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The invitation arrived at lunch with the post. Anna, who had been expecting at best a letter from her mother — typically four sides of admonishment — was intrigued to receive instead an envelope with her name written in an elegant hand. The paper was the colour of tea, and obviously expensive. She opened it with a serrated dining-room knife, and pulled out a heavy card.
EMMA GREEN. SCHOOL HOUSE. ARLINGHURST SCHOOL said embossed letters along the top that shone like oil. Underneath, Emma had written, with the same broad-nibbed fountain pen, 'Come to my birthday party. Saturday 2nd December. Eight o'clock.' And as a postscript: 'Posh frocks, and don't forget to wash.'
Anna grinned. She read it two or three times. Then she ran a finger across the raised letters, as if reading braille. A curious neighbour leant over to take a look. Anna promptly slid the card back into its envelope.
'What is it?' asked the neighbour, even more curious.
'They want me to subscribe to Caravan Monthly.'
'Rubbish! That's internal mail. What is it, Anna?'
'It's from the headmistress,' said Anna.
'What does it say?'
'Nothing in particular. Just an all-round note of congratulation.'
'Tell us,' said another girl, 'Or we'll slap your leg.' This had been a running joke ever since Anna, through a series of unfortunate circumstances, had been forced to go about revealing more of herself than English girls usually do in December.
But Anna only smiled, said 'Slap away, my dear!' and dug her fork into the yellow mess on her plate, which some comedian in the kitchen had meant as macaroni cheese.
'So!' she said brightly, after a few mouthfuls. 'The hockey season drawing to a close. And what a season it's been! Who are you putting your money on, for the house cup?'
Keep your lousy secret, then, they said. And left her alone.
*
Her wardrobe was empty, her clothes were still at the laundry. She went to the party in borrowed finery, like Cinderella. She wore Bella Gillet's flowery skirt which reached almost to her ankles, and a black top belonging to Harriet Tully, and Sam Freeson's soft leather coat. Sam had done Anna's hair too, and slapped her face to bring up the colour, and told her to have fun — whatever it was she was up to. Anna walked across the little town of Arlinghurst like a true lady, and the December stars smiled down at her. Tomorrow she would be a threadbare schoolgirl again, but that was tomorrow.
She reached School House, and went along the loud, festive corridors. She passed studies alive with music, and kitchens where feasts were in preparation, and up several staircases, until she came to Emma's room beneath the eaves. She knocked, the door opened, and there was Emma, in a white shirt and blue skirt, beaming at her. 'Anna!' she cried, and wrapped her arms around her, squeezed her tight, and kissed her, as if this was the most wonderful thing ever. Emma was a born hostess.
'Everybody!' she cried, leading Anna inside. 'This is Anna. I'm sure she is known to most of you already.'
Eight or nine guests had already arrived. Anna, as she entered, took a quick glance around — and realised that this was going to be an interesting party indeed.
On the bed, watching her with watery eyes, was Sarah Hartopp, who last week had put her on 'Morning Parade' for walking across a forbidden lawn. Sprawling on the floor was Rafaela, who had made her do the punishment in her underwear because she didn't have a leotard. Behind the punchbowl, ladle in hand, was Richie, who not long ago had held Anna's head between her legs, while Emma had laid about her with a wooden spoon. In fact, there was hardly a single guest who hadn't punished Anna in one way or other. Most were barely a year older than her.
A hush fell over the room. It was as though a professional safe-breaker had just arrived at the Policeman's Ball. But Emma, standing behind Anna, put her arms around her neck, and her head next to Anna's. 'Take that as a compliment,' she said. 'You're notorious in these circles ... Now, let's have your coat — who did you steal this off? — and go and claim your free drink from Richie.'
So Anna gave her coat to Emma, and carefully picked her way across the floor, which was strewn with bodies. At the punchbowl she greeted Richie, who was already ladling something yellow into a beaker for her.
Anna took a sip. It was only lemonade.
'What did you expect?' said Richie, seeing her face.
'Surreptitious vodka, at least,' said Anna. 'I feel oddly in need of a drink.' She gave a significant glance around the room.
'Don't blame you,' said Richie, and began stirring the lemonade with the ladle, chasing slices of lemon around the bowl. She seemed distracted. But Anna was determined to make a success of the evening.
'So how are you, Richie?' she said. 'What have you been up to, since we last met? Anything fun?'
Anna was all charm. So the Sergeant began telling her about the weekend cadet camp she was organising for next term, which was taking up most of her time. Anna nodded and frowned and asked intelligent questions. Even when Richie described the various joys of the event — forced marches, map-reading, dried rations — did Anna manage to keep sarcasm in check. She had no axe to grind with the Sergeant. Richie may have assaulted her, but it had been done without malice. Nobody who heard Anna now would guess that despising the Cadets was the principle duty of her life as she saw it. Only when Richie suggested that Anna herself should sign up for this monstrous weekend, did she demur with a tactful waggle of the head. 'Well, you don't have to put your name down until next term,' said Richie, evidently mistaking this polite rebuff for hesitation. She had begun to think that Emma might be right about this strange kid after all.
Guests came to refill their glasses. Some ignored Anna and went away. Others stayed and talked to her. One congratulated her on her improved appearance on the parade ground in recent weeks, and wondered what could be the reason behind this. (But everybody knew). Another, who had caught Anna smoking and sent her to her house-mistress for execution, now enquired after the state of her lungs. Presently Emma joined them. She stood with her hand on Anna's shoulder, and listened to her friends discussing the dismal future of the Cadets. They were all leaving at the end of the year, and couldn't see how the corps would survive, for who on earth would take their place? 'Of course, there's young Anna here,' said Emma. 'But she can't make up her mind. She might leave the corps, or she might put in for promotion.' They laughed at that. 'Maybe she should,' said Richie. 'Of course she should!' replied Emma. 'She just needs a bit of persuading, that's all.' They laughed at that, too.
The group expanded, and, like an amoeba, split. Anna found herself face-to-face with Nicola Matthews, a tall, elegant, but unfortunately-acned girl. Anna was racking her brains for something to say, when Nicola spoke in a low voice that only Anna could hear.
'What the fuck are you doing here, Hargreaves?'
It was like a slap in the face. 'I don't know,' said Anna. 'What the fuck are you doing here?'
'What's going on with you and Emma?'
'I've no idea what you're talking about.'
'You shouldn't have come,' said the girl, and turned away quickly.
Anna went red. ' Very friendly!' she said. She went to help herself to more lemonade, and soon was talking to Richie again. But the exchange had unsettled her.
Guests continued to arrive. One was Lou, Anna's own head of house, who waved at her. There were a dozen girls in the room now, sprawling on the floor like cats, or leaning in pairs against the walls, nodding in intimate discussion. It was a loud, bright gathering. Since the things that make a successful adult party — alcohol, loud music, and drugs — were out of the question, Emma had wisely decided not to try for a compromise. She had gone the other way. There were no tasteful dips, no crudités. Instead, there were bowls full of crisps, and maltesers, and smarties. There was endless lemonade. In the background Julie Andrews sang about lonely goats.
There were even party games. Emma took from a shelf a contraption of wire and plastic, and put it on the coffee table. It was the figure of a man, two-dimensional, fashioned out of undulating silver wire, standing on a black plinth. At the bottom of one leg hung a wire ring with a handle. You had to steer the ring around the man's body without touching it. If you did so, a buzzer shrieked.
They greeted him with a cheer — he was evidently an old friend — and clustered around. Anna was amused. When she or her friends had a birthday, they celebrated in a distant pub whose landlord wasn't fussy about who he served. And here were the Great and Good of Arlinghurst preparing to play children's games.
'Is it the usual rules?' asked Richie.
'Definitely the usual rules.'
'What are the usual rules?' asked Anna.
'You'll pick them up,' said Emma. 'Now, everyone in turn. Heffy, Sugs, Anna, Richie...'
But as it was her birthday, they made Emma go first. She knelt in front of the contraption, and with the steadiest of hands brought the wire ring from the man's right foot to his left, via his head, without sounding the buzzer. She dropped the ring onto the man's plastic sock and straightened. There was applause. They accused her of practising.
The next competitor was less skilful. She grazed the man's head, and he blared at her. She stuck out her tongue in reply, and switched off the machine at the base to shut him up.
'Usual rules!' said Richie.
But the girl was already sitting on the floor and taking off her shoe. The audience wolf-whistled, and she wiggled her toes at them. After this she knelt at the machine again. She continued with less speed, and greater concentration. Even so she lost her other shoe before she was home and dry. She too got a round of applause.
'I should have known,' said Anna, as she clapped.
'What?' said Richie.
'That the evening would involve people removing clothes. It tends to happen around Emma.'
'What's that, Anna?' called Emma, across the room.
'Nothing!' Anna smiled at her, and said out of the corner of her mouth, 'Ah well. It is her birthday.'
'What's she saying, Richie? Is she being cheeky?'
'She's saying what a great way to celebrate your birthday,' called Richie, and winked at Anna.
The next competitor surrendered her Alice Band, insisting this counted as clothing.
Then it was Anna's turn. She knelt.
'I should warn you,' she announced. 'I'm a dab hand at this. Practically a genius.'
She squared her shoulders, picked up the ring, and began. She was silent as she traced the wire man's shin to the knee, and circumnavigated it, and continued. She had found her rhythm, and relaxed. 'My brother was given one of these for his birthday,' she said. 'And never managed to beat me once ... Poor old Jamie...'
She rounded the hip with ease.
'You should have seen me ... That, sadly was the high-point of my sporting life ... I've never managed to relive those glory days ... take football, for instance ... as someone was kind enough to remark recently ... it would be a miracle if Anna Hargreaves ... could even score a home goal...'
Lou — Anna's head of house — put hand to mouth in embarrassment. The other girls grinned at her.
' ... This obviously wasn't intended for my ears ... but was reported to me ... by no less than three junior girls ... '
'I take it back, Anna,' said Lou. 'Because you did then score a home-goal. In a house-match.'
'... Well, Lou ... I did hint at the time ... that you shouldn't make me play...'
'An outbreak of 'flu,' Lou explained to the others. 'We had to scrape the barrel.'
'Thank you ... Now if only we could play this ... instead of football ... then you'd begging me to represent New House ... Anna, you would say ... OH FUCK!'
The wire man had joined in the conversation with a sarcastic bleat. Anna had grazed his fingertips.
She removed her shoe with good grace. 'Just a bit rusty, that's all,' she said, as she continued. 'And of course I'm used to playing on professional equipment ...'
'Anna, dear, you don't have to talk.'
'Thank you, Emma. That's exactly what you said to me, on another occasion.'
Richie laughed. Emma shot her a warning look. 'What occasion?' said someone else.
'One which also required ... concentration ... and patience ... which luckily I have ... in considerable... FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!'
The buzzer had sounded again.
'You were saying?'
'Your machine is faulty,' said Anna. 'I suggest you get it serviced.'
'I suggest you stop babbling,' said Emma. 'Shoe, please.'
Anna took off her other shoe and pulled a face. She settled herself at the machine again. Her cockiness had all disappeared. She even took Emma's advice, continuing in silence, with furrowed brow, and intent gaze. It did her little good. Before she had reached the man's other hand, she had lost both socks too.
'BUGGER!' she cried, the fourth time the buzzer went. 'Let's play something else, huh? This machine is obviously rigged. I bet you've all been practising.'
'I had no idea you were such a klutz,' said Emma.
'She's notorious for it,' said Lou.
'I mean ... Anna — I was prepared for a bit of incompetence, but you must be the clumsiest person in existence.'
'No,' said Rafaela. 'There's her brother, remember.'
Anna did her best to ignore all this pleasant banter. She steadied her breathing, relaxed her shoulders, and composed herself. When she was ready, she set off for the fifth time.
James Bond disarming a nuclear device couldn't have proceeded with more caution. The stakes were suddenly high. There was no risk of Anna setting off a chain reaction, it's true; but she would have to remove her shirt. And that was something she would rather not do, in this inauspicious company.
With full concentration and both hands she guided the ring along. She ignored Emma's imprecation that she get a move on. She gritted her teeth, and took it millimetre by millimetre. She came to the armpit — another tricky bend — and rotated the ring around it. Another change of grip was needed. There was sweat on her hand. The ring slipped, the buzzer blared, the room cheered.
Anna rocked back on her heels. 'Do I have to?' she said, in exasperation. Her face was red.
'I'm surprised you even ask, Anna,' said Emma.
Anna removed the shirt in silence. She knelt in her bra and skirt. She wiped her sweaty palm, and picked up the ring again. But the difficult obstacles were behind her. In silence she dropped the wire ring on to the man's foot.
'And I thought this was going to be a civilised party,' she said as she stood up. Her good humour returned to her at once. 'Cocktails and canapés. Polite chatter. Clothes staying on.'
She went and sat on the bed with her back to the wall, hugging her arms. The other girls took their turns, and every time the buzzer went, Anna sighed in relief. Shoes, socks, and sweaters came off. Nobody else had to show their bra, but there were plenty of bare feet, and bare legs. The more flesh that appeared, the happier she felt. Still, she was glad when the final contestant had come and gone.
Emma stood and stretched. 'Not bad,' she said, summing up the tournament. 'Not bad at all. No-one embarrassed themselves. Except for Anna.'
Anna stuck her tongue out.
'Let's see how she fares in Round Two,' said Emma, and knelt down at the machine.
It took a second or two for Anna to realise what was going on. Emma had already picked up the ring before Anna started protesting.
'Hush, Anna! You're putting me off.'
Anna sat wriggling while Emma completed her second perfect round. As soon as she was done, she piped up again. 'I'm not saying that I didn't enjoy it, but I think I'll quit while I'm at my peak.'
Emma, now on her feet, turned to Richie.
'Richie, what do the Usual Rules say about this?'
'Very strict, I'm afraid.'
'Has to play, does she?
'Has to.'
'No get-out clauses? Loop-holes?'
'Sorry. The rules are quite clear.'
'That's a shame.' She turned to Anna. 'Anna, I've just conferred with Richie Richibus...'
'I am not playing,' said Anna. 'So there!'
Everybody in the room was looking at her. In their faces she saw curiosity, amusement, pity, and malice. But one face particularly caught her attention. Nicola Matthews, the girl who had told her she shouldn't have come, was looking at Anna and shaking her head, and her face said, I told you so.
'Arguing with the law,' said Richie. 'Itself carries severe penalties.'
Anna continued to stare at Nicola. Nicola looked back towards the game, where play was now beginning again. Anna looked too. She watched the contestant negotiate the various bends. Her hand was not at all steady. Even Anna's had been steadier. She waited for the buzz, but it didn't come. Even as the girl slid the wire ring swiftly around the tricky armpit — her own elbow wobbling — there came no buzz. The light continued to glow in the base of the machine. But something, somewhere, had been switched off. A hidden switch? Remote control?
She carefully watched the third contestant too. Her hand was no steadier. Still the machine was silent. Nicola continued to glance at her.
Anna's turn was now approaching. She quickly made up her mind.
Nonchalantly she strolled towards the door, tried to open it — and found it locked.
'Emma — have you got the key?' she called. 'I need a wee.'
'You're up next.'
'I'll be two secs.'
'Go after.'
'Honestly, I need to go.'
There was applause as the contestant finished her round.
'Anna's trying to escape to the loo,' said Emma. 'You have to watch this one.'
'Come on, Anna. You're up!'
'I need to go.'
'You can cross your legs for two minutes.'
'I really need to go now.'
'No.'
'Oh, come on, you guys...'
'The more stand around arguing, Anna ...' said Emma, sucking her teeth. 'The longer it'll take.'
There was nothing for it. With a heavy heart she returned to the instrument of torture.
They had some way of switching the buzzer off. But it didn't seem that they could make it sound, without the wire ring actually making contact. Her first plan was to call their bluff and achieve a perfect round.
It was unlikely, but she tried her best. There were grunts of admiration as she negotiated the armpit without mishap. She nearly made it around the hand too. But she grazed the thumb and he blared at her. Off came her long skirt.
'Lou,' she said, looking up at the girl. 'I appeal to you as my head of house. You have a duty to protect me. I throw myself on your mercy.'
'Throw away,' said Emma. 'Rules is rules.'
'Rules is rules,' said Anna, picking up the wire ring. She set off again. 'I'm wracking my brains here ... but I can't remember ever hearing ... a more witless comment ... You should collect these little sayings, Emma ... You could publish them in a little book ... Aphorisms For Prefects...'
Talking seemed to help her concentrate after all, and she did admirably. The room was hushed. But when she touched the man on the very top of his head, and the buzzer sounded, there was no cheering as before, just the sympathetic sucking of teeth.
'I'm not taking anything else off,' Anna told them.
'Don't be such a rotten sport,' said Emma.
'I am not going to take anything else.'
'You're not going to take anything else off?'
'I'm not going to take anything else off.'
'Then I'll do it for you. Top or bottom?
She looked at Anna, waiting for an answer. Anna looked at her. There was a long pause. And then Anna, without dropping her eyes, unhooked her bra and slid it off. She threw it on top of the heap of clothes.
Some looked away politely, and some smiled at her. There was a respectful murmuring, as if they were in church, and the sacraments had just been uncovered. But perhaps a similar sound filled pagan temples of ancient times, when the weeping virgin, naked and hands bound, made her first, and only, entrance.
Anna didn't weep. If she had, who could blame her? She had come to this party of enemies, and showed herself willing to forgive and forget. She had stood tall in her borrowed clothes, and been civilised and pleasant. And they had made her bare herself for their amusement.
Perhaps her lip trembled. But Anna was shrewd. She knew her only chance now depended on Emma not seeing it. So she laughed and grumbled, said this was quite the worst party she had been to, and picked up the hateful wire ring yet again.
The inevitable occurred soon. Emma again offered to do the business herself. Anna said she was quite capable of doing it herself, it was something she did herself every day, and usually with complete success.
She stood, she bent, and she slipped down her knickers.
She turned to face her audience. Her fair hair caressed her bare shoulders. Her breasts — neither big nor small — jutted cheerfully. Her belly was round. The hair between her legs was sparse. And if Emma's friends had cared to look, they would have seen the tender lips of her sex peering out. But these were well-brought up girls. They didn't look. They merely glanced.
Anna put a hand to her hip. 'I also do stag nights,' she announced. 'And clubs. No touching, please.'
'Isn't she sweet?' said Emma.
'I don't like to do it,' continued Anna. 'But you know what school fees are like. And now, if you've seen quite enough...'
She bent to retrieve her knickers.
'What are you doing?' said Emma. 'You haven't finished yet.'
'Seeing as I've nothing else to take off...'
'That's not actually true,' said Emma. 'But before it comes to that, there are forfeits.'
'Lots,' said Richie.
'Lots of lovely forfeits. You don't want to put your clothes on yet.'
' What forfeits?'
But of course they wouldn't tell her. She knelt at the loathsome man, naked, absurd, and unprotesting, and began the obscene game once more. Perhaps it was her nakedness, or the prospect of these unknown forfeits, or resignation, but she did remarkably well. Her nerves were oddly calm. She erred only once more. She stood to receive her forfeit.
The standard opening forfeit, it seemed, was for Anna to ask any girl in the room for a snog.
'And as it's my birthday...' said Emma.
Anna ignored this. Her desperate eye swept around the room (how she blushed!) and came to rest on the kindly Sugs.
'That's right, Anna,' said the girl at once. 'You come right over here and give me a snog.'
Anna did so. The girl was in an armchair. Anna sat on the arm, abandoned all modesty, bent down and kissed the girl.
'Tongues, please,' said Emma.
It was a fumbling, perfunctory, and excruciating kiss.
'I don't call that much of a snog,' said Emma, as Anna returned. 'Oh! Look at Anna's face, everyone. It's absolutely scarlet! Isn't that just darling? Anna, I don't think that was a snog at all. Anna needs another forfeit.'
'No,' said Anna. 'Usual Rules.'
'Cheeky bugger. You just wait till Round Three,' said Emma. Her eyes swept Anna's body, and gleamed. 'We've some lovely, lovely forfeits...'
'Yes, I'm sure you have. Can I now go to the loo, please?'
Emma took the door-key out of her pocket, and went to open the door.
'Who but Emma,' said Anna to the room in general, as she tried to relocate her knickers, 'Would give a party where the guests have to be locked in?'
'It's to keep the house-mistress out ... What are you doing...?'
'Putting my clothes on...'
'Nope.'
'Oh come on!'
'Usual Rules! Take them off!'
'Can I borrow a dressing-gown, then?'
'The loo's just there .'
Emma, standing in the door, nodded down the way. So Anna slid her knickers off again, and walked into the chilly corridor. As she entered the toilet, she heard a burst of excited laughter from Emma's room. Immediately there was shushing, followed by whispering. They were not very subtle.
She went into a cubicle, and slid the bolt with a bang.
Three or four unexpected tears at once slid down her cheek. But there was no time for that. She blotted them with loo-paper, and forbade any more to come.
Then she unlocked the door, and went back out into the corridor. Emma of course was still watching from the doorway.
'There's no bog-roll,' said Anna.
'So jiggle.'
'Lend me a tissue!'
'You don't need a tissue.'
'As I am obviously going to spend the entire evening on display...' said Anna, rather hotly, and there was laughter and applause from the room. Emma conceded the point. She went into her room, and re-emerged with a box of tissues, which she tossed over to Anna.
Anna went back into the cubicle and put the tissues on the cistern. Once more she loudly locked the door. But then, silently and gently, she slid the bolt in the other direction until it was free again. She opened the door, and crept out of the cubicle. She peeked around into the corridor. Emma was still at the door, but her head was turned. She was talking to someone in the room.
Silently across the cold stone floor, using only the pads of her feet, Anna reached the bend of the corridor within seconds. Once around the corner she took off like a gazelle.
Clothes first, then escape.
She burst through a fire-door, along another corridor, and then into a dormitory. She opened the nearest wardrobe. She tried on a pair of jeans, and then a skirt, and then a pair of shorts, and none would fit. She wasn't a large girl, but neither was she ten years old, and this was the junior dormitory.
She cursed all juniors, dashed across the corridor and into another dormitory. She opened the first wardrobe at random, found a cotton skirt, and yanked it on. A seam split, but nothing serious. She pulled a sweater over her head. She was just inspecting the choice of footwear, when she heard the fire-door open, and loud voices in the corridor.
She froze.
The dormitory door was flung open. But it wasn't Emma or one of her party. It was two fifth-form girls. They stared at Anna.
'Who are you?' said one.
'That's Anna Hargreaves,' said the other. 'She's in New House. She's weird.'
'What are you doing in here?' said the first girl to Anna. 'Those aren't your clothes.'
'I'm borrowing them,' said Anna. 'It's an emergency.'
'What emergency? What happened to your own clothes?'
'It's a long story. Excuse me...'
'No, we won't. You can't take other people's clothes!'
'I'll bring them back tomorrow,' said Anna, and made for the door. The taller of the girls shut it and leant against it.
'I haven't got time for bullshit!' cried Anna. 'Let me out!'
'That's Miranda's skirt and Miranda's sweater,' said the girl. 'Not yours.'
She had her hand on the doorknob. There was a silent and absurd tussle as Anna attempted to open the door. After ten seconds of jostling, and a bit of barging, she realised she was wasting valuable time.
She stepped back, pulled off the sweater and removed the skirt, and stood naked before them. — 'Happy now?'
At once the taller girl opened the door for her, like a footman. 'Bye, then!' she said, waggling her fingers in sarcastic farewell.
Anna smiled at her as she went — and then gave her a ringing slap on the cheek with a strength that surprised her. She sprinted away down the corridor to the sound of wailing, regained the landing, and ran down the stairs two at a time.
She didn't see the group coming up towards her until the last moment.
It was a family party — a husband and wife, a boy of perhaps thirteen, and a girl of ten. The little girl was leading them upstairs.
'There's not much to see,' she was saying. 'Just a couple of dormitories and a washroom...'
'We want to see where you sleep,' said her mother.
'Okay. But I'm warning you, it's not the most interesting...'
A soft thud of urgent feet. Mother, father, son and daughter looked up — and stared in amazement as a naked girl came hurtling down towards them.
The mother put an instinctive hand on her daughter's shoulder, ready to pull her out of the way. The father did the same to the boy. But at the last moment the girl saw them — 'Oh gosh!' — and tried to bring herself to a halt. But she tripped, lost her balance, and went crashing onto her hands and knees on the half-landing. She hissed in pain, rolled on the floor nursing a knee-cap, and said 'Fuck fuck fuck fuckity-fuck!'
'Have you hurt yourself?' asked the woman.
'Oh buggeration! Oh bugger me backwards!'
They stared at her in concern and alarm. She was sixteen or seventeen perhaps, with fair hair and rather peculiar teeth through which curses continued to whistle. She was entirely naked, and as she was at eye-level they saw rather a lot of her. The man, perhaps realising he was now looking on with too much concern, politely turned and studied the wall. But his son was enchanted by the rosebud nipples that danced as the girl rubbed her knee. For years afterwards he was haunted by visions of naked girls tumbling downstairs.
'Do you need help?' said the woman. But the girl, while obviously in pain, was also in a hurry. She put a hand on the bannister, pulled herself to her feet, and came hobbling down the stairs towards them. She gave them a huge smile. 'Don't you just hate it when that happens?' she said. They parted to let her through. As she passed, she bent down and said to the boy in a stage-whisper, 'Close your mouth, kid!'
And then a soft voice came from on high. 'Anna, sweetheart, you've not forgotten your clothes again? We've spoken about this.'
The family party looked up and saw a girl leaning over the balustrade, smiling at them.
Anna was off like a minnow. She cleared the four remaining steps with a jump, wincing in pain, and ran, legs flashing, down the lower staircase to the ground floor. She heard Emma's laughter from above, and voices. Emma of course had stopped to speak to the visitors. Emma could never resist other people's parents.
Anna sprinted along the ground-floor corridor. Her only thought now was escape. She had given up on clothes. But as she hurtled towards the back hall, she registered the smell coming from one battered green door, a mixture of sweat, and mud, and grease. It could only be the changing-rooms.
In she went. Ten seconds later she re-emerged in a pair of shorts and a hooded sweatshirt.
Through the back door, and out onto the driveway, and towards the gate. It was freezing. The frost stung her legs. She was glad she had stopped to put on clothes after all. She filled her lungs with icy air, and it tasted of freedom. Anna whooped with delight.
Alas! The first thing Emma had done was to post guards outside the back door. Not for nothing was she Cadet Officer.
Anna barely heard them. They came behind her and caught her with ease. She cried out in surprise and horror, and struggled, and pleaded with them. When this didn't work, she screamed blue murder. Passing townsfolk stopped on the pavement, and peered through the great wrought-iron gates of School House. They saw a fair-haired girl in shorts and bare feet, shouting at the top of her voice that she was being kidnapped, and imploring them to call the police. They also saw two larger girls twisting her arm behind her back and frog-marching her into the house. The townsfolk smiled and shook their heads, and went their ways.
Anna was manhandled back into Emma's room, and made to sit on the bed. She sat in misery, and spoke only once, asking permission to go to the loo.
'What, again?'
'I didn't go.'
'I don't know, Anna...'
'Let's wait for Emma, eh?'
'She'd kill us if you scarpered again.'
Word of her capture was put out, and the party reassembled. Many smiled at her as they came in, and congratulated her on her spirited bid for freedom.
'Good effort!'
'Almost made it, huh?'
'I don't blame you. You're in for it now, though!'
But it was several minutes before Emma herself returned.
'Oh dear me!' she said, making straight for the lemonade. 'What a horrible shock for Mr and Mrs Gleason! Rebecca, their daughter, was showing them around the House, and was just taking them upstairs to see her dormitory, when Anna, stark naked, comes rushing at them down the stairs, goes arse over tit beneath their noses, and starts cursing them to high heaven. Can you imagine? And they thought they were sending Rebecca to a nice, decent school! I had to do some major apologising. "She's normal enough most of the time," I said, "But she does get over-excited, and forgets to put her clothes on. Plus, of course, she's from New House, and they're all a bit peculiar over in New House." Rebecca's Mum says, "Does she run around all the houses in the nude?" "I couldn't say for sure," I say, "But I do wish they would issue us with butterfly nets, because she's remarkably difficult to catch. Anyway, she basically belongs to the eccentric-but-harmless category." And at that moment a couple of fifth-formers come down the stairs, and one of them's blubbing her eyes out. She says they'd caught Anna Hargreaves stealing clothes in the dormitory, and Anna had assaulted her. "Nonsense!" I say. "Anna assault you? She wouldn't hurt a fly!" Unfortunately the girl had red finger marks on her cheek, so this wasn't entirely convincing. So Mrs Gleason says to me, "Do you think perhaps you ought to inform the house-mistress?" And I say, 'Yup, the house-mistress is my very next port of call." So I take the two girls downstairs, and they tell me the whole story, which is — They came across Anna stealing clothes in the dormitory, and challenged her, whereupon she promptly stripped naked again, slapped Gill around the face, and ran away laughing.'
'Then whose clothes is she wearing?' asked a voice.
Emma looked at Anna for the first time. 'Somebody else's, I suppose,' she said. 'But not for long. So I say to them, "We won't disturb the House-mistress on a Saturday evening, just for a little slap. Go and put some water on it, stop being feeble, and I personally will see to Anna Hargreaves."'
They looked at Anna. She was gazing at her toes as she slowly wiggled them. She stopped doing this and raised her eyes. 'I knew this was a set-up,' she said. 'I knew all along.'
'I've no idea what she's going on about,' said Emma. 'Does anyone?'
They didn't.
'Babbling as usual. She does it a lot. Her mind is an eternal mystery.'
The girls stood and contemplated the eternal mystery sitting lonely on the bed. Silence fell.
'Oh, this is no good!' cried Emma suddenly. 'What's happened to the party! I knew this would happen if I invited her .' She pointed a long finger at Anna. 'But I had to. I'm her only friend. Heffy, do you want to stick another CD on? And Sugs, do you fancy making some more lemonade? Come on! Let's get it going! We'll play another game in a minute. Something fun.'
So Emma cajoled them into liveliness again, as if reviving a flagging fire with a pair of bellows. Soon it was roaring merrily. They drank lemonade, and laughed, and swapped stories. The two girls who had apprehended Anna told their tale. Lou described how she had got lost and ended up in the kitchens. Sugs said that she had come across a girl lying in the bath who looked remarkably like Anna — only it wasn't, of course. 'The problem was,' she said, 'The bathroom wasn't very well lit, so it took ages for her to convince me she wasn't her, if you see what I mean. She thought I was mad.'
'Of course she did,' said somebody else. 'Why on earth did you think Anna would be in the bath?'
'As a cunning plan.'
'Oh, Sugs!'
'I thought it was very clever of her.'
'Except it wasn't Anna.'
'Yes, I realise that now.'
'It was Angela York, probably' said Emma. 'She does resemble Anna, poor dear.'
She looked at Anna, who was sitting with her legs pressed together. She was staring into space, like a little girl lost in a world of her own making. Emma got onto the bed and sat beside her. She put her arm around her, and smiled at her guests.
'Ready for another game, everyone?'
'I think Anna needs to go to the loo, actually.'
'Again?' said Emma, and peered at Anna. 'Do you?'
'I never went,' said Anna.
Emma kissed her. 'Tough, then.'
'Emma!' cried Sugs. 'Don't be cruel! Let her go and have a wee.'
'"Emma, don't be cruel?'' murmured a voice. 'Sugs, you are a sweetheart.'
'Well, she can go later,' said Emma. 'But now I've got a fantastic game to play. It's called "Getting Anna to tell us where she's hidden the photographs"'.
Anna shut her eyes.
'Anna has some photographs,' said Emma, 'Which I would like to get my hands on, as would Sergeant Richie. The object of the game is to get her to tell us where they are.'
'What photographs?'
And so Emma, with her arm around Anna's shoulder, told them the story: how she and Richie, in righteous and justifiable anger, had visited Anna with a salad spoon, how Anna had taken photographs of her bruised backside, and was now using these to blackmail them.
'Blackmail?' they said. 'She's blackmailing you?'
'Has been for weeks. The little snit.'
But Richie was uncomfortable. 'Well, it's not as though she's demanding money or anything...'
'Blackmail is blackmail,' said Emma. 'And I don't know why you're defending her, Richie. You nearly cried when I told you.'
'Shut up, Emma!' squeaked the Sergeant, going red. 'I did not!'
'You know you did.' Emma ran her hand along Anna's bare leg. 'She looks so innocent, doesn't she? Don't believe it. How shall we get her singing?'
They shrugged. All this talk of blackmail, and getting Anna to sing, made them uncomfortable. They knew what Emma was like.
'For instance, one thing Anna just adores, is being tickled. Don't you, Anna?'
She prodded Anna's ribs with a finger. Anna moved not a muscle.
'At least, she used to...'
Emma tried another rib. Anna swung her head and gave Emma a withering look.
'Unless it's someone else I'm thinking of,' said Emma. She reached a long arm behind Anna, and simultaneously dug both sets of knuckles into Anna's side.
Anna convulsed.
'There we go!' cooed Emma. 'I knew it was her. Now does that sound like a good idea to everyone?'
Perhaps relieved that Emma wasn't proposing to use an electric baton on Anna, the guests said it was worth a try. They helped lift Anna off the bed and laid her on the floor, still in her stolen sweatshirt and shorts.
'Richie and I are old hands at this,' said Emma. 'We'll go first, to show how it's done.'
Four girls pinned Anna to the floor by her arms and legs. 'You don't mind, Anna, do you?' asked one.
'Of course she doesn't mind. She lives for it.'
Emma poked Anna hard in the ribs with a thumb. Richie followed suit the other side.
'Hmmph!' said Anna through her nose, and her back arched. But she kept her eyes shut.
'Skinny little thing she is,' said Emma. 'I'd forgotten.'
She found the bottom of Anna's ribcage, and scooped her fingers into the flesh beneath it. Anna spasmed and her head bumped the floor.
'Nothing but skin and bone. Which is surprising, considering all the chocolate she scoffs.'
'Lucky her,' said a doleful voice.
'Lucky her indeed,' said Emma, and sent one long finger like a corkscrew into Anna's abdomen. 'But life is easy for Anna. She simply sails through it. Not like the rest of us.'
As Anna's head was now thrashing from side to side in agony, this was not wholly accurate.
'Eating chocolate and blackmailing her friends. That's what life is, for Anna. Richie, try using your thumbnail, like this.'
By the end of a minute there were tears in Anna's eyes.
'Anything to tell us yet?' said Emma.
'Oh, let me pee!' said Anna.
'Where are the photos, then?'
'I really need to pee.'
'Okay — who's up next? Heffy, how about it? And Sugs, fancy a go?'
The two girls knelt over the victim. — 'You really don't mind, do you, Anna?' said Sugs.
'Would everyone stop asking her if she minds! She loves being the centre of attention. Now off you go!'
Anna lay like a corpse as they applied gentle fingers to her.
'Not like that!' cried Emma. 'Like this!'
Shoving Heffy out of the way, she held up her thumb for all to see, then placed it above Anna's hip.
'Imagine there's a flea here,' she said. 'Which knowing Anna is not impossible. You know how to kill a flea? You have to...'
She put all her weight behind it, squidging the imaginary flea with the ball of her thumb.
Anna's spasmed from head to toe.
'See? Now you try.'
She watched in satisfaction as Anna writhed under their renewed efforts.
'Fun, isn't it? Try her armpits.'
As the girls worked, and Anna suffered, Emma counted the remaining guests. There were ten, not including her and Richie.
'We'll take it in turns,' she said. 'Two at a time. Let's say a minute each. And when everyone's had a go, we'll start all over again.'
She went and knelt by Anna's urgent head.
'Did you catch that, Anna? We're going to keep on going, until you tell us where the photos are. We can keep it up till dawn.'
'You really should tell us,' said big Heffy. She had discovered the bare flesh between shorts and sweatshirt, and was sliding Anna's skin over her hipbone in a circular movement.
'Hmmf-hmmf-hmmf!' said Anna.
'Never mind hmmf.' said Emma. 'Where are the photographs?'
'Oh gosh!'
'Never mind oh gosh. Where are the photographs?'
Anna ground her teeth together. The session continued.
When their time was up, Heffy and Sugs were replaced by Lou and Rafaela. These were both hearty types, with a long and noble history of torturing Anna, and needed no encouragement. They slid the sweatshirt up, exposing her entire stomach, and with merciless fingers made her gasp.
'That's the spirit!' said Emma, watching Anna's backside thumping the floor. 'You guys are naturals.'
'Oh please stop!' whispered Anna.
'They've only just began. Sixty seconds is a long time, ain't it?'
By the end of that period Anna was tearful and hoarse.
'You guys are the best ,' said Emma. 'Though it hurts me to say. I'm going to award you an extra minute.'
Anna was pleading even as Lou and Rafaela began their bonus round.
'Something to tell me, then?'
Anna nodded.
'Are you going to bullshit me?'
She shook her head.
'Alright. Lou, Raffy ... take a break. Go ahead, Anna.'
'Can I pee first? I'm bursting.'
'No.'
'I badly need to pee.'
'Tell me where the photos are, and I'll let you pee.'
Anna sighed. 'They're in my wellies. In my Wellington boots.'
'Which are where?'
'In my study.'
'You keep your boots in your study, do you? Not in the boot room?'
'Yes.'
'And inside one of them are the photos?'
'Yes. I promise'
'She promises' said Emma to the girls holding Anna's wrists. 'No, don't let her up yet! We'll send Richie over to take a look first.'
'No! I need to pee now!'
'Richie, do you know where Anna's study is in New House? It's in the new extension, only it's quite difficult to find...'
She went into a long and detailed explanation, involving a great many lefts and rights, and ups and downs. Anna became increasingly restless. 'I can't hold it in!'
'.... Then at the end, you turn right, through a green door. Actually I say green, but perhaps grey would be a more accurate, er ...'
'I don't mind what colour it is,' said Richie.
'It's either green or grey, anyway. Call it green-grey...'
'Seriously, Emma, I need to go now. '
'... So you go through the green-grey door ... no, grey-green sounds better, doesn't it? ... And follow the corridor round, and Anna's study is last on the left. It'll be a complete tip. And there, so she says, inside one of her wellies, which she keeps in her study and not in the boot room ... By the way, is it the left or right boot, Anna?'
'I've no idea! Please, Emma...'
'In one of them, are the photos. Got it?'
'Got it,' said Richie, putting on her jacket.
'And in the meantime...' said Emma.
She knelt down at Anna's feet.
'... In the meantime, we're going to be keeping Anna on the boil!'
Anna shrieked in frustration as Emma ran a fingernail all the way down the sole of her foot.
'You said I could go to the loo! You said I could go to the loo!' — Thump! Thump! Thump! went her bum on the floor.
'Come on Emma!' said Heffy. 'Give the poor girl a break!'
'Give her a break? My dear, the second I have those photos in my hand, is when I'll give her a break.'
She ran the fingernail tenderly the other way. Bump! Bump! Bump! went Anna's head as she thrashed in delirium.
'You see, it's possible she's a little confused about the photos. What happens if Richie comes back empty-handed, and we find we've lost ten minutes of tickling time?'
She changed direction once again, and Anna kicked and yelled
'Perhaps they're in her wellie, and perhaps they aren't. What do you say, Anna?'
She drew a little circle on Anna's sole, and watched Anna's convulsions with interest.
'Perhaps amid all this excitement you got a bit mixed-up with your facts, hmm?'
She turned the circle into a spiral, and Anna squeaked.
'If you swear they're in one of your wellies, which are in your study... Lou — don't you have a rule about taking wellie boots into studies, in New House?'
'Yes.' said Lou. 'Not allowed.'
'Ah well. That's between you and Anna. I'd suggest a week's gating, but it's none of my business. Anyway Anna, I'll send Richie off now to have a look, but don't think you've bought yourself a second's worth of time-out, because you haven't.' — The spiral turned into a corkscrew, and Anna shuddered — 'Now tell me again. Are they in your wellie? Will you swear to it? Anna?'
Anna made no reply. Richie, who had been waiting with one hand on the doorknob, came back into the room.
'Where are they really, Anna? Are you going to tell me?'
A pause. Then a nod.
Emma left Anna's foot alone and went to kneel by her head. 'Let's try harder this time, shall we. Where are the photos?'
Anna mumbled something.
'What?'
Anna mumbled again.
' What?' Emma bent down.
Anna blew an enormous wet raspberry into Emma's face. Emma cried out in surprise. There was spit on her face. The audience meanwhile laughed and clapped. Emma looked at them angrily, and then glowered at Anna.
'Little beast!' she hissed. 'Revolting little squit!'
She got to her feet, told Anna she was going to regret that for the rest of her life, and left the room to wash her face.
Anna used the few seconds she was gone, to promise her captors that she wouldn't mention their names to the headmistress, when she made her full report tomorrow morning — so long as they let her go.
'We can't do that, Anna,' said Lou. 'You see, we're more afraid of Emma than we are of the Head.'
'Thanks for the offer, though,' said Rafaela.
'Anyway, you don't mind, do you, Anna?' said Lou, patting her leg. 'All in the spirit of fun, eh?'
Emma returned, face washed and good humour restored.
'Back to work then!' she cried. 'Time to get serious on the little rat. Who's up next? Billie? Sarah? Fancy giving it go?'
'Emma ... I need to go to the loo!'
'How many times do you think I'm going to fall for that?'
Anna growled in frustration. 'I ... need ... to ... pee!'
'What, desperate, are you?'
'Yes!'
'Bursting?'
'Yes!'
'Fit to bust?'
'Yes!'
'Painful sensation in the bladder region?'
'Yes!'
'Marvellous! .... Kathy! Sarah! You're up!'
And so Kathy and Sarah took their stations beside Anna, and proved themselves remarkably good at the sport. (It was unlucky for Anna that Arlinghurst fostered a spirit of competition in its students.) Emma meanwhile drafted in Lou and Rafaela again, to concentrate on Anna's feet. 'That will be your sole responsibility,' she said. 'Oh! That's funny, isn't it? Anna, did you hear what I said? Lou and Rafaela — their sole responsibility is going to be your feet! Do you get it? Their sole responsibility is going to be ... Anna's very fond of jokes, you know.'
Tortured by four pairs of hands, and the pain in her belly, and puns, Anna writhed in silence. Her face grew red, and her lower lip jutted. She swallowed hard, and it seemed as though she might start crying. She began shuddering.
It appeared all at once, a dark patch the size of a fist. It expanded rapidly, like a map animated to show the spread of plague; made sudden and unexpected sorties; sent out spurs; and caught up with itself. It was silent at first, and then, as the material became wetter, a hiss and tinkle might be heard. At last a few tiny droplets glittered like beads on the hem.
'Uh-oh,' said Lou.
'Oh no! ' said Sugs.
'Oh, gross!' sighed Rafaela. 'Emma, she is really is peeing...'
*
to be continued...
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