Your Wish Come True (revised): Chapter 12 - Life Begins free porn video

Your Wish Come True by Pol Roger Chapter 12 Life Begins An educational experience "STOP it, Emma!" said Mandy furiously. "But you look so cute!" Emma was teasing Mandy as she stood before her in her school uniform. She had put her hair into two long un-plaited pigtails, high on each side of her head, which hung down in front of each shoulder. It was this that Emma said looked so cute, and which she said made Mandy look as though she was fourteen. "I'll change it then," said Mandy. "No, you mustn't," Emma said, "it's so adorable!" "All right, then, I'll leave it." Mandy wasn't sure whether or not Emma was being sarcastic. She thought the ponytails looked rather nice, and was reluctant to change them. "Actually, with your hair like that and no makeup, you look more like twelve than fourteen," Emma added. Mandy poked out her tongue at her, not entirely in jest, but that made both of them dissolve into laughter. She really hoped Emma had been joking, but the idea of looking like a little girl suddenly seemed very appealing. She felt a vague surge of arousal. You do look adorable, you sweet little thing, she thought, glancing at herself in the mirror. She smiled back in satisfaction. Mandy had put on her uniform after a quick shower. She wasn't up early enough for a run, but she had had a good breakfast of muesli and prunes, scrambled eggs and bacon on toasted English muffins, and toast and marmalade, before showering and then dressing in her uniform and doing her hair. Emma had just got up, and was drinking the coffee Mandy had brought her as they stood in Mandy's bedroom where she had just fixed her hair. "This room's getting pretty messy," Emma commented, noticing the piles of clothes on the floor and draped over the furniture. There were several pairs of shoes, some tipping out of their new boxes, which had apparently been dumped in the corner. "Don't worry, I'll tidy it up later," Mandy declared, still studying her reflection in the mirror. The St Gregory's girls" winter uniform consisted of a pleated tartan skirt (grey Hunting MacPherson) and a white blouse, with mid grey tights and black shoes. The shoes had a little strap and buckle across the top. White socks could be worn instead of tights, but as the weather had been so chilly Mandy decided to go with tights. Her skirt was just over halfway down her thighs. She hoped this wouldn't be regarded as too short, but as her waist was so slim there hadn't been any longer skirts that fitted her in the shop. Over this could go a grey V-neck jumper, with one white and two pinkish amaranth red stripes at the neck and wrists, or a grey cardigan with the school crest on the left breast. A grey blazer with the school crest on the breast pocket could also be worn. In winter a blue winter coat or waterproof hooded jacket (cagoule) had to be worn, and a scarf of navy blue with thin amaranth red and white stripes as well. Mandy wore the grey jumper and the blazer, but she saw no need for the winter coat today. The blazer seemed a bit too long in the sleeves. They should have gone with a blue blazer, thought Mandy, regarding the ensemble somewhat critically; it would have gone much better with the tartan of the skirt. The contrast would have looked nice. She had also removed her nose ring and put in an acrylic retainer, which made the piercing hole practically invisible. Her ears could be seen because of her hair being pulled into ponytails, so she only wore two simple gold earrings. The school crest was a shield with a red field under a smaller light blue field ("in chief," it said in the school handbook); on the lower red part was an open book surmounted by a gold cross with three crossbars (boton?e or cloverleaf they were described); on the upper blue field was a descending dove. Over the shield was a triple papal tiara with two crossed keys. On the two pages of the open book was inscribed the school motto: "Omnia Docet." It was time for Mandy to go. Emma gave her a hug. "You'll be all right. Now that you know all the subjects you just have to get on with the other kids," she said. "That's what I'm worried about," said Mandy. She put on her school rucksack, which contained her computer (she made sure everything on it was backed up at home), and headed out the door towards the Sloane Square tube station. The day was clear and sunny, though still cool. It was going to be a glorious spring day. There was the usual rush hour crowd at the station moving at a frantic pace. She was used to travelling on the tube each day, but Mandy was surprised at how much she got jostled. She descended to the District Line platform for Ealing Broadway, noticing that it wasn't quite as crowded as the facing platform for trains travelling into the City. A train arrived in about a minute and she got on. The compartment was crowded as usual, and she found herself gradually pushed well in away from the door as the train stopped at each station. After a while the train became less crowded, and she was able to sit down. She listened to some music on her iPod shuffle. At Hammersmith a boy who looked about Peter's age got on. He was wearing a school uniform with a blue blazer with grey trousers, whereas her own blazer was grey. He wore a school tie with his white shirt that was in the St Gregory's pattern and colours. Mandy watched him as he stood near the train's entrance, looking mostly down at his feet. She wondered if he was also at St Gregory's, and she strained to see his jacket pocket. She couldn't remember what colour the boys' blazers had been when she had visited St Gregory's last week. She was pretty sure he was from her school. He was tall (wasn't everybody now? Mandy reflected) and wiry, with pale skin and straight blond hair that fell across his face. He had a rather sad mouth with very full expressive lips. At last he looked up from his feet and glanced round the train. His eyes met Mandy's, and she smiled at him. He smiled back rather uncertainly. He hesitated for a moment, then made his way down the train toward Mandy. "Are you at St Greg's? I don't think I've met you," he said. "It's my first day," Mandy answered. "I've just enrolled. What's it like?" "St Greg's? It's okay," he said. "So did you change schools or something?" "It's a bit of a long story. I've just moved to London. My name's Mandy by the way." "I'm Sam," he said. "What year are you in?" "Lower Sixth," said Mandy. "Really? Me too," said Sam. "I'm glad. I thought you might be in Fourth or Fifth Form. You look quite young, er, small, I mean. In a good way. A very good way." Sam was starting to blush. "I'm seventeen actually," said Mandy. "Last week." "Oh," said Sam. "Me too, last December. So what are you doing for A Levels?" "I'm doing Biology, English Language & Literature, General Studies and Performance Studies," Mandy said. "Performance Studies? What do you do?" asked Sam. "Umm, I'm not sure. I can dance, and I like to sing," said Mandy, "and I play the piano." She seemed to be concentrating. "I think I can play the guitar." "Don't you know?" said Sam, smiling quizzically. "No. I mean yes. I can definitely play the guitar," Mandy answered. "In fact, I imagine I'm probably quite good." "And modest, too. Anything else?" "Let me think." Mandy was concentrating again. She was imagining herself performing, and all sorts of images and ideas were filling her mind, like forgotten memories resurfacing. "Drama," she said, "I'd really like to do acting." "Sing, dance, act, play the piano and guitar. Can you yodel?" "Umm, no," said Mandy, bemused. "Good," said Sam. "I hate yodelling." He smiled at Mandy and she laughed at his joke. He's nice, she thought. And funny. "Me too," she said. "That's something we have in common." "Hmm," said Sam, turning to look at Mandy more closely. "Do you like Gilbert and Sullivan?" "It's a bit old-fashioned, isn't it?" Mandy replied. Sam seemed a little crestfallen. "At least you didn't say "who do they sing with."" Sam changed the subject. "So what kind of guitar do you play?" "Let me think." Mandy seemed to be concentrating again. "Acoustic, electric and bass." "So what do you play? Rock? Blues?" "Yes. Everything. Rock, pop, blues, folk, jazz. Classical as well. Guitar and piano. Yes, I can play classical guitar, I think." She acted as though she had only just realised this, and was very pleased about it. "That's a relief, isn't it?" she added incongruously. "Classical piano, definitely. And jazz. And pop and rock and everything." Sam laughed. "It sounds like you really like music," he said. I studied Music at Cambridge, Mandy thought vaguely. I never liked rock before, though. No, that was another life. She sighed. "Yes, I do. How about you? Are you a musician?" "As a matter of fact, I am," said Sam. "I play piano and organ. I'm doing A Level Music, and I'm doing A Level Performance Studies too. I want to get into acting, and perhaps some day directing. Operas and plays. Not movies. Live theatre." "Musicals?" suggested Mandy. Sam screwed his nose slightly. "Not really. Maybe." Mandy regarded her new acquaintance. "You're into high culture, aren't you?" she pronounced. "That's good. I like that." "Do you really?" said Sam. "Most girls don't, you know." Mandy shrugged. "What would they know?" she said. Sam smiled. "So have you ever been to an opera?" he asked. "Lots," she said. I've seen Joan Sutherland in Lucia di Lammermoor, she thought to herself, and Pavarotti in Tosca. That was twenty years ago, and they've now retired. Covent Garden seasons, Glyndebourne Festivals, Bayreuth three times. I saw Elisabeth Schwarzkopf in Der Rosenkavalier when I was a schoolboy. All this went through her mind. "Would you like to see one with me some time?" asked Sam. "Are you asking me out?" said Mandy, feeling a sudden panic. "We've only just met." "Yeah, that's right," said Sam. "Sorry. Don't worry about it." That wasn't what Mandy hoped he'd say, she realised. She was feeling a bit confused. "Which opera were you thinking?" Mandy said after a period of silence. Sam glanced at her. "So you think you'd like to?" "Yes," answered Mandy. Sam smiled. "Good," he said. "I'll find out what's on." "I think Simon Rattle's doing P?lleas and M?lisande next month," Mandy blurted out. Sam looked at her quizzically. "If you're interested," she added uncertainly. Sam leaned back in the seat and surveyed Mandy. "Wow!" he said. It was Mandy's turn to blush. Then she had another thought. He was just a schoolboy, after all. How would he be able to take her to the opera? When she was Derek she had given up going regularly long ago because of the cost. "It's pretty expensive, though, isn't it?" she said. "Don't worry about that," said Sam. "My Mum works for a promotions company that does a lot of work for the Royal Opera. They give her tickets all the time, brilliant seats, and she usually gives them to me. She doesn't really like it that much herself," he added coldly. "The next stop is Ealing Broadway," the train's loudspeakers announced. This train terminates at this stop. All change please." "Well, this is us," said Sam. They scrambled out onto the platform. Mandy seemed a bit uncertain which way to go. "Come with me," said Sam. They came up out of the station into the street. "We can catch a bus right to the school. Here it is now." They jumped on an E9 bus and were soon there. What seemed like hundreds of students of different ages were converging on the school. It felt strange being among so many children. Many of them seemed much larger than Mandy, including children who were obviously very much younger than her--the age she was meant to be at any rate. And many seemed older than her as well. They all rushed past and around her with such energy that she felt quite vulnerable and a bit intimidated. "I have to go to the office," Mandy said. "I'm supposed to see the chaplain and then the Deputy to find out my timetable." "I have to go to the History staff room," said Sam. "I'm supposed to see Mr Blaney. It's in the other direction, I'm afraid." "See you later then," said Mandy. "Oh, by the way. What's your other name?" "Delaney," said Sam, "Sam Delaney. What's your other name?" "Vero," Mandy answered. "By the way, I really love Gilbert and Sullivan," she added. Sam smiled broadly. "Me too," he said. They went their separate ways amongst the throng of hurrying students. R MANDY sat in the little vestibule outside the Chaplains" offices. There were several chaplains in the school, all of them Benedictine monks at St Gregory's Abbey. There was a chaplain each for the Junior, Middle and Senior Schools. The school was a foundation of the Abbey, whose abbey church also served as the school's main chapel and the local Roman Catholic parish church. "Hello, hello!" came a jovial voice down the corridor. The black robed priest was half running as he reached Mandy. "So sorry to keep you waiting." He was a little out of breath. He ushered her into medium sized room with four comfortable chairs facing towards each other around a low table with an unlit candle on it and near the far chair a file full of papers. On one wall was a large crucifix and on another a picture of the Madonna and Child. There was also a plaque on the wall with the words "Pax." The chaplain invited Mandy to sit down and he took the chair on the other side of the table, picking up the file, which he balanced on his lap. "Now, Miranda," he began. "Mandy, please," she interrupted. "Of course. Mandy." He smiled kindly. "I am Dom Aelred Paston, the chaplain for the senior school. I know a little of your situation, and I am very sorry to hear about the death of your parents." "Thank you," said Mandy. "I also know from the Headmaster that we are going to help you finish your A Levels in the next academic year. That's going to mean a lot of hard work for you, I'm afraid, even with your excellent GCSE results." He paused, and continued, "But it's important not to get bogged down in study to the exclusion of everything else. Not only is it unhealthy, but it would also be a waste. "I know you are a good student, as evidenced by a remarkable ten A-stars in your GCSEs. But St Gregory's has a lot more to offer you than being just a teaching institution. There's an important social and cultural side to school life. And being a Catholic school there is a very important spiritual aspect to your education. That's why I'm seeing you first off on your first day, before you do anything else. Your spiritual life is the highest priority at St Gregory's, so I want to talk to you and just get a picture of your spiritual and religious development so far." Mandy nodded. "I understand you are a Catholic?" Dom Aelred ventured. Mandy nodded. "And you grew up in Malta, a very Catholic country according to my understanding. So you have probably had a rich experience of church life." Mandy was beginning to gnaw at her bottom lip. "Actually, no," she said. "Go on," said Dom Aelred. Mandy began slowly, staring at her hands, which she fidgeted with in her lap. "I know I'm a Catholic. Or supposed to be. No, I am one, I'm sure. And apparently my father wanted me to go to a Catholic school if my parents died, which they did." She glanced up at the chaplain, then back to her hands and continued. "But we lived on an island, and didn't really get to church much." She hoped this was correct. She wasn't sure whether she was lying or acting or just assimilating her new identity, which would make it more or less true, wouldn't it? It was rather confusing. "Was your mother Catholic?" Dom Aelred asked. "I'm not sure," said Mandy. "Have you been confirmed?" She shook her head. "Did you make your first communion?" he asked. "No," Mandy said. "Do you know if you are baptised?" This was a hard one. As Derek she had definitely been christened even though her family never went to church except for weddings and funerals. But did that count now that she was Mandy? And anyway, that had been in the Church of England, and she wasn't sure if that counted either. At St Paul's, Derek had opted not to be confirmed and it was never pushed. "I--I don't remember," She said after a pause. Dom Aelred smiled. "Of course not. And we can't ask your parents. If there was a certificate there is a good chance it was destroyed in the fire that killed them." It was interesting how Dom Aelred didn't tiptoe around her supposed parents' deaths the way everyone else did. He seemed very matter of fact about it, though not casual or uncaring. "So let me see if I understand the situation; your father was definitely a Catholic, and wished you to be formed in the Catholic faith," the chaplain mused, "that much is evident by his insistence that you finish your education in a Catholic school. Yet your family never seem to have gone to Mass and you have not been initiated into the sacramental life of the Church. It seems probable that you were baptised, but there is no evidence, and in any case your membership of the Church would still have been merely nominal. You have no other family to fall back on, and you are old enough to make your own choices. I understand you have a guardian, though. Tell me about that." "Yes, Emma Ross. She's the daughter of my former solicitor--" "Excuse me, Mandy, have you changed solicitors?" Dom Aelred interrupted. "No, it's the same firm. But Mr Ross has gone missing and so Brian Ball is doing it instead," Mandy answered. "Yes, Mr Ball is the name we have on your enrolment application. So her father--your former solicitor--is missing and she's to act as your guardian? I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand the arrangement at all. But please go on." "She's probably, like, my only friend in England. I needed someone I could really trust to be guardian." Mandy tried to explain, but it all seemed rather implausible. "I dunno if I really understand it myself. Apparently my father's will is a bit "eccentric."" (Mandy said it as if it wasn't a word she usually used.) "There has to be a guardian until I complete school. I'm not sure I remember why. She has to make all the financial decisions." "It's more than that," Dom Aelred said, looking at the notes in the file, "the Headmaster tells me she is now to be considered in loco parentis. You're seventeen and orphaned, and are to have a young woman as a guardian. I've never come across such a situation. I can see why the Headmaster agreed to fast track your A Levels. Most extraordinary." He seemed to think for a while. "I'm sorry Mandy, please go on." "Yes, well, you're right," Mandy continued, "she's to be trustee of the whole estate. It's because of the way the will is worded or something." "And is she Catholic?" asked Dom Aelred. "Emma? No! She's not religious at all," said Mandy, amused. "So am I right in assuming that the school is probably the only Catholic influence in your life?" asked the chaplain. "I suppose so," said Mandy. "And what is it you want?" asked Dom Aelred. "As far as the formation of your faith is concerned you are more or less a free agent. Your father may have wanted you to have a Catholic education--I am inclined to give a fair bit of weight to that--but although you are still a minor I think we must respect whatever you decide in this regard." This was a surprise to Mandy. She had expected the chaplain to lay down firmly all the things she had to do and believe and any resistance would meet severe disapproval. In fact she had already accepted that she would turn Catholic. Now Dom Aelred seemed to be saying she wouldn't be forced to do anything she didn't want to do. She looked confused. "Maybe you don't have enough knowledge or experience of what we are talking about to form an opinion," said Dom Aelred. "Do you have any knowledge of the Christian faith?" Mandy frowned and concentrated. "I know basic Christian and Catholic doctrine from Religious Studies," she said. (Indeed, since her experience with the "school" files she had discovered she knew, or could remember, quite a lot about the Bible and Christian doctrine and Catholic teaching.) "For which you scored a B in your GCSEs, I see," commented the chaplain. "That's very good." Mandy continued, "But I haven't had much experience of going to church. Is it that important?" "Many people, including some Christians, would say no," Dom Aelred said, "but for a Catholic it is absolutely crucial to being a Christian. Worship is what we are made for and how we express our faith in God, which is after all a relationship with our loving Father, not a set of intellectual propositions. And we worship with the Church's worship, not something we pick and choose for ourselves. Even when we pray alone it is as a member of Christ's mystical body and in company with the saints that we come before the throne of Grace. Also, God gives us his grace through the sacraments. "I went to church last night," Mandy said. "Good!" said Dom Aelred. "Where did you go?" "It was a little church near where I live. St Mary the Virgin," Mandy replied. "Not St Mary's, Bourne Street?" "Yes, that's it!" "How interesting. And what did you think?" asked the chaplain. He had become very interested in this and was leaning forward. "I thought it was brilliant. The church was so beautiful, and everyone was really friendly. Not pushy or anything, though, and it certainly wasn't packed." Dom Aelred smiled at this. Mandy actually closed her eyes and tried to remember her impressions. "The mood was sad but hopeful. I suppose because it's nearly Holy Week. The singing was beautiful. And I loved the incense. It was all so, like, holy." "Yes, Anglican worship can be very beautiful indeed," Dom Aelred said. "Anglican?" Mandy exclaimed. I knew there was something familiar about the service, she thought, despite having deliberately paid as little attention as possible in chapel when she was a schoolboy. Of course! It was Anglo- Catholic! "How stupid of me!" she said. Mandy went red. "Will I get into trouble for going to an Anglican church?" "What? Good heavens, no!" said Dom Aelred, half-amused and half-astonished. "Let me tell you something, Mandy. I know St Mary's, Bourne Street, very well. You see, before I was received into the Roman Catholic Church and became a Benedictine, I used to belong to the Church of England. I was extremely "High," and St Mary's was my parish. I was a subdeacon there. In fact, I would say that I learned the Catholic Faith at St Mary's. It's an eccentric parish in lots of ways, of course, but I will always be grateful that I first heard the gospel and learned to love Christ in the Blessed Sacrament at St Mary's. "Of course, I would add that I came to believe that to be fully Catholic includes being in communion with the See of Peter. The Pope, that is." (Mandy knew that, and felt a little miffed at the inference that she wouldn't.) "Tell me, did they have Benediction last night?" "Yes, I think so. That was with the golden stand, right?" said Mandy. "The monstrance, yes. From the Latin "monstrare": "to show." So how did you like the Gregorian chant?" "It was beautiful," said Mandy. "And the Tallis thing the choir did was just lovely. I nearly cried." Dom Aelred regarded Mandy for a moment. "You should drop into the Abbey Church for Vespers some time, Mandy. Many students do. Or for Mass. Or in the school oratory." Dom Aelred paused, then looked steadily at Mandy. "Mandy, next Sunday is Palm Sunday, which is the beginning of Holy Week, and then comes the Triduum Sacrum (that's the "Holy Three Days"). I want to suggest to you that you try to go to the main liturgies of Holy Week and the Triduum: Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday as well if you like--but the Easter Vigil, definitely. "Westminster Cathedral is not far from where you live, I see. You could get there without too much travel. You see, these liturgies actually make up a single drama that takes us into the heart of the Christian Faith. You might then be in a position to say where you want to stand in relation to the Catholic Church." "That's a bit like what the priest at St Mary's said last night," said Mandy. "He said to enter into the mystery of the events being commemorated and allow ourselves to be transformed by the experience." "Yes, that's how it should be. Mandy, I strongly encourage you, but I'll leave it up to you what you do about Holy Week. We can meet again next term. Whatever the case, welcome to St Gregory's school family. You are now a valued member of the school community and we are here to support you in any way we can." The interview was coming to a close. At the end Dom Aelred said a prayer for Mandy and gave her a blessing. Mandy was surprised at how comforting she found the prayer. It asked for strength to face her new life, and make friends and cope with her school studies, and to find guidance in her spiritual life. Mandy then met with Mr Flanagan, the Deputy Headmaster. He was a very big man with brown hair and a florid complexion. He had the size and build of a rugby player, and a bluff manner, but there was also a hedonistic quality about him with his plump round face and immaculate clothing. "Ah! There you are, Miss Vero!" he said cheerily as he showed her into his office. He wanted to talk to her about her timetable and to tell her who her teachers would be, and also to discuss what sporting activity she might do next term and any clubs or other groups she might want to join. There was an orchestra and various bands, which would require auditions, and a number of choirs and vocal ensembles, as well as some opportunity to try out for various dramatic productions over the next few months. He gave her a list of groups and activities in the school, with the times they met, and asked her to see her House Master and the Lower Sixth Mistress if she had any problems or questions. She was to see the year mistress at morning tea about organising a locker for her to use. She was to be in Bede House. The other houses were Anselm, Dunstan and Edmund. "Now, I should warn you that the senior girls wear black tights. It's only Middle School that wears grey. It's one of those little distinctions the students like to keep up." "Oh, I'm sorry," said Mandy. "In the uniform shop they said grey tights." "Not to worry. They mustn't have realised you were in the senior school." At morning tea Mandy found the locker she had been given, apparently among the fifth form lockers, as there was no room at the moment in the sixth form area. She was told where the Sixth Form Common Room was, but there was no time to go there at the moment. She was jostled by students going past as she put her blazer in her new locker. Most of the students seemed to have removed their blazers as the morning wore on. It was a beautiful sunny day and although cool outside the place was well-heated. It was time to brave her first class, English. The bell had sounded and students were milling round in the corridors. She asked for directions to her room from a young Asian girl and set out to find it. Mandy found the classroom, and taking a deep breath, went in. She found an empty place and sat down. A number of other students were already in the room and more were arriving. It felt very unpleasant being new and unknown. It was a feeling she had almost forgotten. She hoped her anxiety wasn't showing in her face. "I think you're in the wrong room." A very tall and pretty blond girl was standing near her desk very close to her. She wasn't being aggressive, but Mandy felt slightly intimidated. "Oh no!" she said as she checked the paper with her timetable. It seemed to be correct. "Isn't this 109?" she said. "Yes," the girl said, "but this is Sixth Form English." "That's what I'm here for," Mandy said. "I've just started at the school today," she added. Perhaps it was the faux pas with the tights, she thought. "Sorry, I've got the wrong tights on," she said to the girl. Why am I apologising? she thought. The girl exchanged a look with another girl, also tall and pretty, with dark brown hair. "New are you?" said the blond girl. "Well, we'll overlook it then." The two girls sniggered as they took their seats. The classroom had filled up. Mandy noticed how much more ethnically diverse the students were than when she was a schoolboy. There were several black, Asian and oriental students, as well as white students. She studied them while trying to appear not to, wondering about each one and wondering whether they would like her. Mr Pearson the English Master appeared soon after and the class settled down. "We have a new student I see," he said. "Miss Vero, I presume. Just remind me of your Christian name, Miss Vero." "I'm Randi. I mean Mandy," she corrected hastily. Too late. Laughter burst out from all around her. Mandy blushed bright red. How could she have made such a blunder? "It's short for Miranda," she added in a subdued voice. "That's enough!" said Mr Pearson to the sniggering class. "Welcome to AS English, Miranda. And welcome to St Gregory's. I'm sure you will find us better-mannered in time. Now, The Pardoner's Tale . . ." He continued with the lesson. R "MANDY! Over here!" It was Sam, calling out in the dining hall. Mandy was glad to see a friendly face. She took her lunch tray over to where he was sitting. "Chaps, this is Mandy. Mandy, this is Dave, Arthur and Charlie." He introduced her to his friends. She smiled and sat down for lunch with them. "How was your morning?" asked Sam. She told him about her slip of the tongue in English Language and Literature. Sam was very sympathetic. "That's pretty embarrassing. But they'll forget about it soon enough," he said encouragingly. "This afternoon will be better. We've got Performance Studies." Another girl whom Mandy recognised from her English class had come to join the group. She had curly dark brown hair and a pretty face, but a bad case of acne. "Hi," she said, "I'm Maria. I was in the English class just now. Are you feeling okay? I'd be gutted." Mandy smiled at her gratefully. "Great start to the school, wasn't it? "I'm randy!" I have no idea where that came from," Mandy said. "Probably nerves," said Maria. "But Genevieve Riley and her cronies might try to keep the joke going a bit longer," she added. "Is that the tall blond girl?" Mandy asked. "She's a bitch," said Maria. "All the teachers think the sun shines out her arse because she sucks up all the time. Her father's Gavin Riley, the Minister of Development and Infrastructure, and gave a lot of money to the school or something. So she thinks she should be queen or something. She thinks she'll be Head Girl next year. She's probably right." Maria turned and smiled at Sam's friend Dave. "Hi, Dave!" she said. "Hi, Maria," Dave answered without enthusiasm. They finished their lunch and chatted for a while before Dave said he had something he needed to do, and Arthur and Charlie followed suit. Maria looked a bit disconsolate, and then she left as well. Sam seemed relieved to be alone with Mandy. "I've been thinking about what you said earlier," he said. "What did I say?" asked Mandy. It could have been a hundred things. "About really liking Gilbert and Sullivan," he said. "I've had an idea." Mandy looked at Sam enquiringly, but he said it would wait for now. The afternoon class of Performance Studies was great fun. Two teachers collaborated for this course, which was held in one of the larger rehearsal rooms of the school's new music wing, and the students were highly motivated and creative. Mandy was asked by the teachers, Mr James and Miss Laycock, to do some singing and dancing, as well as demonstrate her skills on keyboard and guitar. The other students were told to work on various projects of their own. She was certain only about the piano, which she had been practicing a bit at home recently and had become quite good at again, easily adjusting to the feel of her smaller hands. The reach of her fingers and hands was like when Derek was a child, and certain pieces would always be much harder. On the other hand, her fingers had a dexterity and suppleness, and her musical imagination a depth and intensity, that she had never known before. She took as much pleasure in trying out a new piece as in playing a fully practiced and prepared work. More, in fact, as the idea of practice had somehow become extremely distasteful. But she had felt sure since the night before, with the strange arrival of the School files on her computer, that she would be able to sing, dance, and play different types of guitar, just as she now had acquired knowledge in Biology and all the other subjects she was supposed to have studied or was now enrolled for. She played the piano first, giving what she felt was quite a creditable rendition of the first movement of Bach's Italian Concerto for Keyboard. She then played Fascinatin' Rhythm by George Gershwin with some improvisations of her own and then some contemporary piano music by an American composer called Brian Kelly, which she had picked up in a music shop in the last few days. All this she played from memory, as she hadn't thought to bring any music with her. The teachers got her to sight read a Beethoven Bagatelle. She played it in a light and playful manner, making just a few slips. They complimented her on her musicality and enjoyment of the music. Congratulations! Wow! That was really good! she told herself. Thanks! she replied gratefully. I dunno how we'll go in the rest of it, though. Don't worry, we'll be great, she said to herself reassuringly. Her heart was pounding. She had said singing and dancing were her strengths, so Mr James and Miss Laycock got her to sing Ombra mai f? accompanied by Mr James. A strange choice, she thought, since in Handel's opera Xerxes, even though it's for a contralto voice, this aria is supposed to be sung by a male character. (It was once sung by Castrati she recalled.) Still, it's a beautiful song, she reminded herself, and one she knew well. She stood with her head cocked a little, not in an overtly masculine pose, but one she thought a man would unconsciously adopt. It actually felt decidedly strange to her, and she was unsure if she had got it right. Too weird! she thought to herself. It's been just a week since the Transformation, and I can hardly remember the way a man stands! You'd probably rather not remember, she said to herself. That's true, there isn't really much point remembering any of that, she recognised. I can't really be bothered even trying. Mandy blinked. What had she been thinking about? It can't have been important. She needed to stop drifting off and focus on the task in hand. Mandy then accompanied herself on the acoustic guitar in a rendition of the Avril Lavigne hit My Happy Ending. This brought applause from the other students, some of whom sang along. She didn't try to imitate Avril Lavigne, but, although keeping the rock style and rendering it with some vitality, she seemed to make the song her own, giving it a poignant and vulnerable feeling. While the teachers were assessing Mandy's skills, the other students had gradually given up their own tasks and projects, and had formed themselves into an appreciative audience for Mandy. They applauded and cheered her, which gave her great satisfaction. She instinctively adapted her presentation so that each person in the audience felt connected to her somehow, by way of a quick eye contact, a smile, or a gesture. The two teachers were now totally preoccupied with Mandy. Dancing was next. Mandy removed her shoes and tights and laid them aside. She had no dancing shoes, so she had to perform barefoot. They asked her to do a few ballet steps, which Miss Laycock called out. Somehow Mandy knew exactly what to do and how, and carried out everything that was asked. A hip-hop recording was put on and Mandy improvised some funky steps to the music, enjoying the beat and abandoning herself a little, surprising herself and delighting the other students with a few wild and not quite modest moves. She found she wasn't just good at singing and dancing. She could do whatever Miss Laycock or Mr James asked her to do. Every variation in style or nuance of performance she could accomplish easily. Every dance step she was asked to do, or any style she was asked to perform, or variation--provided she understood what was expected--she was able to carry out more or less easily. She could make up her own dance moves with great skill and perceptiveness. Mr James and Miss Laycock talked to each other about Mandy, paying no attention to the fact that she and all the other students were gathered round listening. First, they expressed amazement at her versatility. She was probably strongest in modern dance, they said, and had held them spellbound with her energetic and very sexy moves. Classical ballet was her weakest area, but only a trained dancer would probably notice particularly. And in one so young it hardly mattered. As her body matured she would overcome any slight gracelessness. She could sing in many different styles and had a range of over three octaves, a bit weak in the lower register but still accurate. When it came to singing, her voice sounded young, especially in classical pieces, but she could sing with very great accuracy and purity, and with great dynamic range. In jazz and pop songs, and even rap and hip-hop, she adapted her voice to the style of the idiom and mood of the piece. She still sounded young, but there was a depth of feeling and sometimes a knowingness in some of the songs that sent tingles down people's spines. The two teachers were full of excitement. They had allowed the other students to gradually abandon their own work to watch Mandy without any qualms. By the end of the double lesson they had given up taking notes and were simply enjoying her performances. Mandy was a singular talent, the teachers concluded, and they would want to discuss her with some others. Actually, Mandy had seldom had so much fun, and the joy of just trying out new songs or dances, and actually being able to do them well, was giving her a tremendous buzz. Nerves and stage fright had been one of the reasons Derek had never considered a musical career, but as Mandy she found that she thrived on performing. The act of giving others real pleasure was giving her a particular happiness she didn't remember ever having known. As Mandy got ready to leave with the rest of the class for her next lesson she heard Mr James saying to Miss Laycock how she would turn the department on its head. We did it! she told herself rapturously as she walked out of the room. Told you! said an inner voice proudly. Sam had waited for her to come out. She had had to put her tights and shoes back on and tidy herself up. Her uniform was a bit dishevelled, as she hadn't expected to be doing any dancing that day, and had no other clothes. She straightened her skirt and fixed up her hair as they walked along. "You're amazing," Sam said. "You never said you were as great as that. Hang on, yes you did!" he beamed at her. "Where did you study?" That was the bit that was hard to explain. "Umm, I had, like, tutors and stuff," Mandy said. "I never actually went to school before." Sam wanted to hear more, but they both needed to get to the next class. They agreed to meet and go on to the shopping mall after school. Mandy's next class was General Studies, and the class spent some time discussing ways of reconciling logic and passion in presenting an argument. The teacher was Mr Wilson, who was a History teacher. He was the youngest of Mandy's teachers so far, in his mid-twenties, dark-haired and brooding, with his tie askew and his shoes rather scuffed. Mandy thought he looked beautiful and romantic, and very, very deep. The other girls in the class evidently thought so too, as they all had the same dreamy look as he addressed them. Mandy was going to try very hard with her next essay to impress Mr Wilson. Passion and logic. Got it. She twirled her left ponytail in her fingers as she looked into his amazing blue eyes. She no longer consciously registered the now familiar warm feeling that was beginning to spread up her body. This was the last lesson of the day, and she hung back afterwards, taking her time putting her computer away in her rucksack. Perhaps she would have a word to Mr Wilson as she left, and tell him how much she had learned during the lesson. Other students, mostly girls, were also taking their time, but Mr Wilson had already left, only pausing long enough to tell one girl who had wanted to talk to him that he would be dealing with exactly what she was asking about in the lesson on Wednesday. Mandy got her things together quickly now, feeling rather disappointed. But then she remembered she was meeting Sam, which lifted her spirits at once. She fetched her blazer from her locker and headed for the front gate. She saw Sam at the gate talking to Dave and Arthur. As soon as they saw her coming they said goodbye to Sam, waved to Mandy and headed off. Mandy waved back. "Dave and Arthur can't stay?" said Mandy when she reached Sam. "No, they said they had to catch a different bus," Sam answered. "Do you want to wait for the bus, or shall we walk?" "Let's walk," Mandy said. It was only a few blocks including crossing Ealing Common. It felt very nice having someone to meet after school and walk with, Mandy reflected. And it felt very nice that Sam was taller than her, she realised. It made her feel safe, somehow. She had moved a little closer to him as they walked. Sam was only a few months older than Peter, and yet Mandy found herself regarding him as the more experienced of the two of them. She thought he was very intelligent, and very mature. It was nice just walking together and talking, and sharing interests. Then when they arrived at the Broadway Centre and found a table at Chantal's Cafe, it felt very nice when Sam asked Mandy what she would like and went to order it. They sat in the cafe for about an hour, drinking hot chocolate, then wandered around the shops for a while, looking at clothes, shoes and jewellery (Sam didn't seem to mind) and finally computer games. Mandy had bought several pairs of dancing shoes and some outfits and accessories for dancing, such as leg warmers and leotards. Mandy told Sam quite a lot about herself, or what she was able to tell, given that she still didn't know everything about who she now was, or was supposed to be, and Mandy only mentioned things to do with her new identity. (This was now a strict rule with her. The only person she had told about her Transformation was Emma, and so long as there was someone she trusted who knew the truth she felt she was able to cope.) Mostly they talked about music and films, especially old British films, many of which had been made at the old Ealing Studios not far away. Fortunately Sam loved old films, so Mandy was able to discuss quite a lot of them. Sam was amazed she knew so much, and supposed it was the sheltered life she had led in Malta. "So did you play with lots of dolls and things when you were a little girl?" Sam asked. "My sister does." "Dolls?" Mandy was taken aback. Why would she have played with dolls? Wait! She had to be careful what she answered. She had to protect her secret. She was a girl: of course she would have played with dolls. "I--I suppose I had one or two. I can't remember." That sounded very lame, she realised cringing inwardly. "I bet you a tomboy when you were younger," Sam asked her at one point. "Why would you think that?" Mandy wondered anxiously. "Oh, something about the way you sang one of the songs in Performance Studies. "Were you?" "Sort of," Mandy answered. "I knew it," Sam said. "Most girls are tomboys when they're young, aren't they? You're certainly not one now, though," he added. "Aren't I?" Mandy asked nervously. The thought of still being a tomboy was somehow unsettling. Did she like the idea or hate it? She pictured herself as a tomboy. The idea had a certain attraction. But so did the idea of the dolls, she suddenly realised. Oh dear, this was very confusing! "Not in the least," Sam answered. Mandy felt quite relieved. Then again . . . "Have you got a boyfriend?" asked Sam a little later while they were still in the cafe. "Boyfriend!" No," Mandy replied. The idea sounded slightly funny. "I hardly even know anyone in England." "In Malta then?" asked Sam. "No. Not anywhere. I didn't know many boys in Malta," Mandy added. Sam looked pleased but also puzzled. "You don't sound Maltese," he said, "whatever Maltese sounds like," he added with a laugh. "Is it like Italian?" "It's a bit like Arabic I gather," Mandy said. She had looked it up on the Internet in recent days. "But they do speak Italian in Malta, as well as English. And don't forget my mother was English. And my governess was too. On the island we only spoke English." "So you don't really know much about Malta itself then?" Sam ventured. "Hardly anything," answered Mandy. It was good to get that out of the way. "So--," Sam seemed at a loss for words, "so, they're--I mean, you're--all alone now? No family at all?" "There's just Emma. Emma Ross. She's my guardian until I finish school, but we're, like, really good friends as well. In fact, she's probably my best friend." "Perhaps I'll meet her some time," Sam said with slight hesitation. "I'm sure you will," said Mandy. "If we're going to be friends," she added, smiling. Sam smiled back happily. Sam had to get home so they headed to the tube station to the District Line. Sam's stop was Hammersmith. They arranged that Mandy would ring Sam on his mobile tomorrow morning as her train pulled in to Hammersmith Station, mentioning which compartment she was in, so that she and Sam could go the last part of the journey to school together. At Sloane Square Station Mandy headed for the door of the train to get off when she felt a hand go up her skirt and squeeze her buttock. She turned round quickly but the hand had been withdrawn and everyone behind her was looking straight ahead as if nothing had happened. There was no time to pursue the issue, as people were pouring onto the train and it would soon be pulling out of the station, so she pushed through to the door and got out onto the platform. She was rather shocked by the incident, and also a little amused. She tried to imagine the appearance of the one who had done it, and why everyone seemed to ignore it; after all someone on the crowded train must have seen it happen. And should she regard it as an insult or a compliment? Perhaps after all it was a compliment. There was no time to think about it now, with the crowds of commuters moving at breakneck speed, so she headed to the escalators and then home. R "I WAS starting to get worried," Emma said when she got home. Emma was drinking a glass of wine in the sitting room and reading e-mails on her own laptop. "Want one?" she said, filling the second glass, which she had got ready. "Thanks," said Mandy, taking the proffered glass and sitting down beside Emma. "Well? How was school?" Emma had a twinkle in her eye, but she really had been concerned for Mandy all day, and had been on the verge of ringing her mobile when she wasn't home when Emma arrived back at five o'clock. "Actually," Mandy said, kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs underneath her, "apart one or two disasters, it was great!" She described meeting Sam and the other students she had got to know, and her meetings with the chaplain and deputy head, and her amazing audition in Performance Studies and how she seemed to have become a talented performer who actually enjoyed doing things in front of others. She described the terrible blunder when she introduced herself in English. Emma laughed at this rather more than Mandy thought it deserved. She described how she had gone for hot chocolate with Sam and they were going to see an opera together. "And guess what happened on the way home?" she said, bringing the account of her day to a conclusion. "I got felt up on the tube! Someone put his hand up my skirt and grabbed my arse! Just before I got off at Sloane Square! Who'd grope a schoolgirl?!" "Welcome to womanhood!" Emma said laughing. "But seriously, you do need to be careful. There are a lot of sickos around, and you don't exactly look like you could fight someone off." Once again Mandy felt a pang of fear at her new vulnerability. "Have you ever been groped on the tube?" Mandy asked Emma. "God, yes!" Emma replied. "Once this guy grabbed my breast, and then said he was sorry, he thought he was grabbing the handrail! At least he apologised, I suppose." "What did you do?" Mandy asked. "I said, "Just keep your hands to yourself," or something witty like that," Emma replied. Mandy looked at Emma admiringly. The wine was giving her a pleasant glow. "I almost forgot!" Mandy said, "There's this lovely History teacher we've got for General Studies. He must be a new teacher because he's not that old. And very brilliant. And so good looking!" "Oh my god! Have you got a crush on your teacher?" Emma said, amused. "So good looking!" Mandy repeated, leaning further back on the sofa. "You are a complete clich?!" Emma said, smiling at Mandy and giving Mandy's hand a squeeze to show she wasn't being malicious. Mandy held on to Emma's hand. It felt nice to be close to her. "In what way?" she asked. "Well, embarrassing moments at school, going out with boys, crush on your teacher. That sort of thing," Emma replied. "It sounds fairly normal to me," Mandy said. "Exactly. Absolutely normal. But you're not normal, are you?" Emma said, "Or so you keep telling me." "Actually, I think I am, Emma," Mandy said. "I feel really normal. Emma, I think I'm happy." Emma said nothing. They sat holding hands in silence for a few minutes. "Emma," Mandy said at last, "Are you happy?" Emma withdrew her hand from Mandy's and poured herself another glass of wine. "That's an interesting question," Emma said. "I'm having about the best time I've ever had in my life." She took Mandy's hand again. "But I'm also scared. I'm worried about this trustee thing and all the responsibility. And I'm worried about living here and all this money, and how long it's going to last. And I'm a bit worried that my life has been derailed a bit." Mandy looked questioningly at Emma. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," Emma continued. "It's just that at college today and with my friends, I felt a bit like I was over it all. They're all making plans about a work placement after next term, and I need to be finding one too, but all I could think about was how you were getting on with our first day at school." "Oh, Emma, that is so nice of you!" "Maybe," Emma said. "Actually, I'm worried I'm becoming a bit obsessed with you." "Obsessed!" Mandy replied. "Why do you think that?" Emma shrugged. "Just thinking about how you're adjusting, worrying about things that might go wrong, worrying about moving in with you, and the whole guardian thing, as I said. But mainly I think I just haven't worked out our relationship. I wonder how much of Dad is still in you. I think about that a lot. An awful lot." Emma paused and took a sip of wine. Then she took another long sip. She continued: "And I think sometimes I feel jealous of you." "Jealous!" Mandy repeated. "Uh-huh." Another sip of wine. "You seem to have everything a girl could dream of. You're just so beautiful. You're even a nice person. Something inside me thinks it just isn't fair. You get all your wishes granted and the rest of us have had to do it the hard way. And yet I know I'm benefiting as well, more than I could ever have imagined. I'm learning some difficult things about myself. I don't think I like some of them." Mandy was quiet for a while. Then she spoke: "Thanks, Emma. This is why I love you so much. You're so honest. If it helps, I have complete confidence in you. In fact, you're the reason I feel so confident myself. If it weren't for you I'd be in shit up to my eyeballs with everything that's happened to me. I know you're giving up a lot to help me, and I'm sorry it's affected your life so much. I want you to know I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you." Mandy gave Emma a hug, then laid her head in Emma's lap. Emma stroked Mandy's hair with her hand. After a while Mandy spoke. "So did you get all your assignments in?" she said. "What? Oh, yes. Thanks," Emma replied distractedly. "Emma?" said Mandy. "Yes?" Emma replied. "Do you want to see me dance?" "Dance? All right," said Emma, surprised. Mandy took off her shoes and went to the touch screen and chose some music. She put on some R&B, a song by Cassie Ventura called Me & U, followed by Got a Long Way 2 Go. "I love this song, it's really hot!" Mandy said as Me & U began. Emma watched entranced. Mandy had captured the style perfectly, including facial expressions, which were by turns sultry, sullen, defiant, playful and joyous. The song was indeed hot, the lyrics quite suggestive but not "explicit." Mandy motioned with both hands for Emma to join her. "No, I can't dance like that," she said. "Just follow what I do," Mandy said, taking her hands and pulling her into the middle of the room. They faced each other, Emma imitating what Mandy did. Soon they were both laughing, as Emma attempted more and more daring moves. The music had changed to My hips don't lie by Shakira. The two girls skipped about and swayed and pranced, occasionally jumping up on the sofas and once Mandy even jumped on the big coffee table. Having been so disturbed by her breasts the week before, she now made them bounce and jiggle (as much as they would at any rate, being rather small). At the end of the song they faced each other, breathing hard at their exertions and holding each other's hands. "You're a really good dancer," Emma said breathlessly. "I know!" Mandy laughed, equally breathlessly. "You're good too." "I have to go soon," Emma said. "Go?" Mandy's face dropped. "Sorry. I'll be moving in permanently on Friday, so Mum wants me home every night till then. She wants to make the most of the time I have left with her and Peter." Emma explained. "I understand," Mandy said. "Will I see you tomorrow?" "Maybe not tomorrow. It's a busy week, being the end of term, and I have quite a lot I need to finish. We'll both be on holidays from Friday anyway, and you can help me move my stuff in then." "What about Thursday?" asked Mandy. "I have something I want to show you after school on Thursday. Can you come round then? Say, about four o'clock?" "All right," Emma agreed. "I'll come round Thursday afternoon, if not before." Emma gathered her things, gave Mandy a kiss on the cheek and left. Mandy took the empty wine bottle and glasses to the kitchen and made herself an omelette and salad for dinner. She watched TV as she ate in the breakfast room overlooking the little internal courtyard that was outside the bedroom below. It was lit up and the sound of the fountain playing in the courtyard was delightful, despite Mandy's disappointment at Emma having to go. R SHE actually had some homework to do, so after dinner she got out the laptop and took it down to her bedroom and lay with it on her bed while she worked. It didn't take her long to finish. She pushed the computer aside and lay on her back and reflected on the day. It had been a decisive day, and she felt as though it had changed her. She had discovered, thanks to the files that had been downloaded onto her computer, that she was not only on-track with her schoolwork but also competent and maybe even talented in areas she now esteemed highly. She had discovered a pleasure in performing and connecting with an audience that she had never known before. But the biggest change was in how she perceived herself. Something had happened. She got up off the bed and went over to the dressing table, stepping over some clothes that Mandy had left on the floor. There were quite a lot of clothes draped over the chairs, too. I must tidy up some time, she thought vaguely. She sat down in front of the mirror and regarded herself. The familiar and beautiful face gazed back at her expectantly. Yes. It had been happening for a while, but now it was definite. Her self- image seemed to have changed. She was a schoolgirl, she realised. Her world was going to be with her friends at school. Everything else seemed to be receding in importance. The idea didn't disturb her at all. Good girl, Mandy! She smiled her acknowledgement. This is great, isn't it? she told herself. You've come a long way, and it's been really worth it. I'm really, really proud of you. She sighed happily. In fact, it's hard to imagine wanting to be any other way, really, isn't it? She closed her eyes and tried to imagine wanting to be different. No, she couldn't imagine why she would want to change anything. She sighed again and turned back to her reflection in the mirror. She practised a few seductive looks. Mmm, she even turned herself on! And I think you are starting to realise how great it is to be a girl, aren't you? You love being a girl, don't you? Of course I do. I really love it. She smiled contentedly. There was not a shadow of doubt in her mind. Absolutely! And you love to be admired, don't you? I think you really want people to want you. Mmm, I certainly do! she confirmed, archly, licking her lips. That's right. Good girl, Mandy! But if you want people to like you they have to find you attractive, don't they? They have to notice you, don't they? Aren't I attractive enough? she asked herself anxiously. You're beautiful, Mandy. But you have to bring that out, don't you? And I think you also like to be a bit naughty, don't you? Sometimes people like bad girls, don't they? Yeah! Like the poster! Mandy remembered the poster in all the tube stations advertising a brand of perfume. "Turns good girls bad" was the caption, showing a pretty girl with a wicked glint in her eye, and a hint of sinister makeup. What should I do? she wondered to herself, still feeling a little anxious. You'll think of ways. For now, I think you'd like to practice putting makeup on, wouldn't you? Try some different looks. Maybe some naughty looks? That sounds brilliant! No, wait! I was thinking of sending Sam an e-mail. That's a terrific idea! You can play with makeup later. We can try on some different clothes as well. She eagerly brought the computer over to the dressing table and began to ponder what she wanted to say to Sam. It was harder than she thought it would be. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. He might think I'm coming on to him. So what? Maybe you want to come on to him? But is that what he wants? She wished Emma were there to advise her. She got as far as opening her e- mail browser. She had mail. Sam had sent a short e-mail saying he'd had a good time with her after school and was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. Mandy e-mailed Sam thanking him for his message and saying she was also looking forward to seeing him in the morning. There! He likes you! she told herself. Thank heavens! But in what way does he like me? What way do you want him to like you? I--I'm not sure. That's alright. Let's try some different looks to see, then, shall we? You'll enjoy that. That sounds a good idea.