Note: this story does have children in it, but they aren't presented sexually, and they don't witness any sexual acts. Nevertheless, if you're freaked out by the idea of children even appearing in a story of this sort, please skip it...
The Superintendent looked from me, sitting wrapped only in a blanket, to Gail, who was still blushing, and his eyes narrowed. He may have been slow, but he wasn't stupid.
"If you have anything to say, Miss, now's the time to say it," he said. Gail pulled up a chair, sat down and took a deep breath.
This was what she told us:
She had gone straight into the lab that morning, and she had been weeding some plants in the greenhouse when Alison Carey, our Head of Department, had called her over to the door.
Gail had gone over to see what was happening. Alison was a good Head of Department, a smart, attractive, confident woman in her forties, but she was insufferably bossy and seemed to have no idea about what were the real priorities of research. She was always asking us to do this or that trivial assignment, instead of assigning them to younger students who were less needed on the tough jobs. She was standing in the corridor, her clipboard in her hand, and her usual aloof expression on her face. Nearby stood a young, very pretty, bespectacled black woman, dressed primly in a neat skirt, a grey sweater and sensible shoes. Her hair was swept back in a tight bun. Behind her was a crowd of about twenty bored-looking children, none of them older than ten.
"Gail," said Alison, "this is Sophie Makeba, and this is her class. They're on a special trip to the Biology Department. I want you to show them around a little. Miss Makeba, this is Gail Dawson, one of our ablest grad students."
Miss Makeba smiled at Gail and turned to her class.
"Say hello to Miss Dawson," she said. She had a precise manner of speech, and the faintest accent – Gail guessed she was probably an African immigrant. The class droned in chorus, "Hel-
lo
, Miss
Daw
-son." Miss Makeba beamed at Gail, leaned forward, and said with a smile, "It's okay. You can call me Sophie."
Gail groaned inwardly. What a treat – showing a bunch of pissed-off pre-teens through the department, every one of them out of their minds with boredom at having to do a school trip on a weekend. She cursed Alison for palming this job off on her, when any number of freshers could have been enlisted.
"Well, Miss Makeba," said Alison, "I'll leave you to it. Have a nice time."
"Thank you very much," said Sophie Makeba, nodding vigorously. Alison nodded at them both, turned on her heel and swept off.
"Okay, um, if you'll just follow me," said Gail, and she led them away down the corridor. Miss Makeba seemed to be genuinely interested in what was going on, unlike her pupils, who seemed to be continually hitting each other and asking if they could go to the bathroom. She was bright and knowledgeable and was doing her best to communicate her enthusiasm to her pupils, but it wasn't working.
Gail led them through the labs, showed them the computer room, the offices and the research library. All along, Sophie Makeba was keenly interested, and the kids could hardly contain their own impatience.
"This is where we keep most of our plants," Gail said, opening the greenhouse door, and a little embarrassed at pointing out the extremely obvious. Sophie Makeba nodded, and told off a small boy for picking leaves off a rare flower. Gail pointed out the most interesting specimens (the kids hardly paid attention), while Sophie Makeba asked insightful and highly technical questions about them. Gail guessed she must have been a botany grad at some point.
They made their way through the maze of paths and walkways. One of the paths was roped off.
"And what is down there?" asked Sophie Makeba.
"Ah," said Gail. What was down there was one of the extraordinary trees, the prime object of our research, which had been painstakingly uprooted as a sapling and which, under hothouse conditions, had grown to full size frighteningly quickly. There was no way Gail was leading this party anywhere near it. The students themselves only went near it in biohazard suits, and even then, there had been unfortunate accidents. Two students had needed counselling.
"That's where we keep the poisonous stuff," Gail whispered in Sophie Makeba's ear. "I didn't want to say, in case the kids got excited. I can't take you down there, sorry. It's classified as a biological hazard." Sophie Makeba nodded, smiled and squeezed Gail's arm.
"I understand," she said. "It's no problem."
Gail led them away and pointed out some rare orchids. Sophie Makeba went to make a note. "That's funny," she said, "I must have dropped my pen. Has anyone seen my pen?" There was a chorus of "Noo" from the children. The young woman made her way back down the line of them and peered at the ground. She looked down the roped-off path and then looked up at Gail and smiled.
"Ah, I see it," she called. "It rolled down here. I'll just duck in and get it." And she stepped over the rope.
"I wouldn't do that!" said Gail urgently, and pushed through the children. But Sophie Makeba was walking up the path.
"It's fine," she was saying, "I won't touch anything…" She disappeared from sight behind a thick bush. The children complained as Gail struggled past them, but all of a sudden, she heard a terrible, familiar SCHHHLUPPP!, followed by a muffled squeal.
She quickly turned around and faced the kids.
"Come on, children, let's get out of here! Who'd like an ice cream?" For the first time all morning, their faces lit up. Gail hustled them out of the greenhouse and slammed the door shut behind them. Her stomach was in knots and she had to get the kids out of there as quick as possible.
"Where's Miss Makeba?" asked a little boy.
"She's coming in a second," said Gail, sweating. Through the greenhouse door, she could hear muffled moans and whimpers from the poor, trapped schoolteacher.
