Love Lessons Read online

  Rax kept scribbling down recommendations and I kept all his notes tucked inside my copy of Jane Eyre, treasuring old Sainsbury's receipts and Cadbury's wrappers because they bore a few words of his beautiful italic writing. But the best conversations were when he stopped acting like my teacher and I got him to talk about himself. He shied away from talking about the way he felt now, but he talked easily enough about his childhood.

  He told me about his first big box of felt-tip pens and how he'd spent hours kneeling up at the kitchen table, colouring the seaside with big white-tipped waves and little red boats and v-shaped seagulls flying round and round the rays of his yellow sun. He drew himself standing on a rock licking a giant strawberry ice cream with chocolate flakes sticking out like horns. His mother h a d entered it for a children's a r t competition and it had come second.

  'Another boy at my school came first, and I couldn't help minding dreadfully. I managed not to show it in front of him, but I cried at home

  – how pathetic is that!'

  'But very understandable.'

  'My mum understood too, and had my picture specially framed. I t h i n k she's still got it hanging in her kitchen.'

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  'Has she got any of your later work, things you did at art school or afterwards?'

  'No, I think she feels I went off dreadfully after the age of seven. She may well be right.'

  'And do you still like strawberry ice cream with chocolate flakes?'

  'You bet I do!'

  Then we got onto our favourite foods. Rax couldn't believe I'd never eaten a pizza or a chop suey or a chicken tandoori.

  'I'll have to treat you sometime,' he said.

  'Yes please!'

  I kept hoping t h a t he'd suggest a specific time, but he was probably j u s t playing a game.

  Sometimes he treated me like a little kid, as if I wasn't much older t h a n Harry. I tried to behave in a sophisticated manner, but sometimes he teased me when I used an elaborate phrase or struck a pose.

  'Don't laugh at me,' I said, stung.

  'I'm not laughing. Well. Just a little bit,' he said.

  'I'm simply trying to impress you,' I said.

  'You don't h a v e to try, P r u e . You do t h a t already,' he said.

  'Really?'

  'You're a funny kid.'

  'I'm not funny. And I'm not a kid,' I said, flouncing out of the car.

  'Hey! Don't go off in a huff!' he said, winding down his window.

  I stuck my head back inside. 'Who's huffy? Not me!' I said. Then I blew him a little kiss goodbye.

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  I didn't touch him. It was just a silly little gesture. He didn't need to take it seriously –

  though I wanted him to.

  He wasn't quite so chatty this last time, driving me home. I tried h a r d to introduce interesting topics of conversation, but nothing really seemed to spark with him. We got home much too soon.

  'Perhaps you could park the car up the road a bit instead of j u s t outside the shop?' I suggested. 'If Mum hears the car she'll wonder why I'm not coming in straight away.'

  'And why aren't you coming in straight away?'

  said Rax.

  'Because I want to talk to you!'

  'I know, I know. And I want to talk to you too, Prue. But . . . but we're starting to act as if . . .

  as if there's something between us.'

  'There is,' I said.

  'Well, yes, I know we get on really well, and it's a privilege for me to help you with your art, but that's all it can be, Prue. You do know that, don't you?'

  'I know. But what do you really want inside?

  What if you weren't my teacher?'

  'It doesn't matter what I feel inside.'

  'It matters to me. You matter to me.'

  'Don't, Prue. Look, this is all my fault. I should have kept my distance. You're going through a difficult time, you're feeling very vulnerable, your dad's not well. It's not surprising you've got overly attached to me.'

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  'I'm not attached.' I took a deep breath. 'I love you, you know I do.'

  'Prue. Look, you're a very sweet girl—'

  'Don't treat me like Sarah.'

  'Oh dear God.' He put his head in his hands, resting against the steering wheel.

  'It's all right,' I said. 'I won't make things difficult for you. I won't tell anyone else the way I feel. I won't do anything at all. But please, won't you tell me if you love me just a little bit?'

  'I'm married, I've got two small children. I'm a teacher, you're my pupil – you're fourteen years old, for God's sake.'

  'Do you love me?'

  'Prue, please, stop this. Go indoors now, your mother will be wondering where you are. Off you go.'

  He waited until I was safely out of the car, standing on the pavement. Then he whispered one word as he drove away. I couldn't hear him, of course, but I saw his face clearly in the lamplight. He said yes.

  Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

  Rax seemed to be avoiding me at school. He barely nodded when we passed in the corridor.

  When I started a new project in art he didn't even comment. We'd started working on aspects of Christmas. I found his postcard of a Botticelli Nativity and I made a fair stab at copying it, using gouache for the first time. I did a little replica Mary, Jesus and Joseph, I painted all their visitors, rural and exotic, and the holy livestock, and used up a lot of pink and gold on the host of heavenly angels circling the cattle shed.

  There was a strange graveyard in the foreground with dead people springing forth from the earth, resurrected, embracing each other joyfully. I copied each one, but I deliberately embellished the couple in the corner enjoying the 185

  warmest embrace. I gave the girl long dark curly hair. I gave the man a little beard with a hint of sparkly highlight on his earlobe.

  I wanted Rax to look at it closely but he only gave it a quick glance every time he went to have a chat with Sarah. I hoped he'd look at it more carefully after the lesson. I was sure I understood.

  He was being particularly cautious. It would look strange, even suspicious, if he singled me out.

  I didn't like it all the same. School was so lonely now. Rita and the other girls hissed slag at me whenever I passed. The boys made crude remarks. Toby did his best to shut them up.

  Then he hung back, trying to talk to me.

  'I'm so sorry, Prue. I didn't mean for it to end up like this. I never thought Rita would be so mean to you. I've tried talking to her, telling her to cut it out, but she just told me to get lost.'

  'Well, she would do, wouldn't she?' I said. 'And if she sees you talking to me now she'll get even meaner. You shouldn't have broken up with her, Toby.'

  'But I don't reckon her any more. You're the only girl I want.'

  'Oh Toby. I told you. I like you ever so much, but I don't want to be your girlfriend,' I said.

  'Maybe you'll change your mind,' Toby said cheerfully.

  'I don't t h i n k so,' I said, but obviously I couldn't explain why.

  Rax didn't mention babysitting at all in the last art lesson of the week, but then, right at 186

  the end, when everyone else was clattering out, he asked if he could have a word with me.

  'Look at her!' Rita said to her friend Aimee.

  'Look at the smug little smile on the slag's face, just because old Rax wants her.'

  My heart started beating fast. Rax had heard too. He paused and stood still.

  'Yeah, talk about teacher's pet. I don't think she's t h a t good at art, she just copies stuff,' said Aimee.

  I breathed out, happy for them to carry on rubbishing my art. Toby irritatingly took it into his head to interfere.

  'You shut up, you lot. You're just jealous of Prue's talent,' he said.

  This naturally encouraged them to be far more vitriolic.

  'Hey, you guys, how about conducting your slanging match outside in the playground?' said Rax.

  ' P