Goose

by Dawn O'Porter

  I stop talking and realise that if I let myself, I could cry for my friend, but I don’t want the group to see Renée as sad, because she isn’t. I feel odd about telling them such personal things about her when she isn’t even here. It seems disloyal, but at the same time really nice for me to put Renée into words like that. She is very hard to define.

  When I look at the others they are already holding hands. ‘Come, join in,’ says Kerry, urging me over. I take my seat and hold out my hands. When we are all connected Kerry starts. ‘Dear Lord, please watch over Renée … ’

  If Renée could see this she would be really freaked out. But whether she likes it or not, I guess it can’t do any harm to pray for her, can it?

  No matter how many times I try, my car just won’t start.

  Chugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchug

  Urgh!

  Chugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchug

  Then there is a tap on my window. ‘Need a lift anywhere?’

  It’s Gordon.

  ‘So where am I taking you?’ he asks when we are in his car.

  ‘Tudor Falls. Renée said we should just meet there,’ I tell him, knowing it’s a weird place to be going. He asks why, but she wouldn’t tell me so I can’t tell him. I presume we are just going to a pub nearby.

  Gordon pushes a tape into his stereo.

  ‘We recorded this a few months ago,’ he told me. ‘I’m in a band. We’re called The Trinity.’

  I listen to the words, which are all about Jesus.

  ‘It’s a religious rock band,’ Gordon confirms.

  I don’t know what to say about that, so I sit quietly and just listen to him sing along. The tunes are quite catchy, but although I have really embraced my faith in the last few weeks, I would still much rather listen to the Spice Girls.

  I watch him drive. He has long, thin fingers, and his legs don’t touch each other on his seat because he is so skinny.

  ‘I am really enjoying having you in the group,’ he says, ejecting his tape.

  ‘Oh thank you, I’m enjoying it too. I can really be myself with you guys.’ That’s true. It’s nice being with a group of people who are all comfortable with the fact that someone is bigger and better than all of us, so having a massive ego and trying to be the most important person is kind of pointless.

  ‘I can always drive you on Thursdays if you like?’ he then adds, which I take as flirting, which makes me blush. Thank goodness it’s dark and he can’t see.

  ‘That would be really nice. Thanks.’

  ‘And I have a gig on Saturday night, if you want to come?’

  ‘You play gigs? Normal gigs? With this music?’ I ask, wondering how The Trinity goes down in a Guernsey pub on a Saturday night.

  ‘Ha, no. Maybe Guernsey isn’t ready for that yet. It’s in St James, and it’s only promoted in churches, so everyone there will be Jesus-friendly. Come. I’ll get you in free.’

  I accept happily, despite my nerves. Already the fear of finding an outfit is crippling me.

  ‘Well, here you go. Do you want me to just drop you here?’ he says, pulling in next to the Tudor Falls gate. It’s closed, and he looks confused. His headlights shine directly onto Renée who is sitting in the bushes. She has a saw in her hand. She couldn’t look more like a murderer if she tried.

  ‘Who’s that?’ says Gordon, squinting to see.

  ‘That’s Renée,’ I tell him awkwardly.

  ‘What is she doing?’ He turns to me. ‘Perhaps we should pray for her every week. She does look a bit strange.’

  ‘Nah, she’s fine, really. She, um, loves woodwork, that’s what the saw is for. She obviously hasn’t been home since school.’

  What am I talking about? And what is that saw for?

  ‘You can study woodwork at the grammar now?’ he asks, surprised.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a module option. She loves it. She made all her own wardrobes.’ OK, Flo, just stop talking. ‘Anyway, I’d better go. Thanks for the lift.’

  ‘No problem,’ he says, pulling the tape out of the stereo. ‘And have this – it will be more fun if you know the words at the gig. God bless.’

  ‘God blugh … ’ I say, chickening out of saying bless because it feels so silly to say it.

  Gordon drives away and I turn to Renée.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask her, laughing.

  ‘This is going to be FUN,’ she says, walking towards the gate.

  ‘Wait, what will be fun? What are we doing?’ I ask, hoping she doesn’t mean what I think she means.

  ‘We’re breaking into Tudor Falls,’ she says, waving her saw. ‘Come on.’

  Renée

  I am pumped. This is so exciting. Why haven’t we ever done this before?

  We crawl through the bushes to the side of the gate and jump out the other side. As we get further into the school grounds we see it: Tudor Falls. The building that, even still, knows more about us than anywhere else. It feels like home.

  ‘It’s creepy at night,’ says Flo. But I don’t feel that way. Nothing about this place scares me. I know it through and through.

  ‘What if we get caught?’ she asks.

  ‘We won’t,’ I reassure her. ‘There is no alarm and the caretaker left half an hour ago. I watched him go.’

  ‘Well, how will we get in? And what on earth will we do when we get in there?’ she asks. Two very valid questions.

  ‘There was a window around the back of the changing rooms behind the gym that was always broken. I’ll be amazed if it’s been fixed. If it has then I will just smash a window. We are here now. Might as well go through with it.’

  I am joking about smashing a window, but the look on Flo’s face is priceless. ‘And when we get in we will just have a look around, and I have an idea for something we can take as memorabilia. Right, let’s do it.’

  We walk down the side of the ugly concrete building like we did a thousand times for so many years. As we approach the gym I agree that it does feel creepy. The windows along the side of it allow us to see the swing bars and ropes we used to hang from. I imagine the echo of Miss Trunks’ voice screaming at me to stop messing around. I feel a resounding sense of relief that my days of being screamed at by a fat, moody PE teacher are well and truly over.

  As we get to the back of the gym to the window it looks closed, but that means nothing. It’s always closed, which is why I think no one ever noticed that it was broken. But it doesn’t lock. I know this because I broke it. I once had a panic attack trying to get a wasp out of the changing room. When I eventually managed to get it to fly out of the window I locked it so the wasp couldn’t get back in. But I was so scared that I was brutal, and the lock snapped. I give the window a gentle push with my right hand and it opens. Brilliant. We are in.

  The stale smell of sweat hits us when we wriggle our way through the window and land on the other side.

  ‘Gross,’ says Flo. ‘It’s like it’s still our sweat we can smell. It’s exactly the same. No wonder the window is still broken. They have clearly never opened it.’

  We get out of there quickly and find our way to the school’s main foyer, where the headmistress Miss Grut’s office is. Flo stands staring at the door.

  ‘Come on, let’s go to the staff room,’ I say, but she doesn’t move.

  ‘That’s where Miss Grut told me my dad had died. I still can’t believe my mother allowed someone who hardly knew me to tell me something like that.’

  I go over to her, stand between her and the door and hug her. I need her to hurry up. ‘You’ve come such a long way since then, Flo. Come on, think about the good things, OK?’

  ‘This place is full of bad memories, though, Renée. Why did you bring me here?’

  Shit. It hadn’t occurred to me that this might be traumatic for Flo. That is the room where she got told about her dad. Upstairs is the classroom where that bitch Sally told everyone about the worst thing I have ever done – have sex with Flo’s brother. In fact, this entire building
is full of haunting memories for Flo: death and being bullied and made to feel like shit by Sally. I need to turn this around, quick.

  ‘But what about us? It’s also where we became friends, isn’t it? Without Tudor Falls we would never have met. Come on, Flo, maybe it’s time to exorcise some demons. Let’s go up to the science lab and our old classroom. No Sally, just us and our paper aeroplanes flying around with all our secrets on them. Shall we go up there? Pretend Mrs Suiter and her crazy eyes are staring at us?’

  She nods and smiles. ‘I guess this is a special place for our friendship.’

  I grab her by the hand and pull her along behind me. The corridors are dark, but we know the way. The sucky scratchy sound that the double doors make as I push them open fills my head with images of me running when I was late for class. We creep up the stairs towards the science lab, and as I push the last set of double doors apart the familiar smell of vinegar and chemicals surrounds us. We hurry along to the end room where we used to have our class. There are a few green overalls hanging on the back of the door. We put them on and take our old seats.

  ‘They’ve sandpapered away all of the writing on the desks. That’s so boring,’ I say, looking for something with a sharp point to correct their mistake. I find a biro and start etching an R on the bench.

  ‘What are you doing?’ hisses Flo. ‘You can’t do that. If our names are the only names on this bench they are going to know we broke in, aren’t they?’

  I throw the pen down and laugh. ‘Wow. I mean, it just felt like the most natural thing in the world to do that.’

  Flo looks at me like I’m crazy, then her face completely lights up, literally. The sound of a car engine seems unnaturally loud.

  ‘SHIT!’ we both say in a loud whisper. ‘SHIT SHIT SHIT!’ I run to the window and carefully look down. The caretaker’s car is coming back towards the school. I feel sick. Flo is trembling so much I think I can hear her bones clank. We run to the back of the science lab, crouch behind the bench and wait.

  ‘If he comes all the way up here we know he is looking for us,’ says Flo. I know she is right. My heart is going nuts. I love being naughty, but I hate getting caught. We are full-on trespassing now. We have no right to be at Tudor Falls during the day, let alone at 10 p.m. at night. Please don’t come up here, please, please. Then we hear the sucky scratchy sound of the double doors. He is getting closer.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper to Flo. She takes a deep breath, as if she is going to stand up to hand herself in, and then we hear a woman giggle. It makes us both freeze. The door of the science lab swings open.

  Flo

  How the hell do I let Renée talk me into these things? I am not a violent person, but I could thump her so hard right now. Here we are, cowering at the back of a science lab in our old school wearing a random bit of our old school uniform. I mean, this is actually the kind of thing a mad person would do. I am not mad. Renée is, though – Renée is completely mental. Imagine if we get caught – this would be written about in the Guernsey Globe for sure. I would rather be teased about being a Jesus lover than be known for being a criminal. Oh God, why did I do this? I shut my eyes tight and clear my head. I say quietly, ‘Please God, get me out of this. I’ll be good, I promise.’

  Renée, luckily, doesn’t catch me doing it. We hold ourselves totally still. What will be will be. And then there is that giggle again. It becomes very clear that the caretaker is not alone.

  ‘You bad boy, bringing me up here to take advantage of me,’ says a woman’s voice. It’s familiar – deep and throaty – but I can’t quite place it.

  ‘Where are those overalls?’ says the caretaker. I recognise his voice straight away. ‘I left them up here on the door.’

  ‘Never mind the overalls. Why hide this body?’ says the woman’s voice, and it comes to me in an instant. Renée and I look at each other and in perfect unison mouth, ‘MISS TRUNKS?’

  There is a clatter, the sound of rustling clothes, some aggressive kissing noises and then a ‘I love those tits’ from Mr Carter.

  I can’t believe this is happening. That horrible, fat, moody PE teacher having it away with the married caretaker and using the school as their sex den? Eeeeewwwwwww. I become aware that the overall I am wearing was intended for her so he could dress her up for his kinky game. I am desperate to take it off – have they used it before? Gross. I start to unwrap it but Renée stops me. She is right, I cannot move. We cannot get caught.

  ‘Be my naughty little school girl. My naughty little bitch,’ he says, panting into what I presume, and hope, is her mouth.

  ‘Bitch?’ Renée and I mouth at each other. Seriously, God? I think. Is this your idea of helping me out?

  The next five minutes involve a lot of banging around, pumping, slapping sounds and a few squelches that I try not to absorb into my memory. Miss Trunks certainly sounds like she loves it and Mr Carter keeps saying how big and strong he is, how she wants him, how he is inside of her. I am so glad I haven’t just eaten.

  When they are done, giggling to each other like baddies from a cartoon, they leave. We wait. Totally still, barely breathing until we hear the caretaker’s car engine start and his headlights have passed all the way up the school drive. The relief pours over us like a tidal wave. We both jump up and hop around like we have been caught by sprinklers. I instinctively brush my body with my hands as if getting those two off me. I feel covered in grime, like I’ll never be able to escape this dirty feeling. I want a shower, a five-hour power shower. With bleach.

  ‘THAT was THE most DISTURBING thing I have EVER EVER heard!’ says Renée, both hands leaning on the work bench as if she has just run up the stairs and is out of breath.

  ‘I just can’t believe it,’ I say, sounding as shocked as I am. ‘I just can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe Miss Trunks is a sexual human being. I can’t believe the first time I was ever in the same room as actual real-life sex it was … that. I can’t believe we just witnessed that. I will never be the same again. I’ll never be able to have sex now.’

  Renée nods in agreement. Still panting a bit. She looks wrecked.

  Then the giggles start, uncontrollable belly laughs that come with hysteria and shock. We are lost in it, laughing so hard my tummy struggles to support it. Like catching a sneeze, I almost have to wait for the chance to engage my stomach muscles so I can let out the roar of laughter that has come right up from my feet. We don’t know what we are laughing for. Is it the relief? The shock? THE SQUELCH?

  I didn’t know laughter like this was possible in this building.

  It’s a good twenty minutes before we have the ability to use our legs again to leave. Constant dramatic exhalations and ‘oh my Gods’ show that the giggles might have stopped but we are by no means over it. As we get to the door of the science lab Renée stops and tells me to wait.

  ‘What?’ I say, feeling like we have used up all of our lives in this situation and just need to leave.

  ‘Let’s take it,’ she says, her trademark naughty grin creeping across her face.

  ‘Take what?’ I ask, baffled.

  ‘Him!’

  I follow her eyes to the corner of the room.

  ‘No!’ I say firmly. ‘No, bloody, way!’

  Renée

  I’m not going to lie. Trying to get an adult-sized human skeleton into a Fiat 126 doesn’t come without its challenges. In the end we decided it should sit in the front. Partly because trying to get it in the back might have caused a fibula to fly off, and partly because, out of respect, we thought he had the right to have the best seat in the car.

  ‘What shall we call him?’ I ask Flo, as I drive them both back to my house.

  ‘Ricky?’ she says.

  ‘That’s so random.’

  ‘It just feels right.’

  Ricky it is.

  ‘Hello, Ricky,’ I say. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  With Ricky wrapped around me like a drunk boyfriend we step into my living room.
The TV is on, Aunty Jo is out and Nana is in her chair, fast asleep with a blanket over her knees. I left her here nearly three hours ago. I know that was awful, but I have never once seen her wake up of her own accord when she falls asleep in front of the telly at night. So the chance of it happening while I was out was small, and luckily I was right, but I am glad Aunty Jo didn’t come home early and find out. She’s on a date with a guy she met by the meat counter in Safeway. Apparently they bonded over how they like their lamb chops burnt to a crisp. God knows how they got onto that, but then adults have weird conversations when they are out and about making chit-chat.

  ‘Get the coat stand from the hallway,’ I tell Flo. ‘We can loop a scarf around his shoulders and hang him from it.’

  Flo obediently trots off and comes back dragging the coat stand. We weave the scarf in and amongst his bones and position him so he looks happy. ‘Now what?’ asks Flo. ‘Shall we dress him up?’

  Flo is being surprisingly relaxed about all this. Usually when I make her do something naughty she panics and the fear of getting caught makes her jumpy and weird, but right now she is completely up for this. I like it – this is how I always want Flo to be.

  ‘You’re keen,’ I say, with a surprised smile.

  ‘I realised something tonight. People are bad. Mean. People do awful things to people. Mr Carter is a married man, and there he was in a school science lab trying to dress the horrible Miss Trunks up as a school girl so he could have weird sex with her behind his wife’s back. On the science benches, where a young girl will sit tomorrow and have no idea that just hours before the spot where she puts her jotter was the spot where Miss Trunks’ squelchy, sweaty bum was being slapped by her fancy man. It’s not right.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ I say, even though I have kissed loads of people’s boyfriends and think the idea of sex in a science lab is quite fun. But not with Miss Trunks and Mr Carter. I shake my head to get the image out.

  ‘I spend so much of my time feeling guilty, insecure and paranoid that I am messing up, when really, I am a good person,’ says Flo. ‘I don’t do things that hurt other people. I don’t lie or cheat, or sleep with people I shouldn’t sleep with. Why am I the one who feels so crap about myself all the time? Other people seem to coast through life being shits to people and getting away with it.’