Room 2D

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...

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...

A story from Janus 19 by Martin Kempson Sally, a very pretty, green-eyed 18-year-old brunette with a habitual impending pout, had been packed off by her elderly guardian to spend two weeks with Doctor Saverini, an old family friend and retired university lecturer living just outside Pisa. Like any teenage girl the prospect of visiting Italy, a country whose beauties she’d heard of and read about so much, appealed to her enormously. But there was one snag. It wasn’t going to be just an ordinary holiday abroad. There was another, far less pleasurable reason for her going. Although she’d left college the previous summer, Sally had not adapted at all well to the grown-up world outside. In fact she’d proved quite unable to behave herself as a young lady should, but continued to act as she had at school, more like a silly, naughty fifth-former than someone approaching responsible young womanhood. She was extravagant, insolent, moody, prone to childish tantrums and also at times inclined to...