Miranda part two
by Clarissa
‘Do you enjoy Shakespeare, Miranda?’ asked Miss Svenson of the tall school girl who stood before her. The girl didn’t reply, but flicked back a strand of fair hair, betraying a slight nervousness. ‘Well, do you?’ continued the head, fixing the girl with her light blue eyes. ‘Yes, Miss,’ came the muted response.
Miss Svenson stood up and walked towards her study windows. The windows revealed a scene of some devastation: branches felled by wind and rose bushes beaten down by rain; she would have to tell Mr Jeffreys, the head gardener, to take an urgent look at this, Miss Svenson thought to herself.
‘Is The Tempest a particular favourite?’ Miss Svenson asked at last. ‘Well, I was named after one of the lead characters,’ flashed back the girl.
‘Don’t be so insolent,’ boomed Miss Svenson turning around, ‘you know exactly what I am talking about!’ The girl flushed just slightly, and looked down at the floor.
‘I’ve had Dr Rudd on the phone, who has been telling me all about your theatrical prowess,’ continued Miss Svenson. No reply from the girl.
‘Yes,’ went on Miss Svenson, ‘most impressive.’ Still nothing from the girl.
‘You are not going to deny it was you with that boy from Tillwood, or that you were unaware such unchaperoned encounters were entirely against the rules?’ Still no response from the girl: this was typical, thought Miss Svenson.
‘Look me in the eye,’ she commanded; the girl complied. ‘Are you going to deny it?’ A moment’s hesitation, then ‘No, Miss.’ Miss Svenson breathed an inward sigh of relief: Miranda Spears really was the most obstinate pupil.
‘Are you going to cane me?’ asked the girl suddenly, raising her gaze from the floor.
‘Don’t be so insolent,’ thundered Miss Svenson, ‘it is for me to tell you such things, not for you to ask!’ The girl looked down again.
‘But no, I am not going to cane you; or strap you; or slipper you; or put you over my knee and spank you.’ Still no response, though Miss Svenson detected a definite reddening of the girl’s complexion.
‘What I am going to do is ring up Dr Rudd and tell him about our little conversation. And, on this occasion, as I find you so exceedingly difficult, I am going to ask him to decide what to do with you.’
Now the girl looked definitely perplexed.
‘But..?’
‘No Miranda,’ asserted Miss Svenson, ‘that’s enough questioning for now. I am sure you will Dr Rudd will have all the answers you need.’