Dance While You Can (5 page)

‘Yes. So, will you do it?’

‘I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never acted before.’

‘Well, you’ve only got to learn the lines and move about the stage where necessary. Alexander’s directing it, he’ll show you what’s to be done.’

‘What sort of part is it?’

‘You’ll be playing my wife.’ He announced it with such pride that I could hardly keep myself from laughing.

‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll do it, on condition that my role involves nothing dangerous.’

‘Now what could be dangerous about being my wife?’ He grinned and got up. ‘First rehearsal tomorrow morning at eleven, in the history room, before everyone gets back.’

– 4 –

With my invitation to play the part of Beth Wonderful, wife of Heeso Wonderful everything changed. It didn’t surprise me one bit to discover that Alexander Belmayne, the director, was a tyrant and a bully. He propelled me round the history room like I was an Aunt Sally – but I told him that if he pushed his luck too far, I’d beat him up again. His answer, because he thought it was witty, was: ‘Oh beat me, beat me!’ Still, I showed him. Not only could I act, but when we needed flowers for the set I made chrysanthemums out of wood-shavings from the carpentry room, which I painted with my nail varnish; and when we needed curtains for the stage, I borrowed them from the Headmaster’s drawing room. Well, he was the only master who had really big windows, and we did take care of them. . . .

There might have been quite an awkward moment when Alexander told me I was going to have to learn to ‘speak posh’. I over-reacted, I admit it, but it was a sore point with me.

‘Oh, there goes the prima donna again, tossing her head and stomping out. Just like a woman,’ he called after me.

‘That’s why we cast her,’ Henry said. ‘And tact is not your strongest point.’

‘Don’t worry, she’ll be back,’ I heard Alexander say, just before I slammed the door. That was it! Nothing would get me back now! That was until he came and knocked on my door. . . .

‘All right, I’ll beg if I must,’ he said. ‘Please, please will you come back?’

‘No!’

‘You’re a stubborn, high-minded . . .’

‘I suppose you’ll be calling me common next!’

He burst out laughing, and so did I.

We put on our play at the end of the third week of term. It was called
The Wonderfuls
, a comedy about an old man – played by Alexander – who (to quote Alexander’s uninspired programme notes) tried to show the Wonderfuls – a prosperous, self-seeking twosome – how superficial and meaningless was their way of life. The old man never quite succeeded, as the Wonderfuls were too stupid and too pompous to understand, but the outrageous dialogue – most of which even I knew owed more to Bernard Shaw and Oscar Wilde than to Alexander Belmayne – had the staff, as well as the boys, corpsed with laughter.

When the play was over the three of us stepped forward to take our bows. Then Henry and Alexander presented me with an enormous bouquet, and to great whoops and cheers from the entire school, I wept like a waterfall.

Mr Ellery seemed as pleased as Miss Angrid that the war between Alexander and me was over. In fact the only person who wasn’t obviously delighted was Mrs Jenkins; she thought us too frivolous for words – though I noticed it didn’t stop her coming to my surgery for cups of tea. I didn’t mind that so much, I just wished she’d stop reading to me from the newspapers. Anyone would have thought she was the only person in the world who had a husband in Fleet Street.

‘I can’t get over the change in you,’ Mr Ellery said one evening a week or so later, when we were dining at the local bistro. ‘You’re so happy. The boys adore you, you know. I’ve never known anything like it. Everywhere I go these days I come across boys talking about you. Yesterday I found a touching ditty by one of our first year poets, describing you as a changeling.’

‘A what!’

A princess sneaked from her cradle by elves.’

I burst out laughing, but Mr Ellery said, ‘Well, he might have a point. None of us knows anything about you, where you come from. Is there a mystery?’

‘No. I just don’t like talking about myself. Anyway, there’s nothing much to tell.’

‘There must be something.’

‘Even if there was, I wouldn’t tell you because you’re teasing me.’

‘Me!’

I threw my napkin at him. ‘Yes, you!’

‘Then I suppose I’ll just have to join your fan club and theorise along with the rest of them. Do you know, every notebook I come across in the lower school these days has got Bobby Moore’s name scrubbed out and yours plastered right across it?’

‘Not the upper school?’ I complained.

‘Ah, the upper school take themselves much more seriously, so they’re a little more, shall we say, subtle about it.’

‘Oh yes? In what way?’

‘In that they daren’t let me see because they know I’ll get jealous.’

I could have kicked myself for falling into that one.

‘Have I embarrassed you?’ he asked, without a trace of embarrassment.

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Then perhaps I’m getting through to you at long last. I mean I’ve hardly seen you these last weeks – I have to fight my way through a throng of adoring adolescents just to get to you.’

Later, we strolled back up the hill to the school. ‘Cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss,’ he said, when we reached the door of my surgery.

Recognising the look in his eyes, I smiled. ‘I’m right out of tea, I’m afraid.’

He rested his hands against the wall either side of me, and looked down into my face. ‘Two minutes,’ he pressed.

I heard a movement at the top of the stairs and looked up. It was Henry Clive. ‘Sorry, Miss,’ he stammered, ‘I was looking for . . .’

‘Yes?’ said Mr Ellery, ‘what were you looking for?’

‘Nothing, sir.’

‘Spying, were you?’ said Mr Ellery, sounding unusually sharp for him. ‘Back to bed, boy. I’ll speak to you in the morning.’

‘What’s all the noise out here?’ said Miss Angrid, coming out of her surgery. ‘Be quiet, the pair of you, you’ll wake the boys.’

‘Sorry, Miss Angrid,’ Mr Ellery said, sounding for all the world like one of his smaller pupils.

She turned to me. ‘Come in here a moment, will you, Elizabeth.’

I pushed my way past Mr Ellery, throwing him what I hoped was an apologetic look. Miss Angrid closed the door behind me. ‘That saw him off, eh?’ She might as well have shouted it. I burst out laughing.

‘Shame Henry Clive saw you, it’ll be all round the school tomorrow.’

‘We weren’t doing anything,’ I pointed out.

‘Don’t have to, the boys will fill in the missing spaces. Anyway, I must get back to the cottage in time for Billy Cotton. You’ll be all right, will you?’

‘Fine.’ For someone who claimed she couldn’t bear TV, her devotion to
Billy Cotton’s Band Show
was amazing. And
Coronation Street
, and
Peyton Place.

‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, popping her head back round the door, ‘the second form are planning a midnight feast in the Hardy bathrooms. Keep an eye out, will you?’

‘How on earth did you find that but?’

‘I know everything there is to know around here,’ she answered, then tapped her nose. ‘You’d do well to remember it.’ And chuckling to herself, she closed the door behind her.

Although I was still smiling as I went into my own surgery, I couldn’t help but feel a bit disturbed by what she’d said. For some reason it sounded like a warning.

It took no time at all for the rumours to start. Miss Sorrill and Mr Ellery. Anonymous notes started to appear under my door, with outrageous sketches of what the boys assumed us to be up to. I had to give them credit for imagination, even though I was shocked by how much they knew about sex. Mr Ellery was getting the same treatment, but he found it funny.

‘It won’t be long before Mr Lorimer finds out, you know.’ Mrs Jenkins eyed me with hostility as she sat sipping tea in my surgery.

‘There’s nothing to find out.’

‘The boys are very astute, Elizabeth; they miss nothing. And I’ll tell you, I’ve noticed myself, the way you’ve been throwing yourself at Richard Ellery. It won’t do, you know. Anyone can see he’s embarrassed by the situation. I suggest you keep yourself to yourself a little more.’

The old cow! How dare she! ‘How can I keep myself to myself,’ I snapped, ‘when Mr Ellery keeps fawning after me like some puppy dog!’

‘Miss Sorrill!’ she gasped. ‘You’re talking about one of the masters of this school!’ She pulled herself up from the chair and strode towards the door. ‘Your conceit has obviously grown to preposterous proportions. Perhaps you are not such suitable material for Foxton’s after all.’

‘You’ve got no right to talk to me like that,’ I cried, and jumped at the violence with which she slammed the door.

Her attack was so unexpected, not to mention unjustified, that it was several minutes before I could pull myself together. It was unusual for me to stand up to one of the staff like that – but she deserved it. I’d been edgy ever since the rumours had started; there were some boys who obviously saw them as much more than a bit of fun – Alexander and Henry, for example, had really cooled off towards me; I’d hardly seen them lately.

I went off to the dormitories to make sure the boys had cleaned under their beds and tucked in their hospital corners. My mind was only half on what I was doing, but I made an attempt to note who had not performed his duties correctly, ready to chalk them up on the board. If their number appeared, they had to report to matron.

When I got to the Lawrence fifth form room which Henry and Alexander shared, my heart sank. It was in a terrible state. I decided to tidy it myself, at least that would avoid a confrontation.

The drawers were half open, with clothes hanging out, so I took them out one by one, folded them neatly and put them away. It was as I was closing the last drawer that I noticed the blue suede winklepickers in Alexander’s shoe rack. He had special permission for the shoes, but was only allowed to wear them when he Was performing in the school pop group – they should not have been in his room, but downstairs in the clothes cupboard outside Miss Angrid’s surgery. As I pulled the shoes out, a small red book fell on to the floor. I opened it to the first page, and found in beautifully proportioned calligraphy the name ‘Beth’. I closed the book quickly, but my heart was already beating faster. No, I told myself. Just because I had played the part of Beth Wonderful in his play . . . No, it couldn’t be.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

I dropped the book and spun round. ‘Alexander!’ I gasped.

He snatched the book from the floor and turned back to me, his face white. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘It fell out of the shoe rack, I was just . . .’

‘Go round snooping in everyone’s diaries, do you? Or is it just mine?’

‘I told you, it fell out and I opened it to see what it was. I didn’t read any of it, so don’t worry, your secrets are safe.’ I tried to laugh.

He stared down at me, and for a minute I thought he was in pain. Then he flung his hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his face before he turned and thumped the wall. ‘Just go,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry, Alexander, really, I’m . . .’

‘I said go!’

‘Alexander, please . . .’

‘Please what?’ He swung round.

‘Look Alexander, I know I shouldn’t have looked in the book, but I told you, I didn’t read any of it, only the inside cover.’

‘Well, that was enough, wasn’t it?’ And before I could stop him, he had stormed out of the room.

– 5 –

Miss Angrid looked at the thermometer, shook it, and walked off across the room. ‘Nothing wrong with you, young lady.’

‘But I keep going all hot, and then I feel queasy. I’ve been like it for weeks. And my heart-beat keeps going up and down as well, it’s really peculiar.’

She came back out from behind the screen. ‘Good heavens, what on earth are you crying for? I told you, there’s nothing wrong with you.’

‘I don’t know why I’m crying.’

She folded her arms over her chest and smiled. ‘Well, I think I do. It’s very likely a combination of the time of the month, and the heat. You’ll be all right in a couple of days. Off you go now, or you’ll be late for the film.’

‘What film?’

‘That James Bond film the upper sixth have all been dying to see.’

‘All right, I’m going.’ I blew my nose and got up from the chair.

‘Elizabeth!’ Miss Angrid called as I got to the door. ‘Aren’t you going to take your bag? Dear me, I don’t know what’s got into you these days. You’ll forget your head next.’

It was Commem. weekend, and I was wandering across the lawns with some of the junior boys, stopping while they introduced me to their parents – and trying to ignore Mr Ellery as he pulled faces at me through the crowd. I heard a voice I vaguely recognised, looked up and saw the Lord Chief Justice walking across the lawn towards me, with the Headmaster. I caught his eye and smiled. I might just as well have smiled at one of the cherubs over the doorway; he looked right through me and held his hand out to someone pushing past me. I watched him for a while, then realising that Mr Lorimer was scowling at me, I turned to work my way back into the crowd.

Alexander and Henry were rather overdoing their enthusiasm for the school band, and I giggled as several parents swung round at the sound of Darren Goodchild blasting his trumpet into Henry’s face. Though he gave no sign of it, I knew Alexander was aware of me watching him. I wished I could just go up to him and say something – the trouble was, I didn’t know what. Ever since that day in his room, he’d changed towards me.

I looked around for my faithful followers, and found that for the moment I had been deserted. Suddenly I knew I had to go inside or I would disgrace myself by crying in public. Just why I wanted to cry I didn’t know, but I’d been doing a lot of crying for no reason lately.

I let myself in through the music room just in time, and groped for my handkerchief. I sat down at the piano. Then I got up and walked around the room. I didn’t want to go back to my surgery because Miss Angrid would be bound to come and turf me out again. But the music room proved to be no refuge. Mr Ellery came in so quietly that I almost leapt out of my skin when he spoke.