Toni’s blush hadn’t faded. ‘Not yet, but probably.’
‘Not yet,’ said Roz, ‘but definitely.’
‘Yes,’ said Jacqui.
‘Challenge!’ Mad and Daffy cried as one.
‘What?’
‘Define what you mean by “sex”,’ said Mad.
‘We did what they do in my films.’
‘They do all sorts in your films, Jacqui. Please be more precise.’
‘We did all sorts too.’
‘To what extent?’
Jacqui collected herself with an effort. ‘Up to and including going down on each other. Is that good enough?’
‘It sounds good.’ Mad giggled. ‘Actually, it sounds terrific. Were you like the actresses, all delicate and patient?’
‘I hope so.’ Jacqui looked uncomfortable but unashamed. ‘My climax lasted ages. It was best-ever. She seemed to like hers too.’
‘I think you’ve passed your challenge,’ said Daffy. ‘And my answer’s yes as well.’
‘So’s mine,’ Mad added.
‘My turn,’ Heather said. ‘When I told my aunt I was going to an all-girls’ school, she said it would turn me into a lesbian. She even said I’d end up with an extra A-level in Cunnilingus. I had to look that up to see what she meant. My question is: Was she right? Does coming here turn us all into lesbians?’
‘I don’t think there’s any danger of me becoming a proper lesbian,’ Toni replied. ‘Real, butch lesbians scare me. I might be a bit lipstick, because I find pretty girls attractive. But if I ever do try it, it won’t be anything to do with The Manor. It will be to do with me and the way I am.’
‘I like guys too much to be a proper lesbian,’ said Roz. ‘But I could easily be bisexual. And this place has made me grow up quicker. I probably wouldn’t be so close to taking the plunge if I hadn’t come here. Not that The Manor’s changed me; it’s just hurried me along.’
‘I possibly could become a lesbian.’ Jacqui wasn’t exactly flushing, although her cheeks were pinker than normal. ‘But I’m like Toni and Roz. It’s me, not anything they’ve done to me while I’ve been here.’
‘I think I might be institutionalized,’ Daffy said. ‘I read somewhere that sixty per cent of women in prison have lesbian relationships. That obviously includes bisexuals stuck for choice, but it has to include masses of straight women too; ones who’d stay straight if they weren’t locked up.’
‘I’ve read that sort of stuff,’ Roz put in, ‘but it’s all damned lies and statistics, isn’t it? These straight women have one kiss in the showers, some fiddling accountant bangs on another five per cent.’
‘Maybe so, but I bet sixty per cent isn’t so far off the percentage in this school.’
‘Based on this roomful of sex maniacs, it’s fifty per cent,’ Jacqui observed.
‘Give it another few months and it’ll probably be a hundred,’ Daffy countered.
‘Still all sex maniacs, though, hardly an unbiased sample.’
‘Well never mind what the actual percentage is, it’s enormously higher than the country in general. So it does seem that institutions like schools and prisons foster lesbianism.’
‘Yes, but for different reasons. In prison there simply isn’t anyone else to have it off with. Here it really is by choice. We aren’t always confined to our cells, are we?’
‘I sometime think I am.’
Madeleine had been listening to this exchange in silence. Heather suddenly realized the other girl was crying. Mad stood abruptly and, before anyone could say anything, she barged past Daffy and left the room.
‘Maddy . . .’ Daffy called. But too late; she was gone. ‘What got into her?’
‘I think she misunderstood what you were saying.’ Heather shrugged. ‘I think she might have thought you said . . . well, that you’re only so close because you share the same room.’
‘D’oh!’ Daffy smacked herself on the forehead.
‘Let’s take a break,’ Jacqui said. She looked at her watch. ‘Roz can get snacks, Toni can get pop.’
‘What about me?’
‘You brought Mary Rose’s weed, Hev, so you’re fully paid up.’ Jacqui could be quite forceful when she wanted to be. She already had her guests on their feet and most of the way out into the corridor. ‘Okay then. Back here for three, film rolling at five past. That should give you time to kiss and make up, shouldn’t it, Daff?’
‘It’s long enough for some serious grovelling,’ Daffy conceded.
Heather was filing out with the others when Jacqui caught her arm, restraining her. Puzzled, she waited in silence until they were alone, watching the door get closed and locked.
‘Alone together at last.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. I’ve been wondering how to get you away from your bit of skirt,’ Jacqui said, rounding on her.
Heather was even more puzzled. Jacqui was smiling but seemed nervy. Her boobs were quivering.
‘What do you mean, “bit of skirt”?’
‘You and Mary Rose. She guards you like an Alsatian. I’ve wanted to prise you apart for simply ages.’
Heather’s heart started thumping as realization sunk in. Jacqui was a fourth former; tallish, blonde and alluring. She fancied her very much, especially those quivering bits.
If only I wasn’t committed.
‘Mare is my best friend,’ she said dutifully. ‘I’m saving myself.’
‘That’s fine,’ Jacqui replied, still advancing. ‘We don’t have to go all the way. There are lots of other things we can do.’
Heather didn’t have anywhere to retreat to. She was already up against the wall panels. ‘What other things?’
‘Here, I’ll show you.’
It didn’t seem possible to not be kissed. Or stroked and caressed. Heather stood there meekly and submitted.
Oh good grief but this is nice!
So nice she couldn’t reasonably complain about a bit of bold groping and squeezing. Not when the groping and squeezing was as nice as the kissing, possibly even nicer.
Hand in knickers now. Hand boldly in sopping wet knickers.
Good grief! Good grief! Good grief!!
Heather’s most intimate muscles wanted to violently clench. She made a feeble attempt to resist but the older girl wasn’t having any of that.
‘Do it,’ she whispered, ‘let it happen.’
So Heather did, gasping as she realized the groping wasn’t going to stop. Light-headed now, her brain clouded with weed and lust.
Oh wow, she’s going to make me do it again!
And again and again!
‘Come on,’ said Jacqui finally, peeling Heather’s trembling and very grateful body away from the panelling, tugging her towards the bed. ‘We can be delicate, patient and very discreet. Mary Rose will never know . . .’
* * *
Pongo, against all common sense, had started to think he might get out of this unharmed. Ape-man’s disappointment had given him hope.
‘Free rides,’ he said to Harry, using every last ounce of conviction, ‘no way. Not me. This is the first time I’ve been to Shipley in years.’
There was someone coming down the cellar steps. Make that two someones. The first was a shifty-eyed bloke who looked about Pongo’s age. The second was a painfully thin, deathly pale hooker who looked as if she did heroin at least eight times a day.
Fuck, it’s her!
‘That’s him!’ the hooker said immediately. ‘He’s the worst of the lot.’
‘She’s off her head,’ Pongo countered. ‘Honest.’
‘Lying bastard,’ she spat. Turning to Shifty Eyes, she enlarged. ‘This is the one who did me twice. First he fucked off for change and never came back. Then he gave me twenty to square up and go again. Except it were a dodgy twenty, weren’t it?’
‘Is this true, Pongo?’ Harry was theatrically disappointed. ‘Did you con this lovely, very trusting lady?’
‘Not me. I’ve never seen her before in my life
.’
‘How do I know you’ve got a big brown birthmark on your knob then?’ The hooker was still spitting mad. She seemed ready to pull out the evidence.
Pongo tried not to panic. ‘Okay, so maybe I have seen you before. You look different. Maybe it’s your hair. Whatever, I never stuck you with a dodgy twenty.’
‘What about my hair?’ she said, scowling.
‘It’s looking good.’
‘Fuck off you twat. You did me twice!’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘You did too! I’ll never forget it. It took me ages to pass it on.’
‘Hah,’ he cried, seizing on her words, ‘if you passed it on you didn’t lose out, did you?’
‘That’s not the fucking point.’
‘She’s right,’ said Harry. ‘In the circumstances, it’s the thought that counts. You clearly ripped her off. And when you did that, you ripped off the rest of us too.’
The hooker seemed exceptionally pleased to hear this. She kissed Harry on his unscarred cheek before leaving with Shifty Eyes. The other three waited in silence as footsteps ascended and an ill-fitting door creaked then slammed. When he was satisfied they were alone, Harry shook his head.
‘I thought I could trust you,’ he said sadly. ‘I thought you’d tell me the truth. Now I don’t know what to believe.’
‘I only lied about the girl,’ Pongo whined. ‘Everything else is true. I swear.’
Harry maintained his sad expression.
‘Think carefully before you answer. If you were about to die and it could save you, would you change anything you’ve said?’
Pongo’s bladder couldn’t take any more. Tears were streaming and his nose was full of runny snot. Now he pissed himself. Two seconds later his bowels moved and the world got even worse.
‘There isn’t anything to change,’ he wailed. ‘I’ve told you everything. And she didn’t lose out. It’s not fair . . .’
He trailed off into some serious sobbing, shoulders heaving. He hadn’t wept this badly since his soapbox racer got trashed.
‘I like you, Pongo.’ Harry chuckled. ‘I don’t know why, but I do. So I’m going to spare you the branding. Does that sound okay?’
Pongo nodded dumbly.
‘And you still don’t want to change anything?’
‘No.’
‘Good lad.’ Harry patted Pongo on the shoulder then turned to Ape-man. ‘Your turn. Use the dog lead. And let’s make sure this one’s not found.’
* * *
‘Poor Geoff,’ Penny began. ‘I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard about Samantha. How’s he taking it?’
‘Not bad,’ Rick replied, not in the least unhappy about being waylaid.
‘Are you sure? I spoke to him a moment ago. He seems fresh already.’
‘He’ll be okay. He’s a tough old sod. It runs in the family.’
‘There is a difference between tough and insensitive, you know.’ Penny looked at him, allowing her lips the faintest of twitches. ‘Excuse me, I forgot. You don’t do sensitive do you, just tough.’
Rick grinned. Penny had been his girlfriend shortly before he joined up. At the time he’d thought it had been purely sex (he’d been a super-fit eighteen-year-old; she’d been two years older and simply couldn’t get enough), but when he’d gone she sent him some quite loving letters. They’d got burned before any of the lads saw them, of course, but he’d enjoyed getting them all the same.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘So I’m crap at writing down feelings and things. What have you been up to while I’ve been away?’
‘In the last six years? This and that.’
‘What’s on for tonight?’
‘Nothing involving drunken squaddies, if that’s what you’re building up to.’
Rick’s grin widened. ‘One: I’m not a squaddie. And two: I’m not getting drunk.’
‘Good, you can look after your big brother. Make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll regret.’
‘You seem very bothered about Big Bruv all of a sudden. Is there something going on?’
‘No!’ She punched Rick lightly on the arm. ‘I’m just worried about him.’
‘Don’t be. He’s back to work next week. That’ll make things more normal.’
‘Work?’ Penny was clearly alarmed. ‘What about the children?’
‘He’s got it all arranged. They’ll be okay.’
‘The poor little things, their lives have been turned upside down. He shouldn’t leave them at a time like this.’
‘You sound like my mother.’
‘Well Mother knows best,’ said Penny. ‘I’ve experience with children. I’ve been through this sort of upheaval.’
‘It hasn’t affected your figure.’
‘Not my children . . . my cousin’s children. I helped out when she was getting her divorce. Maybe I can help Geoff, too.’
‘Are you sure there isn’t something going on?’
‘Sure I’m sure.’ She punched him again, harder this time.
‘In that case why don’t you reconsider tonight?’
‘One: I’ve got a boyfriend through there somewhere.’ She jerked a thumb in the direction of the taproom. ‘And two: you’ve already fixed yourself up with Elaine.’
‘Don’t miss much, do you?’
‘I never have missed much.’ Her lips twitched more noticeably. ‘Apart from letters from the front, that is. Now go look after your brother. I really am worried about him.’
Rick watched her retreat, admiring everything about her. Shame, he thought, Penny tonight, Elaine tomorrow . . .
Greedy sod!
Mum and Dad had been joined by Samantha’s parents and relatives so he got another pint and fell in with Geoff, who was with Frank and a crowd of others. Sharon immediately moved next to him, apparently glad of new company.
‘How long have you been a soldier, Rick?’
‘Six years.’
‘Six whole years! You must have killed lots of people.’
‘Twenty, actually.’
‘You’ve killed twenty!’ she echoed. Nearby conversations stopped and heads turned their way.
‘Yeah,’ he confirmed. ‘I’m in Catering. I had a nasty accident with some chicken soup.’
Although Sharon joined the general laughter she looked absolutely serious when she asked, ‘When did that happen? I never saw it on the news.’
‘There was a cover up.’ Rick was relieved everybody else had stopped listening. ‘We said it was friendly fire. Blamed it on the Yanks.’
Frank was tugging Geoff over so Sharon made up a quartet with the three brothers. And Penny had been right when she’d said Geoff was fresh already. In fact he wasn’t so far off wasted.
‘Slow down a bit,’ Frank said, sotto voce. ‘You can’t get drunk on a day like this.’
‘No? If I can’t get drunk on a day like this, when can I get drunk?’
‘Everyone will be gone in an hour,’ said Rick, slipping into UN Peacekeeping mode. ‘Why don’t you slow down until then? Let Samantha’s mum get away, then you can have a really big drink. You can stay as long as you like. I’ll carry you home.’
Use of Samantha’s name did the trick. Geoff behaved himself until the more responsible guests left, then they moved into the taproom with the footballers and other ne’er-do-wells. Frank and Sharon joined them for a bit and so did Dad, but Mum wisely took herself off home. While the others got steadily shitfaced Rick stuck to his word, drinking beer but taking it easy. And just as well; there was some serious boozing going on around him. By early evening all the older mourners had gone and the football team had lost its attack and most of midfield.
Later on . . . much later on . . . still seeming completely sober, Penny palmed Rick a beer mat. It was a different shape and design to Elaine’s but had been put to exactly the same use.
‘It’s not for you,’ she whispered. ‘It’s for Geoff. Get him to call me. I really do need to speak to him.’
Chapter Seven
‘This is where I saw them from,’ said Mary Rose. ‘They were down there, by that big oak tree. Helena must have gone over the wall to meet him.’ The self-proclaimed redhead chuckled. ‘I’ve never seen anyone having it off against an oak tree before. It must be good though; she had him twice.’
‘No sign of her today,’ Heather said drearily.
‘She’s probably still getting splinters out of her bum. They were really going at it. I’m surprised the bark hasn’t been stripped off. You know, like a bear’s been scratching his back.’
Heather glanced up at the sun. It was the fifth glorious day in a row. Last week’s monsoon had been consigned to the history books. Today the grass wasn’t just dry enough to sit on, it was dry enough to use to start a fire.
‘I want to have it off against an oak tree,’ Mary Rose continued. ‘It’s gone to the top of my wish-list. I wonder how Helena set it up.’
‘Mare, I’ve something to tell you.’
‘Let me guess. We’re alone together, at last?’
Ouch, that hit a nerve!
‘No,’ said Heather, ‘not that. It’s . . .’
‘Shush. Whatever it is, it can wait.’ Mary Rose’s eyes were full of the usual mischief. ‘Let’s take advantage of each other while we can.’
Heather decided to keep her secret a little longer, passively letting herself be shoved onto her back. Resistance zero . . . as per always. She didn’t even think about objecting when deft fingers unfastened her school shirt and bra. Nor did she complain when caresses were replaced with kisses. It felt good. Mary Rose had caressed her boobs before (and so now had Jacqui, of course) but no-one had ever kissed them.
UNCONSECRATED GROUND Page 8
