she could take on all three at once without blood being spilled.
“People invite you to their houses and you won’t accept, because you think they’re not good enough for you,” said Mia, petulantly.
“How do you know that’s the reason I refuse?” asked Eliza.
“Well, why do you refuse, then?” asked Phoebe, snarkily.
A fair question. “No comment,” said Eliza, who suddenly didn’t want to reveal herself too much to this belligerent threesome, and Mia pushed her, hard. Eliza staggered back, recovered, clenched her fist and, with remarkable restraint, resisted the temptation to slug the offender in the nose. Still, she was getting angry, so she seized Mia by the lapel of her jacket.
“Now listen up, bitch,” she said, having heard the phrase in a TV show recently. “Keep your hands right off me. It’s none of your business whose invitations I accept. My father has friends in low places, and if any of you comes near me again, for any reason, he will send some of them around to visit you, all of you!”
Mia was trying to pull away so Eliza let her go suddenly, and she lurched backwards. When Eliza walked out of the locker room, the three made no attempt to follow. Eliza probably should have been an actress, because she certainly convinced the ghastly trio she was not to be trifled with, however her bravado deserted her once she got around the corner and her knees started shaking.
“I’m sick of this!” she told Richard that evening, and repeated her cri de coeur: “I want to be normal!” She explained what had happened, and what she had said, and to her annoyance he was inclined to be much amused. He appeared to be considering something highly entertaining for a few moments, then he turned to her again. “Do you want me to give them a scare, poppet?” he asked.
“How?” she said, “and yes, please.” He told her, and she forgot her indignation, laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks.
* * *
As Mia got out of her mother’s car after school, she noticed a black vehicle with darkened window glass parked opposite their house. Leaning against the car were two young men in double-breasted pinstriped suits, black shirts, white neckties and black hats. They had dispensed with the violin cases, a superfluous anachronism. One of them was looking down at what appeared to be a large knife, which he was ostentatiously sharpening with a stone. The other man stared at Mia, and when she caught his eye he tipped his hat to her. She gasped, and ran inside the house.
The men lounged around, menacingly, for a few more minutes, and then departed. They did not bother to repeat the performance at Zoe’s or Phoebe’s. Mia was the ringleader and she was the chosen one. It worked wonderfully well, and Eliza was not bothered again. She always greeted them cordially thereafter, and they responded politely, if somewhat anxiously. Eliza thought they had been rather easily scared by a couple of clichés.
The two young drama students reportedly thoroughly enjoyed themselves getting kitted up as gangsters and pretending to sharpen a rubber knife. Richard paid them for their time but they would probably have done it happily for free.
* * *
So at last Eliza’s schooldays drew to a close, much to her relief. After Teague, she decided that she rather liked having sex from time to time. She knew enough about the double standard to avoid the Eager Hounds effect. She sought out her occasional lovers, none of whom realised she was the one doing the seducing, from areas of endeavour other than acting, just for comparison. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to get married, but she had no intention of being celibate for the rest of her young life.
Chapter 5 ~ Richard and Linda
Meeting, parting, and the compensations of love in the afternoon.
The first time Linda Bellamy saw Richard, it was November 1992 and he was teaching his class how to fight on stage, with fists, swords and other implements. There is apparently quite a science to theatre combat, especially with swords, in a confined space, without falling over, injuring someone or being mistaken for a travelling cutlery sharpener. Linda was attracted by the noise, mainly from the onlookers, and she looked in to see what was going on. Being quite close to the stage, she noticed a tall man with longish, dark hair, fit-looking in the manner of someone who cycles and chops wood, rather than a body builder. As he demonstrated a move with a student, the young man zigged when he should have zagged, and so ended up on the floor. Richard, not at all out of breath despite his exertions, laughed sympathetically, and reached out a hand to haul the young man to his feet.
“Well done, Justin,” he said. “You did well with the emotional aspects, and the comic tumble was nicely executed, please take a bow.” The student bowed and everyone cheered. Linda thought that was rather nice of him, to take the sting out of a blunder. She didn’t know yet how acerbic Richard could be at times with his students. At that time what registered with her was his smile, which did something interesting to her heartbeat, and she whistled thoughtfully to herself. His voice was a pleasant baritone, his accent R.P.1 with an echo of something else, an impurity which a linguist would have found difficult to pin down but which only made it interesting. He could emphasise the common or eliminate it at a moment’s notice, in mid-sentence if necessary.
1 Received Pronunciation. Received from whom, one may well ask. Better known as the BBC or Oxford accent. The following website contains a bit of background: http://www.bl.uk/learning/langlit/sounds/find-out-more/received-pronunciation/. The site includes the revelation that R.P. used to be known as Public School Pronunciation. It seems to be the province of the privileged classes and, of course, actors, who are awfully good at that sort of thing.
Linda had not been overlooked by the good faerie in charge of physical attractiveness. She was tall and slim. Her auburn hair hung, thick and shining, well past her shoulders. She knew she was a knockout, and she was not silly enough to fawn over this man no matter how much she wanted him. So, holding her art supplies, she stood there until he noticed her, and she was not required to wait overlong. His eyes slid past her, came to a screeching halt, and settled on her again. His eyebrows and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. That was enough for her, so she held his gaze for a second, then she smiled, just a bit, not enough to make him over-confident. Nodding politely, she turned on her heel and went to her class, knowing that he would watch her walk away until she was out of sight. He’d had enough time to assess her. She reckoned most men decided what they wanted within about five seconds of seeing a woman, and she knew if he wanted her, he would be able to find her.
And find her he did. That same afternoon when classes were over for the day, he had already made enquiries, found out who she was and where she took her class. When she locked the door and turned out the light, she almost ran into him. “Hello,” he said, “I’m Richard.”
This time she noticed his eyes, a surprising shade of dark blue, with an almost violet tinge. Someone writing a review once referred to them as “spooky”, however Richard relished such distinction. Seeing him so soon, at such close quarters and evidently making a move on her, was more nerve-wracking for Linda than she had envisaged. His pheromones were already asking her pheromones to dance, and they were blushing prettily. Her heart started beating fast, and she could feel her cheeks warming up. He was looking at her with such a smile, she felt sure he could read her mind, or see her blood pressure mounting on a little gauge stuck to the side of her head. “Good god,” she said, startled. “I mean, hello there, Richard. I’m Linda.”
