Natalia sat dumbstruck staring at Neill.
'You want me to pick the school trip? I, I don't know...'
'Come on, come on girl. What do you like?'
She put down her tea. 'How far can we go?'
'How far do you want to go?'
'As far as possible.'
They both laughed.
'Have you ever been out of Leeds?'
'Only on a coach trip to Sheffield.'
'Jesus, don't bother with a postcard.' He glanced at his computer screen. 'Well, we can only go within an hour really.'
'Not to the coast?'
'Why the coast?'
She shrugged. 'It's what I'm doing in Art. Looking at paintings of sirens and mermaids and sailors on the sea,' as she brought out her phone, swiped the screen a few times and held it out to face him:
'John William Waterhouse. Evelyn de Morgan. Herbert James Draper.'
He squinted closer and swiped his finger over it. 'Bloody hell, what a crack!'
'I take it you mean the screen.'
'Mainly. But hers is alright - '
'Well, isn't everyone's?'
His eyes went to hers cynically.
'I mean the screen!' she groaned. 'I would get it fixed but I can't afford it and it would be more than this thing is even worth.'
'Hmm. But are you hoping to spot naked, oil-painted temptresses emerging from the sea in... Bridlington?'
'Blackpool maybe.'
He chuckled. He swiped a few more times. 'Not sure about that one.'
She turned her phone around. 'Oh, that's my trainers for eBay - '
'You'll need to sell more than those stink bombs for a new phone. Anyway, it's not really a good time of year for a trip to the beach. Save that for summer.'
'When my art GCSE is over?'
'And you can have actual fun on the beach and flap about in the sea like a seaman-scaring siren yourself than worrying about taking photos of water for a tiresome sketchbook.'
She laughed and rolled her eyes as he tapped on his computer and mused:
'What about an art gallery where some of these paintings might hang?'
'Leeds Art Gallery?'
'Natalia darling, you could go there on the bloody bus tomorrow. It's got to be something further out, more adventurous. Museum, landmark... wait! You like Brontë...'
'Mm-hm?' She took a hearty gulp of tea as she watched him.
'Swap Art for English Lit,' he continued. 'Have you ever been to Brontë country?'
'A whole country?'
'The South Pennine Moors, containing the pint-sized village of Haworth, and the Parsonage Museum where the Brontë sisters lived and wrote their books.'
'Really?'
'You didn't know about it?'
'I don't know much beyond my crap street.'
'Haworth is quite beautiful. Very quaint and historic,' as he swivelled his computer screen around to her. 'Same as it looked in the 1900s. It's an hour away, perfect.'
'Oh wow. Let's go there!'
'Right! Well, let me contact them and see if they'll have us.'
'Are you gonna - be coming too, sir?'
He looked nonchalantly at her, then back at the screen.
'This I might, yes. Well, you'd better get off for your bus.'
She arose, stretching her arms into her coat. 'How's the video? Been deleted yet?'
'Ah yes, let's see how Dr Ploppy's directorial debut is faring.'
She walked round behind his chair to have a look.
'Nadgers. Still zero views.'
'Refresh the page, silly.'
'Oh...'
As the page reappeared, a view count of 624 came up, and 14 comments.
'...My god!'
'All that in fifteen minutes?' Natalia exclaimed.
'She's dead.'
'You're welcome,' Natalia smiled.
'I'm amazed! Right, fag time well overdue. Have a good weekend Natalia.'
'Bye Neill.'
Natalia hurried back down to the empty classroom where just Mrs Clayton was still clearing up.
'You've been some time!'
'Sorry Miss. Neill's fault, he talks so much.'
She packed away and sprinted up the school driveway just in time for the next bus.
26Please respect copyright.PENANAaYGQIOUJGQ
It was dark by now, but she enjoyed the bus ride with the peaceful absence of stomping school kids. Huddled up the window, her belly whirling with disbelief and Neill's hot tea and the eggy aftertaste of her own cupcake, right now she cared less than ever for being friendless. In Neill she felt something better than a friend. A kindred spirit?
She pulled out her heavily pencil-annotated copy of Jane Eyre, something she'd never normally do on the bus where she could be seen as a swot, and saw the underscored line:
'When he met me unexpectedly,' Jane ruminates on Rochester, 'the encounter seemed welcome. I was honoured by a cordiality of reception that made me feel I really possessed the power to amuse him'!
Natalia laughed to herself at the idea of Mr Neill as a brooding lover figure. Probably at least double her age, of a different generation and social class entirely. Then, with her own hand upon her wrist, her pulse quickened at the momentary remembrance of his hand there; their ligaments, their skins, in prolonged warm communion.
How her blood had shifted up a degree in speed and temperature, how strangely nice it felt when he squeezed in response to her resistance. How clammy her armpits felt when she had left the room. How her mind had pored over it all week!
26Please respect copyright.PENANAhg6Qjwua6X
Whilst her mum cackled over beers with an old friend downstairs, Natalia spent the weekend excitedly Google-ogling Haworth and the Brontë museum, till Monday morning brought the dull drag of her period, and the return of fears of Marcia.
Literally every single day she crossed her path with a menacing word and a look of threat. What a bummer her new joy for school had to be almost immediately dampened by some ghastly cast-off from another school to burden theirs instead!
The register was taken at form, and the first lesson was French in the same room, with Marcia amongst those staying for the class. Whilst Mrs Williams left the room to fetch something, Marcia's eyes hooked onto Natalia.
Natalia took a nervous breath and stared ahead.
'Your bag's like a tramp's bag,' rasped Marcia.
Natalia blinked uneasily, still not looking at her, as a jelly sensation grew in her thighs.
'Do you know how fuckin' ugly you are?' the hiss continued like an uninvited wasp at a picnic.
Ryan had wandered over to collect his book from the front desk.
'Aw, leave her alone, Marcia,' came his defending murmur, as Natalia watched his face turning brighter red than her sanitary towel as Marcia threw him a face of scorn.
'Don't tell me you fancy the spoff!'
'Shurrup.'
'You got any fags?'
'Some yeah.'
A useful distractor despite his rescue efforts being abysmal, thought Natalia, as Mrs Williams flapped into the room like an overfed hen with a shrill cry for everyone to sit and open their books.
A merry laugh infiltrating down the staircase through the closing door, suddenly reminded her of Neill. Neill, oh Neill, O'Neill, how she wished he could fire Marcia as easily as Luxton or Cohen. About as likely as getting to remove the blackhead on the end of Williams' nose, she groaned.
26Please respect copyright.PENANA8Baev2cgfz
In Chemistry just before lunch on the following day, Natalia was next to Laura working with a bunsen burner, sitting in a trance watching the flame.
A call came to Mr Harrison's desk.
'Natalia? The Head wants to see you.'
She threw off her goggles, grabbed her things and arose so quickly that warm blood shunted into her knickers like a rocket. She feigned a casual gait to the door then hot-footed like a rocket herself down the stairs. Did Neill want to talk about the school trip? Or the uniforms? Or victorious, viral vindication of vile vole Luxton? Whatever, she'd rather watch the flame on the end of his cigarette than a boring old bunsen burner!
She knocked and entered to a gleeful-looking Neill smiling up from a range of catalogue sheets spread over his desk.
'Ah, there you are!' he declared with his lively, fresh-faced vitality after not seeing her for several days, which made her begin to glow again, like life was ok after all. At least, in this room, where cakes and cookies, tea and tattle, screens and schemes beckoned sheer escapist happiness for her.
'Hi, Neill. I see it's about the school uniform, then?' as she sat down at the desk and scooped the chair up closer.
'What's the matter?'
His face had dropped straight away looking at her, as though he knew immediately despite her little lift in spirits from seeing him, that there was something newly amiss.
'Oh, nothing?' she said, feigning ignorance. 'I'm fine.'
'I can tell you're not,' he said bluntly, without hesitation, staring right back at her.
She stared back. A sudden sadness pricked in her eye ducts, which she quickly shook off.
'Sir, no honestly, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, that's all.'
'Tired from what?'
She blinked surprised at his insistence.
'W-well, it's that time you know... I'm on my... my period.'
Did she just mention her period to Mr Neill? Her face began to redden more than Ryan's.
'Hmmm,' he murmured with softly raised eyebrows as if unconvinced, drinking in her appearance with indifference at her period remark, then taking a sharp inhale back at the catalogue sheets.
'So... how did your focus group go?' she asked.
'Ah, well, it wasn't quite a focus group in the end, well sort of,' he looked abashed, 'I did gather some opinions, but anyway, I think I know what changes need to be made, and I'd like to know what you think.'
He swiftly presented a page of polo necks. 'I want to replace the standard shirt with softer cotton fabrics, not just the standard cotton shirt, in white or blue. And then,' as he presented another page, 'a smarter redesigned sweater, the options of hoodies, getting rid of ties completely, and shortening all skirts by five inches.'
She looked up with a sarcastic expression at the last bit.
'Ah good, just checking you're listening.'
She managed a weak smile, weighed down by the dragging feeling of her inner dilemma. She wanted to tell Neill about Marcia, but feared looking pathetic over one girl, upturning their intellectual dynamic and freaking him out by cracking into tears as soon as the first word escaped her lips.
He ran through another sheet of active-wear sets for PE tailored for outdoor and indoor, including black leggings and gym tops for Yoga.
She watched and nodded.
'Oh come on Natalia,' as he flopped down the papers. 'You're looking at me as skittishly as Miss Doris when I sang Madonna at her in the staff room the other day. Can't you put aside whatever is obviously preying on your mind and tell me these jumpers look better than what you called potato sacks?'
She gave a smileless laugh. 'Sorry. I honestly think it's all really good. It's my body that feels like a sack of potatoes right now.'
He cast a dubious glance down her body. 'Daintiest sack on the market. I'm not buying it.'
'Like a Virgin?'
'Pardon?'
'Which Madonna song did you sing at Miss Doris?' she began to smirk curiously.
He paused and studied her. 'Like a Prayer. She whispers so softly like a child, I'd need to take her onto my knee like one of the washed-up wenches in your Waterhouse paintings to hear what she's saying.'
'Now that image makes me skittish.'
They chortled together.
'Right! Well I'll send all this off and announce it,' as he collected up the pages with a loud exhale. 'Many people will disapprove of getting rid of ties, but this will be a new benchmark. Shame we can't just scrap uniforms entirely and have pupils wear their own clothes but I've come to realise this place is no Steiner.'
'What's Steiner?'
'Independent schools, holistic and one hundred percent organic. Rudolf Steiner, who founded Anthropopososophy or however the fuck the occultist twat pronounces it.'
She was both flummoxed and tickled by his profane outburst, then resumed:
'What about the Deputy? What does Mr Dinkey think?' realising the two words sounded funny together.
'What does Dinkey think?' His nose scrunched up in indignation. 'What does Dinkey Donkey thinky wonky?'
She burst out laughing.
Lowering his voice and lining up his eye at her, he added:
'I don't give one infinitesimal doo-dah what Mr Sleepy Softly, Dinkey Donkey thinks,' as Natalia's face fell incredulously. 'He's the Deputy which means he does whatever we say. Yep, yep, yep, yep!' he impersonated, with a dramatic purr: 'Oh, how lucky I am to have such a good Little Donkey Deputy to be saddled with whatever Headmaster says, hmm?!'
Natalia squealed with laughter and shook her head in disbelief. 'Oh, my god!'
'But it's true isn't it?' he smiled smugly.
'Yes!'
He leaned forward with the papers bunched together in his hands. 'Really, it's all about the pupils' thoughts, and you're the only pupil in the school with the insight to do not one, but all three of the following things: identify, articulate, and know how to remedy the situation. Do you understand?'
He said this with such precise, exacting conviction that forced Natalia to do nothing but nod in self-believing seriousness.
'Thanks,' was all she could say.
'Oh, stop saying bloody thank you. Just say yes Neill, I know.'
'Haha.'
'Say it.'
His face was playing that contagious game with her now, where she was adapting to respond with the same venturing boldness.
'Get lost,' she smiled.
'You're not going out of my office till you say it,' he said sternly.
'Yes Neill, I know. Now fuck off and let me out of here,' she said, going pink in the face at swearing, which she wasn't completely used to doing in front of any teacher, yet was strangely compelled into the geniality of doing it with him.
'That's my girl,' he laughed and stacked the papers back onto the desk with a satisfied sense of a job completed. 'You're dismissed, back to whatever's left of your lesson.'
'The bell's already gone, by the way,' she replied haughtily. 'Thankfully I brought my bag with me because I know how long you witter on for.'
He grinned. 'Off you go to lunch then.'
As she went to open the door, he added:
'Oh! By the way.'
'Yeah?' she turned.
'I will find out what it is.'
'What,' she said flatly.
'You can't fool me,' with that knowing look.
Her parting image of him was his screwed up nose in the air, crooning to the tune of the Little Donkey carol:
'Don't give up, my little Dohh-nkey! New unifor-rrm's in siiight!' as the door closed onto his trailing sing-song, and she chuckled to herself all the way down the corridor. It was strange how it seemed he could read inside of her, and even stranger that she was becoming familiar with it.
________________________________________
Will Natalia tell Neill about about Marcia? She gets a red-faced surprise at Assembly in the next chapter, Prank-Star!
If you enjoy The Headmaster's Flame please comment, like and share with a friend!
Follow fun visuals and commentary on the story at www.instagram.com/headmastersflame
ns 172.71.255.19da2