by Anita Waller
‘More problems?’
Brenda shook her head.
‘No, I don’t think so. She’s just so… oh, I don’t know what it is. Uncommunicative. She only speaks to us when we speak to her, never actually volunteers any information and anything about school, I have to drag out of her. We’re hoping she’ll change when she moves to the big school.’
‘What are her chances?’
Her class teacher and her head teacher have virtually told me to get the uniform for Wadebridge Grammar but if she doesn’t feel like passing the eleven plus, then she damn well won’t. You know Amy; it all depends on how she feels on the day. She’s more than capable of sailing through it but will she bother? I try to avoid talking about it, so there’s no pressure coming from us. When she goes back to school after this summer holiday, she’s in the last year of junior school and that will be pressure enough.’
‘And what do you want? Is she likely to be the only one to pass? There’s only nine in the class, didn’t you say?’
‘Only eight now, since the Johnsons moved to Bude. Mr. Mawson says there are only two of them that stand any sort of chance, Amy and Sonia Dawes. But I did hear that Sonia’s mum doesn’t want her to go to a grammar school, she wants her in the new secondary school. Amy could be on her own.’
‘Have you told her that?’
‘No, as I said, we daren’t say anything at the moment. We’ll leave it till nearer the time. Oh, speak of the Devil…’
‘Not a devil, Brenda,’ Freda said, a slight frown crossing her face, ‘not yet anyway.’
They both turned to greet Amy as she wheeled a barrow down the lane, overflowing with flowers. The bundles were compact, precise in length and Brenda smiled with pleasure.
‘Well done, love. These look smashing. This could be your job from now on, you know. Has your dad seen them?’
Amy nodded, allowing a small smile to cross her face.
‘Hello, Aunty Freda, you look nice. How did you know I’d done them, Mum?’
‘Because they’re tidier than when your dad does them! I’ve usually got to rebundle them, bless him.’
‘I’ll take two bunches,’ Freda interrupted. ‘They’ll look lovely on my little antique table in the hall.’ She handed the money over to Brenda and turned to leave. Placing a swift kiss on the top of Amy’s head, she muttered, ‘Love you, child,’ before hurrying away.
‘Well!’
‘Mom! She kissed me!’
‘I know, sweetheart. I saw. Our Freda’s mellowing in her old age. Come on, let’s close down for half an hour and we’ll go make your old dad a nice cup of tea.’
‘Better make it a brandy – he’s swearing something awful at the bindweed that’s trying to strangle his cauliflowers.’
Brenda’s heart rejoiced at the happy tone in the reply from her daughter.
‘That bad is it?’
Amy nodded. ‘And now he’s digging like mad. Have you done something to upset him?’
Brenda laughed. ‘No, love. It’s purely the bindweed. Your dad’s cauliflowers are famous round these parts and it’s woe betide anybody or anything that tries to damage them.’
She pulled down the awning on the front of the stall and hung up a notice, advising customers that she would be back in thirty minutes.
They walked up the lane arm in arm and Brenda felt uplifted. This was how her daughter should be – maybe she was finally on the mend.
‘Mrs Andrews? Helen Dawes here. Sonia’s mother.’
‘Oh hello, Mrs Dawes.’
She mouthed the words Helen Dawes to Jack and shrugged her shoulders as if to say I don’t know what she wants.
‘Look, I’m sorry to bother you…’
Brenda detected a note of hesitancy in the woman’s tone. ‘Is something wrong, Mrs Dawes?’
‘Well yes, there is actually, but I don’t really want to… you know, in view of what Amy’s been through… oh, God, I wish I hadn’t phoned.’
There was silence for a moment and then Brenda spoke. ‘So what is it? I assume it’s something to do with Amy?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘Well, she’s been threatening Sonia.’
‘Threatening Sonia?’
Jack looked up catching the drift of the one-sided conversation and moved to stand by his wife. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
There was a long pause before Helen Dawes spoke again. ‘Apparently Amy doesn’t want Sonia at the grammar school. First of all she tried bribing her with money to fail the Eleven Plus and when that didn’t work, she tried threats; the usual thing. Hitting her, saying she would break her arm before the exam so she wouldn’t be able to do it anyway. I’m so sorry to have to bring this up but Sonia has a nasty bruise at the top of her left arm and she says Amy did it.’
Brenda sat down still clutching the receiver to her ear. ‘Mrs Dawes, I’m so sorry, we had no idea… Has the school said anything?’
‘No. I don’t think anyone’s realised what’s been happening and it’s only because of this bruise that the whole sorry tale has come out. I don’t want to have to say anything at school, but…’
‘Please don’t, Mrs Dawes. We have quite a problem on our hands with Amy and I know it won’t help if this becomes public knowledge. Can I ask you to leave it with me? I promise you that nothing else will happen to Sonia and she’s not to feel intimidated in any way. Tell her to go ahead and get that scholarship. I’ll sort Amy.’
‘Well, that’s the funny part about it all. We don’t actually want Sonia at the grammar school; she’ll be going to the secondary modern but Sonia would probably pass if we wanted her to go there. I feel awful having to tell you this but I really couldn’t let it go on. Do you understand?’
‘Of course I do. And I’m really very, very sorry that you’ve had this worry. Thank you for ringing – I’ll sort it out, I promise.’ Brenda replaced the receiver, anger flashing across her face.
‘Bren?’ Jack looked at his wife, not sure what was wrong but certain that whatever it was involved Amy’s behaviour at school.
Brenda took a deep breath.
‘You’re not going to believe this, Jack.’ She explained as fast as she could and then passed a hand wearily across her forehead. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘We stop pussy-footing around with her for a start. Let’s have her in.’
He moved to the door and shouted Amy’s name, unable to disguise the anger in his voice.
‘Yes?’ Amy said as she entered the kitchen.
Brenda heard the arrogance in her daughter’s voice and exploded in sudden fury, sweeping her arm back and cracking her hand across her daughter’s face. Amy fell against the table and stared up at her mother, her blue eyes now a definite shade of green and full of tears.
She said nothing, just slowly stood and looked at her parents.
‘Sonia Dawes.’
She still said nothing.
‘I said Sonia Dawes,’ Brenda snapped at her. ‘And wipe that expression of your face or so help me, I’ll… I’ll…’
‘What?’ The word was said quietly.
Suddenly the anger drained out of Brenda. She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, her head in her hands. ‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t want her to go to Wadebridge. She’s a toad.’
‘A toad, is she?’ Jack felt he had to step in. ‘So you think she’s a toad? I wonder just what she thinks you are, young lady. I imagine it’s something much stronger than toad. Bully, to start with. Then there’s thug, cheat and intimidation’s hardly a nice word. Personally I’d rather be thought of as a toad.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Almost,’ Jack said. ‘If I ever hear of anything like this again, it won’t be your mother who hits you. Just bear that in mind. You will keep as far away from Sonia Dawes as it is possible to be and we shall be having a word with both Mrs Carey and Mr. Mawson to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’ She turned and walked out of the door, her cheek glowing fiercely with a vivid handprint.
Jack looked at Brenda and held out his arms.
‘Come here,’ he whispered, ‘let me hold you.’ Her shame at this first outpouring of anger against Amy since the attack was total and absolute and she sobbed into her husband’s shoulder, grief overwhelming her at last.
When Amy understood that she was probably the only one who would be going to win a scholarship to Wadebridge Grammar, she decided she would go for it. As her mother had said, it all depended on how Amy felt on the day and on that day Amy felt good.
‘You can buy the uniform, Mum,’ she said on her arrival home after sitting the exam. ‘I’m going to Wadebridge Grammar School.’
What she didn’t say was that no one at the grammar school would know her past and that was exactly what Amy wanted.
6
1956-1959
John and David were on the periphery of Amy’s world for several years, as her self-appointed guardians. For the first two years after the attack she was, at various times, subjected to taunts, cross-examinations and general harassment. It never seemed to mature to anything serious; John and David protected the young girl and eventually all the kids learned to leave her alone.
Sometimes Brenda despaired of her daughter ever learning to trust men again. When she saw the pain on her husband’s face every time Amy denied him closeness, she ached for him.
Brenda and Jack dug up a joint strength. At odd times they found themselves considering the possibility of having another baby, partly to give Amy something to focus on and partly to give them some relief from the nightmare that haunted them. But deep down they both knew that it wasn’t right to have a baby for those reasons and so the subject was finally dropped from minds and conversation.
As Amy grew and began to learn about physiology and the basic differences between men and women she finally understood the dreadful tragedy that had befallen her. The pain was now dulled, the mental scars not so traumatic but when other girls giggled about having babies she would walk away and leave behind the subject her mind refused to handle.
“Thingy” became a word relegated to her childhood only to be superseded by penis; she hated it when she heard her peers talk of pricks. Prick was a word for giggling adolescents and Amy had had her adolescence taken away from her. At six years old she had grown up.
She tolerated school. After passing the Eleven Plus examination she put her brain on hold and did the minimum necessary to retain her position at the grammar school. The only compulsory subject she truly enjoyed was English; she had a voracious appetite for all the rules and regulations covering the language. Her writing continued but apart from essays she had to hand in, nobody ever saw any of her work.
Pat Rivers was Amy’s best friend. They had been thrown together on the first day of grammar school and had remained together. She hadn’t needed to tell Pat about the assault because she had, as expected, been the only one to go to the Wadebridge Grammar School. All her other friends were going on to the new secondary modern school. Pat had only recently moved into the area and Amy closed her mind to the past by making friends with someone who couldn’t possibly know about it.
In looks, Pat was a complete opposite to Amy. Short dark hair framed a face that had an almost elfin look with very dainty features, highlighted by dark brown eyes. Around four inches shorter than Amy, she was nevertheless the leader of the duo.
They had many things in common – a love of classical music, a degree of expertise with the flute and a natural ability in English. Together they marched through their first two years, during which Pat never understood Mrs Andrews’ reluctance to allow Amy out of her sight.
Amy was thirteen when matters took a turn for the worse. One day Sonia Dawes appeared in her class. The colour drained from Amy’s face.
‘You ok, Amy?’ Pat whispered. Amy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. ‘You don’t look ok,’ Pat persisted.
‘Bad head.’ Amy hoped Pat wouldn’t pry; she needed to work out how to handle the situation.
‘What do you think of the new girl?’
This time the whisper drew the attention of Miss Calvert and Amy was thankful that further discussion was out of the question – for the moment.
During the lunch hour she couldn’t avoid Pat’s comments. The new girl was a topic of discussion amongst everyone in the class.
‘The funny thing is,’ Pat spoke thoughtfully, ‘she seems to know you.’
‘We were at junior school together.’
Pat stared at her friend. She sensed a tension in Amy that had been there all morning but didn’t know how to react to it.
‘But… you haven’t even spoken to her…’
‘Why should I? She wasn’t a friend. I just knew her. I don’t know why she had to come here anyway. She didn’t want to when we took the Eleven Plus.’ She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and briefly closed her eyes.
‘You okay?’ There was concern in Pat’s voice.
‘I’ve told you, I have a headache.’
‘So you say. It appeared at the same time as Sonia did, didn’t it? Don’t you like her?’
‘She’s alright. I told you – I never had much to do with her.’
‘Well, she’s walking this way. Must be going to speak to you.’
The colour drained from Amy’s face and she bent to pick up her satchel.
‘I’m going to the sick room, see if I can get an aspirin.’
‘What’s up with her?’ Sonia’s voice was acerbic.
Pat looked at Sonia then turned to watch Amy as she ran across the tennis court.
‘She’s not very well. Headache. Gone to get a tablet.’
‘I bet it was because she didn’t want to speak to me.’
‘Why wouldn’t she want to speak to you?’ Pat had the feeling she was about to defend her best friend.
A sly, crafty look passed over Sonia’s face.
‘She knows, she knows. Just tell her I remember, will you? She won’t find it quite so easy to frighten me now. I’ve just spent two years at a lot tougher school than this and I know how to look after myself. You make sure you tell her, okay?’
She turned and walked away from an open-mouthed Pat.
For three weeks Amy managed to avoid being in Sonia’s company. She knew it couldn’t carry on – Sonia’s eyes were constantly on her, a permanent promise of trouble.
It was at the end of a P.E. lesson that Sonia finally broke the tension.
‘Had any good fucks lately, slag?’ It was said in a whisper, meant only for Amy’s ears.
‘What?’ Amy’s eyes widened in horror.
You heard me. Thought what happened might have given you a taste for it. I suppose friend Patty knows all about it, does she?’
‘I…’
Sonia grinned at Amy’s discomfiture.
‘So that’s the score, is it? Nobody here knows? No wonder you didn’t want me to pass the exam. Well, well, well. Little Miss Bully – I knew I’d get my own back one day.’
‘No!’
‘Just watch me… hey, Pat! Come here, I want you!’
Amy stared in mute misery as Pat Rivers walked across the changing room holding a towel around her that was far too small.
‘Please…’ Amy whispered.
‘Hey, Pat – wanna know a secret about little Amy here?’
‘Amy? A secret?’ Pat grinned. ‘Is it sexy?’
Sonia shook her head then looked at a white faced Amy.
‘Nope. Not sexy. The secret is that I used to be frightened of her and now I’m not,’ and she turned and walked away.
‘What is that girl on about?’
Amy shrugged her shoulders.
‘Haven’t a clue. Forget her. I told you she was a bit peculiar.’ But the hatred and fear became even more fixed in Amy’s mind.
The school trip to gather species of wild flowers growing in the hills around Polzeath pro
ved uneventful until the skies began to darken. Even dark thundery weather couldn’t mar the beauty of this spot. Situated right on the coast with a massive beach stretching a long way beyond the confines of the village, it was the perfect spot for surfing and Amy had always loved coming here with her parents. She would rather not have come on this chillingly atmospheric afternoon.
Amy could see two teachers conferring and knew they were talking about the weather and the imminence of rain. She pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head and began to climb the tricky path leading to the very top of the cliff-side, The stones were loose beneath her feet and it would be more dangerous once the rain started.
‘Slow down, Pat’ she called and Pat halted momentarily.
‘Not likely,’ she responded. ‘Let’s get these flowers gathered and get off the side of this hill. Daft exercise anyway,’ she grumbled. ‘We’re going to get wet through. This biology lesson should have been in the classroom, not on a bloody hillside with fifteen fed up kids.’
As she spoke they felt the first drops followed by a loud shout from one of the teachers.
‘Quickly girls and boys! Let’s get this over with and back to the coach.’
‘Quickly girls and boys, let’s get this over with and back to the coach.’ Amy heard the words mimicked from close behind her and recognized Sonia Dawes’ voice
She stiffened and turned her head. The other girl was climbing awkwardly, almost on all fours. Amy laughed softly to herself.
‘Well well, the great tough Sonia – can’t climb a little hill like this.’
‘This is no little hill,’ Sonia panted. ‘And I’ve twisted my ankle.’ She reached forward with her right hand to grasp at a small outcrop of rock as Amy stepped backwards.
Sonia gave a small cry of pain as she felt her fingers crack under the pressure of Amy’s heavy walking shoe.
‘Bastard,’ she moaned and brought her left foot up to take the strain as she tried to remove her hand from under the shoe. The ankle injury was worse than she thought and wouldn’t take the extra pressure applied to it.
