by Noël Cades
28. Risky rendezvous
Susie turned on the sugar in their next English lesson with Mr Peters. Not that he needed much encouragement. She made sure to ask him a couple of questions that flattered him to bestow his knowledge upon the class. He lapped it up.
"Why’s she sucking up to that creep?" Charlotte whispered to Laura.
"No idea." They were both aware of Mr Peters’ fondness for Susie and had no idea why she suddenly appeared to be reciprocating.
Susie had deliberately kept her own counsel in her affairs with Mrs Ayers and Mr Peters. She saw no need to involve the others and potentially compromise them. After all, they didn’t even do Geography.
She had to stop herself laughing when she gave Mr Peters a couple of flirtatious looks and saw his reaction. He was almost beside himself. He had pursued her for so long, building her up into this unattainable object of desire, that reciprocation was overwhelming.
Not that Susie intended to ever actually reciprocate. There were certain depths to which even she, in the pursuit of victory, would not stoop.
* * *
It was break time after English, but Laura and Susie had to dash off to a rehearsal for the poetry recital. Margery and Charlotte were left on the courtyard wall, discussing plans for the Christmas holidays.
"What would your father do if he found out about your staying with Julian?" Margery asked.
"Probably explode, ground me for a thousand years and send me to a convent," Charlotte said.
"And force you to break up."
"That too. It’s not like we’re going to get married though. I mean I like seeing him but I can’t imagine it lasting once he goes to university," Charlotte said.
Margery had been correct in her suspicion that Charlotte wasn’t as into Julian as she might have been. The dalliance with the St Duncan’s rugby captain was a thrill for Charlotte and a score, but more than anything it had helped her focus on what she did want and did not want for herself at that point in her life.
Charlotte liked Julian but she wasn’t in love with him. If anything he represented the first in a whole world of male conquests that awaited her in future. Right now hockey was the most important thing in her life. Everything else could wait. Charlotte now knew what was out there in terms of boys but her real route to freedom would be through her own achievements.
After a lifetime of putting up with her father’s rules and strictures she didn’t want to get straight into the confines of another serious male relationship. She thought Julian should go on to university unencumbered, as eventually should she.
Confessing this to Margery got their friendship back on track.
"It’s not that I don’t like him, Margie, I really do. It’s just not everything, you know?"
"Not like Laura and Mr Rydell?"
"God no. What’s happening with those two terrifies me. It’s all consuming, they’re both practically prepared to risk their entire futures over it. I mean maybe they’ve both found The One and we’ll all be bridesmaids in a few years, but I wouldn’t want to settle for one guy forever right now, would you?" Charlotte said.
Margery didn’t honestly know. She thought if it was the right person it might be quite nice. Unlike Charlotte she didn’t anticipate endless future adventures for herself with a long series of exotic and exciting men. In fact Margery thought it would be less of a distraction to meet the right person early on, as Laura perhaps had. With that achieved and settled, one could then concentrate on other things. Certainly Laura was topping English by a mile now, despite Mr Peters’ amorous yearnings towards Susie and subsequently generous marking of her work.
* * *
Lunch was particularly revolting that day: something described as curry that appeared to consist of fat and gristle in an oily, orange-brown sauce. As usual Charlotte wolfed everything down barely noticing what it was, but even Margery baulked at today’s fare.
For Laura it was egg-day again. As Charlotte had warned her, the vegetarian options basically alternated hard boiled eggs with grated cheddar. Laura had been sick of both long before half-term, but not enough to rescind her new diet and return to the threat of liver.
"I bet you can’t wait until the holidays and actually eating some steak and chicken," Charlotte said.
"And bacon," Laura said. School bacon was awful, flabby and undercooked, but at least it tasted of something.
With a hiatus on her affair with Mr Rydell, at least in terms of the physical side, she had thrown herself into her work. Most of her energy went into the subjects she liked, particularly History and English.
They were being kept so busy with all the rehearsals for the various end of term activities that it helped distract her from wanting to look out for him all the time. The school was a whirl of preparations for the Sixth Form play with St Duncan’s, the carol service, the poetry recital plus end of term exams and the house hockey cup.
Michaelmas House had high hopes of victory. They had several school squad members in house but most of all they had Charlotte Bevan, now pretty much the star player of Francis Hall despite still being in the Lower School. "Amazing to see progress like that," Miss Partridge remarked to Miss Vine. "The natural talent has always been there, but it’s the focus and enthusiasm that has brought it all together." She was planning on approaching Charlotte’s parents about national junior trials.
"Do you want to play in the Junior house team?" Charlotte asked Laura. She herself was captain that year.
"We’ll win, won’t we, with you on the side?" The house tournament was always divided between the Lower and the Upper school, so Charlotte wouldn’t be playing on the Sixth Form team despite her ability.
"We’d better not lose. There are some keen fourth formers but there’s still a place for you if you want it," Charlotte said.
"Is Teresa Hubert playing?"
"No, she should be, but she was so pissed off about me getting into the Firsts that I think she’s turned her back on it all entirely. I even heard her ask Miss Vine if she could switch to cross-country next term."
Next term. When Mr Rydell probably wouldn’t be there any longer. It was horrifying to think of, the school would be empty for her without him. Laura needed to distract herself. "I’ll play then, if you need me."
* * *
Susie hit pay dirt when Mr Peters handed their English exercise books back after marking their latest essays.
Tucked inside hers, on personalised lavender notepaper that reeked of his cologne, was an invitation. "Come to my flat at 5pm today. Urgent." Mr Peters had signed it with his initials in his usual florid hand.
It opened up a world of possibilities. But there was one that Susie easily fixed upon.
Finding a pen with ink that matched as closely as possible, Susie took an envelope and copied the Head of English’s capital P to write "Pat" on it. It looked convincingly like his writing. She slipped the note inside and sealed it. Then she grabbed Mary Rudge who was passing by.
"Can you do me a huge favour and drop this in Mrs Ayers’ pigeonhole by the staff room? Thanks a million!"
Mary was happy to oblige since she was going near that way anyway. Susie felt content. The chips were cast: in good time she would see how they would fall.
* * *
Lessons had finished for the day and it was games again: hockey for Charlotte and Susie, and cross country for Laura and Margery. They set off together but Margery was much slower than usual due to a sore ankle. They ended up right at the back but in the end Margery decided she couldn’t even jog.
So they walked along falling further and further behind everyone else, Margery hobbling uncomfortably. Eventually Miss Vine caught up with them on her bicycle - not fit enough herself to run, she cycled around the pitches to keep an eye on the runners - and asked what was wrong.
"Something with my ankle," Margery said.
"We’d better get you to the school nurse."
"I can take her," Laura offered.
"No that’s fine, you ru
n along and catch up with the others." If truth be told Miss Vine was as glad of the excuse to escape the cold and windy pitches as any of them. She left with Margery limping along, and Laura resumed a gentle jog. It was nice being by herself, she didn’t particularly want to catch up with the others.
As the path took her past the wasteland area, which was a hedge and some bushes that sloped down to the brook, she heard her name called. It was Mr Rydell.
"The coast is clear, come and join me."
She pushed through a gap in the hedge after checking no one was observing her. "What are you doing here?" She was thrilled and bewildered to see him.
"I saw you coming from a distance, and Margery leave with Miss Vine. I wanted to see you." He had her in his arms within seconds and they were kissing passionately, desperately.
She broke off. "We’ll get caught."
"Not here we won’t, it’s completely concealed." He was right. She looked around and saw that the shrubbery and the angle of the bank screened them completely from any sight of the school grounds.
"They’ll notice I’m gone though."
He silenced her with another kiss and she let him crush her against his body as she breathed in his scent and his warmth, longing for his heat all the more in the chill of the air.
There was a tree trunk with ivy growing up it and he turned her and pushed her against it, facing away from him.
"What are you doing?"
"I need you, Laura. I’ve missed you like hell these past couple of weeks."
"We can’t, not here…" she broke off as he slid his hands beneath her underwear, roughly tugging her tracksuit down. One finger slid between her legs and he started playing with her clit. She gasped and held onto the tree, her fingers twining in the thick ivy.
His fingers were firm, forceful. He was getting her so wet that she couldn’t resist, that she would take him inside her here, in the open air, despite all the risk and everything they had been through.
Helpless, her face pressed against the bark and leaves, she felt him grasp her hips and angle them towards his hardness.
"Oh god we can’t…" she made a last attempt to move away from him but he was unyielding. He gripped her firmly and pulled her towards him.
"I need this Laura. And so do you."
He was as hard as a rock. It made him easy for him to slide inside her despite the unusual angle and her initial resistance. She did want him - as much as he wanted her. It felt amazing as he entered her, she could feel every inch of his hardness, deep, deep inside her.
"We fit so well." He groaned as he spoke, pulling back and then thrusting hard into her, pushing her against the tree. Unyielding, it allowed him to slam into her with force, as hard as he wanted, as long as he wanted.
She was a mass of raw sensation: the roughness of the tree, her body forced against it, the cold air, the wonderful huge hardness that he was possessing her with. All her nerves were on edge on fire. She didn’t even care if Jenkins showed up with Mrs Grayson, though she tried not to cry out too much.
She wanted him to touch her clit again and she tried to change the angle to get pressure there but he denied her.
"No, you’re going to come from this alone. Me inside you." Once again he was commanding her, driving her closer to the edge.
She couldn’t use her own hands because he was pinning them with own.
"Please touch me," she begged him. She was being pushed against the bark but she wanted his actual hands on her. He refused her. He wanted to bring her to the edge solely with his hardness inside her.
"I don’t care how long it takes, I can do this to you for a very long time, but you are going to come for me like this," he ordered.
She had no choice but to take it.
Then at some point the sensations in her shifted, and she felt waves begin in her stomach. It was a different kind of release than he normally gave her, it built more slowly and it made her feel even more dizzy. It was the relentlessness of him pushing inside her, giving her in no respite, owning her core.
Surprising herself she began to climax and couldn’t stop crying out, and he put his hand in front of her mouth which only made the physical sensations elsewhere in her body even more intense. The more she struggled the deeper and harder he was within her.
She came like she had never come before. Intensely, bucking against him, almost sobbing. She felt him make extra thrusts at the same time, and then the sensation of his hot essence released in her.
She was laughing now, so overwhelmed, so exhausted. Overjoyed.
"That was good for you?" he asked.
"Unbelievably."
"We are perfect together," he said. He refastened his clothing, and pull her down to the ground, putting his are around her. "At times like this I feel like just leaving and taking you with me."
"Are you still leaving?" She had become resigned to the fact now the shock of the idea was past.
"I have no choice. Look at us. Look at me. This is out of control." His hand traced the side of her face. "I want to be able to be with you, to communicate with you more openly. I know we’ll have to disguise letters and calls for a while but at least you won’t be at risk of expulsion if I no longer work here."
29. Entrapment
"Quick, we need to get to the music lawn." Susie hurried the others after they had finished changing out of their games kit. "Not a moment to lose."
The music lawn ran between the music building and the section of the main school which contained the Maths classrooms and two flats occupied by Mr Peters and Mr Tyrrell. From the wooden bench by the music room door they looked directly onto it.
"What’s going on?" The others were bewildered by the urgency.
"Sssh. Just sit back and watch," Susie said.
"It’s freezing and we have to get to early prep," Margery complained.
"We’ve got twenty minutes. Just wait."
From their vantage point they saw Mrs Ayers striding into the main doorway, and taking the stairs that led to the flats. She looked even angrier than usual.
Seconds later they heard a shriek and raised voices.
"Pure Shakespeare," Susie said. "True love never did run smooth."
* * *
Mrs Ayers had been more irritated than intrigued to received Mr Peters’ unexpected note. Its presumptive and commanding tone, providing no reason for his summons, irked her. She didn’t care for Mr Peters at the best of times, she thought he was an old fool. They had clashed on more than one occasion.
The note was also inconvenient as Mrs Ayers was busy that afternoon. She had had a very difficult morning with annoying things happening to her again in the classroom. She was certain they were pranks, but there was a subtlety about them that left room for doubt. While she suspected Susie Clarke she still had no proof.
So she strode off to Mr Peters’ flat in a particularly foul mood.
Already fired up and ready to give him a piece of her mind if he had led her on a wild goose chase, she knocked on his door.
"Come in!" he called.
Mrs Ayers opened the door and stood inside Mr Peters’ sitting room, her face set in its typically grim line.
Nothing could prepare her for what awaited.
There - at the bedroom door - clad in a black silk dressing gown with a glass of champagne in each hand, appeared the Head of English. The gown revealed an expanse of greying chest hair and his lips held a lecherous leer.
The smile died on his face when he saw Mrs Ayers. He paled as she shrieked and went crimson with outrage.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Forgetting himself in his shock, Mr Peters swore. "Where’s Susanna?"
"I beg your pardon!" No one had ever managed to imbue these words with such fury and disgust as Mrs Ayers did at that moment. "I am here because of your note."
"I never sent you any bloody note. Oh Christ!" The realisation was dawning. How on earth had this monstrous woman intercepted his message to Susie Clarke? "What the hell have you done wit
h her? I suppose you gave her another detention you vicious old boot."
Mrs Ayers started screeching at him for this and Mr Peters gave back as good as he got. He was enraged with disappointment that the hag had wrecked his romantic rendezvous.
At some point during the row his silk robe slipped open. He wore nothing beneath it.
Below his paunch the remnants of his ardour for the anticipated encounter with Susie were only too clear.
Mrs Ayers got it into her head that he was about to sexually assault her, started screaming even more loudly and fled as Mr Peters fumbled to close his gown again while trying not to spill champagne everywhere.
* * *
Outside the four girls couldn’t make out what was being said but they could hear the volume of the row. Susie was doubled over nearly weeping with laughter.
The next thing they saw was Mrs Ayers come clattering out of the doorway, striding off in the direction of the staff room practically at a trot.
"And the bad fairy flees the feast," said Susie.
She explained to the others what had happened with the note. "If only we could have actually been there to see his face. And hers."
"Imagine if he opened the door to her naked," Charlotte said. "Perhaps that’s why she was screaming."
It was not a pleasant image.
"I wonder what will happen," Laura said. "I suppose he couldn’t really tell her the note was meant for you. But what will he say to you next time he sees you? Will he know you deliberately sent it to her?"
