I squeezed when I saw a beautiful woman. I can’t really remember it to be fair, but I guess they were right because I started to develop feelings for a woman at the stables where we keep horses and I didn’t have to hide it from them. I had someone to talk to and I really appreciated them for that. I think if they had not been the way they were then I would have denied my feelings or panicked or started to act like a weirdo. Instead they just told me to accept it as a normal crush. We analysed it!’ Bea laughed and took reassurance that Freya was now snuggling at her end of the bed.
Freya felt jealous. How nice to know, to know what you want, to be sure of what you want and to have support. ‘What happened with her?’ She needed the details.
‘The lady at the stables?’ she knew exactly who Freya meant. ‘I used to go every day to muck out the horses and do odd jobs; she was there all of the time. Rachel, the lead trainer.’ She spoke like a crush. ‘It was her dad’s business and I don’t know, I guess by the time I was sixteen I knew it wasn’t actually a little crush. I knew that I loved her, and I thought that she loved me.’
‘No way,’ said Freya in astonishment.
‘Yes, we were together for just under a year. It finished the summer before I started at Coldfield.’
‘No way!’ She was sat upright grinning from ear to ear. ‘Did your parents know?’
‘Yes of course. They discussed it within an inch of its life, how to handle it, whether to approach her with my feelings, what to say, how to deal with her reaction. I guess they responded like any parent would to a daughter who develops a crush on a lad and doesn’t know what to do.’ She looked away and started to fiddle with the tassels on her white bed throw.
‘You are so lucky.’ Freya knew she could never approach her parents about anything to do with crushes or feelings; it just wasn’t like that with them.
‘I guess.’
She looked at Bea. She was beautiful, truly beautiful; inside and out. ‘Are you ok to talk about it?’
‘Yes. It’s fine. I am ok now. I guess our break up is not any more dramatic than that of any teenage break up. She was twenty one though.’ She raised her perfectly arched eyebrows.
‘No way,’ said Freya, continuing to be shocked, conscious of her sudden limited vocabulary. That was a bigger age gap than her and Kat. Harley had badgered Kat into telling the class the date of her birthday; he said he didn’t want to miss the party. Kat was such a great teacher, so conscientious, so thoughtful in the way she explained things and so helpful in her comments. You would always find an essay of suggestions and hints in her beautiful looped writing at the end of your own and often her carefully crafted essay was longer than your original piece of work. She was so clever and smart, but also so funny and so chatty; Freya’s mind wandered as it so often did these days. The relationship between all teachers, (apart from Miss Louza and Miss Mews), and their Sixth Form classes was much more relaxed than lower down the school. That was one of the incentives to stay at Coldfield instead of going to the local Sixth Form College. You could have the great ‘tutor-like’ relationship with your teachers that you got at the college, but here, they had said on Open Evening, here you would be chased for essays and you would have to turn up every single day, which would in turn give you the grades that you deserved. Most didn’t buy it and went to the college instead where they could call their tutors by their first names and be treated like the young adults that they truly were, instead of the silly, spotty Year Eight child that the teacher at school would always remember. Kat was getting it right though, thought Freya - friendly, but not over the top, interested but not gossipy, respectful, and fast earning respect. August 31Kat’s birthday, a date Freya knew she would not forget. That made just three years and two months between them, it was her 18 next week.
Bea brought her back into the room. ‘I had just turned sixteen; I told her how I felt. How I loved our chats, how I loved what she taught me with the horses, how I thought she was attractive and she said she felt the same way about me.’ Bea turned her attention back to the white bed tassels. ‘Then suddenly at the start of the summer on the day of my last GCSE she said it was over. I was devastated.’
‘Have you heard from her since?’
‘No, she works at a different place now.’
‘What did your mum and dad say about it all?’
‘Not much,’ said Bea finally untying a knot from a white tassel, ‘but when I said I didn’t want to tell people at Coldfield about my sexuality they were not particularly overjoyed. They wanted me to be more open and proud and said it was the only way I would ever be properly happy. They believe that being true to yourself is the most important thing in life.’
Freya marvelled at her poise, ‘So what changed? Why did you decide to say women today? It would have been so easy and so utterly expected for you to have said men.’ She had now positioned herself on her fron
t supporting her chin with her hands mesmerised by Bea’s depth.
‘I don’t know,’ she picked up and hugged a large yellow floral print cushion, ‘I guess it was Miss Spicer; her guts. I mean come on, that Ofsted guy was there. He was assessing her. The fact she put that on the line for the truth, her truth, then I don’t know; I guess it inspired me to do the same.’
Freya shuffled up the bed and carefully wrapped her arms around Bea, ‘You are one amazing person Beatrice Belshaw do you know that?’
‘Thank you, your friendship means so much to me.’
Freya gently shook her head stirring the long brown waves that had been nestling neatly around her shoulders. ‘You are so lucky you know?’
Bea pouted, ‘Stop saying that. Everyone says that. I know. I get it. I have everything that a girl could possibly want and need, don’t I?’
‘Well haven’t you?’
‘No, not the one true thing I wish for.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You,’ she whispered reaching for Freya’s soft cheek.
There was a faint tap on the oak door and a very quiet voice, ‘Hello? Hello, can I come in?’
‘Don’t be stupid Dad of course you can come in,’ shouted Bea quickly dropping her hand.
Cal looked at his exquisite daughter and the brown haired beauty sat incredibly close to her, he was thrilled. ‘Can I take you girls to dinner?’
‘Is anything going right for you at that school Kat?’ huffed Jess in a manner that took her by surprise. Jess was usually so caring and upbeat and helpful; you could always rely on her for a positive spin on things; this evening however she seemed impatient, something else was clearly on her mind.
‘Yes it is thanks Jess. Look, don’t worry about it,’ she sighed preparing to raise herself from the deep black sofa.
‘Oh sorry hun, I’ve just got stuff on my mind.’
She sank back down, ‘Can I help?’
‘No let’s get you sorted first, come on, what exactly happened?’ Jess got herself comfy amongst their numerous large red cushions.
Lucy shouted from the kitchen, ‘She outed herself in front of an Ofsted inspector in lover girl’s class today.’ She was busy making a vegetable stir fry, wine glass in hand, oil spitting onto their bright red backsplash.
‘Yes thanks Lucy,’ shouted Kat. Lucy had been watching Deal or No Deal when she had arrived home. It had only taken the time between two banker’s offers for her to listen, summarise and concluded the situation in a rather rude, but light hearted manner. If only things were as simple for me she thought, suddenly envious of Lucy’s frivolous approach to life and all of its contents. She was happy, realised Kat; Ben had not stopped texting her.
‘How did you do?’ quizzed Jess holding a red bobbly cushion tightly against her stomach.
‘Well that’s just it. Usually they stay behind at the end of the lesson and give you an initial assessment grade, one to four, outstanding through to unsatisfactory and then the full review goes to the Head before the final report is published a couple of weeks later.’ Kat knew the system.
‘You’re buggered then!’ shouted Lucy as she tossed in extra mushrooms.
Kat didn’t take it personally, she wasn’t being mean. ‘I know.’ She held her head in her hands.
‘So did it all kick off?’ asked Jess concerned, but also thoroughly intrigued. Kat’s life had never been so exciting, at least not since that dreadful saga with her ex a couple of years ago.
‘No, no nothing like that. We just had a lesson discussing sexuality. I tried my best to link it into sexuality through the ages, how times have changed from when it was a hangable offence in the Eighteenth Century...’
She was off enthusing again, ‘Yeah, yeah we don’t need the History lesson thanks Miss Spicer,’ shouted Lucy, her culinary masterpiece finally prepared.
‘Ok sorry, so anyway we debated and discussed and came to our own conclusions; which unfortunately had absolutely nothing to do with World War One. Oh and then the excruciatingly beautiful Beatrice Belshaw, the one I told you about, well she came out!’ Kat declared in a falsely matter of fact manner.
‘So that’s not going to look good then either, Miss Spicer converting the inmates!’ Lucy laughed sucking a bean sprout into her already full mouth.
‘I am buggered aren’t I? Excuse the language.’
‘What about Freya?’
‘What about her?’
‘Well is she out? Was she open about frequenting gay bars and snogging gorgeous, intelligent, smart, attractive women?’ Jess cuddled Kat, she felt bad for being sharp.
‘No, she stayed quite quiet actually. I don’t know what her story is and it is not my place to ask.’
‘So no extra lessons yet then?!’ mumbled Lucy her mouth full, chomping away ever so quickly. She was sitting on the red leather stool at the tall breakfast bar and her huge leg muscles were visible through her tight blue tracksuit. Kat and Jess had never known anyone who ate so fast.
She felt her cheeks redden, ‘It’s not like that.’
‘But you must find her attractive Kat, that can’t have changed.’
She carefully formulated her answer. ‘She is smart and thoughtful and quick witted and conscientious, clearly going to get an A and yes, Freya is very, very pretty.’ She paused but could not help it, it was so easy to talk about her and she found herself doing it more and more often, especially with Lucy’s persistent probes. ‘It is like she has some sort of captivating fire in her eyes, sometimes she will look at me and I feel like she is staring into my soul, reading everything I am trying to keep hidden.’ She snapped out of it, ‘But she is my student,’ she bellowed towards the kitchen diner.
Jess could see the signs but knew her friend was not yet ready to talk openly so she stayed on the topic. ‘What will you do tomorrow?’
She sighed, ‘I will just have to take it as it comes.’ Her housemates had once again managed to cheer her up and calm her down. ‘What about you anyway Jess? How’s things?’
Jess closed her eyes, ‘I am pregnant.’
‘Holy shit!’ shouted Lucy.
Chapter 7
Kat had to put the unfolding events of last night and Jess’s dilemma to the back of her mind. She arrived at school early following a very brisk and nippy walk - the weather was starting to turn, and now she was stood at her pigeonhole, note in hand. Things looked like they were about to get a whole lot worse.
Kat, Meeting in my office 9am. Kathy from Cover has your tutor group and first lesson taken care of. Kirsty Spaulding .
A panicked shiver made its way down her spine.
‘Ai, ai, Miss Spicer,’ Leery Old Lester approached his overflowing pigeonhole which was full of notes and memo’s that he had absolutely no intension of ever reading. He pinched her bottom with his whole hand and she span around shocked and slightly in pain.
Kat doubled checked the staffroom, it was empty. ‘Get your dirty hands off me and don’t you ever, ever do anything like that again.’ She was fuming and staring directly into his blood shot eyes. There was a definite whiff of booze on his stale breath. Dave Lester was about fifty five, fat and very hairy; hairs in his ears, hairs hanging from his nose, hairs joining his eyebrows and hairs high up on his cheek bones. Kat looked at his bulbous nose with its black pores that were deep and round, and studied the red veins that seemed to join together to form large shiny patches over most of his face. His eyes were pale and small and she glared into them fiercely.
He turned around and walked towards his sunken seat, wearing the same off white shirt he sported yesterday and most of last week, the loose collar around his neck was looking decidedly grim. ‘Dirty lesbian,’ he mumbled.
‘Excuse me?!’
He didn’t reply.
Kat was very good at staying calm, but she could not be doing with this. She had always been the same, level headed and composed; always doing the sensible thing, always putting her head first. Breathe, breathe, he means nothing to you Kat, let
it drop. She won herself over.
Slowly the staffroom started to fill, with most people sitting and checking lesson plans, the nervous buzz still in the air, final day of Ofsted. Ben sat down next to her; he looked good. His naturally messy fair hair had been brushed and was fairly level and his face was clean shaven. He had a new black shirt that was completely tucked in for once. Nearly all of the staff had made an effort, an effort which was highly visible in some cases due to the usually low standards. Diane Pity for example actually looked really nice in her navy blue trouser suit and appropriately buttoned light yellow shirt; even if it was its second outing in two days. Fiona Mews however still had her garish orange and yellow neck scarf tied tightly around her throat and her jet black hair was scrapped up into an Essex facelift.
Ben turned to Kat, ‘Lucy told me what happened in your Ofsted lesson, don’t worry about it mate, everything will be fine.’
She handed him the note and he groaned. ‘Oh babe, keep smiling. You’re a great teacher and that’s all that matters.’ He squeezed her knee and this time the male contact felt good.
‘Thanks, and I am really pleased about you and Lucy, she is such a lovely girl; slightly crazy, but lovely.’
‘I know.’ He meant it. The sex had been wild and he was hooked, hooked on her weird and wonderful sense of humour and her simple no nonsense approach to everything; not to mention the muscles, in particular the bulging ones in her thighs.
There was no sign of the inspectors, probably already on their way to their first lesson of choice. A seedy voice boomed over two rows of chairs, ‘You know what you need Spicer?’ Leery Old Lester tried to joke loudly, ‘A real man to show you what you have been missing, ha ha ha!’
‘Shut up Dave,’ barked Ben.
Staff muttered and mumbled under their breath; about him or me? thought Kat deeply embarrassed.