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by Michelle Magorian


  ‘I promised I wouldn’t say,’ Lance muttered. He looked hastily at his Housemaster. ‘We didn’t do anything wrong, sir. Except...’ He faltered.

  ‘Yes?’ said the police quietly.

  ‘I stole some sandpaper from the woodwork room.’

  ‘Anything else?’ said the policeman.

  Lance shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I took it, sir,’ he said to the teacher. ‘She did try and give me money so that I could buy it, but I couldn’t get it because I didn’t go into town.’

  ‘What did my daughter want sandpaper for?’ said Peggy shakily.

  ‘She mended this table. One of the ends was broken, too, so she sawed offboth ends to make it even. She wanted to sand it, and round the corners, before painting it.’

  ‘My daughter mended and painted this table?’

  He nodded. ‘And the stools. She painted the walls and did the stencilling and fixed the shelves up and dried out the books and…’ He paused. ‘She called it her Cabin in the Woods.’

  Peggy was shattered. She had had no idea that her daughter was so talented. She had honestly believed that she was doing the best for her by making her give up art and gymnastics, in order to take extra Latin, French and maths, for she saw university as the only alternative to the cooking course her husband had planned for her. It horrified her to realize that she had behaved in the same way towards her daughter as her parents, mother-in-law and husband had behaved towards herself. So many people all expecting her to be what she wasn’t, all attempt- ing to prevent her from doing what she wanted, as if the act of her wanting anything was a selfish crime. Even now, the little work she did for the W.V.S. was disapproved of. Instead, she was expected to sit at home and receive people.

  ‘She taught me how to make fires,’ Lance mumbled, ‘so I wouldn’t get the cane so often. I helped her a bit with her Latin. It was a sort of swap. She said her Latin mistress hated her, and she had to catch up with Latin because –’

  ‘That’s not true,’ interrupted Miss Paxton hurriedly.

  Lance blushed. It was obvious that he hadn’t realized who she was.

  ‘The girl was just insolent. Believe me, I tried my best with her. You can see by all this,’ she said, indicating the Cabin, ‘what a deceitful, uncontrollable creature she is.’

  Peggy ignored her. She gazed intently at Lance. ‘Was she very unhappy?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And you?’

  He nodded again. ‘It’s my fault really,’ he began. ‘I told her I wasn’t coming here again and we had a quarrel. I’d made friends with someone else.’ He turned to the Housemaster. ‘Will I be expelled?’

  ‘That’s for the Headmaster to decide.’

  ‘Please, sir, I don’t mind being caned, but please…’

  ‘I’ll put in a good word for you,’ he said gently. ‘But you must tell the police where you think she might have gone.’

  Just then the sound of someone running very fast through the grass and across the hallway made them all turn sharply.

  The door was flung open, and there stood a red-faced prefect. ‘She’s come back,’ she panted. ‘She’s at school. She’s with a Mrs Hatherley.’

  Peggy stifled a cry. ‘Oh, thank heaven,’ she whispered.

  They were a strange crowd walking through the woods.

  Lance took the lead, as he knew the trail signs that Rusty had laid, and it was a better route. His Housemaster strode firmly by his side. The policeman, the prefect, Peggy and Miss Paxton followed. The latter two did not even look at each other but stared silently ahead, both angry for different reasons.

  When they reached the school wall, the policeman turned to the Housemaster.

  ‘I don’t believe we need trouble you any more, sir. I think it might be wiser to take the boy back to school. We’ll be in touch.’

  The Housemaster nodded. ‘Come along, Brownlow,’ he said.

  Lance looked up at Peggy. ‘Will you tell Rusty something for me?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘Will you tell her I didn’t mean all those things I said about girls?’

  Peggy nodded.

  Lance turned, his head bowed, and he and the Housemaster set off down the sloping field.

  As soon as they were approaching the school gates, Peggy had a strong desire to run towards the building, just to catch a glimpse of her daughter. For a moment she remembered her, aged seven, a timid child bound for America, a small suitcase in her hand and a label on her overcoat. And she remembered, too, the anguish she had felt as the tiny girl had joined the other children and then turned back to wave; how she had been unable to say, ‘Goodbye, Virginia’; how the words had stuck in a lump at the back of her throat, for it was as though her heart was breaking into a thousand tiny pieces and she didn’t want her daughter to know. She just wanted her to be safe.

  Now, as she walked slowly up the school drive, a harsh

  gust of wind blew suddenly across the grounds, so that the group staggered a little from the shock of it.

  Peggy noticed the scaffolding. ‘Miss Paxton,’ she said quietly, ‘how far up are the windows to the dormitories?’

  ‘Virginia’s dormitory is at the back of the building,’ Miss Paxton replied evasively.

  ‘But how far up is it?’

  ‘Second set of windows down from the roof

  Peggy gazed up. It was a terrific height. And to think her daughter must have climbed up and down it, in the dark, in her night attire, night after night. She realized even more acutely how desperate Rusty must have been to have taken such a risk. At times she must have frozen on that scaffolding.

  They approached the arched front entrance to the school. In the panelled hall she could see two figures seated on chairs. She strode quickly towards them and gazed down at her daughter. She was shocked. Virginia had lost at least ten pounds in weight.

  Rusty stared at her trapper cap, which she was twisting in her hands.

  ‘She was at your place,’ said Mrs Hatherley. ‘I didn’t force her here. She had already decided to come back.’

  ‘But why didn’t you phone? I’ve been at my wits’ end.’

  ‘She was in a terrible state last night. I’ve never seen anyone so cold. I thought I’d wait until she’d had a good night’s sleep and let her tell me her side of things before phoning. I phoned several times this morning, but the line was engaged.’

  ‘My mother-in-law,’ muttered Peggy.

  ‘So we came here to straighten things up at school.’

  The policeman cleared his throat. Peggy had quite forgotten there were other people present.

  ‘I won’t say anything to the young lady, ma’am,’ he began. ‘Looks like she’s learnt her lesson. Looks like she could do with a good meal and all.’

  Miss Paxton pursed her lips. ‘I’ll have a talk with Miss Bembridge,’ she stated, and with that she and the prefect walked up the stairway.

  Peggy knelt down in front of Rusty and took hold of her hands. They were icy. She squeezed them.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me how unhappy you were?’

  ‘Because you looked unhappy, too,’ Rusty whispered. She glanced up quickly. ‘I’m awful sorry,’ she blurted out. ‘Everything just happened one on top of the other, and when they said they were going to take the scaffolding away, I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to go to the…’ She stopped.

  ‘The Cabin in the Woods?’

  Rusty looked surprised. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘Lance told me.’

  ‘Lance?! But how? I mean… I never squealed on him. Did he squeal on me?’

  ‘You left a note for him, remember? All the police had to do was to make inquiries at the boys’ schools around here for someone called Lance. It didn’t take them long to find him.’

  ‘But how did they find the Cabin?’

  ‘Soon after you were reported missing, the police began searching the area. They came across the bombed house fairly quickly, and inside was your no
te.’

  ‘Mother,’ she said frantically, ‘will Lance get expelled?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. His Housemaster seemed awfully kind. I think he’ll stand by him.’

  ‘I did try,’ Rusty murmured, ‘but every time I was friendly with someone or got interested in class, it all turned out wrong.’

  Peggy smiled sympathetically. She turned to Mrs Hatherley. ‘Ruth?’

  ‘Don’t say anything. Beth and Harry are holding the fort. We’re more than pleased to help out.’

  ‘Do you want to stay overnight? I can put you up.’

  She shook her head. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll be gettin’ on back.’

  Just then the prefect came down the stairs. ‘Mrs Dickinson,’ she said, ‘Miss Bembridge would like to see you and Virginia upstairs.’

  Rusty hauled herself to her feet. ‘Thanks for everything, Mrs Hatherley.’

  Ruth Hatherley gave a dismissive wave.

  ‘I suppose we’d better go and face the music,’ said

  Peggy-Rusty nodded, and together they followed the prefect up the stairs.

  It was all over very swiftly. There was nothing her mother could say that would change Miss Bembridge’s mind. Rusty was to be expelled. She listened silently as the Headmistress described her as quick-tempered, wild, deceitful, a bad member of the community, but, more than that, a thoroughly bad influence. Expressions like ‘boy-mad’ and ‘a threat to decent young girls’ came thundering across her desk. Rusty couldn’t believe she was describing her. She knew that she had done wrong, and she was sorry, but she was quite prepared to turn over a new leaf.

  And then, amazed, she watched her mother grow angry. ‘It was quite obvious that my daughter was unhappy. Just look at her,’ she said. ‘She’s underweight and thoroughly ill. Surely her Housemistress or a teacher must have seen that something was wrong?’

  ‘I believe,’ butted in the Headmistress, ‘that all is not as it should be at home, Mrs Dickinson. I have been having a long and interesting conversation with both your husband and your mother-in-law.’ She paused. ‘I think it’s a case of like mother, like daughter.’

  ‘And what do you mean by that?’

  Miss Bembridge glanced aside at Rusty. ‘There are certain subjects I prefer not to discuss in front of a child. Although I suspect, since this escapade with the boy, she is probably a child no longer.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Rusty. ‘What does she mean?’

  Her mother took her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘She looks quite the young innocent, doesn’t she?’ commented Miss Bembridge.

  Peggy rose angrily to her feet. ‘Is that all you have to say?’

  Miss Bembridge sat stonily erect, her hands clasped. ‘No. I suggest that if you wish to correct your daughter’s behaviour, it would be in her best interests if she were put into a convent school. A strict one. Your husband agrees with me.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Peggy stiffly. ‘I presume, unlike her former principals, that you won’t be writing anything favourable in her school report.’

  ‘I think that rather unlikely.’ She stared at Rusty, her face white with suppressed anger. ‘Never, in all my years at Benwood House,’ she said hoarsely, ‘has a girl disgraced herself and the school in such a despicable manner.’ She stood up. ‘Matron will send on your daughter’s trunk. Meanwhile I would appreciate it if your daughter would collect as many of her belongings as possible.’ She glanced disdainfully at Rusty’s attire. ‘I would also appreciate it if she left the school grounds in the Benwood House uniform. A prefect will be outside to escort her to the dormitory.’ And with that she indicated with a curt nod that they should leave.

  It was the same prefect who had shown Rusty around as a new girl on her first day. ‘Hi,’ said Rusty quietly.

  ‘Hello,’ the girl answered, her face reddening. ‘I’ve been told to take you to the dormitory.’

  Rusty followed her up the stairs, dazed. It felt odd walking through the drab brown corridors in her jeans and sneakers, like walking into church in a bathing suit. They walked on quickly, neither of them speaking.

  In the dormitory, while Rusty changed her clothes, she realized, as the baggy green gymslip hung from her shoulders, that this was the last time she would ever put on the Benwood House uniform. She remembered all the coupons her mother had saved so she could buy it, and she felt guilty. She put the tie under her collar and knotted it.

  ‘Is it straight?’ she asked.

  The prefect looked startled. ‘Yes,’ she stammered. She stood yards away, as if Rusty had some infectious disease.

  While Rusty stuffed her grip with clothing, the prefect hovered awkwardly in the background, until suddenly she blurted out, ‘Are you going to have a baby?’

  Rusty whirled round and stared at her.

  ‘I mean,’ the girl added, red-faced, ‘did you, you know, do anything with that boy?’

  ‘No. We were just friends,’ said Rusty. ‘He was evacuated to the town where my American grandparents live.’

  ‘But didn’t you, you know, do anything?’ the prefect continued. ‘I mean, you can tell me.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Well, it’s going around the school that you actually spent whole nights with him’ — she swallowed — ‘in your pyjamas. Is that true?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Well, doesn’t that mean,’ she whispered, ‘that you’re going to have a baby?’

  ‘You don’t get a baby just by talking with a boy in your pyjamas,’ said Rusty.

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  The girl shook her head.

  ‘Look, can’t you ask someone to explain it all, or get a book or something? I don’t feel like going into it right now. O.K.?’

  Rusty froze for an instant, realizing what she’d said. ‘I can say O.K. for as long as I like now, I guess. Well, until they send me somewhere else.’ She gave a weary sigh. ‘Let’s go.’ And she picked up her grip and headed towards the door without a backward glance.

  Her mother was sitting on a chair in the hall at the foot of the staircase. Seeing Rusty, she rose quickly and they stepped outside into a bitter February afternoon. As they walked down the school drive, Peggy gazed silently into the distance. Rusty wished her mother would speak to her. She figured she must be awful disappointed with her and very ashamed.

  ‘Mother,’ she began.

  ‘Yes?’ Peggy said, still gazing ahead.

  ‘You know me and Lance? Well, we never did anything mushy. We weren’t going steady or anything. Honest.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I had no friends at school, see. I was lonely. I just wanted a buddy, that’s all.’

  Her mother stopped and put her arm around Rusty’s shoulders. Rusty slipped her arm around her waist.

  ‘Mother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m awful sorry about what I said about Harvey. I guess...’ She hesitated. ‘Were you lonely too?’

  Her mother gave her a light squeeze. ‘Dreadfully.’

  They both quickened their step. Once clear of the gates, Peggy suddenly gave a relieved smile.

  ‘And do you know something?’ she said. ‘I don’t regret a single minute of our friendship.’ And she gave one of Rusty’s plaits an affectionate tug. ‘He made me laugh.’

  They resumed walking, Rusty running to keep up with her.

  ‘But what about me?’ she blurted out. ‘Aren’t you mad at me? Aren’t you ashamed of me? I mean, my life is ruined now, and…’ She paused. ‘Mother? What are you doing?’

  Her mother had hitched up her skirt and jumped over the ditch, towards the bushes.

  ‘I’m going back for your carpentry tools.’

  ‘Oh, Mother!’ Rusty said, breaking into a smile.

  But she could get no further. She was too happy to speak.

  ‘Come on,’ Peggy said. ‘You’ll have to come with me. I need you to show me the way.’


  34

  Rusty sat on the window-seat in what used to be Beatie’s bedroom and gazed out at the garden and river. It was a morning in May. She leaned back in the alcove and hugged her knees, drinking in the sunlight that flooded through the windows. She had loved this room ever since she had first seen it. Now it was her very own.

  She hadn’t had time to do much to it yet, but even just removing the blackout curtains and that revolting dark wallpaper had made an immediate difference. She and her mother had filled in the holes in the walls and had sanded them all down, and her mother had offered to help paint them, once she was able to get hold of some pale distemper. And then Rusty could stencil away to her heart’s content.

  In the centre of the room was a dark wooden bed with her patchwork quilt on it, and on the wooden floor her rag rug. The room had – what would Aunt Hannah say? Potential. That was it.

  She wished her father had come to live in the house too, but her mother explained to her how he wanted things to be just the way they were before 1940 and, as she said, she couldn’t start pretending she was the same person as she had been six years ago. That was something Rusty understood. It would be like her parents wanting her to be a seven-year-old when instead she was almost a teenager. But all the same, she did feel sorry for him, for in spite of his anger she reckoned he was missing something. Every day, Rusty was discovering that her mother was really a lot of fun. She was just a little shy, that was all.

  It was now two months since Rusty had been expelled. She was at last beginning to put on weight again, so that her jeans hung from the waist instead of baggily from her hips.

  After her return to her father’s house the atmosphere had been so taut she had hardly dared to breathe. More fights followed, interspersed with periods of polite and uncomfortable silence, and her grandmother insisted that she remain either out of sight or constantly guarded. Again, she was treated as if she had some contagious disease. She had learnt very quickly that expulsion had brought shame on the family, and there was talk of sending her away as soon as possible to a convent boarding school. Her mother had simply said no, she was to go to a day school; but her grandmother and father stated that no day school would accept her, that she was marked for life, and that they’d just have to be very grateful if they could find a strict convent school that would be willing to take her on.

 

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