by Rebecca Reid
But not yet. Not until this evening was finished and she had done what needed to be done with Georgie and Lila, and they were safely back in Boston where Brett couldn’t touch the world that existed here.
THEN
Lila
There was a knock at the door of Nancy and Georgia’s dormitory, and just as Lila was opening her mouth to form the words ‘piss off’ it opened. Not waiting until someone said to come in was up there among the worst sins imaginable at Fairbridge Hall. Probably because they all woke up together, had lessons together, ate lunch together, lay around the common room together and spent the entire evening hanging out. Privacy, at least a tiny film of it, was the only thing that made life bearable. Without it, you had pretty much nothing.
Lila was conscious that all three of their heads spun towards the door at the exact same time, like they were puppets on the same strings.
From behind the door stepped Miss Brandon. Lila’s heart thudded in her chest. Nothing good would come of this visit. She’d already ruined the dorms and the social. What was she going to do now?
‘Phones please, ladies,’ she said brightly. In her hand was a wide flat box full of padded envelopes.
None of the girls said anything.
‘Ladies?’ said Miss Brandon. She was putting on a fake cheerful voice. She clearly wanted them to think that she was fine, that this was no big deal. But Lila could see the way that her fingers were digging into the box. It was piss-easy for her to be brave and up herself when they were in class, or there were other teachers around. But she was on their turf in the dorms. She hadn’t done her trick of changing into ‘house’ clothes this evening. Someone clearly wanted to retain their armour. Lila looked her up and down, slowly drinking in everything from the shoes (pink ballet pumps, shamefully similar to a pair that Nancy owned) to the navy trousers and cream blouse. She had a body underneath it – her tits were pretty perky and while her blouse wasn’t giving much away, she clearly had a waist. She was young. That was what was so weird about her.
How could anyone be twenty-six and such a knob? And how could anyone be twenty-six and want to be stuck at Fairbridge Hall? Twenty-six was for living in London and having friends and going to parties. Twenty-six was about sleeping with guys who bought you nice stuff. Twenty-six was not supposed to be tragically loafing around a girls’ school pretending to be some kind of inspiration and all the while torturing teenagers because you didn’t grow up with the same privileges they had.
‘Sixth form don’t hand their phones in,’ said Nancy. They all knew what was coming. But they needed to hear it from her. They needed the actual words to leave her actual mouth so that they could believe that it was happening.
‘We’ve had a re-think on the technology rule,’ Miss Brandon said, again with this hideous happy voice. ‘When it was originally implemented, phones only made calls and texts. Now you girls are getting all sorts of new hi-tech phones, there’s so much pressure on you all, with guys texting you and this new social media. We thought it best if we take them away at night to make sure that you get a good night’s sleep – we’re only trying to protect you.’
The girls said nothing. ‘There’s a lot of research about how the blue light can stop you from achieving restful sleep,’ she added.
Lila stared at Georgia, who was fiddling with the fringe of the blanket on her bed, seemingly intent on not looking up.
‘Cookie always said we’d be old enough to make sensible decisions by the time we were in sixth form,’ said Lila. ‘It’s supposed to be one of the perks.’
Miss Brandon leaned against the wall, lowering the box of phones, her smile fixed in place. It was like she was in some bad amateur dramatics production.
‘Getting to the top of the school isn’t about perks,’ she said, ‘it’s about responsibility.’
‘Surely it can be about both?’ said Nancy, who had pulled up to her full five foot ten. ‘Responsibilities are supposed to be tempered with benefits, no?’
Brandon looked perturbed. ‘It’s probably not a debate for tonight.’
‘Is it a debate we can have another evening?’ Nancy asked. ‘I think a policy change like the removal of our phones would probably merit some kind of year-wide discussion?’
Lila could see that Georgia was worried. She had that expression like she was going to cry and be sick at the same time. Obviously she was in a complete panic that this discussion would somehow result in their barring being extended, meaning she’d have to go even longer without a weekend at home. Much as Georgia hated missing out, she’d bail on weekends at Nancy’s place in London to hang out with her mum. Georgia was soppy about her family. Even when her brother wasn’t going away. Why she should feel that way was a mystery to Lila. Georgia’s house was sort of depressing, what with the carpets and the crockery and her younger brothers sharing a bedroom, and everyone using the same bathroom every morning. When they stayed at Georgia’s house her parents were so parenty, always asking them how things were going and how their results had been. It had taken, like, a year before they’d told Nancy and Lila not to call them Mr and Mrs Green. Nancy said it was because they were common.
‘The phone policy isn’t up for discussion,’ said Miss Brandon. ‘But if you’ve got any other suggestions about how we could run the house better, you know where the suggestions box is.’
‘So it’s a dictatorship now?’ said Lila.
‘No, Lila, it’s a school. And schools have rules.’
Lila opened her mouth to tell Miss Brandon that they’d looked her up and they knew she hadn’t been to a real school, or a proper university, so what would she know about rules? But Georgia interrupted.
‘Here’s my phone, Miss Brandon,’ she said sullenly. She held out a Nokia 3310. Lila tried to suppress a laugh. How could she have possibly forgotten? In the years when handing your phone in was standard, when they were younger, everyone had had a dummy phone. You’d swipe an old phone from home, and hand that in. Cookie had been too ancient to know the difference. Once Georgia had handed in a calculator and no one had noticed. They’d nearly wet themselves laughing.
Nancy went into her bedside drawer and retrieved a similar brick. ‘And mine,’ she said, pouting.
Miss Brandon put the phones into separate envelopes labelled with their names. Lila tried not to grin. What an idiot. Maybe where she came from people still used ancient mobile phones.
‘I’d also like your real phones,’ said Miss Brandon.
‘I’m sorry?’ said Nancy.
‘I realize that we’re still getting to know each other, but I’m not stupid, girls. I’ve seen you on your phones for the last four weeks. I’d like you to hand them in, now.’
Georgia went first. She said nothing as she handed over her Razr phone. Nancy followed, putting her iPhone into an envelope. ‘It’s fragile,’ she said, as she placed it in the box. ‘And you’re liable for it now.’
Lila couldn’t bring herself to say a word, she merely dropped her phone into the box.
‘I presume they’ll be available for collection at breakfast?’ asked Nancy, ‘like when we were thirteen?’
‘Usually, yes,’ said Miss Brandon. ‘But obviously, in light of your decision to lie, I’ll be confiscating them for twenty-four hours.’
Georgia made a noise a bit like a whimper and Nancy’s neck stained red. Lila watched them both, hoping desperately that one of them would know what to do. How could they make this bitch back off?
‘Oh, and Lila?’ Miss Brandon’s voice cut through her thoughts.
‘Yes?’ snapped Lila.
‘Shouldn’t you be making your way upstairs for quiet time?’
Lila looked at the clock on the wall. ‘I’ve got another four minutes until quiet time.’
Miss Brandon gave her a beaming smile. ‘Well then, you’ll be a bit early. Come on. We can walk up together.’
Miss Brandon picked up the envelope with Georgia’s name on it. ‘I can add another week to the confiscation, if y
ou’d like?’
Georgia made a dramatic whimper at this. Lila stood up and wordlessly moved towards the door. She heard Miss Brandon’s voice from behind her as they both tramped up the stairs. Lila focused on the banister in front of her, looking down the swirl of floors. How high was it? She’d read somewhere that it was almost impossible to survive a fall of more than one floor.
‘Camilla, I think I’d rather you were in your own dormitory before phone collection in future. Your roommates want to spend time with you, you know.’
Lila said nothing.
‘I know Heidi is very appreciative of your support,’ said Miss Brandon, quieter this time. ‘She needs her friends at the moment.’
Lila took the stairs faster, two at a time. When she reached the triple dorm she shoved through the door, grabbed her pyjamas from underneath her pillow and turned back to the door. ‘I’m changing in the bathroom. Stop talking to that bitch about me behind my back. Got it?’
She fled to the bathroom before Heidi, who was sitting on her bed drawing, her mouth slack with surprise, had a chance to answer.
‘Lila?’
She ignored Heidi’s pathetic little voice.
‘Lila?’
She pulled the sheets off from over her head and sat up. The metal bed gave a whine, the mesh which held the mattress up rasping.
‘What?’
‘I was going to turn the light out early. Is that OK? I thought you could keep listening to music with it off.’
Heidi was still wearing her uniform. Was she seriously going to change in the pitch-dark?
‘Don’t you want to change first?’
Heidi retreated to her own bed. What was she trying to hide?
‘Are you worried about Jenny perving on you?’ she sneered. Jenny was lying on her bed at the other end of the long room, with her headphones in.
‘Shut up!’ replied Heidi. ‘She’s not like that. And she’ll know you’re talking about her.’
‘I’m fine with that. Everyone knows what she’s like. She’ll be rubbing one out to the idea of us getting naked as soon as you turn that light off.’
Heidi said nothing but she sort of half smiled. Lila felt a sense of triumph. Heidi still liked her better than Jenny, then.
‘You can’t change in the dark all term. You have to get over it.’
Heidi rummaged in the wardrobe that stood at the end of her bed. The wardrobes were nowhere near big enough to fit a proper amount of clothes. Hideous pine wood, tiny mirror – everyone said the mirrors were small on purpose so that they couldn’t obsess over their image. The real crime, they all agreed, was the lack of shoe space.
Lila pretended to focus on the screen of her iPod, but allowed her eyes to creep over to Heidi. She had turned her back to the room and was doing some deeply complicated changing routine to try and hide her body. It didn’t work. The livid red scar, raised and angry against her pallid skin, was impossible to ignore. With something that ugly on her body, Heidi never stood a chance.
Minutes later, Heidi flicked the switch.
What would Georgia and Nancy be doing downstairs, she wondered. Moving between floors was forbidden in the fifteen minutes before lights out, and they turned a blind eye to talking for forty-five minutes after the lights went off. So they’d have had a whole hour together. Last year, when they’d all been on the same floor, they’d taken to doing half an hour of yoga before bed, to tone their arms for holidays. Then they’d go to the bathroom together and brush their teeth over the triple sink. Sometimes they’d take over one of the attic bathrooms, which still had a huge chipped white bath. They’d fill it up with so much hot water that it was practically a sauna, and sit around, topless, talking about how chic it was to be topless. This term would have its own tricks and games. Tricks and games that she’d miss.
‘Cammy?’
She and Heidi hadn’t exchanged a single word after lights out since the beginning of term, since Lila had thrown her stuff on to the best bed in the room, shoved some clothes in the wardrobe and studiously ignored the other two. Lila suspected Heidi knew Jenny had told her about the arrangement, about how she’d been put in this dorm at Heidi’s request.
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What?’
‘About the first day. The fight.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Lila couldn’t remember having spoken to Heidi on the first day of term, let alone fighting with her.
‘With Nancy and Georgia. The sign-up sheet – Miss Brandon. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.’
‘I’m not in trouble. Don’t be stupid.’
A pause hung between them in the darkness. There was a strip of orange light which fell from the gap between the ancient curtains and illuminated the carpet. There was something so resolutely schoolish about the carpet. Tough and unforgiving. She’d fallen on it once, in first year, and taken the top layer of skin off her knee. When she went home each half-term she would wait until she was alone in her bedroom and sink her feet into the carpet, revelling in the feeling of something designed for comfort rather than longevity. It was funny to think that some people – normal teenagers who went to normal schools – went home to that kind of comfort every single night.
‘Sorry,’ came Heidi’s voice again.
‘I’m not in trouble,’ she repeated. ‘They’re my friends. You don’t get in trouble with your friends.’ That wasn’t true. Of course you got into trouble with your friends. Your friends were supposed to tell you if you were being a bad friend or pissing them off.
‘I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just, I know they don’t like me and they seemed pissed off with you, and if you ever want someone to talk to …’ she paused, swallowing loudly. ‘I mean, we are sharing a room now and we did used to be friends after your mum and everything – we used to—’
‘Thanks,’ Lila replied flatly. ‘But it’s fine.’
There was a sniff. Heidi wasn’t crying, was she? For fuck’s sake. She swung her legs out of bed and crossed the room to stand next to Heidi’s.
‘Are you crying?’
Heidi said nothing, but her breathing was uneven.
‘Please don’t.’
Nothing. Lila sat down on the very edge of the bed and put her hand on the bulk of her body, on top of her duvet. ‘I’m going back to bed now. Don’t cry, OK? Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ came a small voice from underneath the covers.
NOW
Lila
Someone had suggested that they have a break before pudding. Probably Nancy. Clearly, they didn’t think that Lila had noticed the way that she and Georgia had sniped at each other all evening. But she had. She’d watched as Georgia gave Nancy a tiny slither of food, trying to force her to ask for a second helping. She’d seen Nancy leave half of it on her plate in response.
They weren’t like that with her. Was it because they liked her better? Or, more likely, because they didn’t think she was competition? She wasn’t, really. Never had been. Georgia and Nancy had had all the same lessons, they’d gone to Oxford together. They’d spent their whole lives trying to pull in front of each other and pretending not to care who was in front. Lila had never posed a threat.
She had gone to stay with them at Oxford in their first year. Georgia had invited her to stay on her floor and she’d said yes, but then Nancy bought an air mattress so Lila stayed there. Georgia had said it was fine but Lila had known it wasn’t. They’d gone to some pub full of boys in round-neck jumpers and old-fashioned glasses and girls in bootleg jeans and Lila had felt, for the first time in her life, like a fish out of water. Her art school friends weren’t like this. The pubs they went to had sticky floors and music and offers on drinks. Here, everyone sat around the tables having debates.
‘It’s not like this usually,’ Nancy had claimed defensively when Lila asked how they coped without any clubs or bars or anything to do. ‘There’s loads of good places, it’s just that everyone’s got exams coming up.�
��
They’d shared a bottle of wine and halfway through the evening she had realized that Georgia and Nancy were really listening to each other’s answers when Lila asked questions. They clearly hadn’t seen each other all term. ‘We’ve been friends forever,’ Nancy had said. ‘We don’t need to be on top of each other all the time.’
Georgia had admitted it the next day, as she walked Lila back to the station. She said they’d gone for drinks in the first week and it had been awkward, as if the weeks since the end of school had swelled up between them and shoved them apart. Nancy had cut her hair off and was ordering beer. Georgia had started doing a London accent and didn’t eat meat. Lila hadn’t said anything. As they’d waved at her as the train left for London, Lila had been drenched with relief. Freedom. She had wondered if Georgia had felt the same way.
You wouldn’t think it now, though, thought Lila as she watched them across the room. Nancy was holding court, Charlie and Roo watching her, listening for her to make a mistake that they could jump on. Georgia was watching, not saying anything, but smiling. She liked it when people had debates at her house. It made her feel like a hostess.
Brett was standing by the door, smoking another cigarette. He smoked a lot. Maybe it was because he didn’t drink. It must give you something to do with your hands. She looked down at the glass cupped between her fingers. He must be very brave, being able to talk to people without a warm coat of alcohol to hide behind. The idea of it scared her. Even seeing people she actually knew without a personality-boosting drink first was scary. He looked very sad standing there, she decided. Very young and very sad.
‘Come with me,’ Lila whispered into Brett’s ear.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Come!’ she giggled. ‘It’s good, I promise.’
The others were all caught in a conversation, a boring one. Lila had sat on the outside thinking about saying something, but every time a sentence felt right, every time she’d felt sure it wouldn’t make her sound stupid, she’d realize that they had moved on and her point didn’t make any sense any more. They didn’t seem to notice her and Brett slipping away.
