Thursday was dance night in the gymnasium. Rusty sat on one of the long wooden benches as the girls walked up to the mistresses and asked to be put on their list of prospective partners, and the Sixth-formers asked the younger girls to dance. It was all so formal and so dead.
The girls danced as if they had been frozen from the neck downwards.
Rusty thought back to the square-dancing evenings in Connecticut where all the boys and girls whirled around each other, hollering. She remembered how in junior high a nickelodeon had been rented for the end-of-semester school dance; a real nickelodeon with the latest hit records.
She heard Miss Collins say to her, ‘Come along, Virginia, I’m sure you could show us a thing or two. You’ll probably put us all to shame.’
Rusty just faked a smile, because in fact it was true. She could dance better than any single girl or mistress in that gymnasium, but then she reckoned even Skeet could, and he had two left feet.
That night, in the dormitory, she avoided looking at the four other girls. She had a feeling that if she caught Judith’s eye or heard her make one snide remark, she might just grab hold of her and throw her out through the window.
The following day she drifted through the lessons in a stupor, but as each one ended she knew that she was closer to leaving. When the final bell rang, she had to use every ounce of concentration to keep herself from running away from the place there and then.
Even so there was prep, in which she had to si t struggling through her homework.
At last she was accompanied by one of the prefects down the school drive. As soon as she saw her mother waiting for her, she broke into a run. Once through the gates, she felt so happy she could have danced.
Peggy Dickinson took Rusty’s grip and smiled. Seeing her daughter’s cheerful face, she realized that she had made the right decision. Now she could ring Beatie and tell her that her worries had been unfounded. Virginia, if her expression was anything to go by, was loving Ben wood House.
17
Her mother raised the knocker.
‘Haven’t you gotten a key yet?’ asked Rusty.
‘Your grandmother doesn’t like to have more than one key to the house. It makes her nervous. She’s afraid I might lose it.’
Rusty was amazed. ‘Couldn’t you just get another one made secretly? I mean, what if there was an emergency or something?’
‘I’ve thought of that, but you need to take the key in order to have another one made, and your grandmother keeps a firm grip on it.’
Just then the door opened. Mrs Grace looked older than ever. She hung on to the doorknob as if it stood between her and life itself.
Before Rusty could say anything, a small figure rushed up to her mother and hung on to her, sobbing. It was Charlie.
‘There, there,’ said his mother as she picked him up. ‘I told you I’d be back.’
Rusty had never seen such a change in a person. He was behaving just like a baby. As he sank his head into the nape of her neck, he jammed one thumb tightly into his mouth. In his other hand he clutched a piece of well-sucked material.
From the drawing room came the sickly-sweet sound of her grandmother. ‘I’m in here, dear,’ she sang out.
Rusty was tempted to sing back, ‘And we’re out here, dear.’ Instead, she hung her Beanie, hat and scarf on the hall-stand and followed her mother and Charlie into the drawing room.
Seated in her own winged armchair sat her grandmother. Her friend, Mrs Smythe-Williams, was sitting on the sofa. Her grandmother looked disapprovingly at Rusty’s mother as she sat down with Charlie on her lap. ‘Now, now, now,’ she said sweetly. ‘Big boys don’t cry, do they?’
I wonder, thought Rusty, if they have the electric-chair for murder in England. She shoved her clenched fists into her blazer pocket.
Her grandmother turned to Mrs Smythe-Williams.
‘Looks just like a little English girl now, doesn’t she?’
‘So much nicer,’ her friend crooned.
‘And so how are you liking school?’
Rusty shrugged. ‘It’s O.K.’
Her grandmother cleared her throat awkwardly. The girl looked fine as long as she didn’t open her mouth.
After tea, Rusty’s mother started looking very mysterious. ‘Virginia, I’ve a little surprise for you,’ she said.
‘What is it?’
‘It won’t be a surprise if I tell you.’
‘So when do I get to see it?’
‘In a minute. Go on into the dining room.’
Rusty and Charlie, accompanied by their grandmother, walked into the dining room. Charlie had dispensed with the piece of cloth and was now clinging to an old teddy-bear.
‘Leave that in the hall, Charles,’ said their grandmother.
‘Where’s Mummy gone?’ he said, startled.
‘She’s just going to get a surprise for you. Now you just sit up at the table properly and leave the teddy-bear in the hall.’
‘I want to keep him with me. Then he can have a surprise, too.’
‘Don’t be silly. A big boy like you…’
Rusty could see the tears welling up in his eyes. ‘I’ll go get Teddy a chair,’ she said swiftly.
‘You will do no such thing,’ said her grandmother, but Rusty had an acute attack of deafness and placed a chair beside Charlie.
He sat the bear on it and then, realizing that it was Rusty who had brought the chair, scowled at her. Oh boy, she thought. Nothing’s changed.
Just then her mother entered, carrying two steaming plates.
‘Baked beans on toast!’ yelled Rusty.
‘Aunt Hannah told me it was one of your favourite dishes. She said you used to have it on Saturday nights, but I thought you might like it sooner.’
‘Oh, this is the tops!’
As her mother sat down, she took a letter out of her pocket.
‘That reminds me, Beatie sent on this letter from America. It’s for you.’
‘Margaret,’ said Mrs Dickinson Senior, ‘you really must inform the Omsks that you’ve moved. You can’t expect this woman to keep forwarding Virginia’s mail!’
Peggy nodded wearily.
Rusty looked at the writing on the envelope. It was Skeet’s. She was about to open it when on second thoughts she put it into her blazer pocket.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ said her grandmother.
‘Sure. Later.’
‘Well, I expect we’d all like to hear the news, too.’
I expect you would, thought Rusty.
‘Unless, of course, you have something to hide.’
Ever heard of privacy? thought Rusty.
‘Children shouldn’t have secrets from grown-ups. Margaret, what do you say?’
Rusty glanced at her mother. She looked as if she could do with a week’s sleep.
‘Why don’t you want us to know what’s in the letter?’ she said.
‘I was taught it was bad manners to read at the table,’ said Rusty.
Her mother smiled and turned to her mother-in-law. ‘She’s quite right, you know.’
Rusty hastily began eating her beans. She could see that her grandmother was furious.
She rattled her teacup rather loudly and gave a short laugh. ‘It’s a pity, Virginia, that when Mr and Mrs Omsk were teaching you table manners, they didn’t deem it fit to teach you how to use a knife and fork correctly.’
O.K., thought Rusty, you asked for it.
She flung down her fork. ‘Why the hell don’t you just get off my back!’ she yelled.
‘Virginia!’ said her mother.
‘You’re always bitching about something or other in that sugary voice of yours. I’ve never heard you say a nice word about anybody.’
‘Margaret,’ gasped her grandmother. ‘Are you going to let her get away with this?’
‘I certainly am not.’
‘I’m warning you,’ went on Rusty, growing more heated, ‘that if you say one nasty thing about the Omsks, I’m
going to give it to you!’
Charlie began beating the table delightedly with his fists. He didn’t know quite what was happening; all he knew was that his grandmother was upset, and he hated her more than he hated his sister.
‘Virginia!’ said Peggy. ‘You will go up to your room immediately!’
Rusty flung back her chair and stood up. ‘It’s a pleasure.’
‘That’s the gratitude you get for sending her to a good school!’ said her grandmother. ‘I told you it was unwise to have her home for the weekends.’
Upstairs, Rusty slammed her bedroom door shut behind her.
She propped up a chair under the doorknob to keep out interruptions and sat on the bed, wrapping the eiderdown around her. Then she tore open the letter.
‘Hi!’ it said:
I am writing this on your bed. Makes me think of you easier. Tonight we had a big celebration dinner. I have two hairs on my upper lip! I’m real glad I got hairs before school starts. I wish you’d been there.
Janey’s mother gave one of her ‘sophisticated’ parties for her. I was invited. We had to wear formals! Bow-ties and all! Janey was wearing lipstick. She even had high heels on.
I hear it always rains in England. Want me to send you your rubbers?
This is the longest letter I ever wrote. Hurry up and write.
Love,
Skeet,
P.S. It’s awfully quiet in your room.
Rusty read it through slowly again. She wished Skeet had told her what the dinner was like. She folded the letter up neatly and opened the drawer where she had put her other American letters. They were nowhere to be seen.
She took a deep breath. She felt as though she was about to throw up. She scrabbled desperately amid her clothing and whipped open each drawer, but there was no sign of them. Finally, she found them on top of the wardrobe. She couldn’t tell whether they had been read or not, but she wasn’t going to take any more chances. This time, she’d hide them.
She lifted up the rugs on the floor and started feeling her way around the floorboards. In books, people could always find a handy piece of wood that would lift up, revealing a neat little cavity underneath, where you could store secret documents. Unfortunately, in her room there was no loose plank.
She was just feeling her way around the sides of the wardrobe when she heard footsteps. She flung the letters into a corner, threw herself on the bed, and opened a book. The footsteps stopped on the landing below.
‘Virginia!’
It was her mother.
I suppose this is the apology routine again, thought Rusty.
She leapt off the bed, threw open the door and strolled on to the landing. Her mother was standing on the stairs. ‘Beatie’s on the phone,’ she said abruptly.
‘Beatie!’
Rusty jumped down the stairs, two steps at a time.
‘Yes,’ said her mother, following her. ‘But you don’t deserve to talk to her.’
The phone was lying on a small table in the hall. Rusty grabbed it. ‘Hi!’ she said.
‘Hello there,’ came a bright voice at the other end.
‘How you doin’?’
‘I’m doing splendidly.’
‘How’s your ruddy indigestion?’
‘Oh good gracious, I’m not ringing you all up to talk about the state of my innards.’
‘It’s good to hear your voice.’
‘How’s school?’
‘Terrible.’
‘Your mother seems to think you’re loving it.’
‘What?’
‘She said you looked very cheerful when she met you.’
‘That’s because I was glad to get out.’
Rusty suddenly remembered that her mother was standing behind her.
‘Mother says all girls grumble about boarding school, and that as soon as I make a few friends, I’ll be fine.’ She sighed. ‘So I guess I’ll just have to stick it out.’
There was a pause. ‘When’s your half-term?’
‘November.’
‘Why don’t you spend it here?’
‘Oh, Beatie,’ she cried, ‘I’d just love to!’
‘Put your mother on and I’ll ask her.’
Trembling, Rusty handed the receiver to her, then sat at the bottom of the stairs and crossed her fingers.
‘Yes,’ said her mother. ‘Well, that’s awfully kind, but… Oh, Beatie I’d love to, you know I would. Are you sure? Yes. Yes, I promise.’ She turned and looked at Rusty out of the corner of her eye. ‘Yes, all right, even if she’s naughty I’ll bring her. Yes.’
Rusty sprang up. ‘Oh boy,’ she whispered. ‘Oh boy!’
Her mother handed the receiver back.
‘Hi again!’
‘It’s all arranged. Your mother’s going to tell me the dates.’
‘Oh, Beatie!’
‘Whatever happens,’ said Beatie slowly, ‘will you promise me that you’ll travel to Devon with your mother?’
‘You bet.’
‘Even if you’ve quarrelled?’
‘Yeah. Sure I will.’
‘And even if I can’t manage to be there?’
Rusty was puzzled. ‘Are you going away somewhere?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, I hope you’ll be there,’ said Rusty.
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Don’t stay on too long,’ said her mother. ‘It’s a long distance call.’
‘I have to go now, Beatie,’ said Rusty hurriedly. ‘Will you be phoning again?’
‘Next weekend. Rusty?’
‘Uh-huh?’
‘Don’t let them get you down. Chin up, eh?’
‘Yeah. Walk tall.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘So long.’
‘Goodbye.’
Rusty handed the receiver back and leapt up the stairs.
She wished she could have told Beatie about not being able to have her American photographs at school. She couldn’t let her mother know about it, because she would have felt hurt at discovering that her photograph wasn’t among them.
She undressed quickly and hopped into bed. For what seemed like hours, she lay there in the dark, too uncomfortable to sleep and too cold to get out and put more clothes on.
The window rattled, and the rain outside grew heavier. She heard Charlie crying, a door opening, and footsteps. Her mother, probably.
Within minutes, she heard her grandmother muttering on the landing. ‘I told you you shouldn’t have let him speak to that woman!’
No sirree, thought Rusty. She certainly wasn’t going to apologize.
18
Rusty stood outside the Headmistress’s study. It was Monday and she had been summoned to report to Miss Bembridge during the lunch-break. She knocked at the door.
‘Enter.’
Rusty pushed it open. Miss Bembridge was sitting at her desk. ‘Sit down,’ she said, indicating a chair.
Rusty did so.
‘Now,’ Miss Bembridge said. ‘I have just been having a long talk with your mother on the telephone. It’s about your school work.’
‘I’m a little behind, but I’ll –’
‘Did I ask you to speak?’
‘No, Miss Bembridge.’
‘Then kindly remain silent.’ Miss Bembridge picked up several pieces of paper.
‘According to the mistresses, you are more than “a little behind”. As well as having done no Latin or French, you have also done no algebra, geometry, English history, or geography.’
Rusty opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again.
‘I have therefore decided that this year you will give up the lighter, more peripheral subjects, and instead take extra Latin, French and mathematics. Some of those lessons will take place with the Juniors, the rest will be private in your break-times and after supper. For the remainder of this term there will be no art, singing, gymnastics or Greek dancing.’
‘But,’ stammered Rusty, ‘art and gymnastics are two of my favourite s
ubjects. Couldn’t I give up lacrosse instead?’
‘Certainly not. There is no better place to learn team spirit than on the lacrosse pitch. I hope that when the school holds Saturday matches, you will stay and support the teams,’ said Miss Bembridge. ‘Of course, that will be entirely voluntary, but you could do with some good points to cancel out several of the marks that you have collected in the course of the last week.’
Rusty wondered if they were going to do something different to her each week to make her more miserable.
‘Now,’ said Miss Bembridge kindly, ‘are there any problems you’d like to discuss with me?’
‘Is it possible for me to have a hot-water bottle? I’m awful cold at night.’
‘I’m afraid not. There’s a shortage of rubber in this country. There’s been a war on here, you know. Hot-water bottles are difficult to come by.’
‘Uh, then could I have the window by my bed shut?’
‘I’m afraid not. We believe that girls will have a fresher and deeper sleep with the windows open.’
‘But I get so cold, I can’t sleep. Maybe if I had an extra blanket.’
‘If you washed less frequently, you’d stay much warmer.’
‘Excuse me?’ said Rusty.
‘I hear that you wash all over at least once if not twice a day. You realize that, by doing that, you’re removing all the natural oils from your skin?’
I don’t believe I’m hearing this, thought Rusty. ‘So I don’t get to have a blanket, is that it?’
Miss Bembridge pulled herself up sharply. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me in that manner, young lady!’
‘It feels like everyone here is trying to make me as unhappy as they possibly can.’
‘Nonsense. We can’t change the way the school is run just for one pupil, simply because she’s been a little softened by luxury.’
Luxury! thought Rusty. Oh, what’s the point? She doesn’t want to listen. She fell silent.
‘Well, Virginia Dickinson, is that all?’
‘Wha, yes ma-a-am,’ drawled Rusty in an American accent so broad that it bordered on Deep South. She saw immediately that it had infuriated the Headmistress. Feeling exhilarated, she stood up.
‘Ah guess ah’d best be moseying on back to class, Missy Bembridge. Ah sure as heck don’t wanna be late!’