My Lies, Your Lies - Susan Lewis Page 0,36

parent should ever have to.’

Joely held her silence, and even her breath. She pictured the raucous weekend parties and motherly chats that had influenced and confused a young girl; the respectable tax lawyer and his wife the civil servant who wrote speeches for ministers. Could they still be alive? They’d be very old if they were. What had happened to them? What had happened to the husband, and was there any other family today besides the nephew?

Freda spoke again, this time in a tone that was light, even bordering on playful as she said, ‘How do you feel about explicit sex?’

Joely stared at her.

‘Writing it, I mean.’

Joely swallowed, and tried to work out what the right response should be.

‘Do you think sex should be portrayed in graphic detail?’ Freda enquired. ‘Or should it be approached with the use of subtle innuendo and metaphor?’

Still not certain of herself, Joely said, ‘Probably the latter?’

‘Mm,’ Freda murmured. ‘I suppose it’s not really possible for you to give an intelligent answer, is it, until you know what happened after the piano lesson.’

Smarting at the intelligent answer Joely reached for her notebook and recorder as any good ghostwriter should.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I shall not be the first girl in our year to lose my virginity, but I shall be the first – and only one – to lose it to Sir. No one knows that. I’m not stupid, I realize he could get into a lot of trouble if anyone found out and I’d hate for him to be sent away. I wouldn’t want to go on living if that happened. I’d be like Cathy in Wuthering Heights after Heathcliff left, it would make me very ill and when I die Sir will have visions of me until he dies.

A savage book.

I don’t believe they were vampires.

I wonder if Sir thinks they were. I shall ask him when we have our next private piano lesson.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since the first one. I’m so full up with thoughts of him that I can’t listen in my other classes and I’m not interested in my friends. They don’t understand what it’s like to be in love, I mean really in love. They’re too immature. The boys they like are unformed men whose voices are squawks and who have no idea how to behave with a girl.

Sir didn’t kiss me at the end of our last lesson but I know he wanted to, and he would have if we hadn’t heard Mandy Gibbons and Tricia Hill giggling outside the window.

How childish they are.

After that Sir said, ‘I’m sorry,’ but I’m not sure what he was sorry for. His cheeks were red and as he turned away from me I saw his hands clench tightly closed. I think it’s because they wanted to touch me, but he had to make them stop.

I want him to touch me more than anything. I lie on my bed imagining it; I go through lessons almost feeling the brush of his fingers on my skin and his mouth on mine. While I was at home for the weekend I wrote him letters to tell him how much I was missing him. There were lots of other things I wanted to write, but I didn’t quite have the nerve.

My parents went out to an exhibition of photographs taken by the friend of a friend who knows the Beatles. Left alone in the house I took off all my clothes and walked around talking to Sir in my mind and imagining him watching me. I saw myself as Juliette in my parents’ favourite old film, And God Created Woman. My hair is blonde like hers, and my legs are long. My nipples stand out large from my breasts and when I touch them I pretend my fingers are Sir’s.

I enjoy being naked almost as much as I enjoy thinking about him.

I play a game writing both our names on a sheet of paper and striking out all the letters we share. I go through those that are left, he loves me, he loves me not and it ends with he loves me.

I’m going to keep that piece of paper forever.

I’ve decided that when I go for my next piano lesson I will keep my hockey kit on after the practice game that comes before. The pleated skirt is very short and I can open my shirt buttons so he can see my bra. I won’t wear the boots. I’ll change back