Note Found in Alice Ryner’s Locker During the End of Term Clear-out

Note found in Alice Ryner’s Locker during the end of term clear-out

by Anthony Richardson

 

Dear Alice,

 

Darling Alice, if only you’d seen the trouble it took me to get this note to your locker! Like a panther I clambered through the window of the chemistry block and prowled towards the changing rooms, almost disturbing the janitor. You should have felt my heartbeat! Mercifully, I know the layout of secondary schools well, having once worked for OFSTED. As I pour out my heart it is July. I can only imagine where you are – celebrating in sunnier climes, no doubt (I believe it is the fashion to go to Newquay), while I write you this adoring note, the locker as my rest and the Staedtler Stick 430 F my quill. Alice, I do hope you receive this letter! If you don’t find it I don’t know what I’d do. Our passion would wither, that is for sure. It all depends on your safe arrival into sixth form. Let’s hope you stay on (fingers crossed that you do!). Although, by all accounts, it seems doubtful.

 

Alice, you may not know me. Have never seen me, even. But there is so much time for all that! Let us just share what we have for now. You have your youth, your future, your whole life ahead of you. I have externally moderated copies of your academic work. I marked your GCSE Music paper! Now do you see what we share? I marked all of it! Your Theory of Composition Paper One stared up at me from my desk and I had to meet you. Your handwriting so neat! Such pretty love hearts instead of dots on the I’s. Were they for me? I like to think they were! Yes, when I deciphered your confused, half-finished analysis of extract A I knew you were the one! Of course, critics and my wife would argue that I was convinced Joanna Stephenson of Tilehurst School in Reading was the one. She drew such lovely butterflies instead of semibreves. But I was blind then, and this time Barbara won’t find out.

 

Alice, can’t you see it is you I’m looking for? I can think of nothing but your script, your curios syntax, the different coloured pen you used for each question (even though only blue or black is legal). I am a mess, Alice, I cannot concentrate on my work – yesterday I marked only three papers, and they were rushed. I have never felt like this before except once, and you are so much better than Joanna Stephenson. She pales in comparison to you! Those minims and semiquavers you drew for question 3 (sadly completely inaccurate – reflective of a lack of even a basic understanding of the task in hand) were not superficial and crass like those dreadful kittens Joanna drew in the margins of her copy. Of course, back then I was so smitten that I looked up her address in our records and sent her seven cats. Barbara found the receipts and cut up all my ties. How silly it all seems now. Yes, January 2008 is far behind us now.

 

I took such care over your music questions, Alice! More than you did, by the looks of it. You spelt ‘Bassoon’ b-s-o-n-e. I just couldn’t mark it right, partly because by then I was feverish with emotion, partly because ‘Bsone’ isn’t an allowed spelling on the marking matrix. But how I wanted to give it a hearty tick and say ‘to hell with convention!’ (Alas, that is impossible. Marks are cross-checked and both supervisor and wife find out. It is better that you are wrong and our love stays in tact, don’t you think?)

 

Don’t assume that our affair won’t be problematic, Alice. Far from it – not because of your age (you’re 17! How I jumped for joy when I learnt you’d been held back a year for persistent academic failure!)  - but because our passion is officially forbidden by both Barbara and the Education Secretary. Those two foul creatures wouldn’t know true love if it took an Advanced Extension A-level paper on Love Studies and gave them a paper cut. Besides, I assure you Barbara won’t find out. She’s a suspicious woman (she searches my briefcase!) but fear not. Your paper, that letter of adoration of your own, is nestled safely inside my love safe!

 

 I have noticed from re-reading this that I may have mentioned ‘love’ too many times. Please don’t take the wrong idea. We will take this slowly. I have learnt so much from past experience.

 

Wherever you are, Alice, I do so hope that you are happy. Enjoy the summer. Make the most of it. Really live it, because come results day you’re going to feel awful. Your music grade may come as a shock. Let us hope the rest of your exams didn’t go as badly! (Sadly, they did. I pulled some strings and uncovered your other marks. They are far less pretty than your dainty full stops. Joanna Stephenson’s full stops were never dainty. They were boorish. You will always have that.) But that’s so far away now that we’ve found each other! And anyway, you don’t need exams. It is clear that you are a vulnerable twig caught in an academic stream. It’s not your fault that “society” spells it ‘quiet’ instead of ‘quite’ and ‘loud’ as opposed to ‘lard.’ Incidentally, the correct answer to question 7i (the dynamics of extract B) wasn’t ‘quiet and loud’ but ‘piano and fortissimo.’ The “rules” dictate that candidates must be more “thorough” and (yawn!) pretentious in music, but who am I to step on your shoes! Actually, I did technically step on your shoes by awarding you zero, but I prefer to think of it more as an eager suitor treading on his lady’s toes during a moonlit waltz. I trod on Barbara’s toes during the AQA fundraiser. She snarled, calling me an oaf and a buffoon. I know you would never say such words!

 

Alice, save me from Barbara. That woman has a temper. What’s more, she knows everything about music. But I despise all that now. Music examining isn’t for me. I can’t stand the rigidity of it all. I long to be tone deaf as you so obviously are. Free me from all these Extract As and Bs! I’ve found your address in central office’s records. Will you take me? I’ll wait behind your fence and listen for a sign. One tap for yes, two taps for no. Do hurry. I can’t stand that woman any longer. I heard footsteps, I must leave. Perhaps the janitor. I’ll find another exit. Do hurry! I’ll wait for your tapping each sunset!

 

Yours hopefully,

 

X

 

 

 

A Second Note Discovered Next to the First, also Addressed to Alice Ryner.

 

My darling Alice,

 

Disaster! Barbara has found out! Burn these letters as soon as you can! She followed me one evening to your house. I tried to lose her by climbing over walls and knocking over dustbins, but her legs are so much sturdier than mine. She is angry and won’t cook anything! Yesterday I had to beg the neighbours for a single serving apple tart, but I’d do it all again. I only regret never seeing you.

 

One thing puzzled me. Every evening I heard a member of your family practising the bassoon! I think it is your father, judging by the lung capacity. Did you not know? Surely you will have seen the word spelt correctly on his black leather case! Have I the wrong house? I apologise heartily. This relationship can never be.

 

Yours forlornly,

 

X