‘There’s only one question left,’ Jem said.
‘Only one? I can think of hundreds. We know sweet FA about him.’
‘Yeah, but this is the one that counts: who gets to ride in the MG first?’
3
Tom was shaking up the school. In the first week, his pinstripe suit got so paint-spattered that the head gave him special dispensation to wear whatever casual clothes he liked. And the girls were permitted to bring T-shirts and jeans for art lessons, and change in the dressing room behind the stage.
He’d told year eleven that creating a portfolio sounded boring until you realised a portfolio wasn’t a flat case for carrying a mass of drawings, but an opportunity to create exciting things that would never fit into a flat case. He’d taken them to see landscape artworks at Petworth and West Dean. They’d visited the sculpture park at Goodwood and come away with wholly different ideas about creativity. Inspired, they started on projects of their own. Jem worked on a big scale with a leaping dolphin made from driftwood. Mel was collecting pieces of glass worn smooth by the sea and making an exquisite mosaic no bigger than a dinner plate. Naseem was building a Neptune figure entirely from seaweed. Ella’s was a big abstract fashioned mainly from broken lobster pots.
Some afternoons Tom would drive them in the school minivan to one of the pebble beaches — Bracklesham Bay and Selsey being only ten miles away — and get them scavenging for materials. On these trips he was relaxed about smoking and swearing and he always fitted in a visit to the beach café. He’d chat about almost anything except himself. His personal life seemed to be off limits. And of course the girls took this as a challenge.
‘Ever come down here at weekends, Tom?’
‘Far too busy, Jem.’
‘What — painting and stuff? How do you relax, Tom?’
‘I’m always relaxed. Haven’t you noticed?’
‘Except you’ve got to be sharp when you’re driving. Have you had it long, your MG?’
‘Some time.’
‘Who chose it — you, or your girlfriend?’
‘That would be telling.’
‘Go on — tell us.’
‘I’ve always liked sports cars. Most guys do.’
‘And your girlfriend, does she like it?’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Just now you seemed to be saying there’s someone.’
‘I’m pretty certain I wasn’t — and if there was, I wouldn’t.’
Laughs all round.
‘Spoilsport. Is she an artist like you?’
‘Talking of artists, Ella, give the others a shout, will you? They seem to be chatting up those skateboarders outside the café and I don’t think we can justify it as performance art. It’s time we started back.’
In the van, the interrogation started all over again.
‘Do you have a long drive home, Tom?’
‘No more than anyone else.’
‘We were wondering where you live.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. There are more fascinating topics.’
‘Such as?’
‘Unit three of your A-level art.’
Groans.
‘I mean it,’ Tom said, and started telling them about the personal investigation element of their coursework. The prospect of writing up to three thousand words scared even the boldest of them. A neat way to head off the questions about his home life.
With so many girls desperate to know, it was inevitable that someone would find out. Ella came into the art room one morning and said, ‘It’s Boxgrove.’
‘What is?’
‘Where Tom lives. One of the year nines saw him drive out of the gates of some major estate outside the village.’
‘Is he rich, then?’
‘Got to be a millionaire, hasn’t he?’
‘What’s he doing teaching if he’s as rich as that?’
‘It’s a vocation.’
‘Come again.’
‘Like a mission, making the world a better place through art. He wants to spread the word.’
‘You think?’
‘Or he fancies schoolgirls.’
‘If only.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Mel said suddenly.
‘Listen up, people,’ Jem said. ‘The Chosen One is going to tell us something amazing.’
Everything went quiet in the art room. Mel was the odd one out, the only girl whose fees were paid by a trade union. She would have been given an even harder time if she hadn’t been an original thinker.
‘I didn’t say amazing. I was thinking about the Gibbon.’
‘Groan. That’s a thought wasted.’
‘I know she wasn’t popular, but it’s weird how she, like, went off suddenly without even saying goodbye to anyone. Even useless teachers get some kind of leaving present. The head didn’t seem to know where she’d gone.’
‘Does it matter?’
‘All kinds of stuff could have happened. She could have got knocked down by a car and lost her memory.’
‘Or been kidnapped by Somali pirates,’ Jem said.
‘No one better pay the ransom, then,’ Ella said.
‘Yeah, she goes on about the golden mean and the pirates think she’s super rich.’
Mel was still being serious. ‘It’s just a mystery how a teacher can vanish and no one seems to care.’
‘Obvious,’ Jem said. ‘She did something the school wants to hush up, like running a knocking shop.’
‘The Gibbon?’ Ella said.
‘I didn’t say she was on the game. I said running it, like a madam.’
‘I can’t picture that.’
‘The head would have a blue fit in case it got in the papers and no one wanted to send their kids here any more.’
‘You’re all being ridiculous,’ Mel said.
‘Now we’ve got Tom, we don’t want the Gibbon back. She was the pits.’
‘I don’t want her back either.’
‘Shut up about her, then. She’s history.’
Tom didn’t seem fazed when they told him they knew where he lived.
‘OK.’
‘Aren’t you bothered, Tom?’ Jem said. ‘You wouldn’t tell us when we asked.’
‘Because it has bugger all to do with why I’m here, which is to show you lot how exciting art can be. Now you know where I live, perhaps we can talk about something useful, like unit three, your personal investigations — and that means being curious about some topic in art and not my totally boring private life. Remember, this is twenty-five per cent of your course mark.’
They’d been told before and they were ready. ‘I’m doing mixed media and new materials,’ Jem said.
‘Elephant dung?’ Ella said with a grin.
Jem was unamused. ‘And much more, like fabrics, cardboard, wood, porcelain.’
Tom nodded. ‘Sounds promising. How about you, Mel?’
‘I was thinking of postage stamps.’
‘Not another bloody mosaic,’ Ella said.
‘Typical,’ Jem said. ‘Always something small.’
‘Hold on,’ Tom said, ‘let’s have some respect for each other. What is it about stamps you want to investigate?’
‘Like how the designs are done and how they’ve changed. There was a man in the paper last week, an artist who’s just had his first pictures accepted by whoever decides, and there’s masses of stuff on the internet.’
‘Good thinking,’ Tom said. ‘Stamp design has come a long way since the penny black. It’s unusual and it could be a fascinating study. Yes, go for it, Mel. And you, Ella. What’s your area of investigation?’
‘The nude.’
‘OK, OK,’ Tom said over the laughter. ‘Get it over with. I take it you are serious, Ella? How do you propose to make this your special study?’