to see them.
'Good morning, Mr Andrews,' they'd chorus - they'd been ordered not to call him 'sir'. English lessons were turning out to be fun. Shakespeare wasn't rubbish any more, and The Mill on the Floss and A Tale of Two Cities suddenly seemed quite interesting.
'If only we could study something written by a twentieth-century writer,' Mr Andrews grumbled one day, 'but the bloody education authorities won't let us.'
The class gasped. A teacher, swearing!
Mr Andrews decided a drama group was needed. 'Who'd like to join?' he cried. 'It's both educational and enjoyable at the same time.'
The entire class raised their hands. Annie and Sylvia were always on the look-out for something interesting to do.
'Perhaps I should have mentioned, but the drama group will meet after school.' Mr Andrews' eyes twinkled mischievously.
Half the hands went down. He laughed. 'Thought you were in for a skive, did you? Well, you've got another think coming. All you budding Thespians meet me in the gym at four o'clock. What is it, Derek?'
'What's a budding Thespian, sir? It sounds rude.'
'I told you not to call me sir. A budding Thespian, Derek, is someone who wants to be an actor, which you quite obviously don't.'
Mr Andrews thought the new group should cut their teeth on something simple like a pantomime. After a majority vote for Cinderella, he said he'd write the script himself.
'Why turn down a part?' Sylvia linked Annie's arm on the way home.
'I couldn't bear to go on stage with everybody looking at me!' Annie shuddered. 'He made me
wardrobe mistress, though the men's costumes will be hired. Wardrobe mistress! Doesn't it sound grand? I'll borrow Dot's electric sewing machine. It can go in the parlour, no-one uses it. I'm dead excited! You'll make a marvellous principal boy, Syl.'
'I hope Bruno hasn't got some prejudice against them. He has some weird ideas sometimes. Shall we go for a coffee?'
'We're awfully late and there isn't time,' Annie said regretfully, 'I've got to make the tea.'
'If only I could help! I've become quite good at cooking since we moved to the Grand. I can peel potatoes Uke a whirlwind.'
Annie felt uncomfortable. 'You don't mind not coming, do you, Syl? I mean, I'm forever in the Grand, yet you've never set foot in our house. It's just that me dad's dead funny about letting people in.'
'Of course I don't mind,' said Sylvia.
'Anyroad, if you came once, you'd never want to come again. Me mam never opens her mouth. It's like a grave compared to yours.'
Sylvia looked sympathetic. 'It must get you down.'
Annie said nothing for a while. 'It's funny, but it doesn't get me down a bit,' she said eventually. 'I scarcely think about it.' She looked worriedly at her friend. 'Dot's always on about how ill me dad looks. It sounds awful, but I don't notice. I just make the tea and can't wait to meet you so we can go to the pictures or the youth club.'
They stopped in front of a small haberdashery shop. The window was piled high with packets of cellophane-covered wool, and half a dozen cheap cotton frocks hung crookedly from the partition at the back.
'Who on earth wears such ghastly rubbish?' Sylvia said scathingly.
'Women who can't afford anything else, I suppose.'
'Oh, God!' Sylvia clapped a hand to her forehead. 'What a terrible snob I am! Why do you bother with me, Annie?'
Annie laughed. 'Because I like you!'
Sylvia looked forlorn. 'I must tell Father MacBride what a snob I've been at my next confession.'
'Is snobbery a sin?'
'I'll confess it just in case.' Sylvia took confession very seriously. 'What do you tell at confession, Annie? I can't imagine you doing anything wrong.'
'I've never committed a mortal sin,' Annie said earnestly. 'Least I don't think so. I'm not sure how the church would regard helping Marie with the abortion -not that I confessed that. The priest can see you through the grille, that's if he hasn't already recognised your voice. I tell lies occasionally, but only white ones, and I'm
'Good morning, Mr Andrews,' they'd chorus - they'd been ordered not to call him 'sir'. English lessons were turning out to be fun. Shakespeare wasn't rubbish any more, and The Mill on the Floss and A Tale of Two Cities suddenly seemed quite interesting.
'If only we could study something written by a twentieth-century writer,' Mr Andrews grumbled one day, 'but the bloody education authorities won't let us.'
The class gasped. A teacher, swearing!
Mr Andrews decided a drama group was needed. 'Who'd like to join?' he cried. 'It's both educational and enjoyable at the same time.'
The entire class raised their hands. Annie and Sylvia were always on the look-out for something interesting to do.
'Perhaps I should have mentioned, but the drama group will meet after school.' Mr Andrews' eyes twinkled mischievously.
Half the hands went down. He laughed. 'Thought you were in for a skive, did you? Well, you've got another think coming. All you budding Thespians meet me in the gym at four o'clock. What is it, Derek?'
'What's a budding Thespian, sir? It sounds rude.'
'I told you not to call me sir. A budding Thespian, Derek, is someone who wants to be an actor, which you quite obviously don't.'
Mr Andrews thought the new group should cut their teeth on something simple like a pantomime. After a majority vote for Cinderella, he said he'd write the script himself.
'Why turn down a part?' Sylvia linked Annie's arm on the way home.
'I couldn't bear to go on stage with everybody looking at me!' Annie shuddered. 'He made me
wardrobe mistress, though the men's costumes will be hired. Wardrobe mistress! Doesn't it sound grand? I'll borrow Dot's electric sewing machine. It can go in the parlour, no-one uses it. I'm dead excited! You'll make a marvellous principal boy, Syl.'
'I hope Bruno hasn't got some prejudice against them. He has some weird ideas sometimes. Shall we go for a coffee?'
'We're awfully late and there isn't time,' Annie said regretfully, 'I've got to make the tea.'
'If only I could help! I've become quite good at cooking since we moved to the Grand. I can peel potatoes Uke a whirlwind.'
Annie felt uncomfortable. 'You don't mind not coming, do you, Syl? I mean, I'm forever in the Grand, yet you've never set foot in our house. It's just that me dad's dead funny about letting people in.'
'Of course I don't mind,' said Sylvia.
'Anyroad, if you came once, you'd never want to come again. Me mam never opens her mouth. It's like a grave compared to yours.'
Sylvia looked sympathetic. 'It must get you down.'
Annie said nothing for a while. 'It's funny, but it doesn't get me down a bit,' she said eventually. 'I scarcely think about it.' She looked worriedly at her friend. 'Dot's always on about how ill me dad looks. It sounds awful, but I don't notice. I just make the tea and can't wait to meet you so we can go to the pictures or the youth club.'
They stopped in front of a small haberdashery shop. The window was piled high with packets of cellophane-covered wool, and half a dozen cheap cotton frocks hung crookedly from the partition at the back.
'Who on earth wears such ghastly rubbish?' Sylvia said scathingly.
'Women who can't afford anything else, I suppose.'
'Oh, God!' Sylvia clapped a hand to her forehead. 'What a terrible snob I am! Why do you bother with me, Annie?'
Annie laughed. 'Because I like you!'
Sylvia looked forlorn. 'I must tell Father MacBride what a snob I've been at my next confession.'
'Is snobbery a sin?'
'I'll confess it just in case.' Sylvia took confession very seriously. 'What do you tell at confession, Annie? I can't imagine you doing anything wrong.'
'I've never committed a mortal sin,' Annie said earnestly. 'Least I don't think so. I'm not sure how the church would regard helping Marie with the abortion -not that I confessed that. The priest can see you through the grille, that's if he hasn't already recognised your voice. I tell lies occasionally, but only white ones, and I'm
Similar Books
