The Ivy Lessons (20 page)

‘He hasn’t told me much of anything at all,’ I admit.

Denise
nods, and takes a sip of
tea. ‘Poor little lamb.’

I nearly choke on my tea.
How could anyone think of
Marc
Blackwell
that way?
Commanding, intense, angry
Marc
Blackwell
, a poor little lamb? Really?

‘I’ve never hear
d anyone talk about him like that
,’ I say, twiddling my charm necklace.

Denise nods. ‘His father was a monster. An absolute monster. A failed actor, of course. Performed in all sorts of bad films and TV dramas, and insisted
Marc
performed from a young age. Too young an age.

‘
When I firs
t met them, I was performing
on Broadway
.
I know, I know. Broadway
. You wouldn’t think it now, but years ago
I was quite something
. Anyway.
Marc
was playing Oliver Twist and I was Nancy. He was such a dear lit
tle lad, but so serious. So afraid of
his father.

‘
His mother had health problems and died when he was very young
, so I took him under my wing. I loved having him as my surrogate son, and I gave his father a piece of my mind more than once. H
is father
hit him
. If he didn’t win a part or he didn’t perform perfectly enough. Horrible man. Repressed. Taking his rage out on his boy.

‘When
Marc
was twelve, his father went to
Egypt on a business
venture and I offered to put Marc
up for a few weeks. Those few weeks turned into months, and
Marc
and I had a wonderful time. I made sure he went to school every day, and insisted his evenings and weekends were free to do whatever he wanted.

‘Often, he wanted to perform in plays. Well, that was fine. As long as it was his choice. Then his father came back and all hell broke loose. He said I’d been holding his boy back. Stopping him from fulfilling his ambition.

‘I was offered a
part back in London
, and I asked if
Marc
wanted to come live with me in England. He did, but his father wouldn’t allow it. Said LA was the place. So he took
Marc
there, and at sixteen
Marc
left home and
pursued
his dream alone.

‘By then, Marc was already well kn
o
w
n in the business for being an amazing young talent with the worst mood swings in the business.

‘
We still kept in touch. He’d ring me every Sunday, and tell me about the parts he was playing and the wonderful locations he was being flown to.

‘
Then
he had this college built
to help young talent, and to my amazement he offered me a lecturer’s position. And we were reunited ag
ain. I love having him back
in England, with me. It’s where he belongs. He grew u
p in England, you know
.
In
London
.’

‘I didn’t know any o
f that about him,’ I say. ‘
I had no clue he’d been through such a hard life.’

‘But so have you
,’ says Denise.

‘Not compared to ... no, I don’t think I have. Not really.’

‘Well.’ Denise folds her fingers together. ‘I don’t know what to say about you and
Marc
. I don’t condone it, but I don’t disapprove either.
Marc
’s a decent person, when it comes down to it
, and you’re both consenting adults
.
What I will say
is, are you happy to be having a relationship
that right now has to be kept hidden?
Do you really want that for yourself?’

I shake my head, and feel tears sliding down my face. ‘No,’ I whisper. ‘But I don’t see as though I have any choice. I don’t want
Marc
to stop being a
teacher
here
. He offered, but I couldn’t live with myself if the
whole class lost him
because of me.

‘No one
would plan a relationship like this. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a relationship right now. I don’t know wha
t it is. But
I’m in the middle of it,
and there’s no turning back
.
Not without venturing further in. Without getting myself completely caught up in him, and then probably completely hurt.’

‘It sounds like you’re already completely caught up with h
im,’ says Denise
.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘
I should probably walk away, but I’m not sure
I can
.’

‘
Y
ou’ve got some difficult choices to make,’ says Denise, getting up and putting her arms around me. She smells of soap and camomile tea. ‘You’re a grown woman, so it’s up
to you to decide
. But just you know, I’ll always be here if you need me.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, smiling through tears. ‘Thank you so much.’

Chapter 44

When I leave Denise’s classroom,
I feel happier. Lighter. But I’m also thinking very hard about what she said, particularly the part about keeping secrets.

As I leave the classroom building and head outside, into the grounds, I find Tom and Tanya waiting for me.

‘Are you okay, Soph
?’
Tom asks. ‘We were worried
you were in trouble with teacher.’ His wheelchair is balanced half on the pat
h, half on the grassy verge, so
I move h
im
in case he tips over
.

‘No, it was fine,’ I say. ‘Honestly.’

‘Jolly good. Well then. Are you all set for the theatre trip tomorrow?’

‘The what?’ I ask.

‘To the Globe. College outing
.’

‘
R
eally? A class trip so soon?
’

‘It was in our introductory paperwork,’ says Tom, pulling a diary from his rucksack and thumbing through. ‘Let me just double check. Ah! No, not tomorrow. The day after. In the afternoon. We’re meeting on campus, and being driven there in the college mini bus.’

‘I’ve always wanted to see the Globe,’ I say. ‘
That sounds great.’
But in the meantime, I have dinner with Marc
Blackwell
to contend with.

‘So what did you
and Denise
talk about?’ Tanya asks.

I look from Tanya to Tom. They’re both such good people. I hate lying to them. I think of what Denise said about keeping things secret and about not wantin
g that for myself.
I sigh.

‘She wanted to talk to me about Mr
Blackwell
.’

‘What about him?’ asks Tom, talking a bag of Wotsits f
rom his rucksack
and ripping them open. ‘Cheesey crisp?’

‘No thank you,’ I say. ‘Mr
Blackwell
and I ... look, promise you won’t tell anyone this, okay?’

Tom and Tanya nod solemnly.

‘Mr
Blackwell
and I are ... more than just teacher and pupil right now.’

‘Shut UP,’ says Tanya,
slapping Tom’s arm.

‘Keep your voice down, Tanya, before the whol
e bloody campus hears,’ Tom whispers
.

‘Sorry.
’ Tanya’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Sophia, you have my word. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.’

‘Nor will I,’ says Tom. ‘But you have to promise to tell us what he’s like in bed, Mr Hollywood hot shot. Does that
white skin
go all the way to the down
?’

I laugh
. ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’ says Tom. ‘What k
ind of sex have you been having?
’

‘That’s just it,’ I admit. ‘Weird kind of sex. Super hot, but weir
d sex.
He takes charge of everything. He wants to be the teacher inside the bedroom and out. So I haven’t really got to touch him or do anything without his say so.’

‘That is so hot,’ says Tanya.

‘It is,’ I say. ‘I’ve never known anything like this before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. But ... part of me thinks I should run away. It doesn’t feel hea
lthy
. The whole forbidden thing for a start. We can’t tell anyone what’s happening, a
nd I’m
sneaking around.

‘And then the sex part ... it’s super hot, but it’s not like a relationship
.
He’s got to be in charge. But when I think about walking away from him, it hurts. Really hurts.
I feel like there’s more I need to discover. But
then again, I know if I stick around I’ll probably get hurt even worse.’

‘Ditch him,’ says Tanya, grabbing a handful of Tom’s crisps. ‘No man should be in control of you.’

‘But the way I feel about
him ...’

‘They’ll be other men,’ says Tanya.

‘Not like him,’ I say. ‘I’ve never met anyone like him before.’ I feel so em
pty at the thought of walking away
, I just can’t bear it. But I know Tanya is pr
obably right. I should end it
.
But I can’t.

‘I don’t think I can walk away,’ I whisper. ‘I want more. And until I have it, I’ll always be wondering.’

‘That’s what men like that do,’ says Tanya. ‘He’ll always leave you wanting more. Always. Walk away before it gets even harder.’

I nod, but Tom touches my arm lightly.

‘Soph, love. Do you want the wheelchair guy’s opinion?’

‘Yes please,’ I say.

‘Do you know how many girlfriends I’ve had?’
Tom asks.

I shake my head.

‘None,’ he says. ‘I talk to girls online, and I watch porn and I visit disabled websites and have virtual relationships, but I’ve never had a real relationship. Not e
ver. And do you know what? I probably
never
will
ha
ve
.’

‘Oh
Tom,’ I say. ‘
I’m so sorry.
It’s so tactless of -’

‘No, no, no.’ Tom waves my comment away. ‘Don’t give me the sympathy card. That’s not what I’m asked for. What I’m saying is, I’d give anything in the world to be in your position. To be on the edge of love or lust or whatever it is you’re feeling, and dive right in, no matter how hard I fall and how much it hurts. To have the opportunity to get my fingers burned. That’s what I’d giv
e anything for. G
etting your fingers burned is part of what life is all about. So take every opportunity. Because one day, you’ll be old and dried up and you’ll never have the chance again.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ I say, playfully slapping his leg.

‘Ow!’ He mock winces. ‘
The nerve endings still work, you know. A
nyway, that’
s my two-penny
worth. Thro
w yourself in at the deep end. I’m sure y
ou won’t actually drown. And even if it all goes horribly wrong, you’ll come out stronger. Just whatever you do, don’t get pregnant.’

I smile, and for the first time in days I feel my teeth showing when I do. I gi
ve him a big hug, squashing his W
otsits against his chest and knocking his hat to the floor.

‘I guess that’s the advice she was looking for,’ says Tanya with a smile, picking up his hat.

Chapter 45

Dinner with Marc Blackwell. Dinner with Marc Blackwell. I pace back and forth in front of my huge, walk-in wardrobe, feeling for the first time since my shopping trip that I don’t have a thing to wear.

I’ve pulled out dress after dress and laid it on my bed. Thank goodness I went shopping with Jen when I got my scholarship. She forced me to buy
going-
out clothes that at the time I thought I was never going to wear. And giving me her mum’s advice: buy it and the occasion will come. Well, the occasion has come. And now nothing seems good enough.

I analyse every outfit, from the messages it sends out (Confident? Desperate? Prudish?), to how flattering it is, what shoes go with it ... I’m driving myself mad.

I get Jen on Skype and hold up all the different outfits. She laughs when I hold the camera to the wardrobe, and she catches a glimpse of how messy my bedroom is.

‘It looks like you’ve emptied your whole wardrobe onto the floor,’ she says.