A WAG Abroad. Alison Kervin

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СКАЧАТЬ school’s reception area, Dean and Pask jogging up two at a time in their matching LA City Raiders shirts, me going one at a time and sideways because my skirt’s too tight to negotiate them in any other way.

      ‘You could wait in the car,’ says Pask as I’m hitching up the tight plastic pink skirt in order to try and catch up with them.

      ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’

      Finally I’m at the top, and Pask points at my thighs. ‘Do you want to pull the skirt down a bit before we go in?’

      ‘Sure,’ I say. She’s a funny one, is Pask. She says she has no interest in clothes, but seems always to notice what mine are doing. I inch the skirt down so it covers my knickers. ‘Happy now?’

      ‘Happier,’ she says.

      We walk into the intimidating school with its dark oak walls and that faint smell of cabbage that curses every large building. It’s very English-looking inside, designed to appeal to those Americans who still believe that to be truly sophisticated you have to have had a British education. A smartly dressed girl approaches with a wide, welcoming grin.

      ‘Pleasure to receive you here at St Benedict’s English School for Girls. How may I help?’ she says.

      ‘This is Paskia-Rose Martin,’ I say, as if Pask’s about two years old and unable to speak for herself. ‘We’d like to see the school principal.’

      The girl shuffles off in her silly grey pleated skirt and long grey socks. I look over at Pask and shake my head miserably. It’s not exactly what I had in mind when I was thinking about LA schools. I thought they were all full of cool kids in funky clothes getting off with each other and getting shit-faced.

      ‘Welcome, welcome,’ says a man in his forties, wearing a crumpled beige linen suit. ‘I’m Mr Barkett. Principal Cooper’s just tied up at the minute, but she’ll join us for coffee later. Would you like to follow me?’

      He leads us through the school, pointing out the various rooms and corridors along the way.

      ‘This is the science block,’ he says, and I howl with laughter. ‘Everything OK?’

      ‘Yes, sorry, I’m just remembering something that happened to me in the science block once,’ I say, and there’s a pause while everyone waits for me to tell them. ‘His name was John Harrison and he used to keep porno magazines in his desk. One day, when the teacher was out of the room, all the girls took their bras off and –’

      ‘What sciences do the girls do?’ asks Dean through gritted teeth, glaring at me with eyes that scream ‘Shut up, Tracie.’

      ‘Obviously we do computer science and earth and natural sciences, but we make a point of focusing on integrated curriculum teaching and not on individual subject areas. We explore areas like interdisciplinary teaching, thematic teaching and synergistic teaching. Are you with me?’

      ‘Tracie,’ says Dean. ‘Tell us what happened when you all took your bras off.’

      Principal Cooper comes to join us for coffee. She’s a bloody fearsome-looking woman. Reminds me of Margaret Thatcher, but without any of the former Prime Minister’s softer, more sensitive and humane characteristics. She’s English and she insists that this school produces ladies in the very British understanding of the word.

      ‘The girls here will behave properly, and dress properly,’ she insists, with a passing, and rather obvious, glance at my attire. ‘This is a school that excels in all areas and is peerless in sport. We do all the classic school sports for girls as well as soccer.’

      ‘Excellent,’ says Paskia-Rose.

      ‘Talk in sentences, dear,’ says the Principal.

      ‘Sure,’ says Paskia.

      ‘Sentences,’ bellows the Principal, and I have to bite my tongue not to point out that the terrifying Mrs Cooper isn’t talking in sentences.

      ‘This is a deeply religious school and we operate by a strict moral code,’ she continues, and Dean and I just nod. ‘We believe that God was sacrificed for man and that each man should be willing to sacrifice himself for his brothers. We won’t tolerate selfish behaviour or bad community spirit.’

      ‘That’s right,’ says Dean. ‘Like in football – if a player keeps the ball too long, and doesn’t pass it, he’s not gonna score too often.’

      ‘Quite,’ says the Principal. ‘Now, do you have any questions?’

      We don’t. Well, we do. I have tons of questions, but I’m too scared to ask them. Instead we’re offered the chance to take a walk around the grounds on our own.

      ‘If you can get back here by 11 a.m., that will assist us greatly,’ says Principal Cooper in a voice which indicates strongly that failure to arrive back by the allotted time will be punishable by death.

      ‘What do you think?’ I ask Pask when we get outside.

      ‘’s OK,’ she says, and I can’t resist it.

      ‘Sentences, Paskia-Rose, sentences,’ I say.

      She gives me a half-smile and Dean gives her a hug.

      ‘Bit of a monster,’ says Dean.

      ‘Yes,’ we all agree.

      The grass outside is now littered with girls playing, reading and talking intelligently to one another. Everyone looks rich and sophisticated but desperately dull. On Paskia’s instruction we walk towards the football pitches so she can have a look. We take the route round the side of the school where there’s a pavement and thus I won’t sink into the grass in my high heels. When the path runs out at the back of the school Pask and Dean head off to the pitch while I wait on solid ground.

      That’s when I see them, like a dream – the school’s bad girls. There are three of them standing round the side of the building using a mobile phone (banned), wearing makeup (banned), with their skirts shortened (banned) and wearing high-heeled shoes (banned). They look amazing. I find myself transported back in time to my own schooldays when I was desperate to be friends with girls like these.

      ‘Here,’ I say, handing them a bottle from my bag. ‘It’s champagne. Enjoy it.’

      ‘Wow, thanks,’ they say. ‘That’s awesome.’

      I hear the cork pop and I rush off, desperate to reach Dean and Pask despite the heel/mud situation. I need to tell Pask about the great girls I’ve just seen. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve found some lovely friends for you. They’re great. You’ll love them. Come and see,’ I shriek.

      If I can get Paskia in with these girls, she’ll be sorted. Gosh how I longed to be one of the tough girls when I was at school. ‘You’re too soppy,’ they always told me. ‘Look at you, with your silly pink, frilly clothes and your mad mother.’

      I tried so hard to be accepted into that group, but never was. Now Paskia has a real chance to live the dream. She’s not soppy – she’s tough and talented and lovely. She has to meet them.

      I shout over again, but Pask and Dean don’t hear me at all – they remain where СКАЧАТЬ