Peter Lovesey - Swing, Swing Together

“Naked?” Harriet Shaw inquired.

“Completely, darling. In the buff. It’s awfully good fun. Words can’t describe it. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“I believe I might.”

“Splendid! We’ll meet in the common room at a quarter past midnight. Can you get some butter?”

“What do we want with butter, for goodness’ sake?”

“We rub it on the sides of the window to stop it from squeaking. Otherwise it makes enough noise to rouse the entire college. And you’ll need a towel, of course. There’s a stack of them in the linen store. Slip in there this afternoon when the maids are not about. Jane and I still have the ones we took last time. Oh, and don’t breathe a word to anyone else. People aren’t to be trusted. Certain of our fellow students would like nothing better than the Plum to catch us red-handed.”

“If she does, I shall be red all over, never mind my hands.”

In Elfrida College for the Training of Female Elementary Teachers, Miss Plummer had a well-justified reputation for securing the highest standards of behaviour in her young ladies. Any reckless enough to flout her Rules and Regulations, a copy of which hung above the spiritual text over each student’s bed, incurred more than displeasure. There was a scale of penalties ranging from restriction of diet (for minor offences, such as speaking out of turn) to instant expulsion (for offences not clearly specified in the Rules, but darkly implied by the phrase “intemperate, indecorous or unladylike conduct”). As a system it worked well, and the young ladies received their training in an orderly manner appropriate to the profession they were entering. That is not to say that the Rules were never dis-obeyed: that was too much to ask of thirty girls of seventeen and upwards. But Miss Plummer’s discipline was such that girls with insubordinate tendencies kept them under control for the greater part by far of their time at Elfrida College. The flaw in the system was that if they did decide to kick over the traces, they kicked with all the gusto of the front line of the chorus.

And that was how Harriet Shaw was persuaded to take a midnight bathe with Jane Morrison and Molly Stevens.

The College was located beside the Thames a short way below Henley Reach, a stretch of the river as safe, secluded and attractive as any from source to sea. The grounds extended right down to the towpath but the fifty yards of lawn fronting the river was out of bounds to students on account of perils presented not by the river, but by young men accustomed to using the towpath. So the river and its traffic had to be regarded from a discreet distance, a distance that lent something more than enchantment to the view. The river seemed to exert an attractive force increasingly difficult to resist as the girls progressed through their first year and entered their second. If a student were to give way to the promptings and break bounds, then she was risking expulsion, so why not make an occasion of it by going at night and bathing in the river by moonlight dressed as nature intended? That, in a nutshell, was Molly’s argument.

They claimed to have done it before, those two. They said it had been the most exquisite experience they could remember. Harriet believed them. They were adventurous spirits, she was sure, and they had secrets. No two girls in the College were as close friends as they and she was sure they had broken Rules before. Because they were so close they had covered up for each other. Better than that, they had actually conspired to be favourites of the Plum. It was a privilege really to be invited to share in their escapade. She was slightly mystified why they should have chosen her of all the girls, but there it was.

This and other thoughts occupied her as she lay fully clothed in bed that night waiting for Henley Church faintly to chime the quarter hour past midnight. The Plum had long since made her tour of the building checking that all bolts and catches were fastened. With luck she would be asleep by now, secure in her brass bedstead in the room with the balcony at the front of the house, that balcony from which she liked to quiz the girls through her lorgnette as she basked in the sunshine with her two white cats. After a year at Elfrida, Harriet was less terrified of her than she had been at first, but she was still a formidable personage, a distinctly sour Plum.

Just as she was beginning to fear she had not heard it, the single chime sounded. Minutes later she was in the common room releasing a long breath at having got down the stairs without causing one to creak. Molly and Jane were already at the window easing it upwards with professional stealth.

“You first,” whispered Jane.

Momentarily, as she drew her legs over the sill and felt for a foothold on the lawn outside, the uncomfortable thought crossed Harriet’s mind that they might close the window behind her and leave her stranded. But she had misjudged them. Molly, slight and agile, sprang down beside her and together they took Jane’s hands and helped her out. They celebrated their liberty with a swift exchange of smiles, and started running across the tennis lawn. Jane unfurled her bath towel and whirled like a dervish in the center of the court until Molly jerked her away, down through the trees towards the low stone wall that marked the edge of bounds without altogether obstructing the view of the river. They negotiated it easily, giggling now, for they were too far from the house to be heard, and raced down the slope to the row of willows beside the towpath.

“It couldn’t have been easier, could it?” said Molly, already unfastening buttons.

“Like peeling an orange,” said Jane.

“You say the funniest things, Jane! Peeling an orange! Just when we’re about to-” Harriet stopped in midsentence.

Molly had stepped out of her dress and was standing naked in front of her. So was Jane. They could not have been wearing anything under their dresses.

“Aren’t you ready?” asked Molly, with a slight implication of censure.

“My underclothes. I didn’t think to leave them off.” It was out of the question to ask them to wait while she struggled several minutes more with stockings and stays. “I’ll join you as soon as I’m ready.”

“Very well, then. We probably would get cold waiting.”

She watched as they stepped carefully off the bank, Jane markedly taller than Molly. In the water, reflected moonlight faintly underscored the areas of their anatomy nearest the surface. It occurred to Harriet what a silly spectacle they presented. With less enthusiasm she lifted her day-gown over her head.

The conversation that presently carried across the water did little to salve her wounded feelings.

“Is she still undressing?”

“It doesn’t surprise me. Harriet had a very proper upbringing. She wouldn’t dream of coming out without her drawers on. I’m surprised she wasn’t wearing a hat.”

This provoked a peal of laughter from Jane. “The one with the hummingbirds-the one she wears to church? Imagine taking to the water in that, without a stitch on underneath!”