Charity

by Lesley Pearse

  She jumped up quickly. ‘Look I must go. I really liked talking to you Hugh. But you know how it is.’

  ‘It’s an archaic and snobbish rule banning us from mixing with the staff,’ he said indignantly, getting up from the grass.

  Hugh had more experience with girls than most of the other boys. Last summer he’d done some heavy petting with an older barmaid called Angela and in the Christmas hols there’d been Wendy who worked in the local grocer’s. The sort of girls his parents would approve of wouldn’t let him get closer than a chaste kiss. But in the last few months, fired by stories from other boys and pin-up pictures in magazines, he had found himself dwelling on girls constantly and he was desperate to get some real experience before going on to Oxford.

  He wasn’t the only boy in the sixth year to notice Charity. Duncan Gooding raved about her blonde hair; Antony Curlew went into raptures about her blue eyes and her wide mouth. But while other boys merely observed her from a distance and fantasised about kissing, or even screwing her, Hugh had been determined to get to know her. Running into her today wasn’t an accident. He’d planned it: he’d been watching her movements for weeks, waiting for an opportunity. If he was honest, all he’d wanted until now was to score points. If he’d been able to go back to the sixth form and boast that he’d kissed her, that would’ve been enough. He hadn’t for one moment expected her to be so well spoken, or so intelligent. He certainly hadn’t expected to really like her.

  ‘Another week and I won’t be a pupil any more,’ he said, frantically trying to think of some way to persuade her to see him again. ‘Couldn’t you meet me one evening?’

  He didn’t know how he could get out unseen, but he was desperate enough now to try.

  Charity just stood there looking at him. Something stirred within her. It was like goosebumps, butterflies in her tummy and a faint electric shock all at once. It was tempting to agree, but she remembered Carol telling her how it was always the staff who got punished, while the boys only got a telling off. She’d also pointed out that public schoolboys used kitchen maids for practice at seduction. They wouldn’t dream of having one as a real girlfriend.

  ‘I daren’t.’ She dropped her eyes from his and backed away. ‘If Miss Hawkins found out I’d be sacked immediately.’

  For all his lack of experience, Hugh noticed the ‘I daren’t’ rather than I don’t want to, or I can’t. He felt as if there was already a bond between them and he wasn’t going to give up easily.

  ‘Then I’ll have to think of something else,’ he grinned. The sun was behind her, turning her hair to a fuzzy gold halo, and he longed to reach out and stroke it. ‘I can’t see how they can make something of us running into one another accidentally.’

  ‘I must go now,’ she murmured faintly.

  She turned and ran to the side gate into the school grounds, but as she pushed the gate open a low whistle made her turn.

  He had sprinted right down to the other end of the wall, obviously intending to climb over into the wood. He raised one hand to say goodbye and disappeared out of sight.

  It rained solidly for the next two days and the forlorn view of green and grey landscape from the window seemed to heighten the feelings growing inside her. Try as she might, Charity couldn’t banish Hugh from her mind. No book could hold her attention and the clock hands seemed to move even more slowly than usual.

  On Friday morning the rain had stopped, and watery sunshine was trying to peep through the clouds, but as Charity washed the last of the pots and pans she had made up her mind to forget Hugh and walk to the library that afternoon to find some new books.

  It was just before three when she emerged from the staff door. She had changed her overall for jeans and a sweater, and her library books were in a shoulderbag. Pausing for a second at the top of the steps from the kitchen, she glanced at the sky.

  Black clouds were gathering. Could she get to the village and back before the rain came? Undecided she hesitated. The thought of another afternoon indoors held no appeal, but neither did a soaking.

  To her left was the path round the school towards the drive and the main gates. That was the way to Heathfield and the library, yet some strange instinct was urging her to walk over the grass, open that side gate and slip out across the fields towards Mayfield.

  She turned back, ran down the steps and dumped her bag of books just inside the kitchen door. Then before she could change her mind again she ran back up again and straight across the still wet grass to the gate.

  Once in the old orchard she noticed the patch of flattened grass where she’d sat with Hugh two days ago. Her heart fluttered, her plimsolls were soaked and it felt cold, but still she walked on straight across the field, over the stile and on to the footpath that led through the woods, hoping against hope he would appear.

  ‘Charity!’

  Startled by his voice, she turned to see him bounding across the roughly ploughed field on her right. To her surprise he was dressed in running shorts, a school striped rugby shirt and plimsolls.

  Joy surged through her, making her forget the school rules, the imminent rain and the cold.

  ‘Miss Hawkins might be looking out her window,’ she blurted out, looking back towards the school down the hill.

  ‘She went into Heathfield,’ he rasped out, bending over and clutching his stomach as if he had a stitch. ‘I saw her get in the car with Giles, they overtook me up the lane. That’s when I doubled back over the fields. I hoped you’d come.’

  His clothes suggested that this meeting was pure chance and Charity felt oddly hurt by his casualness.

  ‘Perfect cover, eh!’ He looked down at his bare legs splattered with mud. ‘No one would suspect me of meeting a girl like this! You aren’t embarrassed by me being dressed like this, are you?’

  ‘No.’ She felt a sense of kinship with him now and, as he said, it was the perfect cover.

  ‘I came out yesterday and the day before,’ he said as he walked briskly up the hill beside her, into the wood, peering round at her face. ‘I didn’t think you’d come, really. Not when it was raining so hard. But I hoped you would.’

  That admission sounded as if his feelings were the same as hers, and as they reached the far end of the wood Charity felt safer. From the old log where she’d often sat to rest there was a clear view down the hill. Even if someone did come up the path, they would have more than enough time to separate before they were seen.

  ‘It was nice talking to you the other day,’ she said hesitantly as she sat down. ‘But I –’ She stopped short not knowing what to say.

  He stood in front of her, looking down at her, muscular tanned legs slightly apart, hands on his hips.

  ‘Don’t say you don’t like me?’

  His expression made her feel odd. There was hurt in his dark blue eyes.

  ‘No. I’m just scared of getting the sack,’ she said.

  The clouds were growing darker and thicker by the minute. Mayfield in the distance was shrouded in mist and it was getting colder.

  Hugh sat down next to her, his legs stretched out in front of him. He wiped some of the mud from them with a clump of grass.

  ‘If you met me after I’d left the school, say at a pub or a party, no one could say anything!’

  Carol would have known how to handle this. Charity had no experience to fall back on. Was he trying to say he wanted her as a girlfriend? Or was he merely looking for someone to talk to?

  ‘I feel awkward,’ she stammered. ‘I’m not used to boys, apart from my brothers.’

  ‘We’re just people,’ he shrugged. ‘Besides, I like you!’

  She giggled with embarrassment and felt slightly less intimidated.

  ‘Lots of the other boys have got girlfriends,’ Hugh said. ‘I’ve often wanted to ask them how you go about it, but you can’t ask things like that, can you?’

  ‘Carol used to know about all that,’ Charity volunteered. ‘She was very good at talking to people.’

  ‘So are y
ou.’ He turned to her, his face thoughtful. ‘And you’re much prettier than her, lots of the other boys fancy you.’

  ‘None of them ever see me,’ she laughed, liking the flattery but not believing it.

  ‘We see you going up and down the stairs. We watch you laying the tables.’ He grinned. He couldn’t possibly admit that Jackson, one of the other sixth-formers, claimed he always thought of Charity when he masturbated. Or indeed that the sight of her small bottom and slim legs in her shorts had kept him wide awake for the past two nights. It seemed to Hugh that there had to be something special here. He hadn’t told anyone he’d spoken to her, even though it would have boosted his image in the other boys’ eyes. She was his secret, and a deliciously sweet one.

  Hugh glanced through his eyelashes at her. She had the most adorable wide mouth, with plump full lips, and he longed to touch her silky hair.

  ‘Don’t you ever notice any of the boys?’

  ‘Not really.’ Charity smiled. ‘Some of the little ones, because they make me think of Toby, but the big ones make me nervous.’

  The conversation moved away from personal things, on to his running, the cricket team and his intended career.

  ‘I’ve bent to Dad’s wishes to a certain extent. But I’m going to be a criminal lawyer,’ he told her. ‘My father’s into company law, acting for unscrupulous rich men who want to screw someone else to make a few more thousands. I intend to help people, not grind them further into the dirt.’

  It was touching to find he was idealistic, that his stuffy parents hadn’t managed to turn him into a carbon copy of themselves.

  She talked about her need to get a better job and one day find a home she could share with her brothers and sister.

  ‘They’ll be almost grown up by the time I make enough money,’ she sighed. ‘I miss them so much, you can’t imagine what it’s like.’

  ‘I can’t believe anyone would be so cruel as to keep you apart,’ Hugh said in sympathy. ‘Maybe I could ask my father about the legal position. Surely if your uncle is your guardian too then he’s being derelict in his duty by ignoring you?’

  ‘The way I see it, adults can do what they like.’ Charity’s voice shook. ‘What really hurts is that he’s probably told lies about me and I can’t talk to the children to make them understand that.’

  It was as they walked back through the wood that Hugh took her hand as naturally as the children would. But as his fingers closed round hers she felt a strange sense of elation.

  ‘I’d better go on alone from here,’ she said as they approached the end of the wood.

  ‘Will you meet me here tomorrow?’ he asked, turning to stand right in front of her.

  ‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she whispered, hanging her head. ‘I can’t afford to lose my job. Lou and Geoff would be disappointed in me too.’

  With one hand still holding hers, he lifted the other to her cheek and stroked it lightly and she was forced to look up at him. His dark blue eyes held no danger, only tenderness.

  ‘I want to see you in the hols,’ he whispered. ‘They can’t stop us doing that. But I can’t wait that long. I’ve got to see you before, to make arrangements. We’ll make certain no one sees us. I won’t breathe a word to anyone at school.’

  His hand on her face felt so good … she was aware he had stepped closer, and that he was slowly bending down to her and all at once his lips were on hers.

  Carol had often spoken of kissing, but Charity hadn’t expected it to be anything like this.

  His lips were warm and soft, and a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as he drew her closer. Not a practised kiss like ones in films, their noses got in the way and she could hardly breathe, but still it had some strange magic that made her shut her eyes, arms moving round his slim body.

  It was beginning to rain, just a few drops at first, which they ignored as they held one another, heads bent together. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt and his breath warm on her skin.

  Trees were all around, forming a green canopy above them and the path was muddy beneath their feet. As the rain became heavier, the drumming on leaves made them look up.

  ‘Run back,’ he whispered, kissing her one more time. ‘You’ll get soaked without a coat. I’ll meet you here tomorrow at three.’

  She ran then. Out of the woods, down the footpath and on without stopping or looking back till she reached the stile.

  Pat was in the kitchen buttering slices of bread as Charity ran in through the door. Her hair was plastered to her head, rain running down her face.

  ‘You’re soaked,’ Pat reproved her. ‘Look at your jeans! What on earth have you been doing?’

  Rain had penetrated right through to her underwear, and her saturated jeans were making puddles on the kitchen floor as she paused to get her breath back.

  ‘I went for a walk,’ she said lamely. ‘I didn’t think it would rain.’

  Pat frowned. Charity had long since stopped calling her the Viper. Her sharpness was just a manner brought about by her good-for-nothing husband and the responsibility of providing for her three children. Now her long, pale face showed concern, perhaps even suspicion that Charity had been up to something.

  ‘Out of those wet clothes,’ she said reprovingly. ‘You’ll get pneumonia!’

  Charity stripped off her clothes in her room and put on her dressing-gown, shivering now. From her window she could see Hugh in the distance, running up the playing fields, his brown legs shiny with rain, and her heart contracted painfully.

  That night she couldn’t sleep. She could see Hugh, feel the warmth of his hand on her cheek, the softness of his lips on hers. She wanted to see him again, wanted it more than anything. Yet terrible fear came with the wanting.

  She knew nothing of kissing, of courtship and cuddling. All she knew was the part that it all led to and that meant pain and humiliation. Yet even though her heart was hammering with fear, she knew she’d risk everything to see him again.

  Chapter Eight

  Charity stood emotionally on the bottom of the main staircase listening to the boys singing, her eyes prickling.

  The anthem was ‘I Vow to Thee My Country’ and the sentiments it expressed had never seemed more appropriate or moving.

  Seven days since Hugh first kissed her, long nights of lying awake thinking of him.

  The wide front door was open to let in a welcome breeze, and sunshine danced on the polished wood floor turning it into a gleaming pool. Beyond the steps outside was just a fragment of England’s beauty, the sweeping green lawn speckled with daisies, a majestic chestnut tree, then the larch and beech trees by the boundary wall, planted a century ago.

  Smells of steak-and-kidney pudding mingled with chalk and polish and if she stood on tiptoe she could just see into the assembly hall through a high pane of glass on the door. Two hundred boys. The youngest at the front by the stage; at the back the older ones who were almost men. A sea of blue blazers, voices raised in patriotic fervour. To the right of the stage was the roll of honour, a reminder of old boys who had made the ultimate sacrifice for their country in both world wars.

  ‘Stirring, isn’t it?’ Miss Hawkins’s voice behind her made Charity jump. ‘Especially now when so many of them are leaving. They came as little boys; now they are ready to take their places as men in the outside world.’

  Charity hastily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled.

  ‘I was just going to help Matron,’ she said quickly, feeling guilty because her tears were for Hugh alone. ‘I got sidetracked!’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Miss Hawkins’s sharp features softened with concern. ‘You’ve seemed very jumpy these last few days.’

  ‘Just tired, I expect.’ Charity blushed.

  ‘Well you make sure you get a good rest during the holidays.’ The older woman patted Charity’s bottom affectionately. ‘Now off you go, Matron will be wondering how she’s ever going to get finished.’

  Charity had been m
ore than jumpy in the last week, she’d been unable to eat, sleep or even think clearly. The price for meeting Hugh in secret was high – instant dismissal with no reference – but she had willingly gambled everything for just an hour in his arms.

  All day she thought of nothing but him, washing and drying dishes at astonishing speed, mouth dry, heart pounding. When their eyes met in the refectory, she had to rush away in confusion. If he strolled past the kitchen door in an effort to catch a glimpse of her, she wanted to shout and sing because it meant he shared her feelings. One moment she believed they could have a future together; the next she was sure he was merely playing with her.

  ‘Look at those cars!’ Pat leaned on the windowsill of the refectory and gazed out at the cavalcade of vehicles scrunching their way up the drive. ‘All that money and they still pack their kids off to boarding-school! If I was in their shoes I’d be taking mine on picnics every day.’

  Charity heard the envy in the older woman’s voice and finished polishing the last table before she joined her to watch.

  Since ten that morning the noise hadn’t ceased. Trunks being bumped down the stairs, excited voices calling out last frantic messages. Matron, who was normally almost invisible, had been up and down sorting out lost property, admonishing boys to go out into the quadrangle to await their parents and soothing younger ones who were fearful they’d been forgotten.

  ‘Look at ’er.’ Pat waved a work-reddened hand at a woman getting out of a chauffeur-driven Daimler. ‘I bet that bleedin’ outfit costs more than I earn in a year!’

  The woman in question looked like a film star, in a rose pink silk suit with matching wide-brimmed hat. One of the smaller boys ran out to hug her, but she neatly sidestepped him and merely offered a cool cheek for his kiss.

  ‘Poor kid.’ Pat shook her head in dismay. ‘If she feels like that she shoulda given him away at birth.’

  Charity’s mind wasn’t on the woman in the pink suit. Hugh was walking towards the front door with a man who could only be his father, and as he saw her looking out of the window he gave her a secret smile that meant he had to go home to Yorkshire for ten days, but he’d be back for his bar job, the cottage and her.