Room 2D

Story from Roué 35 Being Head Prefect at St Angela’s most certainly had its advantages. To start with there was clothing. The girl fortunate enough to be appointed to this exalted post actually had some say in what she could wear. The bane of so many schoolgirls, the white knee-length socks, were no longer a necessary part of her uniform. Stockings and suspenders were permitted. Also, she was allowed to choose what knickers she liked, and the much detested vest — which apart from affording its wearer absolutely nothing in the way of support also caused a good deal of embarrassment when doing PT. Karen Beecham, having been promoted to this status, lost no time in discarding these girlish items — substituting the socks for sheer black stockings; the vest for lacy half-cup bra; the navy-blue cotton pants for frilly nylon knickers of various shades. Another benefit of being Head Prefect (or ‘HP’, as her underlings had to call her) w...

From Roué 34 Sonia could never make her mind up what aspect of her visits to her Uncle Roland she hated the most. On the one hand there was the humiliation; on the other was the pain. Neither was pleasant, but as to which was the most unpleasant she just wasn’t sure. What she  did  know, however, was that she would gladly go without either aspect of her dreaded visits, and longed for the day when, at long last, she would be spared the attentions of her mother’s favourite brother. As each year passed; as she grew more and more mature; more and more a young woman rather than a girl, Sonia told herself that soon — very soon — her fortnightly ‘sessions at uncle’s’ would cease. She had been telling herself this since she was sixteen and in her final year at school. Now, aged nineteen — and just two months away from her twentieth birthday — her visits were just as frequent and showed no signs of coming to an end. Of course, i...

Short story from Roué 1. It looked as if the rain had set in for the afternoon. Keith peered out from his awning and up at the heavy, scudding clouds, and decided to call it a day. People didn’t stop to buy flowers in weather like this. He’d be wasting his time, and anyway there was work to be done in the nursery, in the shelter of the greenhouses. He cast an eye along the busy main road, on the lookout for a last potential customer. The traffic swished by, unheeding. The slim figure on the far side of the road, sheltering under a tree with her bike, seemed familiar. She was wearing a navy blue mac, and had a waterproof hat on, so he couldn’t see too much of her. Nevertheless, he thought, it looked like Sally. He watched her for a moment, but she showed no sign of recognition. He decided it couldn’t be her. Sally lived about four miles away, and anyway she’d be at school this time of the day. Keith took down his awning and pac...

From Roué 33 The only sounds to be heard by the girl were the gentle ‘tock-tocking’ of the clock and the occasional creaking of the chair when she shifted her position, attempting to make herself less uncomfortable. She had been kneeling on that chair for five minutes now, and her nylon-clad knees were beginning to hurt somewhat. He could have given her a cushion at least. The pain in her knees, though, would be as nothing when compared with what he had in store for her — of this she was well aware. The clock chimed, announcing that it was quarter past the hour — 4.15 to be precise. The ‘tock-tocking’ continued, the chair creaked again under her weight. Being Head Prefect had its advantages — not least the fact that one was permitted to wear whatever underwear one wished to. Not for Angela the white cotton vest and knickers — the bane of the other, less fortunate, girls in her year. These universally detested garments gave way t...

From Roué 32 The Truant ‘Mmmm,’ he said, deep in thought, his gaze moving over to the window on the far side of the room. He stood up and strode purposefully to the window and looked out onto the playground beneath him. The last stragglers were wending their way homewards, the teachers getting into their cars and driving off at the end of yet another day’s work. Not turning to look at the girl; his eyes still staring out of the pane of glass, he spoke again. ‘Truancy,’ he announced, his voice now appreciatively more stern, ‘is a very serious thing, Linda. Not only are you depriving yourself of your much-needed education, but by walking the streets you are endangering yourself. Between the hours of nine a.m. and four p.m. you are the responsibility of the school. We simply cannot tolerate any pupil taking off when he or she feels like it you know.’ He turned around to face her. Her head was bowed, presenting to the old boy an appearance of utter contrition. ‘Truants, Linda,’ he sa...