Ginny sighed. ‘Well, at least she’s into something,’ she said. ‘These days Chelsea seems to be making a professional study of lolling about.’
‘Well, thank goodness the kids are back at school,’ said Ruth comfortingly. ‘That gives us ten weeks’ comparative respite!’
It was a remark she was to remember in the weeks to come.
Chapter Eleven
A Scientific Miracle
‘Hey, guess what, old Mellor’s not coming back this term!’ announced Laura to the others as their science set waited for class to start.
‘Really? You mean we’ve seen the last of Smelly Melly?’ asked Sumitha.
‘Awesome!’ gasped Chelsea.
Miss Mellor, who despite being a science graduate of some note had never quite grasped the purpose of either depilatory creams or anti-perspirant, was not one of Lee Hill’s most cherished teachers.
‘Mr Horage told me,’ said Laura. ‘Let’s hope we get someone halfway decent,’ she added. ‘It’s bad enough having to do photosynthesis and heat conduction and all that boring stuff without having an prehistoric reptile teaching us. Sumitha?’
Sumitha was staring open-mouthed over Laura’s left shoulder. Laura turned just as a gorgeous guy in denim jeans and what had to be a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt strode into the room and perched on the edge of the desk.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ he said brightly, running his fingers through thick black hair. ‘I’m Paul Sharpe and I’m your new science teacher.’
A murmur of approval ran through the room, and a number of the girls began fiddling with their fringes and straightening their skirts.
Not bad, thought Laura.
This is better, thought Chelsea.
He is without exception the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen, thought Sumitha.
‘What happened to Smelly Mel – Miss Mellor, sir?’ asked Chelsea with a grin.
Mr Sharpe didn’t blink an eyelid. ‘She has gone to do some research at an institute in Washington for a year,’ he said.
‘It’ll be whiffy in Washington,’ chirped a bright spark.
‘Now, let me tell you a bit about myself,’ said Mr Sharpe, ignoring the jibe. ‘I expect you are wondering what you have been landed with!’ he added with a grin.
A hunk, thought Sumitha. A glorious, divine hunk.
‘I have just come back to the UK after a year helping with a health and education project in India,’ he said. ‘And to help us get to know one another a bit better, I thought we might spend this first period looking at a video that gives you some idea of what scientists and engineers and researchers are doing to give positive help to underprivileged sections of the Indian community.’ He turned and smiled. Straight at me, I know it, thought Sumitha – and as his charcoal eyes crinkled and his nose bunched into dear little creases, Sumitha knew. She was going to do what he had done. Whatever that was. Sumitha was going to be the best scientist Lee Hill had ever produced. For him. For Mr Sharpe. Paul.
Chapter Twelve
Sumitha Restructures Her Life
On Monday evening, Sumitha walked home from school, reliving every second of the science lesson. Mr Sharpe – Paul, as she whispered to herself over and over again – had talked with such passion about the village in India where he had worked. She had leaned back in her chair and let the grave tones float over her as he described how the team built a small laboratory for the rural school, how he – Paul – had masterminded evening classes for children who had to work on the land, and how he would love to initiate a twinning scheme between Lee Hill and Phorabadur. And at the end, as everyone was filing out of the room, she had lingered, taking as long as possible to pack her books into her bag and then it had happened. He had walked over to her and said, ‘May I ask what part of India your family come from?’
‘Calcutta, sir,’ she had said.
‘A fascinating city,’ Mr Sharpe had enthused. ‘I stayed there for several weeks when I first arrived, before moving to Phorabadur. I loved it.’
Sumitha glowed with pleasure as if she had personally built Calcutta for his delectation and delight.
‘I suppose you speak fluent Bengali?’ he asked. ‘Perhaps I can practise my scant knowledge on you sometime?’ Sumitha gulped. They rarely spoke anything but English at home – the only time she got to practise was when they went to visit her grandparents once every two years. She’d spent most of the time moaning that she was English and didn’t want to speak anything else. She smiled enigmatically.
‘Are you keen on science?’ asked Mr Sharpe. ‘It’s all right,’ he added, grinning broadly, ‘you are allowed to say no.’
‘Oh, yes, yes -I love it,’ said Sumitha, who until that moment had viewed science as just another necessary evil to be got through in the school day. ‘I want to be a scientist.’
‘Great stuff!’ said Mr Sharpe enthusiastically. ‘We’ll have to talk some more. But come on, you’ll be late for your next lesson.’
‘We’ll have to talk some more; we’ll have to talk some more,’ Sumitha repeated mantra-like in her head. That must mean he likes me, she thought. It was his way of letting me know that he liked me. From now on, I’m going to work flat out and be top in science. Just for him. Just for Paul.
‘Sumitha, Sumitha, wait for me!’ Sandeep came running up behind her, panting hard.
‘What do you want now?’ asked Sumitha in decidedly unsisterly tones.
‘Can I walk with you?’ he looked up at her appealingly.
‘Oh, Sandeep, do you have to?’ exclaimed Sumitha. ‘You never stop talking and I am trying to think. Anyway, I saw you just now with Kevin and Matthew – why don’t you walk with them?’
‘I don’t like them,’ he whispered.
‘Oh, grow up,’ said Sumitha.
‘Well, can I have some more money, if I promise not to walk with you?’ suggested Sandeep brightening a little.
‘No way! That was a one-off so if you are looking for more, forget it!’
Sandeep’s face fell. ‘Please, Mifa,’ he said, reverting to the name he had called her when he was a toddler. ‘Please.’
‘I said no. Oh, for goodness’ sake, if you’re going to be a jerk, just walk and don’t speak, OK?’
So preoccupied was she with her own thoughts that Sumitha did not notice the look of sheer relief on her brother’s face.
Chapter Thirteen
Sumitha Bows Out
‘I’d like to give up ballet and drama,’ announced Sumitha over the supper table. Her parents looked up in surprise.
‘But why should you want to do that?’ enquired her mother. ‘You are so good at that sort of thing. Has something happened?’
‘No, but what is the point?’ said Sumitha. ‘What good will it do the world at large? What good will it do my career?’
This is new, thought Chitrita, passing Sandeep a plate of food and muttering, ‘Elbows, Sandeep,’ automatically as she did so.
Her father laid down his knife and fork and eyed his daughter with interest. ‘And what career did you have in mind, Sumitha?’ he asked. ‘I wasn’t aware that you had any idea of what you wanted to do until you marry.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ shouted Sumitha. ‘What are you on? Until I marry? Why should marrying – if I do, which I might not – make any difference? Get real!’
She has a point, thought Chitrita. Although it took me long enough to persuade Rajiv to let me teach. ‘What would you like to do, Sumitha?’ she asked. ‘Sandeep, eat!’
‘I am going,’ said Sumitha, taking a deep breath, ‘to be a scientist. I won’t have time for all these out of school activities because I’m going to be doing loads of work and experiments and stuff and get good grades and go to university. I am going to – to change the world.’
Her father roared with laughter. ‘Single-handed, my child is going to do what no one has done in two millennia,’ he chortled. Sumitha glared at him.
‘All right then, make a difference in the world,’ she amended. ‘Go ahead
, laugh at me. Why? Because I’m a girl? That’s it, isn’t it, Dad? If Sandeep said he wanted to do science, you’d be telling him what a great guy he was. Boys can do anything in your eyes, girls are for cooking and having babies. You are so behind the times.’
‘But Sumitha,’ interrupted her mother, ‘I did not even know that you were keen on science. You have never shown any special interest in it and—’
‘Well, I am now!’ retaliated Sumitha. ‘Mr Sharpe was saying—’
‘Mr Sharpe?’ queried Chitrita.
‘He’s our new science teacher,’ said Sumitha. ‘He’s amazing.’
Ah ha, thought Chitrita.
‘Well, Sumitha,’ said her father, ‘you are wrong if you think I am not pleased. It is most commendable that you are beginning to turn your attention to serious pursuits. But why should this interest mean you give up your leisure activities?’
‘Because,’ said Sumitha, preparing to present them with her coup de grâce, ‘I want to improve my Bengali.’
Her father’s eyes widened. ‘Well, of course,’ he said. ‘I think that is an excellent idea. You will be able to converse with your grandparents and uncles when we visit Calcutta in the summer.’
‘Does that mean you’ll be walking home every evening?’ asked Sandeep hopefully.
‘Yes, but not with you,’ snapped Sumitha.
Sandeep stared morosely into his dinner.
‘Don’t be horrid to your brother,’ said her mother automatically. ‘And Sumitha, why this sudden interest in Bengali?’
‘Does there have to be a reason?’ asked Sumitha. ‘I thought you’d be pleased – Dad’s always going on about our culture.’
‘I am delighted, my dear,’ said her father, patting her on the shoulder. ‘This is good news indeed, is it not, Chitrita?’
Chitrita smiled and inclined her head. She decided to reserve judgement. She just wondered whether her daughter’s sudden interest in matters scientific had a basis in something rather less academic. The thought was so worrying that she she failed to notice that Sandeep had not eaten one bite of his supper.
Chapter Fourteen
Jon Lets Rip
‘I have never, ever been so embarrassed in my whole life!’ stormed Jon, hurling his rugby kit on the floor and glaring at his mother. ‘How could you do that to me?’
‘Do what?’ asked Anona, holding up a swatch of lilac silk to the light and eyeing it critically. Her current college assignment was to convert an old screen into ‘an elegant accessory for the home’ and she was having problems with it.
‘Tell Dad that I fancied Sumitha,’ snarled Jon.
‘I said no such thing!’ denied his mother, chucking the fabric on the table and picking up a tape measure. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I was talking to Sumitha and Dad rolls up and says “Oh, so you’re the one my boy fancies,” or something like that! And then he said you had told him! How could you?’
‘Oh, I remember,’ said Anona, through a mouthful of pins. ‘Dad asked me who the girl in the portrait in your room was, and I said – oh, well, I suppose I did say you had your eye on her.’
‘Oh well, great. Marvellous. Thanks for nothing, Mum. Well, you will be pleased to know that between you, you’ve managed to ruin any chances I had of even being friends with Sumitha. I hope you’re satisfied.’
‘Look, I’m sure it’s not as bad as . . .’ began his mother. ‘Where are you going?’ she added, as Jon headed for the door.
‘Out,’ said Jon.
Chapter Fifteen
Laura Lays Plans
Tuesday was a very good day for Laura. For one thing, Mr Horage announced that they would try out her recycling idea for one term to see if it worked.
‘We can’t do everything at once,’ he said, ‘but we’ll try it out with aluminium cans and paper because that’s the sort of stuff you kids have most of at school.’
‘But sir,’ said Laura, ‘what about glass and plastics? And we should stop the cafeteria selling meat products, and then perhaps we should—’
‘Hang on a minute, Laura,’ said Mr Horage, laughing. ‘This is a school, not a centre for ecological enlightenment. I admire your principles but we must start slowly. We will put recycling bins in the yard by the science block and some more outside the gym. You can use the noticeboard in the top corridor to publicise what you are doing – with your flair for words you should be able to catch people’s attention.’
Laura felt mollified. She would abandon the novel for the time being and devote herself to promoting ecological awareness.
‘You’ll help, won’t you, Chelsea?’ she asked.
‘I suppose so,’ sighed Chelsea.
‘Don’t let your enthusiasm run away with you,’ said Laura sarcastically.
That evening, while she was writing posters for the noticeboard, Daniel phoned to check that she was going to the demo on Saturday morning.
‘Wear something really warm,’ he instructed, ‘because we sit down and don’t move a lot. Oh, and can you make a poster or a placard or something?’
‘OK,’ said Laura. Daniel had, she thought, potential. She wanted to have a boyfriend and, even though Sumitha was in a mood with Jon at the moment, she knew Jon had eyes for no one else.
She was ten minutes into making her placard when her father phoned. She hadn’t seen him since before Christmas because the Bestial Betsy had insisted that they should take soppy Sonia and drippy Daryl to stay with their grandmother in Norfolk for the holiday. What’s more, she was still waiting for her Christmas present from him.
‘Hi, sweetie,’ he said. ‘Look, how about I take you out for a meal on Saturday evening? Just you and me,’ he emphasised, knowing Laura’s antipathy towards Betsy. ‘We could make it a belated Christmas celebration – and there’s something I want to talk to you about.’
And something you want to give me, I hope, thought Laura.
‘Great, Dad,’ she said. ‘By the way, do you recycle?’
‘No, love, I always take the car.’
‘I said recycle, not cycle,’ said Laura.
‘Oh, that,’ said Peter. There was a long pause.
‘Dad? Are you there?’
‘Yes, sweetie, just having a sip of my Scotch. No, recycling and all that stuff – that’s Betsy’s department – she’d re-use a teabag given half a chance. Do you know, she even saves those slivers of soap that get left at the end of a bar and sticks them all together to make another one? Crazy or what?’
It was a pity, thought Laura, that Betsy was a home-breaker and a man-snatcher. Otherwise she could have quite admired her.
‘That’s a good idea,’ said Laura. ‘Daniel says . . .’
There was another gulping noise. ‘Who’s Daniel?’ asked her father.
‘I’ll explain on Saturday,’ said Laura. ‘Dad, are you OK?’
‘Me? Oh, yes, fine. But I’ll be all the better for seeing you.’
‘See you on Saturday then,’ said Laura. Her father really did sound rather weird.
Chapter Sixteen
Help! I Need Somebody
Any hopes that Chelsea had about things getting better had faded by Wednesday. On Monday, Miss McConnell had a go at her for not completing her French assignment and told her that life did not owe her a living and that she was wasting a good brain and should start pulling her weight.
On Tuesday during lunch hour, she asked Laura if she would go out to Lorenzo’s for her birthday meal.
‘Oh, sorry – I can’t – I’m going out with my dad,’ said Laura.
‘Well, OK, how about we go shopping in the morning instead?’ Chelsea suggested. ‘You can help me spend the birthday money I hope I am going to get.’
‘Can’t,’ said Laura. ‘I’m going to a demo with Daniel.’
‘A what?’ queried Chelsea.
‘A demonstration outside Leehampton Labs,’ explained Laura. ‘They do all this cruel testing on rabbits and cats and stuff. Why don’t you come?’
‘That’s a terrible attitude!’ shouted Laura. ‘How can you be so complacent! It would be better not to have make-up at all than to make animals suffer for our vanity!’
Chelsea shrugged. ‘Anyway it’s my birthday – can’t you do your righteous bit another week?’ she grumbled.
‘Oh, so Chelsea Gee’s birthday is more important than an animal’s life, is it? Well, great. And I thought you were my friend!’
And she flounced off to geography. Chelsea was stunned. Of course she was Laura’s friend. They had been friends for years. It was an accepted fact. Come to think of it, talking of friendship, how could Laura let her down like that? Surely her birthday was more important that some stupid protest?
Sumitha will come, thought Chelsea on Tuesday evening and rang her number. But Sumitha declined her offer since her father was taking her to the radiology unit with him so she could observe one of his shifts.
‘Oh, very exciting!’ said Chelsea cuttingly. ‘Can’t you do that some other time?’
‘Not really,’ said Sumitha.
‘Great,’ said Chelsea.
What made it worse was that on Wednesday, her father said, ‘I’ve booked the table for four – who are you bringing?’
‘Not sure yet,’ Chelsea mumbled. ‘I’ll tell you tomorrow.’
It was so humiliating. Every other fifteen-year-old had a boyfriend to take; but every boy she fancied disappeared. Rob, Guy . . . She had a flash of inspiration.
‘Porter’s Lodge, how may I help you?’
‘I’d like to speak to Guy Griffiths please, but I don’t know what hall of residence he’s in.’ Chelsea’s heart was pounding.
How Could You Do This To Me, Mum? Page 4
