Visions (18 page)

30

The last few weeks of a long term usually involved winding down with some lighter teaching activities, though this was not the case for the year elevens who had their GCSEs to prepare for. Amelia had been moved up into the set above and was having lots of extra tuition to prepare her for the C grade we now believed her to be capable of. She had applied for a course in graphic design, which reminded me of Stuart. I wondered whether she had any contact with him now that she was living with the Websters. It seemed to me that Amelia was deliberately trying to distance herself from the teachers that she’d previously had closer relationships with. It seemed smart, an effective way of dealing with the past; she was moving on. This impression was broken when she appeared at my classroom door at seven forty-five. I always arrived earlier than most teachers due to the bus times, but it was also a convenient way of getting as much work done as possible before the chaos began. Her face was tear-stained.

              “I told Alice I was setting off early so I could meet a friend to walk in with. I needed to speak to someone. I don’t know what to do.” Her entire body was shaking.

              “Let me go and get you some water,” I said, getting up and leaving the room before she had time to protest. Having read the situation, I thought it would be better if I had someone else there to hear what she was about to say. Neither Carrie nor Morgan was in yet, so I placed a note in each of their trays asking them to come to my

classroom as soon as they arrived.

When I got back, Amelia had curled up into a ball on the floor behind my desk. I handed her a mug of water, which she started to sip.

“I just have to warn you, Amelia, that if you tell me something really sensitive, I may have to pass it on to Carrie.”

              “I don’t mind Carrie knowing. She might know what to do.”

              “Is it that bad?”

              “I don’t know!” She started to sob uncontrollably. “It’s never…happened to me…before.” There as a knock on my door and Carrie rushed in. She saw Amelia and went to put her arms round her.

              “Ok, sweetheart. Let’s go to my office instead. Thank you, Miss Gordon.” Then she whisked the girl away, mouthing a sorry at me. I understood. If it was as serious as it seemed, what she said would need to be documented and any comments or leading questions could cause problems in dealing with the situation later.

At break time, I saw police entering the building. An upset couple sat in reception with an older teenage girl. Morgan raced past the entrance to the staffroom.

“Morgan?” I ventured.

              “I’ll have to catch you later, Gill,” she shouted back over her shoulder.

My instinct told me that all this was about Amelia Carr, and I knew I’d done the right thing by getting Carrie involved immediately.

              By lesson four, there was gossip all over the school. Amelia had been taken away to hospital in a police car. Carrie had gone with her. I pulled up a mental image of how Amelia had looked that morning; distressed but not injured. Other rumours surrounded Darren Pierce being removed from his lesson and taken away in the back of a police car. It was at this point that I started to panic. What had he done to her?

              Morgan was in Mr Briggs’s office at dinner time, so I had to wait until after school to catch up with her. “Is Theo picking you up?” she asked.

              “No, not tonight.”

              “Good. I’ll drive you home. Come on.” Instead of driving home, though, she pulled into a pub car park and turned the engine off. “That hideous little bastard should have been drowned at birth!” she said through her teeth.

              “Darren Pierce? What has he done?”

              “He talked Amelia into sneaking out of the house and meeting him at the park. The Websters thought she was sound asleep in bed, but she’d climbed out of the window and gone. She was at the park with that scumbag.”

              “Did he…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud.

              “She’s going to be checked over at the hospital. From what she’s told Carrie, it doesn’t seem like he’s forced her into intercourse, but he’s definitely pushed her into doing things she wasn’t ready to do and he’s hurt her.” Morgan was crying now, and it was only the fact that she needed some comfort that stopped me from breaking down. “This might mean her being removed from the school or taken out of the Webster household. The little shit has possibly screwed things up for her just as she was getting her life back on track. Plus the fact that she has her exams coming up. I could kill him. I really could.”

I knew exactly how she felt. Right now I felt capable of killing Darren Pierce with my own bare hands, despite him being nearly a foot taller than me. “That poor girl has been through so much, more than most people go through in an entire lifetime and he just had to add to it, didn’t he?”

              “What did he have to say for himself?”

              “I don’t know. As soon as Carrie contacted the police, they were on their way to take him in for questioning. His mother was asked to meet them at the station, though I don’t know whether she did or not. Carrie said she was already drunk.”

Morgan was there when Amelia was brought in to school the next day by Alice Webster, who was understandably concerned that Amelia was frightened of going back into lessons after the previous day’s events. She didn’t want to become the target of gossip or unkind comments. An agreement was made that if Amelia felt uncomfortable, she would be able to walk out of class, as long as she headed straight to Carrie’s office. As Morgan was telling me, I agreed that Alice did sound like she was capable of having a positive impact. She certainly cared enough to deal with the incident head-on rather than pass it on as I imagined Amelia’s mother would have. Luckily, Mr Briggs’ words of reassurance turned out to be true. When Scott and Phil approached Amelia outside her form room, Morgan started to home in like a mother hen, but she needn’t have worried. “Amelia, wait,” Phil shouted. “Look, I just want to say that…”

              “We just wanted to say that Daz might be our mate, but we don’t agree with what he did,” Scott articulated.

              “Yeah, are you ok?” Phil asked.

              “I will be,” she replied. I felt pride when I saw the look of determination on her face. “Thanks though. I know you aren’t bad like him.” They both nodded at the insult directed at their friend and walked away.

              “That was really good of you boys,” I said as they walked past.

              “Thanks, Miss,” they both mumbled, with matching downturned mouths.

              Of course, as was to be expected at any secondary school, everybody and their uncle knew about what had happened by dinner time. A few were brazen enough to ask Amelia for an account, some approached her to ask her if she was ok, but most kept a respectable distance. The staff knew better than to discuss the matter with or in front of pupils, but that didn’t stop them from asking questions. At dinner, an email was sent out asking everyone to make their way to the staff room for a meeting after they had dismissed their classes.

              Morgan, Carrie and I sat together. “I hope this is what I think it is,” Carrie

muttered.

I was about to ask her what she meant when Mr Briggs appeared, followed by the deputy head.

              “Knowing how information spreads at Logford, you’ve probably heard what I’m going to tell you in one version or another. Unfortunately, this again involves Amelia Carr.” He went on to give the correct version of events. “The police have contacted us this morning regarding Darren Pierce. He has confessed to sexual assault and will be charged accordingly. Amelia has not been physically harmed apart from…” Mr Briggs faltered, looking uncomfortable.

Carrie stood up and he nodded at her. “Amelia has suffered some bruising to the inside of her thighs and chest. She’s going to be tender for a while, but there’s nothing more serious. Luckily.” She sat back down.

              “Thank you, Carrie. Obviously this is a very upsetting matter and, looking at Darren Pierce’s recent behaviour record, we have come to the decision that Darren will not be returning to Logford. We are going to strongly suggest that he be sent to the type of school dedicated to providing for pupils with violent behavioural problems.” The relief in the room seemed to be shared by every member of staff who had come into contact with Darren Pierce, not least myself. “The resolution has been discussed and we believe that Darren is a danger to our pupils, who have the right to a safe education. Are there any questions?”

A few hands were raised.

              “What punishment will Darren receive?” an older, male teacher asked.

              “It’s difficult to say with both him and Amelia being minors. He almost certainly won’t be treated as an adult. Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that question.”

              “Will there be any restrictions put in place to stop Darren coming on to the school premises?” the same teacher asked.

              “As with any child who does not attend at Logford, he will have to sign in at the office to gain entry. Office staff will be aware that he is not to be allowed in the building and that the police are to be called should he attempt this. I know we can’t allay all your concerns and fears, but believe me when I say we are taking this matter extremely seriously and will do everything in our power to ensure that Darren Pierce is not able to cause any more trouble.”

A few people stayed behind to ask more questions. Carrie stayed to listen, but Morgan and I sloped off.

              “That’s good news all around,” Morgan said. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

32

The gossip soon died down with Easter quickly approaching, and things were starting to wind down at Logford High. Assessments were completed and lessons could now be more entertaining for our pupils. Despite this, as was usual coming up to the end of term, behaviour started to deteriorate, resulting in more detentions taking place after school. For me, it was a matter of counting down the days until it was time for our two week break. So far, I had no plans apart from a girls’ night out with Morgan, who had asked me to keep the middle weekend free. Whenever I tried to discuss it with her, however she seemed distracted by the prospect of spending time in Cornwall with Will. With just one more week to go until we broke up, I found that I could spend more time daydreaming about Theo than usual. I knew that he’d booked some time off over Easter and I was looking forward to sharing it with him. His shifts at the hospital were quite erratic. Doctors who had been at the hospital the longest seemed to get first say over which shifts they were given, leaving the younger members of staff with little to choose from. We managed to work around this inconvenience, sometimes spending strange hours together. Theo would text, waking me in the middle of the night to say that he was outside. I would clamber out of bed to let him in and then we would tumble back into bed together, often spending the early hours of the morning making love. Whenever it was possible, we would spend time at his house, which was significantly larger than mine thanks to a lump sum given to him at the age of eighteen by his parents. It was also kitted out better for hanging out, with a cinema system and a fully stocked bar.

              Friday was one of the rare days when Theo had done an early shift, leaving him available in the evening and off on Saturday, so we’d planned to spend the time watching a DVD and drinking wine; my idea of heaven! It was Theo’s turn to choose, which meant that we were
sat
watching the new Matt Damon film. To my surprise, it was turning out to be more than just an action film; there was an element of forbidden romance in there that would normally have me absolutely hooked, but not today.

              Theo, sensing my detachment, paused the DVD, refilled my wine glass, and then positioned himself on the sofa so that he was looking into my eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?” he inquired, in that delicious accent.

              “It’s nothing,” I said with a shake of my head.

              “Now, my mother always told me that when a woman says it’s nothing, that usually means it is most definitely something. Come on, spill.”

              “It seems silly, really, but I guess it’s bothering me that I haven’t ‘seen’ anything recently. Especially with what happened to Amelia. That type of event would fit in perfectly with the previous visions. It just seems weird that it didn’t happen this time. Do you know what I mean?”

He nodded in response, taking a sip of his wine.

“I would just like to know why. You know? Why sometimes do I have lots in a short space of time, whereas other times, I have none, even when there are traumatic events on the horizon? There must be a reason why not, don’t you think?”

              “Maybe you’re cured,” he suggested.

              “Is that possible?”

              “Certainly. If the visions are caused by some sort of brain injury, the brain has

amazing capabilities.”

              “That makes sense.”

Theo picked up the remote and re-started the film. Matt Damon barely got a line out before Theo paused the film again. “You’re still worried.”

              “I’m panicking over it, but I can’t put my finger on why. I just have this really awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.” I stopped while I tried to put my feelings into coherent words. “What if no more premonitions means that there’s no more… anything? What if it means that something is going to happen so that I can’t have any more visions?”

              Theo took hold of my hand. “It’s much more likely that something has righted itself. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise, ok?”

I nodded, forcing a smile but unable to get rid of that instinctive nagging that something was not quite right. We returned to the film.

              That night, our usually frantic love-making was slow and deliberate. I took my time to remember what that feeling of being complete and losing myself to ecstasy was like. Theo must have felt something different as well, because he held onto me afterwards, reluctant to let go even as we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

              In the morning, Theo was already up and about way ahead of me. It surprised me how much of a morning person he was despite the instability of his sleep patterns. When I trotted downstairs in his oversized slippers, he was making toast with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Thanks for that,” he was saying. “I really appreciate it. I’ll see you later this afternoon?”

              “Have you been called into work?” I asked when he put the phone down.

              “Not exactly. I’ve pulled a few strings and managed to get you a slot for a

brain scan this afternoon. Dr Cornwell has authorised it and she’ll do it for you, so at least you know the person. It may be some consolation to you that she agrees with me that it probably is some scarring that has managed to heal slightly. She believes this is a good sign not a bad sign.”

              “But I bet you didn’t tell her about the fact that the visions come true, did you?” I asked, defensively. I didn’t want him to think I was being silly about this, but also I couldn’t bear the thought of him slipping back into a cold scientific state of mind when there was clearly much more going on than science could explain.

              At the hospital, Dr Cornwell did her best to put me at ease despite her usually cold bedside manner. She talked to me about the weather while she went about working the machine.

              After the scan had been completed and, as a personal favour, the results printed immediately, Dr Cornwell had sat looking at them for a while, comparing them with my past results, she called Theo and me into a small room off the ward. “Well, you were right to sense some sort of change, Gillian. There is a slight change in the surface structure, though it is very slight. I would like to be able to give you more information but, to be honest, nobody really fully understands the brain. Could this alteration be why your waking dreams have stopped? It could be. It’s made much more likely by the fact that we couldn’t find any reason for the seizures in the first place.”

At the word ‘seizures’ I caught Theo’s eye. He squeezed my hand, which I took as a warning to leave it until he could explain later.

Dr Cornwall continued, “What I will suggest to you is that we continue to monitor this. Of course this would be completely voluntary, but I can’t deny that your case is very interesting. This is what I propose to you: I have to write a thesis during my second year as a doctor and I would like to use you as my subject. Obviously your name will not be mentioned within my work, but this would ensure that any changes could be monitored and responded to immediately. That would be the benefit for you.”

              “What would I need to do?” Alarm bells sounded as I thought of long, intrusive examinations and painful procedures.

              “I would need to ask you questions and you would need to provide me with detailed, honest answers. What do you say?”

              “I think it would be a good idea,” Theo said.

              “Ok. But I don’t have time to be coming in to the hospital all the time. We don’t have to carry out our discussions here, do we?” I asked. I hated hospitals.

              “Anywhere you like,” Dr Cornwell said, holding out her hand. We shook on it. “Fantastic. This could be my most interesting case study to date. It could be published!” she gasped. “Oh and of course, it will be useful for you to have more of an understanding of what exactly is happening in that head of yours!”