by Susan Lewis
‘Now you’re sounding like one of the juniors! Speaking for myself, young lady, I’d miss you a great deal if you went. You’ve brightened this place up more than you realise, even Mr Lorimer’s commented on it. Oh, you’re a bit of a handful sometimes, I’ll admit that – especially when you take it into your head to defend yourself from catapults with a catapult of your own! – but there’s no harm done, and you’ve won as big a place in most of our hearts as I happen to know we have in yours. And now you’re blushing again, goodness you do blush easily, don’t you? Well, maybe you’re right, you should be up there in London modelling or working in a fashionable shop. But unless I’ve got you completely wrong, I don’t think that’s really your scene, as they say. So come along with you now, you don’t strike me as someone who gives up that easily.’
I fished around in my sleeve for a hanky, keeping my head lowered so she wouldn’t see I was crying. ‘Now, how about giving it until the end of the summer term?’ she said, passing me a tissue. ‘And I think you’ll find that if you try talking to Alexander, he’ll listen. He’s far too decent a chap to bear a grudge for long.’
‘Is he?’ It was pathetic how much I wanted that to be true.
‘You take my word for it. So are you going to stay?’
I nodded. I wasn’t brave enough to put my arms around her, but I wanted to.
‘That’s my girl. And now there’s something I have to tell you. Mark Devenish, the little boy in the first year who suffers with homesickness? Well, his aunt came to the school early this morning. Mark’s mother died last night. He’s in Mr Lorimer’s apartment now, they’re waiting for you.’
I don’t know why Mark’s aunt left him behind at the school. I didn’t like to ask, but I’d never seen a child look so lost and unhappy. He ran into my arms when I walked into the room, and I kept his face buried in my shoulder so he wouldn’t see that I was crying too. Poor little mite, he was only eleven and had hardly any friends. How could everyone have deserted him?
I took him back to the cottage so that he didn’t have to watch the other boys getting ready to go away for the holiday. He had a pack of cards in his pocket and taught me how to play Trumps. I gave him some lemonade and cakes, but he didn’t eat anything and he didn’t say much either. But every now and then I saw his eyes fill with tears, and I put my arms around him while he clung to me like the frightened little child he was.
When Mr Lorimer knocked on the door later that afternoon I was touched by the way his face softened when he looked at Mark. He ruffled his hair and listened while the boy told him how he’d beaten me at seven games of Trumps, and I winced when he added that he’d won three-and-six off me.
Luckily Mr Lorimer laughed, then he turned to me. ‘I’m afraid it seems we’ve got another casualty on our hands, Miss Sorrill. Miss Angrid’s taken a tumble down the stairs. Mr Parkhouse has taken her to the hospital, though she insists it’s no more than a sprain.’ He glanced at Mark, who for the moment was happily engaged in looking through my records. ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind walking down to my car with me a moment.’
He waited until we got outside before he spoke again. ‘I’m glad of this chance to talk to you, Miss Sorrill, because I want you to know that I am aware things haven’t been easy for you lately, and I’m sorry for it. However, Miss Angrid tells me that you wish to stay on at the school, and I want you to know how grateful I am. You have a naturalness in dealing with the boys that makes me very glad of the contact they have with you; your lack of pretension is good for them. I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you, but your contribution to the welfare of the boys has been much appreciated.’
All these compliments in one day, I’d have to offer to resign more often . . . . ‘Thank you,’ I said graciously, thinking how grown-up and dignified I seemed to have become lately.
‘There is another matter, Miss Sorrill. In light of Mark’s fondness for you, and the fact that Miss Angrid will not be mobile for a week or two, I was wondering if I could impose upon you to remain at the school over the Easter break? You will, of course, receive suitable remuneration.’
‘Oh, that’s all right, I’ll be fine in the cottage.’
He gave me a strange look, then said, ‘If you would be so kind as to bring Mark to my apartment around six, after he’s collected his belongings from the dormitory, I’ll talk to him about going to the funeral.’
Poor little Mark. It looked as if his guardians were only too glad to pass all responsibility for him over to the school. If that was the case, it was probably better for him to be with us; I’d been lonely enough after my own parents died to know how awful it was to be with grown-ups who didn’t want you.
As it turned out, I didn’t see very much of him. He stayed in Mr Lorimer’s apartment and the two of them only joined us for meals. Sometimes I saw them going off in the Rover or strolling about the grounds, but every night I went to say goodnight to Mark, and stayed with him until he fell asleep.
For the rest of the time there was Miss Angrid, who qualified – leaving all competition standing – as the world’s worst patient. I wheeled her round the grounds and watched television with her, but apart from that, and her Shelley readings, there wasn’t very much to do with all the boys away. So when Mr Ellery popped in during the week he was nearly bowled over by the welcome he got. Mark was at the cottage with us that day and his face lit up when he saw that Mr Ellery had brought his Monopoly set. I’ll bet the four of us made more noise over those games of Monopoly than any of the boys did on the rugby field – mainly because Miss Angrid kept trying to cheat.
It was on Easter Sunday that Mark showed me a letter he’d been nursing for days. I’d thought it must be from his aunt, but I could hardly believe it when I saw it was from Alexander Belmayne. He’d written to Mark to say how sorry he was to hear about his mother. Miss Angrid beamed all over with pleasure when I told her.
‘Alexander is Mark’s house captain, that’s why he wrote. It will make the world of difference to the lad. The others won’t dare to be unkind to him once they find out Alexander’s written to him.’ She looked at me. ‘You see, he’s not such a bad sort, is he?’
When all I did was look back at her she shook her head and handed me the letter. ‘You’ve got too much pride, young lady, and you know what that comes before.’
Two days before the holiday was over, Mr Ellery and I were strolling along the sixth form corridor on our way out to the kitchen garden. I was laughing so hard at something he was saying that I didn’t hear the voices coming from inside the common room.
‘No sixth formers here, are there?’ Mr Ellery asked, even though he already knew the answer. ‘Intruders! Burglars!’ He started an exaggerated tiptoe towards the door. ‘Get ready to run for help.’
I covered my mouth, trying not to giggle, and waited while he pushed the door open.
‘Gotcha!’ he cried. I heard a scuffle, and then Mr Ellery said: ‘Belmayne! What are you doing here?’
My heart turned over.
‘Watching TV, sir,’ came the reply.
‘This is the sixth form common room,’ Mr Ellery pointed out, as if Alexander didn’t know.
‘Yes, sir. But I thought as they weren’t here, sir . . .’
Mr Ellery waved his hands. ‘Never mind about that, why are you here? You’re not due back until Wednesday.’
‘My grandmother is going on holiday, sir. She’d forgotten to tell my father. Mr Lorimer knows all about it, sir.’
‘Did you know anything about this?’ Mr Ellery turned to me. I shook my head. ‘Well,’ he said to Alexander, ‘what are you going to do with yourself?’
I stepped inside the door in time to see Alexander shrug. His face reddened as he saw me, something Mr Ellery must have noticed too. ‘Well, I’m sure we’ll find something to keep you occupied,’ he said. ‘What are you watching, boy?’
‘Football, sir.’
‘Don’t forget to turn off the set when you leave. I’ll speak to you later.’
/> ‘He’s a strange boy, isn’t he?’ I commented, as we strolled out into the garden.
‘Who, Belmayne?’ He sighed. ‘Academically speaking, he’s near brilliant. And he’s a great kid, you know. Too much charm, too much wit, and too good-looking by half – but you can’t help liking the boy.’
‘You can’t?’
He laughed. ‘Come on, enough about him,’ and grabbing my hand, he pulled me up over the hill.
At the top there was a swing that the boys had made in a tree. I sat in it while Mr Ellery pushed. He was flirting with me, but when I pretended not to notice he pushed me higher and higher until I was screaming out for him to stop. In the end I managed to throw myself off, fell over, rolled down the hill and knocked over the bins full of dead leaves.
He came running after me, obviously scared stiff I’d injured myself, but when he saw I was laughing, he reached out to pull me to my feet. ‘You’re far out, do you know that?’ he puffed. ‘And come to that, so are your legs.’.
‘You shouldn’t have been looking!’ I cried, as I picked the leaves from my uniform.
At that moment I happened to glance up and saw Alexander standing at the window of the music room, watching us. I don’t know why, but it suddenly seemed as though the sun had gone in and I shivered.
‘Cold?’ said Mr Ellery. ‘Come on, let’s go back inside. I’ll get someone to come and clear this lot up.’
We walked round to the front and went in through the main door just as Alexander was coming out of the music room. ‘Go and clear up the leaves outside the walled garden, boy, will you?’ Mr Ellery said.
Alexander glared at me so fiercely I nearly took a step back, then he brushed past us. Mr Ellery called after him. ‘I don’t care much for your attitude, Belmayne. You can come back here and apologise to Miss Sorrill. Now!’
Alexander turned round, but didn’t come back. ‘I apologise,’ he said.’
Mr Ellery and I parted company at the bottom of the stairs – where I waited until he’d disappeared into the staff room before turning to follow Alexander.
I found him refilling the bins as he’d been told. The gathering of dead leaves was normally a punishment, and one reserved for the younger boys, so I understood why he was mad at having to do it. He looked up, but when he saw it was me he went back to work.
‘Can I help?’ I offered.
‘No thanks.’
I stood there for a while, watching him. Slowly I became aware of a kind of churning inside, and felt so jittery that I was glad he didn’t look up. Eventually I said: ‘I’ve come out here so we can have a chat. Will you listen to what I’ve got to say?’
He stopped what he was doing and stood up, looking straight ahead.
‘Look, I don’t mind saying I’m sorry, or that I’m really unhappy about all that’s happened. And I thought that as we have to live under the same roof, it might be better if we tried to get along together. How about starting by looking at me when I’m speaking to you?’
To my surprise, he did – and the dreaded colour started to creep into my face.
‘That’s better,’ I said. ‘Now, I don’t want to go over what’s led to all this; and I don’t expect you do either. All I will say is that if you had thought about what might happen before you doctored that stupid golf-cart, then you would have known that . . .’
‘And what makes you so damned sure it was me who doctored the golf-cart?’ he snapped. ‘Did you see me do it? No. Let’s face it, you’ve had it in for me ever since you started here. You . . .’
‘Don’t you shout at me, Alexander Belmayne. You tricked me and you know you did.’
‘I did not trick you, you stupid woman!’
‘How dare you! I’ll have you know . . . No, don’t you interrupt me, I’m not listening to another word from you.’
‘Why? Afraid of what you might hear?’
‘I’m not afraid of you!’
‘No? He stepped towards me – and I stepped back. ‘Look at you!’ he shouted. ‘Not quite so stuck up now, are you? Now you can listen to me for a change. I liked you, did you know that? I thought you were all right. I bothered to welcome you into this school, and what did you do in return? Ignored me. Whenever you saw me coming you walked the other way. If I spoke to you, you put on that hoity-toity voice of yours though with everyone else you were as nice as pie. As I said, I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done, but you must have got your own back by now. So why don’t you leave me alone!’
‘I never ignored you. After my first week it was you who ignored . . .’
‘Did you know, it was me, me who told everyone it didn’t matter if you weren’t quite like the rest of us. Me . . .’
‘I’m common! Is that what you mean?’
‘Yes, common!’ He glared at me. ‘And now tell me this. Did it ever occur to you that the golf-cart might have had a genuine fault? No. You were adamant that someone had played you a trick. Well, they had, as it happens, but it wasn’t me! You’ve lost me my prefect’s badge, got me a caning and lost me my holiday too. So if you came out here trying to beg forgiveness, forget it, it’s too late.’
‘Beg forgiveness! From you! You conceited little . . .’
‘So why did you follow me out here?’
‘I was played a trick by someone and I’m suffering for it. And if it wasn’t you, why did you say it was?’
He answered through clenched teeth. ‘In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t say it was me.’ He started to walk away.
My mind was in a spin. ‘But you took the blame,’ I shouted after him. ‘Why did you do that if it wasn’t you?’
He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with contempt. ‘I should have sneaked? Is that what you’re saying? Sneaked on someone else?’ He was spitting the words, and his face was white. But as he turned away from me again, I saw that he had begun to smile. It was a bitter, contemptuous smile, and before I knew what I was doing I had caught hold of him and started pummelling his shoulders.
He put his arms up to protect himself, but I didn’t stop. ‘You nasty, small-minded, arrogant little creep! You think you’re really smart, don’t you? Well, here’s what I think of you!’ And I slapped him sharply round the cheek. Immediately, he grabbed my hands. Then, looking down into my face, he snarled, ‘Why don’t you just leave here? Go away somewhere, as far as you can get, with your own sort. You don’t belong here.’
I tore my hands free, and turned quickly before he could see there were tears in my eyes. I stood with my back to him, for some reason unable to walk away. He was the first to speak.
‘I’m sorry. I had no right to talk to you like that.’
I didn’t answer, so he came towards me. ‘Please don’t cry. I’m sorry, really I am. I don’t know why I said that.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean it.’
I shrugged, and then I was able to walk away.
Later, when I was alone in my surgery, I tried to remember everything we’d said, but all I could really think about was how everything inside me kept going hot and then cold, and how sick I felt. I stood up and sat down, made tea and didn’t drink it, opened a book and couldn’t read, started to leave the room and came back.
I knew I shouldn’t have hit him, but then he shouldn’t have spoken to me the way he did. And he shouldn’t have apologised to me like that either – I didn’t know why, he just shouldn’t have!
The day before term was due to begin, Henry Clive, Alexander’s room-mate, arrived back at the school. His face was nut-brown after his skiing holiday, which I don’t suppose cheered Alexander up much. I’d kept out of Alexander’s way since I’d hit him, but it was obvious he’d told Henry about it, because when I saw them they started laughing. It seemed that every time I turned a corner they were there; I wanted to shrivel up, I was so embarrassed.
And there they were again, coming out of the pool house as I wheeled Miss Angrid past in her chair.
She was still chuckling away at something she’d said,
when Henry yelled out and came sauntering over to ask how she was. She was delighted. Alexander followed and stood to one side as Henry and Miss Angrid joked with each other. I knew he was watching me, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of making me blush.
‘Well, Belmayne,’ Miss Angrid said, turning to look at him, ‘you’re too old to have wet your pants, so why are you standing there like a dog with a guilty secret?’
He grinned. ‘How are you, Miss Angrid?’
‘Better, better. Now what’s all this I’ve been hearing about you two putting on a play next term?’
‘It was supposed to be a secret,’ Henry groaned.
‘Nothing is secret from me,’ Miss Angrid answered, ‘you should know that by now. Come on, out with it, what is it?’
‘Actually, it’s something Alexander’s written,’ Henry answered. Of course, it would be! I continued my study of the sky. ‘And Mr Lear,’ Alexander put in.
‘Don’t let him take any of the credit,’ Henry objected, ‘he’s only helped you with the research.’
‘More respect from you, Henry Clive!’ Miss Angrid barked. ‘So, what’s it about, this play of yours?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Alexander teased. I knew he still had his eyes on me and was laughing quietly to himself, so I smiled at Henry – who wasn’t even looking at me.
‘How long shall I have to wait?’ Miss Angrid asked.
He shrugged and looked at Henry, who looked back at him. ‘Oh, sorry, thought you’d said something,’ Alexander grinned, as he shot a look at me. ‘How long? Couple of weeks, I suppose.’
‘Who’s in it?’
‘Us.’
‘Surprise, surprise. Is there room for anyone else? I suppose not, with two such overgrown egos.’
Alexander and Henry laughed. ‘I told you, you’re just going to have to wait and find out,’ Alexander said.
‘Well, off you go, then,’ said Miss Angrid, ‘dry your hair, the two of you, before you catch cold. And reserve me a good seat for the play!’
‘Things any better between you and Belmayne?’ Miss Angrid asked, as the boys stalked off and I started to wheel her back to the cottage.