Read Online Love Lessons by Nick Sharratt - Free Book Online Page A

tests and then we’ll see,’ she said. ‘Meanwhile, Mrs King, I’d like to remind you that we do have a very strict uniform policy. Can you make sure the girls are kitted out in the regulation green uniform, please?’
    â€˜Oh yes, I’ve got that all in hand. They’re going to buy their uniform at the special shop,’ Mum said.
    â€˜I see,’ said Miss Wilmott. She paused delicately. ‘Are you on benefits, Mrs King? We do have an excellent free school lunch if that’s the case.’
    â€˜Oh no, they’ll take a packed lunch,’ said Mum. ‘We’re not on any benefits at all, thank you.’ Her cheeks were burning.
    Miss Wilmott had no idea how she’d insulted her. She’d never heard one of Dad’s rants about the Great Unwashed living off the State. Maybe Miss Wilmott thought we were the Great Unwashed, and possibly barking mad to boot. Her perfectly manicured nails were starting to fidget impatiently.
    â€˜Right then. We’ll get Prudence and Grace settled in. School finishes at three thirty.’ She gave Mum one more tight smile of dismissal.
    Mum sat still, smiling back, not understanding. Grace sat gawping too.
    â€˜I won’t have to do running or jumping or any games, will I?’ Grace said.
    â€˜You’ll have a games lesson twice a week. I think you’ll find it fun,’ said Miss Wilmott, getting up.
    â€˜But I can’t, I’ve got a bad heart,’ said Grace, putting her hand on her chest in a theatrical gesture.
    I stared at her. She didn’t have anything wrong with her heart. She could obviously lie as fluently as me when she was desperate enough.
    Mum blinked at Grace, wondering what she was on about. Miss Wilmott didn’t look convinced.
    â€˜If you want exemption from games you’ll have to bring a letter from your doctor,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure a little gentle exercise won’t do you any harm at all. Now, I really have to go to assembly. I’ll settle you down with your tests, girls. Goodbye, Mrs King.’
    Even Mum couldn’t fail to get the message that it was time to go. She heaved herself upwards and gazed at Grace and me. Her eyes brimmed with tears but she did her best to smile. ‘Have a nice day then, girls,’ she said. ‘I’ll be waiting for you in the playground after school.’
    â€˜ No , Mum, we’ll walk home ourselves,’ I said.
    â€˜Well, take great care, dear. Make sure you mind the roads and don’t talk to strangers.’
    She was treating us as if we were six. It was a relief when she waddled off down the corridor. She turned to wave at us again and again, as if she thought this was the last time she’d see us.

Grace and I sat at adjacent desks in a small room in a special unit called the Success Maker. Another girl sat at the back with some sort of helper. She was stumbling through an early reader book, spelling out the simplest words, often getting them wrong. Two foreign boys were with another teacher. He was making slow, deliberate conversation with them. ‘Hello. My name is Mr Evans. I am thirty years old,’ he said, expecting them to reciprocate. The boys mumbled and fidgeted, looking round the room, baffled.
    I squeezed Grace’s hand reassuringly under cover of the desks. She could speak English, she could read fluently. She didn’t need to look so worried.
    Gina gave us both booklets of questions and a pen each. ‘There we go. You’ve got an hour and a half.’
    Grace flicked through the pages, looking horrified. ‘To answer all this ?’
    â€˜Just answer as many questions as you can. Don’t panic.’ Gina made for the door. She turned and saw Grace edging nearer to me. ‘And don’t copy either!’
    We opened our booklets.
    â€˜Oh help help help!’ Grace muttered. ‘Half of it’s puzzles . And mixed-up words. Oh, there’s that spring