Mr Settle finishes taking the register, slams his briefcase shut and strides from the classroom to teach his morning lesson. Most of the girls start to gather up their bags to go on to their next class, but Sarah’s limbs have turned to lead, and she sits passively in her seat, reading the blackboard beyond the teacher’s desk. There’s a Chad drawing that someone has chalked up the night before: Wot no decent teachers? it says.
Mr Settle didn’t even notice it when he breezed in to take the register. Or, if he did, he chose to ignore it. Sarah can feel herself sliding back inside her head, and she closes her eyes briefly, just to rest them for a moment.
‘You alright, Sar?’ Tina asks, pausing by her desk. ‘We’ve got Geography next.’
Sarah looks up and smiles blindly, feeling as though her thoughts have separated from her body.
‘Sar?’
She picks up her bag and follows Tina across the room, shielding her nostrils from the stench of chalk dust which dances across the desks and chairs. ‘I’m alright,’ she says, and she walks gingerly down the main staircase and out into the sunlight of the foyer.
As the first fortnight of term progresses Sarah’s spirits revive, and at lunchtimes she and Tina sit out by the steps to the dining hall sunning their legs and talking about Saturday Live. Sarah’s been recounting some of the jokes, and Tina laughs uncontrollably, slapping her shins, leaning over from time to time to let other girls pass up the steps.
When Kate returns from a lunch detention, Tina is wiping the tears from her face.
‘Kate, you’ve got to hear this! Go on, Sar! Did you watch Saturday Live at the weekend? Ben Elton was hysterical, going on about the royal family.’
Kate shakes her head, and stands back against the brickwork of the wall, closing her eyes against the glare. She folds her arms and crosses one ankle over the other.
‘Nope.’
‘Oh,’ says Tina. ‘Well you probably wouldn’t get it, then.’
The carefree atmosphere has gone.
‘What detention did they give you?’ Sarah asks.
‘Bloody algebra.’ Kate tuts. ‘But I don’t have to go back tomorrow now. The dwarf must have something better to do, because she said I don’t need to go back again.’
‘Mrs Minor?’ Sarah laughs. ‘She’s shorter than I was when I was nine.’
Kate huffs.
‘Maybe she’s shrinking,’ Sarah adds, pulling her sock up and pushing it down neatly. ‘Maybe she used to be normal-sized, but old age is shrinking her.’
Tina jabs Sarah with her elbow. ‘You’re cracking me up today!’
Kate looks down at them with scorn; a quick, nasty flash. ‘Oh, my God!’ she suddenly shrieks.
‘What?’ Tina and Sarah ask together.
‘Your legs! Urggh! They’re so hairy! Look, Tina – look! Don’t you shave, Sar?’ She stands over Sarah, hands on her hips.
Tina jumps up, leaning on the railing to get a better look as Sarah tucks her knees up under her skirt. She snorts and stand beside Kate in the sunshine.
Sarah can feel her cheeks roasting. ‘What? They’re not that bad! My dad says if I shave them now, I’ll never be able to stop.’
‘Your dad? What would he know about shaving legs. Oh, my God!’
Two of their classmates pass through the group and up the steps.
‘Look at Sarah’s legs!’ Kate’s finger hovers over Sarah’s downy tanned knee. ‘That’s not normal, is it?’
‘Rank,’ Zoe Andrews says, pulling a disgusted face.
‘You have got to do something about that, Sarah,’ Kate tells her, shuddering.
Sarah pushes herself up from the steps and joins Tina and Kate where they lean against the warm, rough brickwork. They stand like this for a while, the three of them uniformly posed, arms folded, ankles crossed, absorbing the warm spring sunshine. Sarah closes her eyes and wishes for rain tomorrow. Then she can wear her thick black tights to conceal her revolting animal-pelt legs. If only they could wear trousers.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ says Kate, bending to open up her school bag. It’s a new raffia basket with a pretty floral lining and a tiny handle – a bit like a dolly’s bag Sarah had when she was little. Kate turns over the contents, dropping make-up and tissues on to the concrete floor until she finally unearths what she’s looking for. She passes it to Sarah without looking up.
It’s a small blue jewellery box, with the word ‘Ratners’ embossed in gold. Sarah looks perplexed.
‘It’s yours,’ says Kate over her shoulder. ‘You left it at ours when you stayed.’
Sarah frowns.
‘Earrings. Dad said they’re yours. Apparently you left them when you stayed over.’ Kate repacks her bag as Sarah opens the box.
Inside is a pair of brand new gold hoops. They’re just like the kind Tina wears, and Sarah wouldn’t be seen dead in them.
Kate stands up and takes the box from Sarah. ‘I told him you didn’t even have your ears pierced, but he said you bought them for when you do. He reckons they look quite expensive.’ She turns and faces Sarah squarely. ‘I can’t believe you’re finally getting them done. It doesn’t hurt, does it, Teen?’
Tina shakes her head, running her fingers along the edge of her own ear. ‘I’m gonna get another one at the top. In the cartilage bit. When I can afford it.’
Sarah stares at the little earrings and nods, feeling the panic gather in the centre of her chest.
Kate looks delighted. ‘Great! We can go in together if you like?’ she says. ‘Blackman’s is best – they use a proper gun and sterile studs. That’s where we got ours done, isn’t it, Teen?’
‘Uh-huh,’ says Tina, distractedly twiddling the hoops in her own ears. She puts out a finger and tips the little box towards her to get a better look, then rubs her nose with her knuckles. ‘Nice.’
Sarah pushes the Ratners box down into the inside pocket of her bag and zips it shut, feeling the bile rise in the back of her throat. She wants to get the earrings as far from her as possible, to forget all this ever happened. And she knows what her dad will say if she tells him she wants to get her ears done. ‘You’ll look like a gypsy,’ he’ll say, and that will be that.
‘Come on Teen,’ says Kate, picking up her bag. ‘We’ve got Dance now, haven’t we?’
The two girls link arms and amble away together, along the edge of the dining hall and into the main building. For a fleeting moment, Tina looks back at Sarah with a puzzled expression, as if she’s looking right through her. Sarah tips her head and frowns; Tina looks away.
‘See ya later, Sar!’ Kate raises her hand through the glass.
Sarah stands with her palms pressed hard against the gritty wall, watching as Kate and Tina pass through the glass corridor and out of sight.
On Saturday night, while her father watches the news, Sarah shaves her legs with a disposable razor she bought from the chemist’s. She vigorously rubs a bar of Pears soap between the palms of her hands, smoothing the white foam down the length of her legs before drawing the razor back up against the grain of her leg hair. She holds her breath as the soft blonde hairs collect in the blade and disappear down the sink. Afterwards, her legs are smooth and hairless, the skin desensitised beneath her fingers. A little nick on her knee just won’t stop bleeding, and eventually she tiptoes down the stairs and into the kitchen to find a plaster. The volume on the TV is turned right up, and she pauses in the doorway of the living room to see what Dad’s watching. Footage of a smoking industrial plant fills the screen, and Dad sits on the sofa, leaning on to his knees, shaking his head.
‘The scale of the disaster at the Chernobyl power plant is still uncertain,’ the BBC news reporter says. ‘Reports that several thousand people have been killed are as yet unconfirmed.’
Breathtaking plumes of dark smoke billow and drift from the ruined power plant. Dad shakes his head again and rubs his brow.
‘Night, Dad,’ Sarah says.
He turns and smiles, sadly. He looks so old and tired. �
��Night, Sarah-Lou,’ he says.
Every second Thursday, the fifth years have a two-hour session called ‘Personal Development’, led by their form tutor, Mr Settle. They each have a folder containing coloured A4 sheets with sections such as ‘Career Planning’, ‘Relationships’ and ‘Further Education’, and they’re expected to work through the sheets alone, completing the various tick boxes and commentaries. Some of the boffs have finished writing up all their sheets by the end of the first term and now spend each session quietly polishing their work for final hand-in at the end of May. Sarah’s group sits at the back of the classroom stifling their laughter as they try to outdo each other with increasingly ridiculous answers to the worksheet questions.
Q: What plans do you have in place for your further education next term?
A: Hopefully if I get enough O-levels, I’ll be starting an apprenticeship as a petrol pump assistant in September.
Q: If you are going straight into paid employment, have you started your applications?
A: Yes. I recently sent a topless photograph of myself to the Sunday People, and I await their reply with anticipation.
Q: What will you wear for any potential job interviews?
A: My pink leotard, purple pixie boots, and a gorgeous set of glitter deely-boppers.
Q: Who inspires you?
A: Mr Settle. Definitely.
Q: Where do you see yourself in ten years’ time?
A: Collecting trollies at Sainsburys.
At the end of each session they hand the folders in, and Mr Settle returns them a fortnight later with his dated signature in the box at the front. It’s a great sense of shared accomplishment every time they receive them back from him without punishment. Safe in the knowledge that they won’t be read, the girls grow ever more confident in their responses.
In the second session after Easter, Mr Settle takes the morning register and tells them to gather their belongings and line up by the door. He stands in the doorway in his shiny brown suit, his briefcase in one hand, his oily doughnut bag in the other. ‘Right, everyone! Now that the engineers have finished with the boiler, we are finally moving back into the hut.’
‘But we’ll be leaving in a few weeks,’ Kate calls out. ‘It’s hardly worth it.’
Mr Settle pushes his spectacles along the brow of his nose. ‘Thank you, Kate! For your information, they want us out of this room as soon as possible so they can decorate before the end of term.’
There’s a rally of cheers and whoops from the class, who have missed the independence of their old hut. It’ll be good to move back; the huts are separate from the main building, and the 5G hut looks directly out on to the sixth form common room where the older boys and girls are able to mix freely between the two schools.
‘So, this morning I want you to transport all your belongings OUT OF your temporary lockers in the corridor and INTO your new lockers in the hut cloakroom – without disrupting the rest of the school in the process! Is that clear?’
A murmur of agreement ripples through the distracted group, who are anxious to get on with it.
‘Marianne, you are responsible for collecting up the old locker keys and returning them to the front office. Got that, everyone? Off you go. QUIETLY!’
Mr Settle leads the way, forking off towards the staff room as the girls run along the corridors, chattering excitedly as they pass the occupied classrooms on the way to their lockers. The sound of metal doors clanging rattles along the hallway, as they drag out their books and PE kits, unpeel posters and feel around for lost pencils and rubbers.
‘Look at this!’ shrieks Kate, holding up what looks like an embalmed banana. ‘Grim!’
Tina is stacking her books in a pile, trying to work out how she’ll be able to carry it all back through the school and out to the huts. Kate picks up Tina’s school leotard and catapults it at Sarah like an elastic band. It lands on Sarah’s face like popped bubble gum.
‘Urghh! That’s disgusting. I don’t want Tina’s sweaty gusset in my face, thank you very much,’ she says, holding it out at arm’s length.
Tina snatches it from her and pushes it into her PE kit. ‘It’s clean, you know,’ she says grumpily.
‘I was only joking, Teen,’ says Sarah, still dragging out a bundle of books from her top shelf.
As she turns to place them on the floor, the small blue Ratners box slides off the top and on to the ground between her and Kate. She’d completely forgotten about it; pushed it to the back of her locker, and pushed it from her mind.
Kate picks it up and opens the box to reveal the tacky gold hoops.
‘That reminds me,’ she says. ‘You were gonna get your ears done.’ She purses her lips and holds the box out in her open palm.
Sarah blinks, caught out. ‘I just haven’t got round to it,’ she says, taking the box from Kate and ramming it down inside her bag. She turns her back on Kate to give her empty locker another inspection.
Kate grabs her by the shoulder and spins her round roughly. ‘Right, that’s it! I’ve had enough of this. I’ve sussed you out, Sarah Ribbons.’
Sarah’s breath stops in the back of her chest as she recoils with a gasp. She bends to pick up her other belongings. ‘What?’ she asks without looking up.
Kate taps her on the shoulder so she has to turn and face her. ‘We know, don’t we, Teen? About the earrings.’
Tina folds her arms and shrugs. Sarah stands between them. The blood rushes to her face. She can feel her ears burning and she wants to lean against the lockers for support. Kate reaches out and tugs Sarah’s soft pink earlobe.
‘We know why you haven’t had your ears pierced yet.’ She smiles. ‘You’re scared it’ll hurt. Aren’t you? You big chicken! So, I’ve decided for you – we’re going into town straight after school today, and you’re gonna get them done.’
Sarah is so relieved that tears well up in her eyes, and she has to turn away so the others don’t see. ‘OK,’ she says. ‘You win.’
Once they’ve packed away their things, Mr Settle asks the girls to carry on with their Personal Development folders. There’s a large box of his belongings on the desk at the front, beside his briefcase and doughnut bag.
‘Right! You’ve got half an hour before first break – and I don’t need to remind you that these folders have to be completed and submitted by the end of May!’
He starts to unpack his box, carrying items back and forth into the cupboard in the corner behind his desk.
Kate points to the clock above the blackboard. ‘At ten to ten he’ll sit down and eat his doughnut, just you watch. It’s like clockwork.’
Sarah nods, laughing. ‘It’s the same every day. You’d think he’d get bored of the same thing.’
‘Dare you to take a bite,’ says Kate, looking at Sarah.
She pulls a face. ‘No way! You do it.’
‘I always do stuff. You’re such a chicken, Sar.’
‘What about Tina? She never does anything like that either!’
‘Yes, she does. You’re such a goody-two-shoes.’
Sarah flicks through her folder, trying to think up something funny to change the subject.
After five minutes, Mr Settle comes out of the cupboard to fetch another pile of books. Sarah watches him as he disappears into the cupboard. She looks up at the clock.
Kate widens her eyes. ‘Go on,’ she says. ‘I know you’re dying to.’
Sarah sprints down towards the table, unwraps the white bag, takes one huge bite and returns it to its packaging as if nothing had happened. She tiptoes back to her desk, chomping down on the greasy dough. The smell of it is repulsive.
Kate silently bangs the desk with the flat of her hand, as Tina laughs and laughs behind her folder. Mr Settle comes out and fetches another batch of books.
‘OK, watch this, then,’ says Kate as he returns to the cupboard. She takes her lipstick from her pencil case and dashes down to the front desk.
Removing the doughnut from its wrapper, she swift
ly outlines the bite mark with a thick layer of Twilight Teaser, rolling the colour around and around until it’s clearly visible. She holds it up to the class with a grin, then slides it back inside the bag.
At 9.50 precisely Mr Settle sits behind his desk and arranges the remaining items, straightening his ruler along the top of his A4 lined pad, the pencil along the top of that. He moves his glass of water closer, so that it’s level with the top of the pad, and places his pencil pot on the opposite side for balance. Once everything is organised with perfect symmetry, he reaches for his morning snack. The eyes of the class are on him, and Sarah thinks she might burst from the tension of it all. Her stomach is rolling in spasms of repressed laughter, and she can hear Kate’s little gasps beside her as she tries to hold it in. Tina’s resting her head on her folded arms, quietly drumming her bony fingertips against the scored wooden desktop. He’s going to go mad. He’s going to flip out, and give them detention, and they’re all going to die of laughter asphyxiation before he even opens the bag…
‘Ten minutes to go,’ Mr Settle tells the class. He opens the wrapper and pulls out his doughnut. He turns it over between his forefinger and thumb, inspecting the size of the bite, the shade of lipstick used. He looks up over his glasses and rolls his eyes across the class, passing over every girl until he reaches Kate, who’s not even looking at him. He slips the doughnut back in its bag and drops it into the wastepaper basket with a hollow thump.
Sarah notices for the first time just how frail and old he seems. His skin and hair merge into one indistinct sandy colour.
He pushes the items on his desk apart, breaking up the order. ‘Finish the section you’re on and leave your folders on my desk. You can go early.’
Dad is in his study when Sarah gets home, working on his Selton project. The back door is open and Ted lies panting in the sunlight as she bends to pat his chest. He lifts a back leg towards her and smiles in the white light. The scent of the Solent grows stronger as spring rolls towards summer on Seafield Avenue. Gulls circle in the sky overhead, moving in graceful formation as they soar towards the shoreline beyond.
Hurry Up and Wait Page 18
