by Suzy K Quinn
‘It’s ...’ He puts a hand to his forehead. ‘I hope this evening was helpful.’ He turns his back.
‘Thank you,’ I stammer, feeling like an idiot. Dazed by his kiss. Suddenly, I’m a silly pupil again, with a crush on her teacher.
‘I don’t think you need any more extra help for now,’ he says, walking away, and my stomach begins to churn. ‘Let’s stick to the classroom.’
‘Marc.’ I mean Mr Blackwell, of course. But I can’t bear the formality of it. I’m losing him, and I can’t stand it. That kiss, those few moments together – it wasn’t enough. I have to have more. ‘What do you mean?’ Is it my acting? Have I let him down? What just happened between us?
He still has his back to me, but he stops walking. He sighs, and I see his taut shoulders move under his shirt. ‘One-on-one tuition like this ... it isn’t a very healthy dynamic.’
He turns around then, and his eyes burn into me. ‘This isn’t about you, Sophia. It’s about me. Me and what I’m capable of.’ He strides down the aisle, and out of the theatre.
Chapter 25
I sit on the stage, dumbfounded. That kiss was real. I felt it. But ... it shouldn’t have happened. We both know that. He’s my teacher. And more than that, he’s a beautiful, intense, famous Hollywood actor, and I’m a twenty-something unknown from a small village. It’s silly to think I’ll ever have more than that kiss. Marc’s reaction says it all – it was a mistake. And I don’t want a mistake to ruin our teacher student relationship.
Suddenly, I’m on my feet, running down the aisle and out of the theatre.
I see Marc walking across a trimmed lawn, the fluttering of cigarette smoke floating from his hand.
I run up to him.
When he sees me, his eyes soften and his lips pull tight.
‘I want to talk to you,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry about what happened just then.’ I don’t want to cry, but I can feel the tears welling up. ‘It wasn’t professional and it won’t happen again.’
In a nearby tree, a few birds take flight.
Marc closes his eyes and shakes his head. ‘It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything. I just ... I think I’ve taught you enough, now. I’ll see you in class.’
‘But I haven’t learned nearly enough,’ I say. ‘Didn’t you see how much I improved, with just half an hour of you teaching me? Your teaching is so good for me. There’s so much inside I want to bring out. I need you to help me -’
Marc shakes his head. ‘It’s not a good idea.’
‘Please -’
‘Don’t you get it Sophia? Don’t you understand? Do I have to spell it out?’
‘Look, I’m so sorry I kissed you -’
‘Back there,’ Marc interrupts, ‘I might have ... I could have ... I’m usually so in control. But with you it’s ... different. It isn’t healthy for me to be around you like that. Not one-on-one.’ He looks at the dark sky, and I see tumbling pain in his eyes. ‘Christ, for me to lose control like that.’
I twiddle my hair. My stomach is lurching all over the place. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying,’ says Marc, turning to me, his voice practically growling, ‘that if I spend any more extra time with you, I might not be able to stop myself taking things further. Am I making myself clear?’
I swallow, my heart pounding. I can’t take it all in. ‘I don’t want to lose you as a teacher,’ I whisper. ‘Please don’t say you can’t teach me anymore. Marc -’
‘God, this is so wrong,’ says Marc. ‘I’m always in control. One hundred percent. But since your audition ...’ He runs his hand through his hair again, and looks away.
I swallow hard, and can barely squeeze out the next words. ‘If there’s something about me that may compromise your position as a lecturer, you can’t punish me for that. I’ve been selected to be on this course. There are times when I’ll need one-on-one tutoring. It’s not fair to penalise me because of ... whatever happened just then.’
Marc’s jaw clenches and unclenches. ‘You’re right. I’ll get someone else to teach the course. I’ll step aside this year, and find someone else to teach you.’
I stare at him. ‘You can’t do that. You’re the reason most of the pupils here are on this course. They auditioned because of you. You’re their hero. Their star. They want you to teach them. No one else.’
Marc looks at me, and there’s a long pause. ‘This situation ... if I remain a lecturer here this year, it could become unbearable.’
I look at my trainers, and see the wet grass has stamped damp patterns onto the cloth.
‘Why?’ I hear myself say.
Marc moves his face closer to mine, and his blue eyes are fierce. ‘Because I can’t have you. And wanting something you can’t have can be a very difficult thing to handle. Especially if you’re used to getting whatever and whoever you want.’
‘You ... you want me?’ I stammer. ‘But I thought ... I mean, I’m just some girl from a village. And you’re Marc Blackwell.’
‘Are you trying to make this more difficult than it already is?’ Marc says. ‘You know full well I can’t have you.’ He takes a deep breath and lets it all out. ‘I’m your teacher. And you’re my student.’ I feel his stare, burning holes in me.
‘Who says you can’t?’ I stammer, trying to get my head around that sentence. ‘You must know I want you too.’
‘It doesn’t matter what you feel for me,’ says Marc, his voice stormy. ‘I’d be taking advantage of my position. You’re younger than me. Vulnerable. And I’m supposedly mature. And if anyone found out, your reputation could be ... compromised. The press would hound you. I protect my students. I don’t ... Christ.’ The pained look returns.
I stand there, my mouth opening and closing. ‘But if we both want to -’
‘This can’t happen,’ says Marc. ‘Not with you. You deserve better. God, if you knew what I was in to ... don’t you read the papers? You don’t want me, Sophia. Believe me. Stay away. It’s for your own good.’
He strides away across the grass, and although every bit of me wants to run after him, I know it’s a bad idea. I think about what he meant by ‘what I’m in to.’ Did he mean that comment on Celeb Focus? I don’t know how I feel about that at all. Frightened. Excited. And way out of my depth. Not that any of those feelings matter, because Marc has just told me nothing can ever happen between us.
I turn and walk the other way, towards the accommodation block.
The next morning, I wake up more confused than ever. I water my plants, brush my teeth and am about to pick out something to wear, when there’s a pounding on my bedroom door.
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, and checking my pyjamas are keeping me decent, I open it. Tanya and Tom are on my doorstep. Tanya’s glasses are slightly wonky on her face, and Tom has no shoes on and a blanket bundled around his shoulders.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, feeling my stomach shrink. ‘Has something happened?’
‘It’s Mr Blackwell,’ says Tanya.
‘What about him?’ I hear my voice rise.
‘He’s ... left.’
‘Left? What do you mean?’
‘He’s gone,’ says Tanya. ‘Left the college.’
‘Gone? Where?’ I’m beginning to panic now. I notice Tom shivering under the blanket. ‘Come inside, both of you. It’s cold out there.’
They walk and wheel into my room, and I head straight to the French windows to see if Marc’s Ford Mustang is in the car park. It isn’t. The empty space makes me feel sad and lost.
‘They said he’s gone to visit his sister,’ says Tanya, sitting on my crumpled duvet.
‘His sister?’ My shoulders relax, just a fraction. ‘When will he be back?’
Tanya shrugs. ‘The rumour is, maybe a week or so.’
‘A week?’ I rub my forehead. Maybe it’s for the best. It would have been so painful to see him today. And so embarrassing. ‘But he’s coming back, right?’
‘I don’t know,’ says Tanya. ‘I got the fee
ling Wendy was just guessing. Tom and I are gutted. We all came here to be taught by Marc. And now ... who knows what’s happening? It’s enough to drive you to drink.’
‘Which doesn’t take much, in your case,’ says Tom.
I sit on the bed beside Tanya, digesting the information.
‘Are you okay, my dear?’ Tom asks. ‘It’s quite a shock, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I admit. And I feel a dark stirring in my stomach that tells me maybe, just maybe, Marc has taken a break because of me.
Tom pats my knee. ‘Hey. Let’s not get too gloomy. We’ve still got Denise. And breakfast waiting for us. Life isn’t too bad. I’m sure Marc just has family business, and will be back before we know it.’
‘Yes,’ I say, with a sharp nod. ‘He’ll be back.’ I want to believe it’s true. We all do.
The rumour about Marc leaving has already rocketed around the cafeteria by the time we arrive. We learn that Marc left late last night – apparently to drive to his sister’s home. But there’s nothing in the newspapers, no other news to confirm or deny the rumour.
Our first class that day is with Denise, and I think we’re all hoping for an explanation about Marc when we arrive.
‘Oh dear,’ says Denise, as we take our places in the horseshoe of chairs. ‘What a sorry bunch you are this morning. I’m guessing you’ve heard about a certain gentleman’s departure?’
There are nods.
‘Well. Not to worry. We have a wonderful lecturer to take Marc’s place. Alberto Adami – a very fabulous stage actor.’
‘Alberto Adami?’ Cecile scoffs. ‘What’s he even famous for? He’s been in a few plays. So what?’
‘He’s a fine actor,’ says Denise. ‘And he’ll teach you a great deal while Marc’s away.’
I raise a hand, and notice my fingers are shaking.
‘Yes, Sophia?’
‘Um. When will Marc – I mean, Mr Blackwell, be coming back?’
More wrinkles appear around Denise’s eyes. ‘I’m not certain as yet. He’s having family troubles. They can take some time.’
‘Oh.’ My heart sinks. Okay, it’s probably for the best not to see him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see him. An uneasy voice at the back of my mind whispers, Did he leave because of you?
We finish Denise’s class with a round-robin chorus that puts us all in a good mood.
As we’re leaving, Denise takes my arm.
‘Sophia my love, can I have a quick word?’
I look at Tanya and Tom, who look back at me quizzically.
‘Sure,’ I say.
She waits until all the pupils have left the room, then closes the classroom door. It’s very warm in her classroom. Almost stuffy, but not quite.
‘I noticed you weren’t quite yourself today.’ She goes to a kettle by the window and switches it on. ‘I know it’s a strange day for all of us, but you seem to be taking it particularly hard. Tea?’
‘Oh. Yes please.’
‘I only have herbal, I’m afraid. The milk goes off in here. Take a seat.’
I sit down.
‘I hope I don’t sound too big headed,’ says Denise, putting teabags into cups, ‘but I’m quite an intuitive sort, and I know when a pupil of mine isn’t feeling good. If you ever need to talk, I’m right here. I’m a very good listener. We’re one big family at Ivy College. Marc and I both care a great deal about our students.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Marc – I mean, Mr Blackwell, has already been really kind. He gave me a personal coaching session last night.’
‘Very kind,’ says Denise. ‘Yes, Marc’s a good man.’
‘I hear ... he’s very protective of you,’ I say, hoping Denise might tell me more about Marc.
‘I’ve known him since he was a boy,’ says Denise. ‘I was like a mother to him for a while. I still am, when I can be. He was a troubled boy, but he’s turned into a fine young man.’ Denise gives me a sideways glance. ‘Oh, I know he can seem cold. Even arrogant. His manner might ruffle some feathers – he takes no prisoners, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. But he won’t let any harm come to anyone he cares about.’ She pours water into the cups. ‘So, Sophia. You’re interested in Mr Blackwell? Both in and out of the classroom – am I right?’
My blood runs cold. She really is intuitive.
Denise hands me a cup. ‘It’s not my place to ask anything personal, but I can promise you, if you wanted to get anything off your chest, it would be absolutely confidential.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I appreciate that.’
Denise’s eyes crinkle into a smile. ‘When he told me last night that he was leaving, I felt it wasn’t just because of family.’
My eyes widen.
Denise pats my hand. ‘As I say, I’m a very intuitive person. I can feel things clearly that most people are blind to. And I feel ... when you told me just then that you and Marc met up last night, perhaps a piece of a puzzle fell into place.’
I take a sip of hot tea and burn my tongue.
‘Did something happen last night? Between you two?’
‘I ...’ Tears start to fall, and I can’t stop them. ‘No, nothing ... I mean, not really. It was all so confusing.’
Denise nods. ‘Nothing with Marc is ever straight forward, where women are concerned. He’s so scared. So frightened that if he cares about someone, he’ll let her down or lose her. His mother died when he was very young and he still blames himself. I think that has something to do with it.’
I wipe away tears. ‘That’s awful.’
‘I know you lost your mother too,’ says Denise. ‘In fact, that’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you today. I wanted to put myself forward as someone you could confide in. If you needed to. A mother for you here at the college, if you like.’
‘How did he lose his mother?’ I ask.
Denise’s expression darkens. ‘It was his father’s fault. But Marc blames himself. Even as a young boy, Marc appointed himself family protector. He was such a clever little lad, when I met him, but sad. He could memorise a script within hours and take on the emotions of any part, but he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. At the age of eleven, he felt responsible for his father and his sister. Quite a burden, at that age.’
Denise’s eyes twitch into a smile. ‘He spoke about you, you know. After your audition. We were having a meal, and ... he’s never spoken about an audition out of context before. I should have guessed then that something was out of place.’
I shake my head. ‘It isn’t. Nothing’s out of place. There was a silly incident last night, but it’s all over now. When Marc comes back, it’ll be like nothing happened.’
Chapter 26
Days turn into weeks, but still Marc doesn’t return. My life at Ivy College settles into a comfortable routine of lectures, and meals and nights out with Tom and Tanya. Our new lecturer, Alberto, is just fine. He’s no Marc, but we all like him and are learning a lot.
Every morning before breakfast, I walk around the college grounds and tend to a little vegetable patch I’ve created under a clutch of fir trees. I’ve planted garlic and winter lettuce, and today I’ve brought some asparagus seeds to plant. People say it’s a tough vegetable to grow, but I always believe you can grow anything if you understand what it needs.
It’s sunny today, with a sharp edge of autumn cold, and as usual I’m enjoying being among the trees. Squirrels scurry over dew-damp soil, and I sing a little – practising, as Denise tells us we should.
I finish planting my asparagus and head back towards the college, feeling pretty pleased with myself. Everything’s growing really well.
I’m tramping over the undergrowth towards the car park when I notice something – ivy, growing along the woodland floor and snaking up around an oak sapling.
The oak’s leaves are far too brown and yellow, even for this time of year, which means the ivy is doing damage.
I go to the tree trunk and carefully pull ivy away so the tree has a
fighting chance of survival. I’m careful not to hurt the ivy too much, and pull it around and along the earthy ground, so it can grow in a way that doesn’t hurt the oak.
Suddenly, a shadow falls over me and I hear a deep, gravelly voice that rumbles all the way through my torso.
‘Not keen on ivy?’
I turn and see Marc, tall and handsome, standing over me. He’s wearing a dark grey v-necked t-shirt and thin black trousers.
My heart begins to pound.
‘I ... I love ivy,’ I say. ‘It’s one of my favourite plants. But it was hurting this tree. So I was retraining it. Setting it on the right path.’
Marc’s eyebrow rises. ‘Setting it on the right path?’
‘So it doesn’t hurt things.’ Having him so close is making me unsteady. I wobble a little on my haunches. I stare at him, and add pathetically, ‘You’ve come back.’
Marc nods. ‘Yes.’
I can’t take my eyes off him.
‘So, you like plants?’ Marc says.
‘I love them.’ I say, amazed my voice isn’t shaking too. ‘I ... kept my Dad’s garden back home.’ I’m still staring at him, not quite believing he’s here. Eventually, I say, ‘Did you leave because of me?’
‘In part.’
‘You needn’t worry. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.’
‘You promised me you wouldn’t go to the lake again.’
‘I haven’t,’ I say, dusting my hands to brush off loose soil. ‘I was planting vegetables.’ Just the sight of him is making me feel weak. ‘Are you ... have you come back for good? To the college?’
‘Yes. I’ll be taking your class today. You should go inside, Sophia – you’ll freeze out here.’
It’s true – I am a little cold in just a jumper and jeans. But Marc is wearing far less than me.
‘I was just heading in.’ I smooth my hair down and stand up. ‘So. We have a lecture soon? What are we going to do? I mean ... are we just going to ignore each other?’
‘That’s what I was planning,’ says Marc. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hurtful or cruel. I’m dealing with things as best I can. I’ll take you inside, and then I think we should keep contact to a minimum.’
