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Every desk and chair was separated evenly from it’s neighbour by a wall of space allowing no cheating. Soon the dance studio filled with noise from chattering girls with loud footsteps that squeaked and slapped against the wooden floor. After a while the noise of scraped chairs and rattling pens subsided and gave way to an expectant hush that stilled the exam room. Blue and grey uniformed girls sat in regimented rows as the question paper and blank paper were placed on each desk.
It was not Miss Penny’s fault that Sharon failed to concentrate on the exam questions and impulsively daydreamed in her presence, becoming very sweaty very quickly. She struggled to get her mind back to the exam for sporadic moments; footsteps on the wooden floor interrupted her sixth re-reading of the fourth question and heralded Miss Penny’s approach, distracting her from either daydreaming or working. The footsteps grew loud and close, and stopped at her shoulder.
Miss Penny brushed against her shoulder as she bent towards her pupil. "More paper ?" She whispered breathing lipstick on Sharon’s cheek. The crucifix swung forward and Sharon looked down into Miss Penny’s blouse. Despite dragging her eyes away hope of completing any more of the questions was firmly buried in the invigilator’s cleavage, whose image burned rampantly setting ablaze spontaneous pornographic outpourings. Loaded with innuendo every incident with the teacher was inevitably translated by Sharon’s fertile imagination as blatant foreplay and made any physical contact as good as sex.
It was a crush and likely to pass or so the books said. Except for chemistry, physics and geography, all her teachers were female making it more likely she should favour women to men. She didn’t feel that way consciously and until she was thirteen had never thought it unusual. Sharon’s classmates, and her younger sister, were "boy mad" (as her mum described it) talking about boyfriends, or boys they fancied, and carried passport photos like trophies, the latest boyfriend’s face smiling and sometimes kissing the girl in the photo. They ate, slept, played and drank boys just as she did for Mrs Brown, Miss Verylate, Miss Yo, and Miss Penny. She said nothing but read as much as she could about homosexuals and lesbians. Through bible studies of the Watchtower publications her mum read passages that said it was wrong. Masturbation was also wrong. Sharon had to stop herself from imagining kissing, touching, and undressing Miss Penny before she went to sleep. The only way to prevent herself feeling strongly was to stop going to school, stop going to the meetings, stop watching Billie Jean King and Martina Navratilova at Wimbledon. Sharon could become a hermit. She may as well as be dead. She was not wrong, just different. Her mum had lied to the doctor about falling down the stairs when in fact her dad was to blame for her injuries. What was to stop her lying to Sharon if it was to protect someone ? The Jehovah’s Witnesses were wrong, and she knew that her mum was wrong too, like she was about her voice.
Sharon was convinced that there were similarly different women at the meetings. Sister Whitbread, sister Atkins, and sister Descombes unlike sister Eastway were unmarried, the latter probably having forced herself to get married when she was told that she was wrong when in fact she was just different. Sharon never boycotted the library, for as much as liking and lusting after Miss Penny was reason enough to be there she also relished the freedom of being somewhere else when she read a book. "On another planet," her mum said.
Both libraries were havens. The one at school where Sharon closeted herself with Miss Penny themed daydreams, her muse somewhere close by (if not to be seen, Miss Penny’s hushed tone or subtle perfume hijacking all Sharon’s senses.) The small chapel-like library on the way home was her refuge for at least an hour after she’d finished her paper round. It was the only way to escape going to her grandfather’s house on a Saturday morning. Sharon volunteered to do an extra round because so-and-so didn’t turn up for his on several occasions - and so it was not always a lie.
The library was closed. They were alone with thousands of books. Ignoring the quiet please sign, Sharon’s pulse pounded loudly in her ears as her heart hammered against her ribs. The familiar smell of paper, pencils, ink, new wood, and Miss Penny’s perfume filled her nostrils. Sharon’s report book lay open on the desk at both their sides, most of the columns were complete except for the remarks.
"Well Sharon," Miss Penny exhaled her disbelief, "I was expecting to write something praising all your efforts." She crossed her long legs slowly waiting for a response.
Sharon shoved her left hand into her blazer pocket and shrugged her shoulders. "Of course, I was hoping to pass them - I'm sorry." Sharon said.
"What do you think went wrong?"
"I can't really explain," Sharon blurted apologetically, reddening as her voice dropped to crooning tenor on the last two words. She was still not used to it. Sharon and her mum had had a conversation about boys’ voices breaking and girls' periods starting, according to her mum the former happening only to boys. A month after she ‘became a woman’ a sore throat had left her with a new and noticeably lower pitched voice. A week after the huskiness and soreness disappeared Sharon's voice lost the harsh gruffness and mellowed to a clear contralto. Her mum belatedly observed that it was about time her bad throat cleared up two weeks after it had - she said it sounded like they had a young lad living in the house. It came and went without warning, surprising her father the first time he heard it. He suddenly looked up from his newspaper over to the other side of the sitting the room half expecting to see someone else other than his eldest daughter reading aloud to Peter and Jilly.
"You have a good report apart from these," frowning, Miss Penny tapped the page with her fingers. Short nails clipped and smoothed, not bitten, with just a thin margin of white at the end. The plain gold band on her little finger glittered reflecting the overhead lights. "I can't imagine that you've neglected to revise enough." She uncrossed her legs, shuffled her chair forward so that their knees were jammed together and, put her hand over Sharon’s. "Is there trouble at home ?" Miss Penny probed gently. Sharon nodded in response. Butterflies looped the loop inside her stomach. Electricity jolted from Miss Penny’s touch straight to her heart. A warm melting sensation spread from her knees to her groin and her face burned. "You’re so hot Sharon...take off your blazer..." Miss Penny ordered, smiling as she placed her other hand against Sharon’s forehead. Warm lipstick scented breath brushed Sharon’s cheek and raised goosebumps. She hung her blazer on the back of the chair and sat down again hoping that the hairs on her arms would lie flat again. "Better ?" Miss Penny asked with eyebrows raised. Sharon nodded, again unable to speak.
Trouble at home was nothing new. For as long as she could remember Sharon’s parents’ fought. "After fifteen years I should be used to it by now. But even so, I thought I had done enough." Sharon said trying to control her voice staring at the ruled paper on the desk. She wished Miss Penny would break the silence. Sharon felt her teacher’s eyes on her and although it was no longer there, the warm pressure of her hand as it squeezed hers. Sharon’s head buzzed. Eye contact might indecently expose her thoughts, but bravely she looked into the face that regarded her with concern and studied Miss Penny's eyes. They were grey-blue and fringed with dark lashes. Miss Penny's mouth housed teeth that were straight except for the incisors that overlapped the others, it didn’t stop Sharon wanting to press her lips to her teacher’s thin red ones. "I've spent my free study periods and loads of lunch times here in the library revising."
Sharon looked up from the crucifix that hung around Miss Penny’s neck, resting just where her cleavage started, into the gaze of her teacher's eyes. Her red lips parted as she inhaled. "So I have noticed," Miss Penny replied with nostrils flared.
Sharon’s chest heaved. Her stomach somersaulted into her lap and her heart accelerated, causing the pulse in her neck to throb thunderously. Cold sweat slid from her armpit. All she could manage was to breathe and hope that she appeared composed.
"It is difficult at home to do any homework let alone revision," Sharon said at last. "Which is why I do as much as I can here." She resisted the urge to undo the top button of her blouse and loosen her tie. "I have to share a bedroom with two of my sisters. My baby brother is only eighteen months old and there is a lot of noise in the house."
As they talked about school, family and hockey, Sharon relaxed, forgot her embarrassment at speaking, and basked in the glow of Miss Penny’s attention.
"Do you help out with the new baby ?" Miss Penny asked.
Her mum was five months pregnant at the last parents’ evening. Back ache prevented her from standing for very long and all the teachers her mum spoke with found a spare chair, or sat on their desks, so that she could sit.
"No, Miss. That baby wasn’t born alive." Sharon stated folding her arms. Her mum’s stricken body lay slumped where she fell after being kicked. A puddle stained the carpet a darker shade of blue and wet the back of her maternity dress. Despite the disinfectant and mopping with towels the cat sniffed at the hall carpet for months afterwards until the contents of her brother’s full potty spilled, replacing the stale fluid from her mum’s womb with fresh urine camouflaged by yet more disinfectant. Sharon hoped that the renewal of the stain in roughly the same spot kicked back at her father’s conscience every time he came through the front door.
"Oh, were you very upset ?"
"Only when Mum cried." Sharon replied banishing the image before the lump in her throat made her want to cry.
"Another girl " as her father called Sharon’s unnamed baby sister, died when the cord was wrapped around her neck. Her mum mentioned falling down the stairs to explain the black eye, split lip, and distressed unborn child - tears streamed down both cheeks as she told the doctor. Like her mum’s injuries, fresh tobacco smoke curling up from a hastily crushed cigarette implicated her dad who had already left by the time Sharon ran back from the neighbour’s house after using their telephone.
"Let’s say that you did plenty of revision then, which I believe you did, but that there are plenty of distractions at home. You’re bound to be affected by these, and you weren’t ill on these particular exam days?" She asked gently.
"No." Sharon replied. Her teacher’s blue eyes searched for other possible answers.
"All of those exams you’ve performed most badly at are the ones where I was invigilating that day - it seems that maybe you were distracted, or bothered by something...in the exam room." Miss Penny suggested with raised eyebrows.
"Well, yes..." she began, dismissing a naked image of Miss Penny from her thoughts, "but I shouldn’t like to say anything more than I... I couldn’t concentrate on the exam." Sharon said embarrassed. She slowly looked up from the crucifix that pointed down into Miss Penny’s cleavage, and up to her eyes.
Miss Penny smiled. "That’s okay. Don’t worry. Just remember that you can re-sit the exams, you don’t have leave at the end of term."
"I know. But I’m pretty certain I will. I’ve had a couple of interviews that are really quite promising. And I really do want to earn some money."
"That’s a shame." Miss Penny sighed. "You’ve got real ability Sharon. Don’t forget that if you ever need to talk to anyone about anything, and I mean absolutely anything - you can talk to me." She said still hopeful of more from Sharon.
The figure behind the dirty frosted glass picked up newspapers, leaflets and junk mail before opening the door. His untidy white hair billowed around his head as a draught blew through the hall. A clean white vest partially covered his skinny chest, the bones of his shoulders poking awkwardly through flesh, his collar bone reminiscent of a coat hanger. Several days’ worth of white stubble, light grey under his nose and lower lip, covered most of his face. His blue eyes regarded Sharon keenly tilting his head slightly to one side as if he saw better through his left eye. She had been scrutinised in the same way by her mum.
He smiled. Pink gums showed briefly before his bottom lip completely smothered his top one and touched his nose. His face collapsed as he sucked in empty cheeks which billowed out as he talked.
"Come in duck, I nearly didn’t know you until I saw them teeth, you young stripling." He said with difficulty.
"At least I’ve got some." Sharon retorted in defence of the two protruding in front that she could just get her top lip over if she concentrated.
He chuckled, hitching up his trousers which like most of his clothes seemed too big. Gone were his very round biceps and square shoulders, his uncomfortable shoulder blades drew Sharon’s eye from his ribs as he tucked his vest into the top of his waistband. The notch on his belt was an extra one that he’d added. In the middle of the surplus leather his previous waist size was marked by an elongated notch and imprint of the buckle.
Even with his perfect white teeth in he didn’t look the same. They chatted over cups of tea and biscuits. Awkwardly, Sharon refused the ten pound note he pushed at her: "I don’t need it - I’m earning my own now", but he insisted and tucked it into her pocket.
"Crikey...whatever she feeds you on it good stuff , tell her," he said leaning back in his chair as if she was too big to focus on any closer. "Which one are you ?"
"The eldest one." Sharon smiled. Maybe he got Sharon mixed up with her sister Fay whose teeth, eye colour and features were similar. He still seemed unsure of who she was. She pointed to an old photo collecting dust on the mantelpiece - a girl whose ten year old face was far too small for her adult sized teeth grinned at them both.
"Carol." He said confusing her with his own daughter, Sharon’s mum.
"No. Sharon."
The dawn of recognition lit his face.
Everything changed when Sharon took cups and saucers to the kitchen, he followed with the plates: movements evocative of past times. The stainless steel sink, with the crockery in it, conjured up unwelcome events. The kitchen had not changed in twenty years, the same cupboards, same newspaper strewn floor, bore witness to buried memories of uninvited incidents. Sharon shrugged it off and got ready to go.
"You’re not too big to give your grandfather a hug and kiss are you ?" he asked.
Warily, she kissed him on his scratchy cheek placing her hands on his shoulders suspiciously. His arms slid around her waist and tightened drawing her to him just like all the other times. They lurked in the back of her mind like a bad dream. He pressed his lips against Sharon’s mouth. She pushed him away firmly.
"No !" She shouted. Angry for all those times that had happened with her grandfather in his house, and for being reminded of them. The force of her shove made it impossible for him to keep his balance and he fell backwards hitting his head on the wall. His surprised face then went blank for several seconds and his eyes closed.
Sharon picked up her bag, trying to avoid touching the vinyl surface of the sofa, the bright colour, and smell of the foam seats livid reminders of the reason for her self-imposed exile from him and his house. Nausea rose in her throat as she stormed through to the hall kicking up newspapers in her haste
He followed her shouting something unintelligible and waved his arm at the open front door. "You know, she won prizes for her looks, that won’t happen to you though you’re too much like him!" He continued shouting after her his voice shaking. "She was much better looking than you…" He stopped abruptly. "Go on. Get out !"
Later the same day Sharon told her mum that apart from being a lot thinner he was his usual self.
"This is from him." She slid the ten pound note from her pocket with the tips of her fingers and put it on the kitchen work surface. "He mentioned that you won prizes for your looks - when was this ?"
Her mum dried her hands on the tea towel and rummaged in the dirty laundry basket. Seconds later she pulled out her purse. "Oh, that was when I was a baby. Your grandmother entered me in lots of baby competitions and won several. Fancy him telling you that." Her mum replied squashing the note inside quickly and hastily wrapping the purse in a pair of trousers, returning it to the odorous hiding place.
At seven o’ clock Sharon walked along the street looking out for a silver suzuki. Parked cars lined both sides of the road and she guessed that Miss Penny’s was somewhere opposite. She spotted it and crossed the road on rubbery legs becoming suddenly light-headed recognising the woman who smiled as she leant over to unlock the passenger door.
Miss Penny was almost as Sharon remembered, except that she seemed bigger in her memory. Her few inches of growth and filling out gave the impression of Miss Penny’s shrink in stature. Wearing a well tailored speckled grey suit she appeared more headmistress-like. A little make-up; a subtle shade of lipstick coloured her mouth and a light coating of mascara darkened her eye lashes. The greyer hair hung neatly to the top of her collar.
"Hello Sharon." She invited.
"Hello..." Sharon smiled "thanks so much for meeting me." Miss Penny’s perfume resurrected memories of hoped for seductions and buried emotions. Sharon blushed and went hot. Nostalgia overwhelmed her. "It’s lovely to see you. I’d forgotten how much I missed school." Sharon confessed.
Miss Penny shifted slightly in her seat resting one arm on the steering wheel and looked at Sharon intently. "It must be two years or so." She stopped suddenly and frowned, "on the phone you sounded upset."
"Yes, and yes. I remember what you said to me that day about talking to you about anything." Sharon said swallowing painfully taken aback by a rush of mixed feelings, "Mmmyyyyy...." came out as a sob when she opened her mouth. The hard knot in her throat wouldn’t let her speak. Holding her breath and then slowly breathing out she managed to hold on to her self control. Hot tears pricked her eyes and threatened to spill. "My grandfather died a year ago, last week was the anniversary - I killed him!" Gasping, and then sobbing she cried for the first time in years.
Miss Penny pressed a clean handkerchief to Sharon’s wet cheek. "Oh my dear you are surely mistaken."
"It was an accident. He banged his head when he fell and ...a few days later he died from a stroke." Sharon explained wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand anxious to see Miss Penny’s face.
"How can you be responsible for that Sharon ?"
"I didn’t tell anyone that he’d hit his head when...he fell...I just left him. He seemed okay."
"Old people do fall and hurt themselves." Miss Penny volunteered certain that Sharon was mistaken.
"I pushed him. Heard his head hit the wall. He was ranting and raving at me a few minutes later and I left him. I should have told someone. But I just wanted to get out and forget again." She said and then blew her nose.
"Why did you push him Sharon ?" Miss Penny demanded quietly, putting her hand on her passenger’s arm.
"To get him off me!" Sharon replied angry and shocked again. Miss Penny’s hand squeezed gently and Sharon took a calming deep breath. "I hadn’t been there for years - it was the only way to be sure that he couldn’t grope me. Mum had been on at me to call in and see him and so I did. I thought that if he tried any funny stuff I could stop him, and I did."
For several moments neither spoke. Sharon shook from head to foot, sweat trickled from her brow and top lip mixing with drying tears on her face. Her armpits leaked and the sodden patches of her blouse met at the front and back. It was as if the still, dark, deep river, into which she had plunged the unwelcome events with her grandfather, dissolved over the years into poisonous shadows and ripples, and now flooded through tear ducts, nostrils, and sweat glands. She opened the car door, leaned out and waited for her supper to come up. Her vomit splattered on to the pavement. She wiped her mouth with the clean hanky and waited just in case there was more.
"Oh Sharon, you poor love" Miss Penny breathed loudly, knitting her eyebrows together. "Accidents happen. You mustn’t blame yourself for his death, if you’re saying what I think - then he knew he was doing wrong. You cannot possibly blame yourself for avoiding him." She paused briefly, "My dear, look at me. It was an accident, you cannot be blamed." She swallowed hard. "How long...had he been doing inappropriate things to you ?" Her stricken eyes darted around Sharon’s face.
"I can’t be sure, but I was about 11. I’d not long moved schools and it was around about that time when I remember that was the beginning of not wanting to go to his house." Sharon answered. Miss Penny wiped her eyes as she looked through the windscreen at the road. Night fell.
Until then her life seemed like a game of rounders while fielding - if the ball came near she’d catch it or chase after it without much enthusiasm but the assurance of her turn to bat kept her interest alive. At last she swung the bat at the approaching ball with a mighty effort. "Thwack." The hard ball connected with solid wood. It was a long one - the team cheered her all the way round She ran fast. In Miss Penny’s presence Sharon’s unwavering conviction that her turn would come overwhelmed her. The closer she was to that moment the more comfortable she felt for just being herself and she sensed the brink of the much longed for transformation in her life
"I have always liked women in the way that men like women who they marry." Sharon announced carefully, looking for signs of rejection.
Quiet for several moments Miss Penny twisted the ring on her little finger with her thumb. "There is nothing wrong with being that way, but it makes life difficult."She said with a frown. Blinding headlights lit up their faces for a few seconds now and again.
"It can’t be as difficult as forcing myself to like something just because everybody I know likes it. Goat’s cheese for instance - the thought of it is not that off putting when you see other people trying it and enjoying the taste. So it must at least be palatable and the thought of trying it is not so bad until it’s on the end of your fork. You can smell it as you raise it to your lips and it makes you heave." Sharon explained seriously.
Miss Penny smiled. "So men are like goat’s cheese ?" She asked.
"Only the one I almost tried," Sharon laughed. "I was thankful that he was a Jehovah’s Witness because they profess not to have sex before marriage and I can tell you there was no way we were going to break that rule."
"Are most of your friends JW’s ?"
Linda, Jane, Michelle and Donna - Sharon resigned herself to the end of their friendships.
"Yes. I’ve been thinking of when I eventually disassociate myself - there is someone there I really like and I think she likes me." Her mum’s predicted rejection was a blow she already accepted, her loss inevitable but necessary. Sharon hardened her heart to the probable certainty that their lives would separate. Annie was a different story though. "I know that is a selfish reason."
"You must tell her how you feel, don’t rush, but it won’t hurt to start making knew friends. Come to All Saints on Sunday." Miss Penny suggested.
Sharon spirits lifted - she had someone on her side at last and wanted to see her again. They swapped telephone numbers just in case one or the other could not make it. Pat was written in blue biro on the scrap of paper she tucked into her jacket pocket. If she attended just the last hour of the meeting at the Kingdom Hall on Sunday it meant that Sharon would get to stay for the post meeting chit-chat with the chance of seeing Annie.
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