The Woods, page 3
Chapter 4
“Right—let’s get straight on with it. Poetry today.” I turn the pages in my poetry book to the page I’ve bookmarked. “This poem is called ‘Sold,’ by Paul Henry.”
Someone in the front row actually yawns and I grip the book harder to resist the urge to chuck the damned thing at him. I barely slept after last night’s dream, or hallucination, or whatever it was. And now I’m supposed to enthuse this eleventh-grade class about poetry?
I start reading the short poem and my throat gets tight halfway through. I’ve read this poem before, taught classes extracting every meaning and emotion from the poignant lines about a life embedded in the walls of a house, but today in my exhausted state the words stir up too many memories and thoughts of home, of Bella. My eyes are burning and I blink. When I look up, my voice trails off completely and I wonder if I’m so tired I’ve actually drifted into sleep, because for a split second the yawning boy turns into Bella sitting at the front of the class, leaves and twigs from the woods on the desk and an open poetry book in front of her. Come home, Tess, her voice whispers in my mind. I’ll wait for you in the woods. I rub my eyes and shake my head but she won’t stop. She won’t shut up.
It wasn’t an accident, she says. Over and over. The world spins and I lean forward, elbows on my desk, head in my hands.
“Um…Miss? Miss Cooper?”
I open my eyes and Bella’s gone. Someone in the class giggles, someone else is on their feet.
“Are you okay, Miss?” It’s Rebecca Martin asking, and there’s laughter in her voice, a hint of glee as her teacher goes gaga. Don’t they all long for this, some sign of weakness they can get their hooks into? Rebecca most of all.
I grit my teeth. “Sorry, I just…lost my train of thought for a second.”
Rebecca laughs again, loud, derisive, joined by more of the class this time. Gotcha, her laughter says. “A second? You’ve been sitting with your head in your hands for, like, ages.”
I stare at her, paralyzed. It would be Rebecca Martin, of course, with her sly smile, the whole class laughing now as she sets off again.
“Think you need a break, Miss—get yourself a Red Bull. Had a few too many last night, did you? Or was it this morning even?” Laugher rolls again through the classroom.
Suddenly, she’s not Rebecca Martin and I’m not Miss Cooper, she’s Lena and Nicole, she’s every one of Bella’s bitchy friends who’d laugh at me, make her embarrassed by me; all those girls who made my sister a stranger. I’m sixteen again, too fat in my school uniform, and there is Bella, dripping blood on her desk. I’m not going to let them do this to me again. I will not sit by quietly this time.
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” I say to Rebecca/Lena/Nicole.
There’s a gasp from someone.
“Excuse me?” Rebecca says half laughing, half shocked. I can only partly hear her through the buzzing in my head.
“Shut the fuck up, I said.” I get up, my chair scraping across the floor. My head spins and I can feel Bella urging me on. Go on, Tess, show them. Tell them. “You have no idea what’s going on in my life and you don’t even care, do you? All I want is for you to give me a break and do your bloody work. And maybe, for once—just shut your damned mouth.”
There’s total silence now. I look down at the poetry book in my shaking hand but then Rebecca fucking Martin laughs again and my control snaps.
I march over to her desk and she gets up, as tall as me, taller than I was at sixteen. But her bravado is all fake as I grab hold of her stupid short tie and pull her forward until our foreheads are nearly touching.
“Seriously? You’re still laughing? Will you still be laughing if I throw you through the fucking window?” I shove her backward and she falls, her chair clattering to the floor.
The silence is broken by someone shouting, “Miss has gone rabid!” It’s a boy’s voice, jubilant and scared all at once and it brings me back and Rebecca Martin isn’t Lena or Nicole anymore, she’s a scared-looking kid with tears in her eyes sprawled on the floor. Bella is gone from the desk next to her. Of course she is. She was never bloody there.
The door flies open and Sophie runs in, white-faced as she takes in the scene.
She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Tess?”
I reach out a hand to help Rebecca up, but she scrabbles away from me, fury and fear on her face, her cheeks burning red.
Sophie grips my shoulder harder and pulls me away. “What have you done, Tess?”
Oh God.
What have I done?
I go straight to Karen, my head of department, trying for damage limitation before the whole of the eleventh grade gets here with their own exaggerated versions, but I’m made to wait outside while Rebecca and Sophie are brought in before me.
“I’m so sorry…I didn’t sleep well last night,” I say as soon as I’m called in. “I had a call from my dad about my stepmother. She’s…she’s dying.”
Karen stands behind the desk, her hands gripping the edge. The way she looks at me makes me aware of the shadows under my eyes I can’t cover with makeup, my unwashed hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
Why did it have to be Rebecca Martin? She sits at the front of the class, all hostile eyes, challenging everything I say, criticizing me with a look every time I fumble over a lesson or forget where we are in a book. The sick feeling is back, rising higher until it’s difficult to breathe. Rebecca Martin, whose parents come storming in here every time their precious daughter gets into trouble, always blaming someone else, insisting on an investigation into whoever was unfortunate enough to give her a detention this time.
Karen looks nearly as upset as I know I should be. “Tess, this goes beyond an apology. This is not you sleeping through your alarm or missing the bus or losing coursework. You assaulted a pupil in full view of the class. Jesus Christ—Sophie told me she heard you threatening to throw Rebecca through the window.”
“That was just words. I never would have done it. She wasn’t hurt. I—”
“And thank God she wasn’t injured or the police would be here right now. As it is, I can’t guarantee that her parents won’t want to press charges. We’ve had to call them. They’re on their way in. Jesus, Tess—why did it have to be Rebecca Martin?”
“You know she’s had it in for me since…”
“Since what? Since you stole her phone last term?”
“I didn’t steal it. She had it out in class—I saw the pictures she was flashing around. I was trying to help her.”
“You took her phone out of her bag and called the damned police.” Karen shakes her head. “You should have come to me. We could have had a word with her, spoken to her parents.”
“She’s a kid—a child.”
“She’s over sixteen; so is her boyfriend. What they get up to, what messages they send, has nothing to do with us. If you’d told us, we could have disciplined her for showing the photos in school, but you took the phone without her permission. You called the police.”
“But—”
“But nothing.”
“I thought—”
“You thought wrong. We talked her parents down that time. But this? You can hardly claim you were trying to help her this time, can you?”
Oh, why did I have to be so stupid? When I saw the texts she was showing her friend, that damned porno close-up of someone’s penis, I thought…
I really did think I was helping her.
“I’ll do my best when Rebecca’s parents come in—she was provoking you, you’re under strain, there are mitigating circumstances. But I can’t let you remain at the school. You’re suspended as of now. And Tess…I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s any way the board will let you back.”
My eyes threaten to fill. What the hell have I done?
Karen steps back. “Go home, Tess. Get yourself sorted out. We’ll be in touch soon.”
Go home? I shiver. My flat isn’t what I think of when she says go home. I think of Bella waiting for me in the woods.
Sophie calls as I’m leaving the school.
“What happened?”
“Suspended.”
“Shit, Tess…”
“Karen was really good, but what else could she do?”
“Did you tell her about your stepmother?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Oh, why didn’t you call in sick?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see it. “It’s not just a momentary meltdown, though. I mean, today was, but Soph—I don’t think I want to do this anymore. I don’t think I want to be a teacher.”
“One hell of a way to tender your resignation, babe.”
I let out a laugh that’s half a sob. “I had this dream last night. It was…it was awful. I don’t think I slept at all afterward.”
“What was it about?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. Can you come round?”
“Of course. Sure you don’t want to go out? We could come up with a new and improved life plan over some cheap cocktails and a late-night kebab.”
I stop on the corner, waiting for a break in the traffic so I can cross the road. “I’m not sure going out and getting drunk would be a good idea. Come to my place, help me drown my sorrows in strong tea.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Are you sure you’ll still want to associate with me now? The disgraced ex-teacher up for assaulting her students?”
“You daft cow.”
There’s so much affection in her voice it makes my eyes fill with tears.
“You know everyone working here will back you up, don’t you? We’ve all wanted to have a screaming fit at some of the kids we teach.”
“But wanting to and actually doing it are two different things, aren’t they?”
“At least you didn’t go full-on Miss Trunchbull on her.”
There is that. But what if Sophie hadn’t come into the classroom? What if Rebecca had fought back? How far would I have gone?
THEN
Chapter 5
August 2006: Two Years Before the Wedding
“Come on, Tess!”
Bella’s calling me from the other side of the stream. She jumped it in one flying leap, clearing the fast-flowing water by a foot. I’m dithering. I always do—never quite finding the guts to make the jump, my stupid brain imagining me fudging it and falling face-first in the dirty water. Wouldn’t be so bad if we hadn’t had such a wet summer. If it had been dry the last few weeks, the stream would be nothing but a dank, stinking trickle I could step across.
I could walk farther upstream—there’s a fallen tree that acts as a bridge. But it’s a five-minute walk away and I can see the impatience on Bella’s face.
Just bloody do it, Tess. I take a few steps back, hold my breath, and go for it—a run and then a huge jump. My feet plant in the mud on the other side, water soaking into my sandals, and I can feel myself falling back. My arms fly out for balance but I know I’m going to fall—Tessie the Elephant splashing down—but then Bella’s hand grabs mine and she hauls me up the bank.
“I got you,” she says, laughing as I fall to my knees, muddying my jeans. She keeps hold of my hand as I clamber upright.
I’m sweating—that moment where I thought I was falling translated into great damp patches under my arms and down my back. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.
“It’s so bloody hot, maybe we should have jumped in the water rather than over it,” Bella says. She’s still laughing, but it’s not a cruel laugh. It’s her indulgent laugh for the clumsy kid sister who couldn’t tie her laces until she was ten and was forever falling over. I have a vivid memory of a smaller me, my big sister crouching down to tie my school shoes for me. It’s bright, that memory.
I squeeze Bella’s hand. “Thanks, big sis.”
“Anytime, baby sis,” she says, letting go of my hand to ruffle my curls. I push her hand away—isn’t my hair bad enough in this humidity? An insane mass of frizz.
“What do you want to do now?” she asks, sinking onto a log, stretching out her legs, brushing off the tiniest speck of mud.
It squeezes my heart watching her as her hair falls over her face. I get this a lot—this huge wave of love for my perfect sister, almost a pang, almost a pain.
I shrug. Four weeks into the summer holidays, first dry day in ages, and we’re in the woods. Adventuring, we used to call it when we were little kids. But Bella’s sixteen now and I’m fourteen. Too old for adventuring. She is, anyway. A bit of me wouldn’t mind playing the games we used to—intrepid explorers lost in the jungle. But Bella’s bored of it, I can tell. She’s restless, jumping back up and pacing about.
“God, I swear this place gets more boring every year,” she says. “Nothing ever changes.” She rummages in her bag and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Want one?”
I shake my head. The smoking is new. Her and her mates—saw them huddled round the back of school at the end of term, surrounded by boys, sharing cigarettes. I’ve tried it a couple of times, but I don’t like it. I feel stupid with one in my hand.
“We could go to the beach?” I say. “Or the amusement park?”
I don’t want to. I want to stay here in the woods where it’s cool and dark and it’s just me and Bella. Half the school will be down at the beach on a day like this, and Bella will be off with them. It’s different when we’re here. She’s different when it’s just the two of us.
She hesitates, then smiles and stubs the cigarette out. “Nah—I’ll stay with you.” She gets her camera out of the bag. “Let’s go take some photos.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind, honestly. It’s been at least a week since you’ve seen any boys. You must be getting withdrawal symptoms.”
She shoves me, but she’s grinning. “Shut your face, bitch. At least I’m not a nun like you. Besides, there is not one single sexy boy in this entire village. When it comes down to it, you’re actually better company.”
“Oh, I’m so flattered.”
“You should be. Most people would beg for this much time in my company.”
She’s joking but it’s actually kind of true.
Her phone dings and she pulls it out of her pocket. “Oh—I spoke too soon.”
“What is it?”
“Text from Nic. It seems a new family has been seen viewing Dean House and, apparently, there are two insanely hot boys.”
Her restlessness is back. I can see I’m no longer better company.
“Go on then,” I say, although it comes out all sulky. “Go find yourself some insanely hot boys.”
She hesitates and looks at me. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll meet Nic later.” She sends a text and puts the phone back in her pocket. “Come on then.”
Her phone dings again less than a minute later and I sigh as she looks at the message and laughs. “Nic says they’re checking out the village and I will regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t come right now.” Another text comes through. “And she’s not going to shut up until I go and meet her.”
She looks at me, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Tess? Pretty, pretty please come with me to look at some pretty, pretty boys?”
I laugh unwillingly. “Oh go on, bugger off, you daft nympho.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
I look at her blond perfection and my own mud-streaked fat-jeans, hair a frizzy nightmare. “In this state? With you and Nicole? I don’t think so. Go. I’ll hang out here a bit.”
She’s wavering. “Go on,” I say again. “Seriously—go and check them out and report back to me.”
She doesn’t look back as she lopes off, and it’s only after she’s out of sight that I realize I’m going to have to get back across the stream on my own.
September 2006
The insanely hot boys and their family have bought Dean House. I kick the Sold sign as I pass it and go round to the side gate, swinging my carrier bag full of gardening stuff. I’ve been coming here since last year when Dad shouted at me for working in our own garden. Our garden was always Mum’s thing and he hasn’t touched it since she died.
Dad hardly ever shouts, but he had tears in his eyes and so I stopped and promised I wouldn’t touch it anymore, even though it kills me to see all Mum’s plants get strangled by weeds and brambles.
I never meant to break in. I never go in the house, though, just the garden, so maybe it’s just trespassing? It’s not like I’m the only one who comes here—the house has been empty for years, since the old man who owned it before actually went and died inside. Of course, it then became the local haunted house. Kids come here on dares and teenagers come here to drink and smoke and other stuff.
Me, I come here and plant flowers and pull up weeds. My very own secret garden, pretending I’m Mary Lennox, even though I’m way too old for games. Pretending my work will make some magic happen.
Bella heard that they’re moving in next week, so this is the last time I’ll be able to come here. A stupid part of me wants to rip out all the stuff I’ve planted. Why should I leave it for them? But what would I do with it? It’s not like Dad will let me move all the plants to our own garden.
I don’t stay long. What’s the point? I pull up a few weeds, cut back a bit more of the bramble jungle. I’ve been coming here for nearly a year and you can see progress. It’s nowhere near finished—that would take years. But I’ve turned it from a weed-filled mess to something beautiful, a riot of climbing roses and wildflowers. Maybe the new family will like gardening. Maybe one of the insanely hot boys will carry on my work and one day he’ll find out it was me who was the secret gardener and we’ll fall in love.
Yeah, right.
I brush compost off my jeans and pack my stuff away. It’s another hot day. I close the side gate and walk back out onto the lane, stopping dead when I see Bella walking toward me flanked by Nicole and Caitlin, her two best friends.
