Late august goes by in a haze of hot, sunny summer days, that seem to follow one after another without end. The heat and the sun makes everyone at our school lazy. The girls, the teachers, the staff, even myself. All of us would prefer to linger in the warm afternoon breeze on the lawns, instead of going to classrooms and offices. Alas, the semester has started, and we have no choice but tending to our business. Especially I, being the headmaster, must set a good example. So after lunch I go immediately back to work in my office, ignoring the girls sprawling over the lawn in the half-our break before classes resume.
I spend most of the afternoon carefully conceiving and penning a letter to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. I want to arrange a special tour of their museums and facilities in DC for our final-year high school class in the autumn. Not just a regular visit to the museums, but also meetings with some of the active researchers. It takes some care, as there is still considerable reluctance and prejudice against women in the scientific communities. I throw away several drafts before finally accepting a text. With a certain degree of satisfaction, I artistically draw my signature, and put the ink pen back into its holder. Miss Lydia Leonhardt, Headmaster, Linsdale Ladies Boarding School. Our reputation for excellent educational standards will hopefully help us.
Back in the day, the school was mostly known as a sanctuary for unruly upper-class girls. My predecessor struggled to strengthen the academic level, and I have continued her work to make us one of most well-merited schools of its kind in the whole country. It will help a lot. The recent remarkable works of Marie Curie in the physical and chemical sciences also seems to be pushing some barriers, and I made sure to mention it in my letter. I will wait until tomorrow to send it, in case I could think of further, stronger arguments. But in reality, I believe it is already as good as I can make it.
For a few moments I sit back in my chair to relax, looking out the window over the sunny lawn separating the old building with my office from the more recent and much larger complex with dorms and classrooms that was erected after the civil war, when the school expanded greatly. It is already four o'clock, and the afternoon classes are finishing. I see the girls emerging into the soft, warm sunlight under the elms. Laura and Charlotte come onto the lawn, walking slowly, hesitantly, in my direction. Oh yes, that is true, I am expecting them. Miss Saunders already informed me about their latest little prank during lunch in the dining hall. I smile wryly as I follow their walk across the lawn. It is a good thing that the fine distinguished people at the Smithsonian cannot see what is going to happen now.
When the girls get away from the main building and the elms I see them briefly squeezing each others' hands. Then they let go again, as they approach the old building and my office. They disappear out of sight, and I lean back once again, watching the sunlight shining through the window. The angle is just right. And the afternoon is hot. Perfect conditions. I faintly hear the sound of the door as they enter the building, then their steps walking down the corridor towards my office. They knock on my door, and I say 'come in!' in a clear, but terse voice.
Charlotte pushes the door open, Laura shuts it close behind them, and they enter the room with a kind of jittery nervousness radiating from them. They stand still to face me in front of my big wooden desk. I take the word.
"Laura and Charlotte! I heard from Miss Saunders at lunch that you would have something to tell me about."
The girls hesitate for a few moments. Charlotte is looking into the floor, her long red curls falling down on both sides of her face. She reminds me a bit about Adele, from my own late boarding school years. Her body had the same kind of soft richness to it, especially as it matured. By contrast Laura is taller, slimmer, with smooth dark hair pulled back from her forehead into a ponytail. But also she is a fully developed woman now, even the decent shirt-and-skirt school uniform cannot hide it.
Charlotte takes the lead. "Miss Saunders told us to come over here because.. because of something we did, this morning."
"Oh yes?" I say inquisitively, deliberately not revealing whether, and how much, I already know about it. I want to hear it from their own mouths, and I want to hear the truth, the full truth. And they both know it.
"It was not really a big deal, Miss Leonhardt. It was just that, Laura and I were really curious about that new shower installation in the staffs quarters, you know, how it worked with the tubing, and that gas heater thing. So we sneaked in there early to look around a bit, and then we realized Miss Wilks was in the shower, with the curtain drawn. And we saw that her clothes and towel were lying on the bench along the wall. And then.. I don't know exactly why, Miss Leonhardt, but we thought to take her clothes and hide it a little bit. Just as a little joke, to let her know that someone had been in there while she was showering."
"So you hid Miss Wilks' clothes?"
"We didn't really hide it, we just stood up on the bench and put it on the top of the gas heater tank. We really thought she would find it easily, so we left immediately afterwards. But.. well, it turned out that she couldn't find it. And she came out of the shower room, without any clothes on, dripping wet and agitated, and shouting that someone stole her clothes."
I cannot help imagining the look of Miss Wilks' young, lush curves, dripping wet from the shower. Her cheeks would be red, her hair wet and disordered, her eyes wide with perplexity and anger. For a few seconds I am silent, all consumed by this picture. Then I shrug it off, keeping my stern, inquisitive face.
"How do you know?"
"Know what, Miss Leonhardt?"
"That she was naked. What she was saying."
"We.. we were hiding under the staircase to the second floor, just next to the shower room."
"Why were you hiding if you thought she would find her clothes immediately?"
Charlotte hesitates, looks down into the floor.
"Well, maybe we were not completely sure if she would find it. So.. we thought that we could.. stay around, if she needed our help." She has the air of someone trying to make up a convincing explanation on the spot.
"So did you tell her where her clothes were, then?"
"Erm, no Miss Leonhardt. She seemed so.. angry, and agitated that we got scared, and didn't dare to come forward. But then she went down the stairs, complaining to Miss Jenkins, and we quickly ran back into the shower room to put her clothes back where they came from."
"And then what?"
"Well, Miss Jenkins told Miss Wilks that no one had left the building in the last few minutes, and they went upstairs together, and back into the shower room. And then the clothes were back where Miss Wilks had put them in the first place. And she got very embarrassed and confused, and Miss Jenkins was laughing, but I think she was also a bit annoyed."
I struggle to keep my straight face. It is actually a pretty good prank. At the same time I decide with myself that I am going to have to put my foot down here, or at least scare them a bit. After all, I have to take care of my employees.
"And then you came forward, and told them the whole story?"
"Erm.. well, we would have.. or.. wanted to.. but the thing is, Miss Saunders had seen us running out of the shower room, from up on the balcony. So she came down and brought us out."
"Out from where?"
"From.. from under the stairs, Miss Leonhardt."
"Where you were hiding again?"
"Really, Miss Leonhardt, we would have come forward, we just.. needed a bit more time, maybe.."
Laura has been quiet, alternately staring into the floor, or at my feet. Now she joins in the conversation.
