by Lesley Allen
‘Here,’ the boy grunted, giving her a green ticket with the number 97 on it. ‘So you get the right coat back. Not that anyone’s likely to take this home by mistake.’ He shared a snigger with RELAX, mouthing ‘Bloody Weirdo’ behind Biddy’s back before turning back into the staff cloakroom. The RELAX boy glared at Biddy, who was staring at the blue bird stamped on her hand. It wasn’t a very good image, she thought. There was no way of telling what kind of bird it was supposed to be. ‘Are you going in, or what?’ he said, obviously irritated. ‘Cos it’s too late to get your money back now.’
Biddy nodded, but she still didn’t move. She couldn’t. She could hear the beat of loud music coming from the assembly hall and feel the vibration beneath her feet. It suddenly dawned on her that everyone would be dancing, and she’d never danced in her life. Did her mother like to dance, she wondered? Had she ever danced with her father? She couldn’t imagine her father dancing.
‘Duh?’ said RELAX, pointing to the doors with obvious irritation.
‘Home,’ whispered Biddy.
‘What?’
‘Ho—’
‘Biddy! You made it. Wow, don’t you look great.’ Penny Jordan swung through the assembly hall doors, letting a snatch of Duran Duran’s The Reflex out with her.
Biddy certainly looked more grown up than usual. The jeans and stripy T-shirt suited her, but they weren’t exactly a fashion statement, and Penny feared she would feel out of place when she went into the hall. And her make-up was all wrong. Penny wanted to build up her confidence, but she knew, after seeing how all of the other teenagers were dressed, that if Biddy went inside looking like this, she would be as good as handing Alison the ammunition for an attack on a plate. Perhaps her insistence that Biddy come to the disco had been misjudged after all. Perhaps she had been wrong to interfere. She breathed in deeply, a smile still etched on her face. Well, whether she’d been right, or wrong, Biddy was here, and she had to do something to steer off a shipwreck.
‘Phew, it’s hot in there,’ she said, fanning her face with her hand. ‘I’m just nipping to the loo. How about you, Biddy? Do you need to go?’
‘Erm, yes,’ said Biddy quietly.
‘Come on, then, nip in here with me and then you won’t have to queue in the girls’ loos.’ Penny nodded towards the staff toilets. ‘I’m sure Bryan and Tim won’t let on, will you, boys?’ She grinned and winked at them. ‘Like the T-shirts, guys.’
Not knowing quite what to make of the situation, the boys shook their heads and when Miss Jordan and Biddy went into the toilet, they stared at each other in wide-eyed, open-mouthed amazement.
‘What are you two gormless dickheads gawping at?!’ Standing in front of them, chewing gum and tossing her shaggy permed, honey-coloured hair, was Alison Flemming, resplendent in full Bananarama regalia. Her white three-quarter length trousers were held up with black braces which sat over a tight white cropped boob tube. A long white unbuttoned shirt-coat was purposely falling down over her right honey-toned shoulder. Her black Doc Marten semi-laced up boots matched her heavily kohled eyes. To complete the effect she knew she was having on the boys, she slowly licked her bright red lips.
‘Erm, nothing,’ managed CHOOSE LIFE Tim.
‘Yeah, nothing,’ repeated RELAX Bryan, letting out an un-attractive snort, as he gazed at Alison’s breasts.
‘What’s the matter, Piggy Boy, never seen a pair of tits before?’ taunted Alison, pulling her baggy shirt further down over her shoulder and letting her fingers slide over her boob tube.
Bryan gulped and Tim covered the erection, which was glaringly obvious under his tight black jeans, with his hands.
‘Be nice, boys, and let me go in there for a wee,’ Alison pouted coyly, indicating the staff toilets. ‘The queue in our loo is too long and I’m so close to peeing my pants.’ Bryan looked at Tim and then looked at the toilet door.
‘Can’t.’ He shook his head furiously and glared at the speechless Tim for backup. Tim just shook his head too.
‘What do you mean, “can’t”?’ mimicked Alison. ‘Afraid you’ll get told off by old Morgan, or maybe even get detention?’ she mocked. ‘Wise up, and just let me in, for fuck’s sake.’
She went to push past them, but Bryan blocked her way. If Miss Jordan hadn’t been in there with Bloody Weirdo, he would have let Alison in, no problem. And strictly speaking, if Bloody Weirdo was having a pee in the female staff loo, then there was no reason why Alison shouldn’t be allowed one too. But he didn’t want to take the risk. Deep down, he was a good boy. Besides, he liked Miss Jordan and he didn’t want to get in her bad books, especially as P.E. was his favourite subject.
‘Look Alison, I just can’t let you, OK.’
‘Course you can, Bryan. If you really wanted to, that is. Maybe you just need a little incentive.’ Alison put her finger on her chin and closed her eyes, pretending to think.
‘I know, boys,’ she smiled, and stuck out her chest. ‘You can have a little peek. Would that help?’
Bryan gulped and his cheeks reddened. Tim’s eyes got wider and his penis stiffer. He wanted to say, ‘You’re on. Deal. Yes, bloody please,’ but he didn’t trust himself to speak. Go on, go on, he willed Bryan. Say yes, say yes.
Bryan cleared his throat.
‘Thing is, Alison, there’s, ah, well there’s already someone in there. A teacher. So you see you can’t. Sorry and all. And thanks for the offer. But you can’t go in.’ Bryan could almost hear Tim’s silent scream and it echoed the one inside his own head: Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
‘Who is it?’ Alison wasn’t giving up. There were only a few teachers in the school she definitely wouldn’t risk annoying. Most she could deal with. If it was Franklin, Scully, Pemrose or fat McFettrick, she’d give up. Anyone else and she’d try her luck. She could always cry and plead an emergency. She’d think of something. She always did.
‘Miss Jordan.’
‘Biddy Weir.’
Bryan and Tim spoke simultaneously.
‘Well?’ demanded Alison. ‘Which one is it? Miss Jordan or Bloody Weirdo? It’s not both of them, is it? Together? In the staff loo?’ Her heart was beating furiously, as she looked from Bryan to Tim, from Tim to Bryan. Bloody hell, she thought. Mum and Clive were right. There is something going on. Fantastic. Fannybloodytastic.
‘Sorry, lads, but I’m going in there. This I have to see.’
As Bryan lifted his hand in protest, Alison played her ace card: ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake here, have a look, and then piss off.’ She slipped her hands under each strap of her braces and pulled down her boob tube allowing her more than ample teenage breasts to bounce out at Bryan and Tim. ‘Now, move,’ she hissed, pulling her top back in place. There was no resistance this time from Bryan, who was just as speechless as Tim.
Biddy was washing her hands at the sink when Penny came out of her cubicle. The staff toilets weren’t all that much better than the pupils’ ones, but they had a bigger mirror and proper towels and nice pink, rose-scented soap. Not that awful yellow sticky goo that smelt of cold porridge and glue. Miss Forester, the deputy headmistress and by far the oldest teacher in the school, took it upon herself to keep the Staff Ladies in nice condition. She supplied and laundered the towels herself and she bought the soap and room spray out of her own pocket. Sometimes she left in a tube of hand cream, and on special occasions, like tonight, she even set out a little vase of roses, cut from her own garden, regardless of whether she would be there or not.
‘Looks like Miss Forester’s been at her work again,’ smiled Penny, squirting a blob of hand cream onto her left hand before offering some to Biddy. ‘It’s OK,’ she whispered. ‘She isn’t here. And anyway, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. But I won’t tell, if you won’t,’ she winked, rubbing the cream into her hands.
Biddy cautiously followed suit and copied Miss Jordan’s actions. She’d never used proper hand cream before. Sometimes when her hands became rough and chapped from sketching outside in the wintert
ime, she would rub in some Vaseline before going to bed. She supposed she’d have used her mother’s hand cream, if her mother were here.
‘Mmmm,’ said Miss Jordan smelling her palms. ‘Roses. I think Miss Forester likes roses, don’t you?’ Biddy nodded. Would my mother have liked roses, she wondered, like Papa does. Or violets? Perhaps she would have preferred violets.
‘So, Biddy. Are you ready to rock?’
Biddy smiled nervously. Miss Jordan looked so pretty. She was wearing the same dark jeans she’d worn on Saturday, this time with a bright pink short-sleeved V-neck jumper with a big deep waistband that flattered her tiny waist. And she was wearing make-up, but it looked lovely on her. She obviously knew how to do it properly. Biddy wished she looked like Miss Jordan. She sighed and shuffled uncomfortably in her school plimsolls.
‘You know what, Biddy, I think you might be a bit more comfortable if you took your socks off. Your feet might get a bit hot in there.’
‘Oh. OK.’ Biddy smiled nervously at Miss Jordan and slipped off her plimsolls. Then she pulled off her grey school socks and put her shoes back on again.
‘Erm – what will I do with these?’ Biddy held up her socks.
‘Roll them up and give them to me. I’ll put them in my bag in the staff room and you can get them back before you go. Now, let’s have a look at you. How about if I turn your jeans up slightly at the bottom. Good, that looks better, doesn’t it?’
Biddy nodded, taking Miss Jordan’s word for it.
‘And you see, if you pull your T-shirt slightly over your shoulders, like this . . .’ Penny adjusted the slash neck top slightly to make it sit the way it should. ‘Excellent,’ she beamed. Biddy beamed back. She loved Miss Jordan helping her like this. Miss Jordan made her feel special, and she’d never felt special before.
‘Biddy, I see you’ve bought yourself some nice new make-up,’ said Miss Jordan, brightly. ‘It’s great fun buying make-up, isn’t it?’ Biddy nodded.
‘It’s a bit tricky, putting it on sometimes though, don’t you think?’
Biddy nodded again, her smile fading. She thinks I look stupid, she thought.
‘You know, I’m useless at putting on eye-shadow. I had to get my friend Sam to help me tonight. Do you think she’s done a good job?’ Penny closed her eyes for Biddy to examine.
‘Yes, Miss. Your eyes look lovely,’ she replied, shyly.
‘Sam gave me a couple of tips. Shall I try them on you?’
‘Erm, OK, Miss.’ Biddy closed her eyes tight and tilted back her chin.
‘Not so tight, Biddy. Just relax your eyes a little. That’s it. Good.’ Penny gently rubbed Biddy’s eyelids with a tissue, removing some of the excess blue powder and blended in the remaining colour with her little finger. Then she took another tissue, ran it briefly under the tap and softly rubbed at Biddy’s cheeks until she looked more like a flushed teenager and less like a painted doll. Next she removed most of Biddy’s lipstick, took a tiny tin of Vaseline from her pocket, and smeared a little bit over her lips.
‘Now, rub your lips together like this. Doesn’t that feel nice? That’s my secret make-up tip,’ she smiled. ‘Vaseline. I never go anywhere without it. Right, just let me fix this gorgeous hair of yours.’
Penny put her hands under the tap and then ran them through Biddy’s frizzy mop, the moisture separating some of her curls. She pushed it back off her forehead and ran her fingers through the ends until she created something that at least resembled a style.
‘You really do have fabulous hair, Biddy, you know. Many people would pay a fortune to have curls like yours, and I’m one of them.’
Biddy smiled nervously. She was sure Miss Jordan was just being nice. Why on earth would anyone want to look like any part of her? Especially someone as pretty as Miss Jordan? And as for her hair, she’d never seen anyone else with hair remotely like hers, and she knew it was part of what made her a weirdo. She knew that Miss Jordan was actually telling a lie, even though it was a kind lie.
‘You know, I have a gorgeous hair clip I don’t use anymore as my hair isn’t long enough. It would look amazing in your hair,’ said Miss Jordan as she continued to prise out Biddy’s curls. ‘To tell you the truth, it never looked good on me. It was made for your colouring. My dark, flat locks did nothing for it. I’d like you to have it, Biddy. I’ll give it to you when you come round for our baking party.’
‘Oh, n-no, Miss. I couldn’t . . .’
‘Nonsense. Of course you can. It’s a present. Now, you’re ready. Take a look.’
Miss Jordan swung Biddy round to the mirror. She barely recognised herself. Her eyes looked bright and sparkling, her lips looked plumper and her cheeks had a soft flush of colour. And her hair sat back off her face instead of falling all over it. Her heart was thumping. Miss Jordan hadn’t forgotten about the invitation; she really was going to teach her how to bake, and she was going to give her a present. No one, apart from her father, had given her a present before. And Miss Jordan had made her look like this: almost normal.
‘Oh,’ she said quietly. ‘I look different.’
‘You look fabulous, Biddy,’ smiled Penny. ‘There’s just one finishing touch we need now.’
Biddy looked at her expectantly.
‘A smile, Biddy, a great, big, beaming smile.’
Biddy’s face glowed and her smile broke into a laugh.
‘There,’ said Penny proudly, ‘beautiful.’ She gave Biddy a big hug. ‘Now, I’m going to dart into the staffroom to put these socks away, then let’s go and have some fun.’
15.
Alison turned sharply and darted out of the toilet before Miss Jordan or B.W. saw her.
‘You assholes let them know I was here and you’ll live to regret it. Got it?’
She glared at Bryan and Tim, who were still reeling from the sight of some real live breasts. They nodded obediently. There was no chance they’d tell anyway. If Jordan and Bloody Weirdo hadn’t seen Alison, then they were off the hook. Come to think of it, though, they had been in there for quite a long time.
‘Ah, is everything OK in there?’ Bryan nodded to the toilet door.
‘Oh yes,’ smiled Alison slowly. ‘I would say everything was perfect. Gotta go boys. And remember what I said.’
And off she ran to seek out Julia, Jackie and Georgie. She couldn’t wait to tell them what she’d just witnessed. There was absolutely definitely something funny going on between Miss Jordan and Bloody Weirdo, and now she’d seen it with her very own eyes. The lezzie and the nutcase. What a scoop.
Alison hadn’t witnessed the whole scene, of course. She’d come in just at the point when Penny was touching up Biddy’s lips. But from her vantage point just inside the entrance, set back behind the cubicles, she saw the rest of the episode through the toilet mirror. And that was enough for her to conclude that the lesbian teacher was indeed having a fling with the fourth-year freak. She couldn’t believe her luck. When her mother had told her the rumours about Jordan being gay a couple of weeks before, she was repulsed. She didn’t really believe it, of course, not properly, but she had delighted in telling the others the next day in school.
‘I always knew there was something funny about her,’ she had said, screwing her face up in disgust.
‘Yeah,’ Georgina agreed. ‘I mean, the way she looks at you in the changing room. Yeuck,’ she shivered.
Julia and Jackie hadn’t noticed anything, but not to be left out they nodded in agreement.
‘Freaky,’ said Julia.
‘Bet Duncan doesn’t know,’ added Jackie. ‘She shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’
‘Oh, she won’t,’ Alison had sneered. ‘If it’s true, of course.’
Then just the other night, Clive had relayed the story of his sighting in the underwear department at Rankin and McMordie in the city. Alison had been furious. She’d been stewing for days, red with rage that Clive had taken his wife shopping to Rankin and McMordie – and for underwear at that. And he hadn’t
even bought her a present. Even the thought of the disco hadn’t lifted her mood. They may have only been ‘seeing’ each other for a few weeks, but Clive had assured Alison that his marriage was stale, that his wife was a frigid bitch who didn’t understand him, that she turned a blind eye to his ‘extra-curricular’ activities. That had pissed her off too. It was well known amongst the pupils, and staff, at Ballybrock Grammar that Clive Patterson was a flirt, and as far back as the second year Alison had been aware of the rumours. Even then she’d been intrigued. Would a teacher really have a fling with a pupil? She’d felt a rush of admiration the first time one of the rumours was whispered to her harem in the playground one lunchtime by Georgie’s older sister, Victoria. The other girls had all been horrified, but Alison was more than a little bit in awe. Mr Patterson and Amanda Loughrin. Mr Patterson and Sonia O’Hara. Mr Patterson and Miss Courtney, the young French teacher they’d had in the third year. Amanda and Sonia had been sixth-form pupils, and whilst Clive had told Alison to mind her own business when she’d quizzed him about them, he had admitted that he’d never dated anyone as young or as gorgeous as her. Dated. Young. Gorgeous. Those three words were enough to keep her sweet. But his blatant reference to his lothario reputation had enraged her. And now this. Well, there would be no more ‘extra-curricular activities’, and no more shopping trips to the city with his bloody wife, especially to buy underwear. Now that she was Clive’s girlfriend, any little presents he’d be buying would be for her, and only her. She would make sure of that. OK, their ‘dates’ hadn’t actually progressed beyond drives to secluded spots in the hills in Clive’s new metallic blue 2.8 Ford Capri, but they would. Clive said so. He might be bringing her to the cinema in a couple of weeks to see Witness, that new film everyone was talking about, starring Harrison Ford. And maybe out for dinner too. They’d have to be careful, of course. They’d probably have to go to the city. But that was fine with her. All part of the fun; part of the thrill. And she had no trouble lying to her parents about her whereabouts: she was a professional in that department.
