Fiorella De Maria - A Most Dangerous Innocence

A MOST DANGEROUS INNOCENCE

FIORELLA DE MARIA

A Novel

IGNATIUS PRESS SAN FRANCISCO

Cover photograph:
Woolwich Polytechnic Gymnasium, 1911
Bridgeman Images

Cover design by John Herreid

2019 Ignatius Press, San Francisco
All rights reserved
ISBN 978-1-62164-257-2 (PB)
ISBN 978-1-64229-068-4 (EB)
Library of Congress Control Number 2018949813
Printed in the United States of America

The girl stared out of the grimy train window, too absorbed by the sight of the disappearing London platform to turn her head and acknowledge the newcomer into the carriage. Harry Forbes, for his part, could hardly hide his disappointment at the presence of a fellow traveller, but he had caught his train at the last possible moment as always, and by the time he had deposited his trunk with a porter and staggered along the narrow corridor in search of a seat, there had been no other empty compartments. Somehow it did not feel quite right to sit alone in the company of a schoolgirl, but it would be rude to heave the door back open and retreat now that she had heard him come in. He sat down awkwardly on the opposite seat, as close to the door as humanly possible.

The girl had a thick, unruly bob of black curls she had not bothered to pin away from her face, and he noticed that she seemed in the habit of constantly shaking her head from side to side to keep it out of her eyes. Her straw hat had been carelessly tossed aside and sat next to her gas mask and a small knapsack. Harrys discomfort grew as he noted the blue-and-white stripes on the hatband and the school cresta shield with a dolphin and three stars. She was a Mulwith girl then, and possibly soon to be one of his pupils. They faced a lengthy journey in one anothers company, and he suspected he ought to attempt some conversation with her, but she made no effort to turn her fixed stare from the window, where houses and chimneys were hurtling over the horizon.

Harry busied himself lifting his own gas mask and leather holdall into the overhead rack. He hoped the girl was not the type to be overcome by homesickness on a journey to school; he was young enough to remember those childhood battles with tears, the counting of hours and minutes until the miserable time of departure. The girl was old enough to have adapted to the perpetual meetings and partings of boarding school life by now, but girls could be quite unpredictable about such things, and he had an irrational fear of being alone with a sobbing female, uncertain as to whether he should tell her to pull herself together or make some effort to console her.

Harry had just removed his coat and begun folding it carefully, placing it beside him under his hat, when the dark head turned slowly to look at him. Good afternoon, she said in a clear voice, regarding him intently with dry, calm eyes. I wonder if you might put my bag up there too, if its not too much trouble?

Certainly, young lady, he answered, taking a step back. It was a perfectly reasonable request for her to make, since he was a good deal taller and stronger than she, but he felt unnerved at the thought that he was taking orders from a pupil. She was at a troubling stage, he thought, but he gave her a friendly smile and gathered up her belongings regardless, leaving the hat where it was in case it might be damaged in the luggage rack. He could not quite place her age; he suspected she might be nearing the end of her schooldays, but her uniform marked out the divide between them, and Harry could not quite work out whether she had had any business setting him a task to perform for her.

Thank you, sir, she answered, with reassuring deference, as he sat back down with a pencil and the Times crossword. Im afraid I find those racks a little difficult to reach. With that, she picked up a book, closing the conversation as abruptly as she had started it.

Not at all, said Harry to her lowered head. He shifted his position carefully so that he could get a better look at her whilst appearing to be glancing at his paper. She was a girl who clearly enjoyed good health; her complexion was bright and ruddy from hours spent outside, but there was something about her colouring that suggested a foreign influence. He might have thought her of Celtic origin on account of the black curls, but her eyes were ebony black rather than blue, and her skin tones were tawny like a Renaissance Madonna. His gaze was drawn to a discreet gold necklace, the pendanta six-pointed starvisible against the starched collar of her tunic. Thats an interesting necklace, he said, his curiosity strong enough to overcome his earlier reserve. Very pretty.

It was a birthday present from my father, she explained, lowering her book. She seemed to remember her manners all of a sudden and extended a hand to him. Forgive me. Im Judith Randall. How dyou do?

He shook her hand. How do you do, Judith? Im Mr Forbes. Im on my way to Mulwith School too.

Everyone calls me Judy, Judy responded, looking at him in faint recognition. Youre the new mathematics master, replacing Miss Taylor. Im rather afraid Ive lost my bet.

Bet?

Yes. I bet Beryl Craven an aniseed ball that youd be old. When Miss Miller said shed had to employ a second chap to the staff on account of all things being rationedschoolmistresses includedyou would have to be old like Mr Peterson. How old are you?

Thats rather impertinent, dont you think? answered Harry, determined to introduce some control over the situation. And Mr Peterson is hardly old, as I recall from our brief meeting. Barely a day over fifty.

Exactly. Old. She hesitated, a little reticent after the reprimand. He doesnt really count, anyhow. He is only a Mulwith teacher because Mrs Peterson is the games mistressshes terrific, by the wayand he has to live there of course. So, he might as well teach whilst hes on the property. He speaks hundreds of languages. She gave him a suspicious glance. Oughtnt you to be a soldier?

Now that really is overstepping the mark, said Harry, picking up his newspaper again. She shrugged her shoulders with a look that said please yourself, then stared a little sulkily out of the window. I shall have to keep an eye on you by the look of things. I shant have any insolence in my classroom.

You shant have any trouble from me, she promised without a hint of conciliation in her voice. I won the mathematics cup last term. Im good at numbers.

Harry chuckled, thinking how many times he had heard a boast like that in his short teaching career. Really? Whats thirty-four plus one hundred and forty-five?

One hundred and seventy-nine. Easy.

Four hundred and twenty-six plus five hundred and eighty-seven?

She didnt miss a beat. One thousand and thirteen.

Seven thousand three hundred and twenty plus two hundred and fifty-nine?

Seven thousand five hundred and seventy-nine. I say, do you mind?

Sorry. He watched as she glanced back at the window, aware that he had overdone things. Is there anything I should know about the school?

But Judy had clearly lost interest in the conversation and did not look back at him. I hope youve brought food with you; youll be hungry, she ventured. And youd best stay out of Miss Millers way. Shes evil.

Harry forced a laugh. Ill bear that in mind. He waited for her to speak again, but she was absorbed in her own thoughts, and he thought it better to leave her in peace.

Judy stared out at the rolling hills, awaiting the sudden sight of the sea in the distance where the track traversed the brow of the Gog Magog Hills and wound itself along the coast. She loved the countryside, but on the journey to school those lovely hills and trees were merely signposts pointing ever farther away from London and home. Even the sight of the sea, when it came, offered little cheer. She could just make out the trails of barbed wire that were slowly snaking their way along Englands coastline, and she lost count of the number of squat, ugly pillboxes they had passed.