Goose (6 page)

I am pumped. This is so exciting. Why haven't we ever done this before?

We crawl through the bushes to the side of the gate and jump out the other side. As we get further into the school grounds we see it: Tudor Falls. The building that, even still, knows more about us than anywhere else. It feels like home.

‘It's creepy at night,' says Flo. But I don't feel that way. Nothing about this place scares me. I know it through and through.

‘What if we get caught?' she asks.

‘We won't,' I reassure her. ‘There is no alarm and the caretaker left half an hour ago. I watched him go.'

‘Well, how will we get in? And what on earth will we do when we get in there?' she asks. Two very valid questions.

‘There was a window around the back of the changing rooms behind the gym that was always broken. I'll be amazed if it's been fixed. If it has then I will just smash a window. We are here now. Might as well go through with it.'

I am joking about smashing a window, but the look on Flo's face is priceless. ‘And when we get in we will just have a look around, and I have an idea for something we can take as memorabilia. Right, let's do it.'

We walk down the side of the ugly concrete building like we did a thousand times for so many years. As we approach the gym I agree that it does feel creepy. The windows along the side of it allow us to see the swing bars and ropes we used to hang from. I imagine the echo of Miss Trunks' voice screaming at me to stop messing around. I feel a resounding sense of relief that my days of being screamed at by a fat, moody PE teacher are well and truly over.

As we get to the back of the gym to the window it looks closed, but that means nothing. It's always closed, which is why I think no one ever noticed that it was broken. But it doesn't lock. I know this because I broke it. I once had a panic attack trying to get a wasp out of the changing room. When I eventually managed to get it to fly out of the window I locked it so the wasp couldn't get back in. But I was so scared that I was brutal, and the lock snapped. I give the window a gentle push with my right hand and it opens. Brilliant. We are in.

The stale smell of sweat hits us when we wriggle our way through the window and land on the other side.

‘Gross,' says Flo. ‘It's like it's still our sweat we can smell. It's exactly the same. No wonder the window is still broken. They have clearly never opened it.'

We get out of there quickly and find our way to the school's main foyer, where the headmistress Miss Grut's office is. Flo stands staring at the door.

‘Come on, let's go to the staff room,' I say, but she doesn't move.

‘That's where Miss Grut told me my dad had died. I still can't believe my mother allowed someone who hardly knew me to tell me something like that.'

I go over to her, stand between her and the door and hug her. I need her to hurry up. ‘You've come such a long way since then, Flo. Come on, think about the good things, OK?'

‘This place is full of bad memories, though, Renée. Why did you bring me here?'

Shit. It hadn't occurred to me that this might be traumatic for Flo. That is the room where she got told about her dad. Upstairs is the classroom where that bitch Sally told everyone about the worst thing I have ever done – have sex with Flo's brother. In fact, this entire building is full of haunting memories for Flo: death and being bullied and made to feel like shit by Sally. I need to turn this around, quick.

‘But what about us? It's also where we became friends, isn't it? Without Tudor Falls we would never have met. Come on, Flo, maybe it's time to exorcise some demons. Let's go up to the science lab and our old classroom. No Sally, just us and our paper aeroplanes flying around with all our secrets on them. Shall we go up there? Pretend Mrs Suiter and her crazy eyes are staring at us?'

She nods and smiles. ‘I guess this is a special place for our friendship.'

I grab her by the hand and pull her along behind me. The corridors are dark, but we know the way. The sucky scratchy sound that the double doors make as I push them open fills my head with images of me running when I was late for class. We creep up the stairs towards the science lab, and as I push the last set of double doors apart the familiar smell of vinegar and chemicals surrounds us. We hurry along to the end room where we used to have our class. There are a few green overalls hanging on the back of the door. We put them on and take our old seats.

‘They've sandpapered away all of the writing on the desks. That's so boring,' I say, looking for something with a sharp point to correct their mistake. I find a biro and start etching an R on the bench.

‘What are you doing?' hisses Flo. ‘You can't do that. If our names are the only names on this bench they are going to know we broke in, aren't they?'

I throw the pen down and laugh. ‘Wow. I mean, it just felt like the most natural thing in the world to do that.'

Flo looks at me like I'm crazy, then her face completely lights up, literally. The sound of a car engine seems unnaturally loud.

‘SHIT!' we both say in a loud whisper. ‘SHIT SHIT SHIT!' I run to the window and carefully look down. The caretaker's car is coming back towards the school. I feel sick. Flo is trembling so much I think I can hear her bones clank. We run to the back of the science lab, crouch behind the bench and wait.

‘If he comes all the way up here we know he is looking for us,' says Flo. I know she is right. My heart is going nuts. I love being naughty, but I hate getting caught. We are full-on trespassing now. We have no right to be at Tudor Falls during the day, let alone at 10 p.m. at night. Please don't come up here, please, please. Then we hear the sucky scratchy sound of the double doors. He is getting closer.

‘I'm so sorry,' I whisper to Flo. She takes a deep breath, as if she is going to stand up to hand herself in, and then we hear a woman giggle. It makes us both freeze. The door of the science lab swings open.

How the hell do I let Renée talk me into these things? I am not a violent person, but I could thump her so hard right now. Here we are, cowering at the back of a science lab in our old school wearing a random bit of our old school uniform. I mean, this is actually the kind of thing a mad person would do. I am not mad. Renée is, though – Renée is completely mental. Imagine if we get caught – this would be written about in the
Guernsey Globe
for sure. I would rather be teased about being a Jesus lover than be known for being a criminal. Oh God, why did I do this? I shut my eyes tight and clear my head. I say quietly, ‘Please God, get me out of this. I'll be good, I promise.'

Renée, luckily, doesn't catch me doing it. We hold ourselves totally still. What will be will be. And then there is that giggle again. It becomes very clear that the caretaker is not alone.

‘You bad boy, bringing me up here to take advantage of me,' says a woman's voice. It's familiar – deep and throaty – but I can't quite place it.

‘Where are those overalls?' says the caretaker. I recognise his voice straight away. ‘I left them up here on the door.'

‘Never mind the overalls. Why hide this body?' says the woman's voice, and it comes to me in an instant. Renée and I look at each other and in perfect unison mouth, ‘MISS TRUNKS?'

There is a clatter, the sound of rustling clothes, some aggressive kissing noises and then a ‘I love those tits' from Mr Carter.

I can't believe this is happening. That horrible, fat, moody PE teacher having it away with the married caretaker and using the school as their sex den? Eeeeewwwwwww. I become aware that the overall I am wearing was intended for her so he could dress her up for his kinky game. I am desperate to take it off – have they used it before? Gross. I start to unwrap it but Renée stops me. She is right, I cannot move. We cannot get caught.

‘Be my naughty little school girl. My naughty little bitch,' he says, panting into what I presume, and hope, is her mouth.

‘Bitch?' Renée and I mouth at each other. Seriously, God? I think. Is this your idea of helping me out?

The next five minutes involve a lot of banging around, pumping, slapping sounds and a few squelches that I try not to absorb into my memory. Miss Trunks certainly sounds like she loves it and Mr Carter keeps saying how big and strong he is, how she wants him, how he is inside of her. I am so glad I haven't just eaten.

When they are done, giggling to each other like baddies from a cartoon, they leave. We wait. Totally still, barely breathing until we hear the caretaker's car engine start and his headlights have passed all the way up the school drive. The relief pours over us like a tidal wave. We both jump up and hop around like we have been caught by sprinklers. I instinctively brush my body with my hands as if getting those two off me. I feel covered in grime, like I'll never be able to escape this dirty feeling. I want a shower, a five-hour power shower. With bleach.

‘THAT was THE most DISTURBING thing I have EVER EVER heard!' says Renée, both hands leaning on the work bench as if she has just run up the stairs and is out of breath.

‘I just can't believe it,' I say, sounding as shocked as I am. ‘I just can't believe that just happened. I can't believe Miss Trunks is a sexual human being. I can't believe the first time I was ever in the same room as actual real-life sex it was  …  that. I can't believe we just witnessed that. I will never be the same again. I'll never be able to have sex now.'

Renée nods in agreement. Still panting a bit. She looks wrecked.

Then the giggles start, uncontrollable belly laughs that come with hysteria and shock. We are lost in it, laughing so hard my tummy struggles to support it. Like catching a sneeze, I almost have to wait for the chance to engage my stomach muscles so I can let out the roar of laughter that has come right up from my feet. We don't know what we are laughing for. Is it the relief? The shock? THE SQUELCH?

I didn't know laughter like this was possible in this building.

It's a good twenty minutes before we have the ability to use our legs again to leave. Constant dramatic exhalations and ‘oh my Gods' show that the giggles might have stopped but we are by no means over it. As we get to the door of the science lab Renée stops and tells me to wait.

‘What?' I say, feeling like we have used up all of our lives in this situation and just need to leave.

‘Let's take it,' she says, her trademark naughty grin creeping across her face.

‘Take what?' I ask, baffled.

‘Him!'

I follow her eyes to the corner of the room.

‘No!' I say firmly. ‘No, bloody, way!'

I'm not going to lie. Trying to get an adult-sized human skeleton into a Fiat 126 doesn't come without its challenges. In the end we decided it should sit in the front. Partly because trying to get it in the back might have caused a fibula to fly off, and partly because, out of respect, we thought he had the right to have the best seat in the car.

‘What shall we call him?' I ask Flo, as I drive them both back to my house.

‘Ricky?' she says.

‘That's so random.'

‘It just feels right.'

Ricky it is.

‘Hello, Ricky,' I say. ‘Let's get you home.'

With Ricky wrapped around me like a drunk boyfriend we step into my living room. The TV is on, Aunty Jo is out and Nana is in her chair, fast asleep with a blanket over her knees. I left her here nearly three hours ago. I know that was awful, but I have never once seen her wake up of her own accord when she falls asleep in front of the telly at night. So the chance of it happening while I was out was small, and luckily I was right, but I am glad Aunty Jo didn't come home early and find out. She's on a date with a guy she met by the meat counter in Safeway. Apparently they bonded over how they like their lamb chops burnt to a crisp. God knows how they got onto that, but then adults have weird conversations when they are out and about making chit-chat.

‘Get the coat stand from the hallway,' I tell Flo. ‘We can loop a scarf around his shoulders and hang him from it.'

Flo obediently trots off and comes back dragging the coat stand. We weave the scarf in and amongst his bones and position him so he looks happy. ‘Now what?' asks Flo. ‘Shall we dress him up?'

Flo is being surprisingly relaxed about all this. Usually when I make her do something naughty she panics and the fear of getting caught makes her jumpy and weird, but right now she is completely up for this. I like it – this is how I always want Flo to be.

‘You're keen,' I say, with a surprised smile.

‘I realised something tonight. People are bad. Mean. People do awful things to people. Mr Carter is a married man, and there he was in a school science lab trying to dress the horrible Miss Trunks up as a school girl so he could have weird sex with her behind his wife's back. On the science benches, where a young girl will sit tomorrow and have no idea that just hours before the spot where she puts her jotter was the spot where Miss Trunks' squelchy, sweaty bum was being slapped by her fancy man. It's not right.'

‘No, it isn't,' I say, even though I have kissed loads of people's boyfriends and think the idea of sex in a science lab is quite fun. But not with Miss Trunks and Mr Carter. I shake my head to get the image out.

‘I spend so much of my time feeling guilty, insecure and paranoid that I am messing up, when really, I am a good person,' says Flo. ‘I don't do things that hurt other people. I don't lie or cheat, or sleep with people I shouldn't sleep with. Why am I the one who feels so crap about myself all the time? Other people seem to coast through life being shits to people and getting away with it.'

It's hard to know what to say. I essentially do all of those things, and in the past have even done them to Flo. I don't think I am a bad person either, but I could easily fall into the category of the people she has just described.

‘My church friends don't do things like that either. They are good people too. So many people lack basic morals. It's depressing.'

‘Hmmm,' I murmur, trying to sound like I get it.

To be honest, this is all getting a bit intense. And I don't want Flo thinking about her church friends when she is with me. If I am honest, I don't want her thinking about her church friends at all. In the nicest possible way I need to move her on from this philosophical moment she is having. Right now, my grandma is snoring on an armchair next to us, and there is a human skeleton hanging from a coat stand in my living room. Forget the flippant morals of the human race, we have a skeleton to dress, and I want to have fun.

‘I've had an idea' I say next, running out of the room. Hopefully this will take Flo's mind off God.

I come back with a huge plastic bag in my arms. Nana is awake.

‘What a lovely man,' she says, smiling at me as I walk in. I shoot a look at Flo. She nods, confirming that Nana is talking about Ricky.

‘What's in the bag?' asks Flo.

Now, I have a tendency to think beyond the ‘bleedin' obvious' (as Pop used to say) when people are in need of a spot of light comical relief, but I can honestly say this is one of the best ever strokes of comedy genius that I have ever had. I open the plastic bag and pull out Aunty Jo's wedding dress. Despite her being generally quite stylish, this eighties frock looks like someone threw up a Mr Whippy. Layers of billowing crushed ivory silk, silly bows and tacky embroidery. How she ever thought this was a good idea I will never know.

‘Ahhh, a wedding,' says Nana, looking thrilled. ‘Who is getting married?'

‘Ricky,' says Flo. ‘Ricky and Renée.'

I feed Ricky's feet through the dress and pull it up over his shoulders. ‘Quick, go and get the camera from the drawer in the kitchen,' I tell Flo. ‘We must document this special day properly.'

She comes back and snaps away. I have pulled Nana's armchair round so it is next to me and put the flowery head piece on her that was also in the plastic bag. I have linked Ricky's arm through mine and I flutter my eyelids as if blissfully in love. I think Nana thinks it's genuinely a wedding, she is so happy and smiley.

‘OK, look at your new husband,' instructs Flo. I turn to Ricky and gaze lovingly into his eye sockets. ‘Do you, Renée, take Ricky to be your lawful wedded husband?'

‘I do,' I say, wistfully.

‘Do you, Ricky, take Renée to be your lawful wedded wife?'

I say ‘I do' like a really bad ventriloquist and tug on the neck of the dress so Ricky nods.

‘I now pronounce you hu—' But before she can finish her pronouncement the distinctive noise of a sharp gasp stops her going any further.

I turn to see Aunty Jo, her arms crossed angrily over her chest, glaring at me and Ricky and Flo.

‘What do you think you're doing, Renée?'

I have never seen her look so mad. I immediately feel like a total fool.

The atmosphere in the room turns really cold. Aunty Jo is standing in the doorway. And it looks like she might cry.

‘I got married in that,' she says, quietly, glossing over the fact that a skeleton is wearing the dress. ‘You think it's funny that my marriage didn't work out?'

This is awful. Aunty Jo never gets like this.

‘We are not making fun of you,' I say awkwardly. ‘I  …  I just thought it would be funny to dress Ricky up  …  '

But no amount of explanation can make what is going on seem like normal behaviour. Aunty Jo sighs heavily, shakes her head at me and then walks away. Flo and I hear her bedroom door close. I feel terrible.

Flo gives me an ‘Oh shit' look.

‘I'll get the dress off him and wait in your room,' she says, starting to undress Ricky.

Meanwhile, Nana is still sitting there, staring at Ricky, as though everything is completely normal.

‘Come on, Nana,' I say, ‘let's get you to bed.'

‘Did she change her mind?' she asks.

‘Did who change her mind, Nana?'

‘Your wife?'

‘Something like that, Nana,' I tell her.

I guide her to her room, see her into bed and give her a kiss goodnight. ‘Sweet dreams, Nana. I love you,' I say as I shut the door. Only a few years ago she did the same to me.

‘Aunty Jo,' I say, tapping on her door and opening it gently. ‘Can I come in?'

She is lying face down on the bed, a pillow over her head. It's the kind of position I would lie in, and for second I imagine her as a teenager. Mum's little sister.

‘I'm really sorry I upset you. I didn't mean to.' I say, sitting next to her.

She pulls away the pillow and rolls over. She hasn't been crying, but she looks exhausted and stressed. She sighs again, but looks less mad.

‘I know you didn't, Renée. I just saw my wedding dress and you both laughing at it and seeing it played out in front of me reminded me of how much of a fool I feel for getting married. I should have thrown my dress away, but I just couldn't.'

‘You're not a fool. You only got divorced, loads of people get divorced. Mum and Dad got divorced, quite a few people in my class have divorced parents. It's normal.'

She puts her hands on her face and groans.

‘But I never wanted to get divorced, Renée. In front of all my family and friends I stood up in that stupid bloody dress and told the man I loved that I would spend the rest of my life with him. He said the same, but I knew, I knew he didn't mean it like I did, but I still went ahead with it.'

‘Do you really think he didn't love you?'

‘He loved me, of course, but not the way he should have. I think he thought I would do, but that he had always hoped for something better. He used to point out all of my faults, which put me in my shell. He thought he was being helpful, telling me how to better myself all the time, but all that meant is that I got smaller and smaller until I was completely invisible to him and he wanted to be with somebody else.'

‘He sounds really mean. I didn't realise Uncle Andrew was like that,' I say, shocked and quite upset that I was ever nice to him.

‘It's subtle. He was perfectly nice to me on a daily basis, but he obviously wanted me to be a different person so found it hard to hide that,' she says, sitting up. ‘People don't have to think each other is perfect in a relationship, but if you want to change someone you have to be gentle, filter it through in other ways, not just constant criticism; offer advice and encourage, not slam them for being who they are. I lost my confidence and he let me drown, never once trying to save me.' She drops her head a little. ‘I'd have divorced me too. And now look at me. Forty-four, single and loveless. I will almost definitely never have a child of my own because I married the wrong man. That dress is a symbol of all of that. It's hard to see any humour in it, you know?'

I feel so sad. I never thought Aunty Jo had struggled like this – she has always been so private about her marriage. But of course it broke down because it was awful – why else would it?

‘Sorry,' she says, and blows her nose with a tissue that's in her hand. ‘I shouldn't tell you these things. You have dealt with enough, and you don't need to hear about sad old spinsters with tragic love lives.'

I put my arm around her.

‘To be fair, Aunty Jo,' I tell her, ‘you're not the one who just married a dead transvestite.'

That makes her laugh.

‘How was your date?' I ask, hoping it went well.

She rolls her eyes.

‘Turns out the only thing we have in common is the way we like our lamb chops cooked. By the end of dinner I wanted to burn him to a crisp, to be honest. Ah well, I'm sure Mr Right is out there somewhere. Thanks, darling. You go to bed, I'll be all right.'

‘Sure?'

‘Sure!'

Just as I get to my bedroom door, Aunty Jo calls out, ‘Renée?'

‘Yeah?'

‘That skeleton won't stay in the lounge, will it?'

I turn and smile. ‘Night, Aunty Jo. Sleep tight.'