Sworn Secret

by Amanda Jennings

  Stephen slowly shook his head. ‘No, Anna was dead when I got to the school. You know that. I found her on the playground. After she fell. She was already dead. There was nothing I could do.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ whispered Kate. ‘I can see you’re lying.’

  Stephen hesitated. ‘No, Haydn called. He said she was drunk and climbing on the wall. We came straight away. I—’

  Jon could see Kate was right; there was something. ‘What?’ Jon demanded.

  ‘I . . .’ he struggled. ‘Haydn saw her fall. He saw it happen.’ He stopped speaking and looked at his feet. ‘But there is something,’ he muttered.

  ‘And?’ Kate said. ‘And what?’

  He looked up at them and again there were tears in his eyes. ‘Look,’ he said, desperately. ‘The last time we saw each other, I told her it was over. I told her the relationship couldn’t continue. Because of my wife. She was so upset. She told me to leave Angela. I said I wouldn’t. And she was crying and shouting, and said I had to leave her; if I didn’t then she couldn’t carry on living. She’d—’

  ‘Oh my God, no,’ groaned Kate. ‘Don’t you do this. Don’t you do this to me.’

  Jon watched his wife crumple and felt his own legs give.

  ‘I thought it was just a threat,’ whimpered Stephen. ‘I told her not to be so silly, that she’d find someone else, her own age. But she wouldn’t accept it. She was in such a state when she left me. I didn’t think she was serious. I thought she was trying it on, to get her own way. But I couldn’t do that to Angela.’ He put his hands to his face. ‘What choice did I have? I couldn’t leave my wife and son for her.’

  ‘Get out of this house!’ yelled Jon. There was so much anger inside him it spilled out like poison from an abscess. What more could he take from this man: the relationship with Anna, hearing him talk about her like she was some deranged whore, now insinuations she purposefully took her own life because he broke her heart? ‘I won’t hear another word! You tell us you were powerless to stop an affair with our child, and then you say you had no choice but to risk her life to maintain your family? Get out! Get the hell out of my house!’ Jon took hold of Stephen’s arm and pulled him out of the kitchen.

  ‘But I—’

  ‘Get the hell out. Stay away from us. And you keep your son away from Lizzie, too. Do you hear me?’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘You’re filth.’ Jon pushed the spluttering Stephen out of the front door then slammed it behind him. ‘You’re filth,’ he whispered, collapsing his head against the door.

  He walked back into the kitchen. Kate was slumped against the kitchen worktop. She was shaking. He stood beside her and reached out to touch her. He hesitated, his hand hovered over her, and then he allowed his fingers to rest on her shoulder. She knocked his hand away with a backwards flap of her arm and ran out of the kitchen.

  He closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sound of her feet on the stairs and then the door to her studio slamming shut.

  Magic and Candles

  Lizzie hurried along the street towards her grandparents’ house. To the shed. Haydn said he would meet her there. She’d expected him to talk about what had happened to their house, but he didn’t want to.

  ‘He’s a total arsehole,’ Haydn said. ‘I honestly couldn’t give a shit. All I care about is you. You make me forget everything else. All of it. If I think about you I get so hung up I can’t breathe properly. You rock my world. You rock it so much I can’t see straight.’

  Then he told her to meet him at the shed at six o’clock exactly. She asked what he was up to, but he’d been cagey, just told her to be patient, to wait and see. He’d scarcely been able to contain himself, and now nor could she.

  Her stomach bubbled and her heart raced as she crept through the garden gate. She reached for the door handle and turned it, but when she tried to push the door open it wouldn’t give.

  ‘Just a moment,’ came Haydn’s voice. ‘You’re early.’

  Lizzie checked her watch and laughed. ‘Only a minute!’

  There was the sound of rustling, then the door opened a crack and Haydn’s face appeared. ‘You’ve got to shut your eyes.’

  Lizzie grinned. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Shut your eyes and promise not to open them, and do everything I say.’

  ‘I’m not doing everything you say; what if you say something bad?’

  ‘Just say that you’ll shut your eyes and not open them and do everything I say.’

  Lizzie frowned at him, but then couldn’t stop another smile.

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said. She closed her eyes. ‘I’ll keep my eyes shut.’

  ‘And do everything I say.’

  She opened an eye.

  ‘Trust me.’ He reached for her hand.

  She let him guide her into the shed, ducking involuntarily to avoid imaginary things she might bump her head on.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘You won’t hurt yourself.’

  There was a whirr of a machine as she stepped in. ‘What’s that noise?’

  ‘A heater.’

  She nearly opened her eyes, but his hand covered them, as if he read her mind.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘You need to take off your clothes.’

  ‘Haydn!’

  ‘It’s not for that.’

  ‘I don’t want to take my clothes off.’

  ‘You have to or my surprise won’t work.’

  ‘What kind of surprise involves me taking my clothes off?’

  ‘Wait and see.’ Haydn sounded so excited that she smiled and, completely against her better judgement, began to unbutton her shirt.

  ‘You can keep your knickers on.’

  Naked and blind she felt nervous, and very self-conscious. ‘There’s nobody else in here, is there?’ she asked.

  ‘Just us.’ He kept his hand over her eyes. ‘There’s a cushion here on the floor. I want you to kneel on it, then put your hands on your lap.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Trust me.’

  So Lizzie did as she was told. Confused, chilly and more than a little unsure of the whole thing, she couldn’t help but feel this was a waste of their precious sex time.

  ‘Hands on your lap.’

  She shook her head, not understanding in the slightest bit. It was weird. She felt vulnerable, and worried in case they were discovered. Being found making love to your boyfriend was bad enough, but at least it was reassuringly explicable. Being found naked and posed in some strange contortion doing goodness-only-knows-what-Haydn-had-in-mind gave her the quivers.

  She was conscious of him fiddling with something beside her, then she felt his fingers in her hair. There was a slight scrape against her scalp. A hairclip, she guessed. Then his fingers were taking another section of her hair, then again the scrape against her head. He continued, wordless, his breathing and the hum of the fan heater becoming hypnotic, and with her eyes closed she found her other senses heightened. The heater warmed her in waves and she imagined the hairs on her arms swaying like miniature palm trees in a hot breeze. The smells in the shed became clear and distinct. The dust. The ancient oil spill in the corner by the window. The damp of the dolls that lay higgledy-piggledy in the old wooden apple crate, with dirtied skirts and scruffy woollen hair.

  Haydn was still playing with her hair, but not scraping her any more. She could feel his fingers, parting her hair and then pushing against her head. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders. Then his lips. A kiss on each bare shoulder. Shivers of pleasure and lust shot through her. She was about to speak, to beg him to kiss her properly, but he interrupted and told her to shush.

  She heard him shuffle on his knees. A rustling. Then he was back beside her, his breathing loud and steady.

  ‘Now I want you to lift your arms,’ he said.

  She did. By now she was submerged in what they were doing. There were no longer any questions. She wondered then what he would have to ask her to do for
her to refuse. It was like he had thrown a spell over her, a spell of obedience. He had turned her into his slave. But yet, at the same time, it was her who was being ministered to, like she was a queen and Haydn her servant, kneeling at her feet, preparing her.

  He looped some sort of strap over her shoulder. She felt something rest against the centre of her back.

  ‘Put them down now.’

  Then he wrapped something around her middle. Material, for sure, but fine and light, barely there. She felt him reach backwards with a small grunt, then a tightening of the material around her waist. He arranged it over her thighs. His fingers touched her skin every now and then, each time a shock, surprise and joy.

  ‘Nearly done,’ he whispered. ‘You look amazing.’

  She smiled.

  She felt him loop something over her head. Then something else. Another. He arranged whatever they were on her chest.

  ‘OK, give me a few seconds.’

  She could hear him moving around the shed. She heard something like a match strike. The flash of sulphur. So definitely a match. Then silence. Another match. A third. Then she heard more rustling. A click. He dropped something heavy on the floor and the thud made her jump. Her knees were beginning to ache.

  ‘Hold this.’ He opened her fingers and gave her some sort of stick. ‘And put your other hand here.’ He crossed her arms and laid them on her lap.

  Then he moved away from her.

  ‘OK,’ he said, a few moments later, his voice full of eager excitement. ‘Open your eyes!’

  The shed was lit by what seemed to her to be a thousand flickering candles. They were everywhere, in jam jars, tea-light holders, glued on to upturned instant-coffee lids, all in a hundred different shapes and sizes. It took a few moments for her eyes to accustom, and when they did she found herself staring into a large oval mirror that Haydn held. What she saw in front of her made her gasp out loud and when she did, Haydn laughed.

  ‘Like it?’

  She didn’t answer, just stared, then smiled, tilting her head in all directions to see. There was almost too much to absorb. Her hair was twirled and pinned into loose loops with tiny flowers dotting her head like fallen snowflakes. There was a wreath that sat like an Alice band, made of twisted twigs and leaves and ribbons, and pink and white flowers, studded with sparkling jewels that looked like real diamonds but couldn’t be. There were more little diamonds stuck around her eyes and on her cheeks that she hadn’t even been aware of him sticking on her, and they sparkled like fireflies in the candlelight. Then there were wings. Glorious gossamer wings that lifted up above her shoulders and to the side of her waist, scalloped like a butterfly’s, translucent white and rimmed with silver glitter. Around her neck were garlands of flowers and leaves that hung down between her breasts. Her skin looked milky white, softened and smoothed by the flickering glow of candles. Around her waist and lying over her knees was a skirt of shimmering green organza. The wand in her hand was silver, with more ribbons and flowers wound up its length.

  ‘You’re the fairy princess.’

  She didn’t reply; she was still taking it in.

  ‘Like you said you always wanted to be but Anna wouldn’t let you; she was always the princess and made you the evil goblin. You remember? You told me in the cemetery.’

  She nodded slowly, still not taking her eyes away from the reflection.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he breathed. ‘The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’

  She watched the tears in her eyes as they filled and spilled over. She felt beautiful. She had no idea she could ever look like this. She tore her gaze away from the mirror and blotted her eyes on the back of her hand.

  Haydn leant the mirror carefully against the wall of the shed, and then pulled a camera out of his rucksack. Then he began to take pictures of her. He told her how to sit, how to hold her head. He reached over and tipped her chin to the side and down, so her head was bent like a shy puppy. Told her to look over her shoulder, then right through the centre of the lens. He moved around her, taking shots from every angle. Then he finally put the camera on the floor and she saw his eyes had that glassy look that now sent shivers running through her. He walked on his knees towards her, took her in his arms and laid her carefully down.

  ‘And now,’ he said, ‘I think it might be time to kiss you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I will never forget this.’

  The Friends’ Meeting House

  Marlena called first thing.

  ‘Kate. It’s Marlena. Dr Howe’s been suspended.’ She paused, but not long enough for Kate to reply. ‘I know; I know, these flames are climbing higher. Anyway, there’s a group of parents demanding his immediate reinstatement. We’ve called a meeting. We need as many people as possible. Please tell anyone you can think of to come. It’s at two p.m. this afternoon at the Friends’ Meeting House, on Abbotston Road.’ She paused briefly again. ‘It’s short notice, which is why I’m phoning as many people as possible myself, but it was the only slot the place had and we were lucky to get it. The salsa class was cancelled because the teacher broke her ankle. The hall was grateful for the booking, to be honest. Anyway, I know you most probably don’t want to show your face at a school function, you know, after that terrible business with that poor girl, but if you could brave it, you know, bums on seats.’

  Marlena put the phone down before Kate had time to tell her where to stick her meeting. She had no intention of going. But then, at a quarter to two, she found herself walking out of the house, pulled in the direction of the hall. She crept through the double doors at ten past, keeping her head low beneath the baseball cap she wore so she wouldn’t be recognized, and sat on a chair at the back.

  Kate scanned the room for people she knew. There were a few, but they were talking intently to people near them and certainly weren’t bothered by her arrival. The meeting hadn’t started yet and Kate looked around the grotty room. Historically, it was a place of worship for the Quakers, but nowadays it was used for ballet classes and Pilates and the like. It was a cold, grey room with windows set high in the walls originally to limit the distractions of the outside world, but to Kate it now made the room claustrophobic.

  A man Kate didn’t recognize stepped up on the stage. He was smallish, rotund, with a balding head and wearing an open-necked shirt with a cashmere sweater over the top. He cleared his throat and started to talk. The hum of voices in the room continued over him and he was forced to give a couple of sharp claps.

  Clap, clap. ‘Hello? People?’ Clap, clap. ‘We need to start this, we’re running over already and we’ve only got the hall for an hour.’

  Gradually, the gathered crowd began to silence.

  ‘Firstly, let me introduce myself. My name is Paul Yarwood and I’ve been the Chair of the school’s Parent-Teacher Association for just over a year now. Secondly, I must congratulate you on this impressive turnout. It’s a shame we can’t get you all out for the Christmas Fair meeting. I’m sure there’s a perfect Father Christmas lurking somewhere out there!’ He tried a laugh, but the audience stayed quiet, and his face fell serious. ‘No, perhaps not the right time for humour. So I’ll cut to the chase. Today we’ve heard news of Dr Howe’s suspension pending a police investigation. You will all have heard different versions, some inflated, some scant. I know that Dr Howe is preparing a letter to send home with pupils tomorrow, which should explain exactly what has happened, but as this meeting has been requested I will inform you of the facts as known, and at the very least this might stop the gossip mongers in their tracks. Dr Howe has had an allegation made against him that relates to a pupil of the school. We do not know the identity of the child in question, nor do we know whether he or she is a current pupil, nor do we know the exact nature of the accusation. At this stage neither does Dr Howe. However, we do know, and this has been confirmed by the police, that the investigation has nothing whatsoever to do with the vandalizing of Dr Howe’s house on Monday night, and is solely
concerned with a complaint made by the family of an individual against the headmaster relating to improper conduct.’

  Kate sank lower in her chair as a rumble went round the room.

  ‘You mean sexual abuse?’ called a voice.

  A louder rumble.

  ‘It is impossible for me to tell you not to jump to conclusions. It’s in all our natures. But I urge you to remain calm, and to consider the facts. The facts being that without Dr Howe this school would still be languishing in the rubble of this country’s faltering education system. He has almost single-handedly built it up to be the establishment we are all so proud to send our children to. He has had no charge made against him, and I, and many others in the school, including the entire body of staff, feel the governing body has acted rashly in their decision to suspend him at this early stage.’

  There was a murmur of agreement in the room.

  ‘Dr Howe deserves our support, not our vilification, and unless I am mistaken, this country prides itself on innocent until proven guilty.’

  ‘But this is about the safety of our children,’ called a woman from the other side of the room.

  There was a rumble of yeses, and a number of people around Kate agreed with vigorous nods of their heads.

  ‘But who’s to say our children aren’t safe?’ Mr Yarwood went on. ‘Like I said, there’s been no hard evidence presented, no charges brought, no name even to the alleged victim.’

  ‘You talk about innocent until proven guilty’ – Kate recognized Marlena’s voice – ‘but what about the phrase where there’s smoke there’s fire?’

  There was another muddy rumble of agreement and disagreement.

  ‘But that’s just the type of thing we need to avoid. If we believed every rumour we heard our society would fall into chaos. We live in a world where, for unknown reasons, respect for teachers is diminishing rapidly, and this is making the number of accusations against them by pupils increase at an incredible rate. Because there are never any direct witnesses to pertinent events, and because our automatic reaction is to protect our children, we fall down on the teacher with tremendous ferocity and little desire to listen.’