Frenemies: The Van Helsen Series, #1

Frenemies

The Van Helsen Series, Volume 1

L Tait

Published by L Tait, 2015.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

FRENEMIES

First edition. November 16, 2015.

Copyright © 2015 L Tait.

ISBN: 978-1516315031

Written by L Tait.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Frenemies (The Van Helsen Series, #1)

Okay, so, to quote the lyrics from Madonna’s ‘ Ray Of Light’, I’m ‘trying to remember where it all began’.

Actually, I do remember ‘ where it all began’ all too clearly might I add, but, it’s finding the words that’s giving me trouble, but, bear with me, it’ll get better.

It was the first day of the Winter term, in early January, in the middle of the decade that we remember most for the birth of raves, Jurassic Park,, and Take That, (along with numerous other boy bands)fighting for supremacy in the music charts.

I was in my fourth year at Wilsden High ,ready to start the new term with greater inner strength, having made it through the High school initiation ceremony that was First Year, and the feeling of superiority(and relief!) of getting this far.  Let’s face it, we’ve all been through it, being at the mercy of other pupils in the years above you, asking for directions and being sent off in the opposite direction, and feeling afraid and very much alone.  And, as if that weren’t enough to contend with, unless you were tall, pretty and popular(and I possessed none of those qualities) you were constantly singled out for lessons in confidence beating courtesy of the school bullies, which would come in the form of name calling, getting all manner of things put in your hair(for me it was always dead insects, chewing gum and spit) and generally being made to feel like an inferior being.

Despite the fact that it was very much like boot camp at some awful military institution, or doing time in some terrible prison, I’d survived.  I’d made it through to the third year. Even though I’d turned sixteen the previous November, and even though I was no taller, prettier, or even more popular than I had been the previous year, I’d learned to roll with the punches. 

Bullying was something I accepted and learned to live with, and ignore, yet, I felt stronger in the respect that at least nobody in the years above me could ever send me off in the wrong direction anymore.  As far as school geography went, the teachers could have made me a tour guide.

So, there I was, hanging around the playground, wondering what other nasty surprises my classmates had lined up for me, when I felt a gentle tap on my left shoulder.

Instinctively, I turned round, expecting another torrent of childish abuse, when, instead, I found myself face to face with a strange looking man; not strange in an odd way, but more in a foreign way. And I wasn’t proved wrong either.

‘Excuse me, ’ he began, in what sounded like a Scandinavian accent (which I found strangely attractive).

‘Could you tell me where the School office is?’

At this stage, I’d like to point out that people who are lost  always tend to ask me for directions. Why, I don’t know, for some strange reason people generally seem to think I know where I’m going when, actually, I’m as lost as everyone else on the planet!

But, back to the story.  I was taking in his appearance, every detail; the almond shaped blue green eyes, like the Pacific Ocean, the chiselled jaw line, the full, sensuous mouth, his lean, medium build, well toned, and no doubt quite muscular under the smart charcoal grey suit he was wearing.  His hair, which was dark brown and reminiscent of a lion’s mane, the fringe falling forward over his narrow, heart shaped forehead, giving him a rakish look, and, I found myself completely mesmerised by him.

Finally, I  somehow found my voice, when I realised that he was looking at me, and,

trying to sound nonchalant , but having little success, I said,

‘It’s just through these doors over there, on the right hand side.’

‘Thank you.‘ he replied, fixing me with that gorgeous crystalline gaze before his suited figure strode purposefully off across the playground, towards the school entrance.

As I watched him disappear into the distance, a million thoughts were running through my mind. (if the song ‘Beautiful Stranger’ had been about then, it would have been playing in my head like some bizarre soundtrack, at that moment).

Who was he? Yes, he was a stranger, and, yes, he was beautiful, but, even though he was young, he had to be a lot older than me, perhaps in his late twenties, I guessed.

At the tender age of sixteen, I’d never experienced love, lust, attraction or any other emotion of that magnitude.  However, for that one brief moment, I felt strangely drawn to him, and it worried me somewhat; I was merely a young girl who’d never had a boyfriend, had never been kissed, and I was content to leave it at that.

As it turned out, I didn’t have time to think about who the mystery man was, as the bell rang, jolting me out of my  daydream, and calling the uniformed minions of Willsden High back to class to kick off another new term of drudgery and hard work.

So, we all trooped into the assembly hall to await our fate, as well as put up with the pep talk from the Headmaster, who we all secretly named Batman because of the graduation gown he wore when he addressed the school year at large during every new term assembly.  If you have no idea what one of these things looks like, you’d most likely see it on the head teacher of a boarding school,.  Considering the era we were currently living in, this piece of attire seemed incongruous in such a modern day setting.

After the constant blah blahing of the caped crusader, we were put into our classes for the year ahead.  Not surprisingly, I was put into the top classes for English and French, but was less fortunate in the Maths classes, where I was near the bottom for both Arithmetic and Maths (neither of which interested me anyway).

Then, without warning, I sensed movement outside the door I was standing quite close to.  Everyone else was too absorbed in singing the school anthem (which made ‘God Save The Queen’ sound like a rave classic, and was customary at each new term assembly)and hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

However, I knew the school anthem back to front, and, as my curiosity got the better of me, I sneaked out of the side doors of the hall, and held my breath with unexpected apprehension, as I found myself looking into the eyes of the strange man I’d encountered in the playground earlier.  Admittedly, my heart was slamming in my ribs and I seemed to have temporarily lost the power of speech.

But, I was saved.

‘So...we meet again Miss...er...’ he faltered, as if trying to figure out a way of addressing me.

I almost laughed out loud.  It was as if he were some villain out of a James Bond movie(only he appeared to be too nice to fit that particular description).

‘Woodford, but my friends and family call me Hazel.’ I babbled, totally losing the plot, and inwardly cursing myself for sounding so stupid in front of this amazing man.

‘I do apologise.  Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Mr Hayworth, but my friends and family call me Miles.  Forgive me, Hazel,, but I was looking for the assembly hall and I er...’

‘Got lost?’ I supplied helpfully, knowing exactly how he must be feeling.

‘Ja!‘ he exclaimed, in that beautiful , mellifluous voice.

We stood in silence for a few heart stopping moments, and I felt that he was going to say something else, when, suddenly, the singing from inside the hall stopped, replaced by the sound of several pairs of feet coming towards the doors behind me.  I set about blending in with the other pupils spilling out into the corridor, while the man I now knew as Miles Hayworth threw an enigmatic smile in my direction, and moved off into the crowd of pupils going in the opposite direction.

So, as far as I knew, he was little more than an official, a school inspector sent out to make sure that things were running smoothly at the seat of learning that was Willsden High.

How wrong I was.

I discovered his role in our happy school family(note my abject sarcasm here) two days later, when I walked into my first English class of the new term.

And, there he was, Mr Heaven , sitting on the desk as if it were some earthly equivalent of a cloud,  He seemed very much at home there too.  Several of the other girls in the class were falling over themselves to get a glimpse of this teacher who could have easily made it into  a pop group merely on looks alone.

After we had all settled down, he launched into a discussion of the texts we would be studying in the coming term, before asking if there were any questions we’d like to ask him.

Feeling rather foolish, I raised my hand.

‘Is that a Swedish or Danish accent you have, Sir?‘ I asked shyly.

‘It‘s neither. Norwegian actually.  Why do you ask, Hazel?’

Well I never! He‘d actually remembered my name! I thought. 

‘Oh, no reason.’ I lied, trying to ignore the wolf whistles and catcalls that followed. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not, but it appeared as though hr looked directly at me with an almost pensive look on his face.

Then, he made an announcement.

‘This year‘s school play will be Romeo and Juliet.  I will be casting parts later in the week.  Now, if you‘d like to take out your copies of Nineteen eighty four, we‘ll make a start on the opening chapter.’

And so, as he read, I felt myself getting lost in a daydream, looking into those amazing aquamarine eyes, running a hand through his soft hair, kissing that beautiful mouth...

A voice interrupted my somewhat sinful thoughts.

‘What overall impression do we get of society through Orwell’s eyes in the first few pages? Hazel, maybe you could give us an example of Orwell’s view of life in general.’

The whole class was silent, and I could sense everybody’s eyes on me, and Mr Heaven was waiting for me to provide him with an answer, an almost knowing smile creeping over his face as if he’d read my thoughts.

He’s doing this on purpose! I thought feverishly, mentally clutching at straws.

Then, I theatrically cleared my throat to buy myself some time and gather my scattered thoughts.

‘A-hem, well,‘ I began, ‘Orwell uses the weather in the opening chapter to illustrate the misery of the people living in this social climate.  You’ll notice that the climate, like their lives, is of a cold nature, no hope of future happiness, or true love.’

To my great relief, Mr Heaven smiled, and I let out a grateful sigh.

‘Well done Hazel! You’ve been paying attention!’ he exclaimed, before sending me a knowing glance that clearly meant, ’you were lucky that time’. 

And, believe it or not, I did pay more attention in his classes after that. To my great surprise, he cast me in the role of Juliet in the school play, but...the person he chose to play Romeo, I was less than thrilled about.

Duncan Bentley was the most arrogant boy in the whole year, and I didn’t fancy kissing him either, considering that I’d never kissed anyone before in my entire life.

So, naturally, I was rather evasive when it came to the romantic scenes of the play, but I sensed that Mr Heaven wasn’t fooled for a moment and, about a month later, after having dismissed the class for lunch, he asked me to stay behind.

‘Hazel, could I have a word?’ he asked.

I regarded him silently, and nodded .

‘Well, Hazel,’ he began, pausing to think about how he could best phrase what he was going to say next, "Is there anything troubling you about the play?’

At first, I was silent, but then I felt that I should tell him.  Besides, after attending his classes for a few months, I viewed him as a very good friend and owed it to him to say what was on my mind.

So, I did. I sold the jerseys and sang like a canary.

‘Actually, I’m not all that keen on the kissing scenes .’ I confessed.

‘Why Hazel? Is it because you have something against your leading man? he inquired gently.

‘Yes! No! Well...he’s an arrogant show off and he hates me as much as I do him!’ I exclaimed , collapsing into a nearby chair, and sighing in defeat.

Mr Heaven sat forward on his desk, stroking his chin thoughtfully, with that infuriatingly mischievous glint in his blue green eyes, almost as if he knew that wasn’t quite the whole story.

‘Hmm, I bet it’s not him that’s bothering you, but the idea of public displays of affection that you’re not too happy with.’ he guessed, knowing that he was right all along. 

I dropped my gaze, not quite meeting his eyes, and nodded in mute agreement.

‘Well,’ he continued, ‘that is something we shall have to remedy.’

‘I suppose so,’ I mumbled, ‘but how?’

‘let me give you a few pointers shall I? First, Hazel, you have to maintain eye contact with your co actor.  So, why don’t we rehearse the scene at the Capulet ball, and I’ll give you some help on it.’

Reluctantly, I agreed. It was worth missing lunch to get this matter resolved, , besides, I trusted Mr Heaven implicitly.

So, we went through the scene , and when it came to the crucial part, he said,

Now Hazel, look directly into my eyes.  That’s it, good, he coaxed, as I anxiously met