Stupid, stupid crush.
Besides, I had other fish to fry now, big, fat kink-fish with snappy jaws and whip fins. I had my piano lesson scene with Justin and Maz to set up, and there was talk of the three of us signing up for a big event in London at the end of the month. I hadn’t made up my mind whether to go through with it yet, but I expected my new friends’ arguments in favour to be persuasive.
Kacey and Tunde ran through their balcony scene once more, then the rehearsal was over and I prepared to leave.
‘Secret love,’ said Patrick, unexpectedly and rather alarmingly, having crept up to some spot just behind my left shoulder while I was rummaging in my bag.
Was there an answer to that? Did he expect an answer?
‘Those were the days,’ I said vaguely, though they weren’t really. I’d never had a secret lover, as far I could remember. I suppose you could count Justin as one, though “lover” didn’t seem quite the right word. What did love have to do with it?
‘Really?’ Patrick’s voice blended curiosity and melancholy, but I had no elaboration for him. ‘No secret lovers stashed in the instrument cupboards, then?’
‘Er, no. You?’
‘Not one. Actually, I was wondering whether you were free –’
A basketball crashed deafeningly across the floor, making the pair of us jump.
‘Sorry, headmaster,’ said Gareth insincerely. ‘Just checking the place out for the match tomorrow. I need to ask you about a few things, actually. Are you available?’
Patrick masked a sigh. ‘Of course.’
A dull conversation about team bibs and after-match refreshments broke out. I picked up my bag, nodded my excuses and left.
What had he been about to ask me? His manner had been quite intimate, almost diffident for such a confident man. Was I going mad, or did he seem to be approaching me for a – a date? An adulterous liaison! Was he really that kind of man?
The excitement of it was outweighed heavily by disappointment at his lack of integrity. But perhaps they had separated? A divorce was on the cards? She had cheated on him and he wanted revenge? They had an open marriage? But he had said that thing about “secret love” – that pointed a rather damning finger towards the adultery theory.
A million scenarios flew through my head between school and my flat, but I didn’t dare pursue any one of them. I wasn’t going to be any man’s mistress. If I was a mistress, how could a man be my master? No, it was a hopeless case. I would keep exploring my sexuality in an emotionally safe setting and keep the love stuff for another time, if another time ever came.
We had negotiated the scene beforehand this time. We knew exactly who was playing what role, and what body parts were going where and in whom afterwards.
Maz, in severe tweed and a tight bun, was my piano teacher, tapping my knuckles with her baton whenever my fingers strayed on to the wrong keys. Once I had made three successive errors, I was told to bend over the piano stool while she lifted my skirt and petticoat, lowered my old-fashioned bloomers and spanked me hard with the conductor’s baton. It didn’t hurt very much, being similar in length and width to a knitting needle, so she switched to using her hand, which was pretty hard considering it lacked the size and firm quality of Justin’s.
Once my arse was reddened to her satisfaction, she pulled the bloomers back up and I sat back on the stool and continued with the piece.
But it still wasn’t good enough. My hands were wrenched off the keys, the lid put down and I was led by the hand to the next room, where “Professor Stern”, the head of the conservatoire, kept his office.
‘Enter,’ said Justin.
I had to freeze my facial muscles to avoid smiling when I saw him. He had found a dusty old black schoolmaster’s gown from somewhere and was holding it at the lapels, pacing up and down my hastily-rearranged bedroom.
‘What appears to be the problem, Miss Cross?’
‘This lazy girl hasn’t practised since our last lesson,’ said Maz.
‘That’s not true,’ I protested, but their combined wrathful looks soon drove my rebellious spirit back inside me and I listened mutely while they discussed my poor performance.
‘I’ve spanked her once already today, but it seems to have done no good,’ complained Maz. ‘The girl has had to bare her bottom every day since we started – she is by far my laziest student. I think stronger measures are called for, Professor.’
‘I see. Well, Miss Delray, it’s a very long time since I’ve had such a recalcitrant student as you. I’m not sure the conservatoire is the right place for you any more.’
‘Oh, please, sir, don’t expel me! The shame would kill my mother!’ I exclaimed, hamming it up for the non-existent gallery.
‘I’m going to offer you another chance,’ said Justin.
‘Oh, thank you, thank you.’ I wondered about sinking to my knees, but held myself in check as Justin opened my wardrobe door.