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by Michelle Magorian

  And so it went on, until one day, when her mother was out with Charlie, her father had called her to his study and had informed her that he and her mother were going to separate and that she could either choose to go to Devon with her and Charlie, or stay with him. And even as Rusty stood there, stunned, she saw the hurt in his eyes.

  ‘But if I stay with you,’ she had said, ‘you’ll send me away again.’

  And he had said yes, he would, so that she would have another chance.

  He hadn’t even waited for her to reply. He said that he could see what her answer was, and that she had better realize that he would ‘cut them off without a penny’.

  And Rusty had said, ‘But why don’t you come to Devon, too?’

  It was out of the question, of course.

  Once back in Devon, though, the sadness wore off a bit. She was still surprised by the lush greenness of the place and the soft air. But it had been her visit to the school on the Estate that had made the real difference.

  She had been staggered when her mother informed her that she had made inquiries about her becoming a pupil there, and that the Head would like to meet them both.

  Rusty dreaded the meeting, for her mother had already told him of her expulsion. She had been totally unprepared for the short, balding man in his fifties with the spotty bow-tie and old jacket. She had watched him light up his pipe, and had liked him instantly. When he spoke to her, he encouraged her to speak, and he listened as if he really wanted to know about her. The other teachers she met were like that, too.

  When she and her mother finally left the school, knowing that she had been accepted, they caught each other beaming and had burst out laughing.

  ‘It wasn’t as bad as I thought,’ Peggy had said.

  ‘It wasn’t for me, either,’ added Rusty.

  And now here it was. Her first day. It would have been nice if she’d been with Beth in the Senior Section, but since she knew she would be spending the summer term in Harry’s group in the Middle School before transferring with him in the autumn, she had started to spend more time with him. Beth was always up at the school farm anyway, helping out. Mrs Hatherley said jokingly that she thought Beth would be quite happy to stay there as a boarder.

  Peggy yelled up the stairs. She still called her Virginia, but Rusty was getting used to having two names.

  She flung open the door and nearly tumbled over a bucket on the landing. She glanced at the cracked ceiling. Her mother had actually started getting the wheels in motion for having the roof fixed. The only snag was lack of money. She guessed that all her mother’s savings were going towards paying her and Charlie’s school fees.

  She leapt down the stairs and went flying out through the front door. Charlie was sitting in the back-seat of the Bomb, bouncing impatiently up and down. His hair had grown back so that he looked like a little boy again, not like a convict out on parole. He leaned over the front seat and beeped the horn. ‘O.K., O.K.,’ said Rusty, breaking into a run. ‘Boy,’ she said, sliding in next to her mother, ‘I’ve never seen anyone so eager to get to school.’

  Charlie started singing a made-up song with a tune that changed constantly and went something like ‘Going to see the rabbits and the mice, and the mice and the rabbits, and the rabbits and the mice’.

  ‘What’s he talking about?’ asked Rusty.

  The engine gave a bang before subsiding into a loud rumble.

  ‘Pets’ Corner!’ yelled her mother.

  ‘I’m going to a. proper school now,’ said Charlie, standing up and leaning on the seat.

  ‘We won’t be going to any school,’ said Peggy, ‘if you don’t sit down. I can’t see through the back window.’

  Charlie sat down with a bump. ‘Can you see now?’ he said.

  ‘Wonderfully.’

  She backed the rattling machine out of the garden and on to the dirt road. Rusty sat back and rattled with it.

  ‘I’m a wibbly wobbly wibble,’ sang Charlie. ‘I’m a wobbly wibbly wobble.’

  At last the car bumped out on to the small road and they were on their way.

  Rusty still couldn’t help feeling nervous. That Headmaster and the other teachers had seemed so friendly that she began to wonder if she had dreamt it all. Maybe they had been nice to her because her mother was around, and,

  as soon as she’d left her there, they’d all start picking on her.

  ‘I’ll see if I can get hold of a second-hand bicycle,’ said her mother. ‘Then you’ll be able to come back home independently.’

  ‘That’d be swell,’ said Rusty eagerly. ‘I like your English bicycles.’ She swallowed. ‘Sorry. I mean our English bikes.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Peggy. ‘I think you’ll always be half American.’

  Rusty leaned back and stared out of the window.

  ‘I wonder if I’ll feel all English, or all American, ever,’ she murmured.

  ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do you think you can belong to two countries?’

  ‘Perhaps. Sometimes it’s an advantage. You can stand in one and look back at the other from a distance. See things more clearly.’

  ‘Is that what happened to you when you came to live out here?’

  Her mother nodded.

  ‘How come Father didn’t, then, when he went away?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because that house is all he’s ever known.’

  ‘Too bad it wasn’t bombed.’

  ‘Yes,’ said her mother sadly. ‘I must admit that thought had entered my head.’

  Just then Charlie piped up, ‘Are there going to be any more bombs, Mummy?’

  ‘No. The War’s over now.’

  ‘Are we nearly there?’

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘Do you think,’ whispered Rusty, ‘Father will come here, I mean, you know, on vacation?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ She reached over and squeezed Rusty’s knee. ‘But I expect you’ll be able to go and stay there sometimes.’

  Rusty made a face.

  ‘It won’t be so bad,’ said Peggy. ‘Give it time.’

  ‘I guess. At least I’ll know I’ll be coming back here.’

  Her mother smiled.

  As soon as they had reached the Estate buildings, Peggy turned down the lane that ran opposite the archway.

  Rusty could feel her stomach’fluttering. ‘Do I still have to take Latin?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s up to you.’

  Rusty swivelled round in her seat.

  ‘I really do get to choose what I study?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Crumbs!’

  Peggy burst out laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You. That’s the first time I’ve heard you say crumbs.’

  Rusty grinned. ‘I guess I picked that up off Harry.’

  ‘Yes. Plus a few riper words, I’ve noticed.’

  She had hardly stopped the car when Charlie scrambled out of the door and started running.

  ‘We’re almost there, aren’t we?’ said Rusty quietly.

  Her mother nodded.

  While Charlie raced on ahead, she and her mother sauntered at a more leisurely pace. Rusty noticed that her mother was looking thoughtful.

  She stopped and placed her hand on Rusty’s shoulder. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘there’ll still be restrictions here. I mean, rationing will go on, the food won’t be as good and plentiful as it is in America, materials of all kinds are in desperately short supply, and you’ll have to start all over again trying to make friends.’

  ‘I know it.’

  They approached a long grey building. The top half of the house was constructed of planks of wood that overlapped one another. The bottom half of the house was grey stone.

  ‘Clapboard!’ exclaimed Rusty, pointing at the wood. ‘Like in New England.’

  ‘Yes. You’ll probably find the odd American influence around,’ explained her mother. ‘The couple who bought the Estate and
started the school – one of them was American. And your Headmaster used to be head of a school in America, I believe.’

  Eventually they saw her school. It was a large house that stood opposite the three boarding houses. Rusty loved the shape of it. The walls went all in and out and, high up, a row of small sheltered windows lay tucked under the eaves of the roof. Suddenly she caught sight of a boy in an old shirt, shorts and sandals. There was no mistaking who he was. No one else she knew had ears that big. She waved.

  By now she was conscious of other children running around chattering and laughing, and she began to feel extraordinarily shy. As she and her mother stood awkwardly on the path and two ten-year-olds hurtled by them on roller skates, Rusty stuffed her hands into her Windbreaker pockets.

  Harry strolled over towards them.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  He grinned and gave an exaggerated bow. ‘I’m your escort.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I’m going to show you around. Make you feel at home. That sort of thing.’

  Rusty had hardly opened her mouth to speak when a strange rattling sound caused her to turn. She gave a gasp, for there moving towards them was the most peculiar-looking car she had ever seen: it had no roof at all; the front was squarish in shape, while the back tailed to a point like the end of a boat, with long wooden panels of varnished teak. There were two curved windscreens in the front and another, longer one for whoever sat in the back. The large wheels with their narrow tyres had big spokes in them. Two horns protruded from below the radiator, and a thermometer stuck up at the top. It had no doors, and the square bonnet was held down by a leather strap. Seated happily behind the wheel was the Headmaster. As the car slowed to a stop, it gave a few little putt-putt sounds from a large curved exhaust pipe at the back. The Headmaster gave Rusty and her mother a wave and then climbed out.

  ‘Hello,’ he said warmly. ‘Thought I’d come and see you as it’s your first day.’

  ‘You mean,’ said Rusty, hardly able to keep from laughing at the car, ‘you mean you came specially to see me?’

  He nodded and took a pipe out of his jacket pocket. Within seconds, two small girls had coming running up. One flung her arms around him.

  The Headmaster said nothing out of the ordinary to Rusty, yet he made her feel very welcome. He seemed happy to see her and pleased that she’d come to the school, and he didn’t put on an act that he was doing her some great favour that she had to be eternally grateful to him for, having been expelled from her other school.

  Harry tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘I’ll give you a quick look at a couple of the classrooms and the library,’ he said, ‘and then we can go down to the river. I’ll show you the Pet Shed and the farm, and then introduce you to the rest of the teachers and your tutor later on.’

  They strode around towards the back of the house. Out of the corner of her eye Rusty noticed a couple of children staring at her. She wanted to say, ‘Hi,’ but after two terms of getting a bad response at her other school, she found herself ignoring them.

  They peered into a sunny classroom at the corner.

  Three children were leaning casually on a long wooden table, where a tall slim woman appeared to be having a conversation with them. She looked up and waved.

  ‘Hello, Rusty,’ she said.

  ‘I’m just showing her around,’ said Harry.

  Rusty drew herself shyly away from the window and walked hurriedly on. Harry soon caught up with her.

  ‘How did she know my nickname?’ she said.

  ‘I told her.’ He looked concerned for a moment. ‘I mean, that is what you like being called, isn’t it?’

  Rusty nodded.

  Harry took her along sunny corridors and up the stairs to the library, which was shabby but so warm and homey. Wooden shelves filled with books went all the way up to the ceiling, and the sun cascaded into it. The long woven curtains hung in ribbons, and the carpet wasn’t just threadbare, it had holes in it. One boy was sitting in an armchair, his bare legs hanging over one arm. So absorbed was he in the book he was reading that he didn’t even look up when they walked in.

  Rusty and Harry peered out of the large windows at the sloping green fields flecked with buttercups and daisies.

  ‘You know,’ she murmured, ‘I could just spend all day looking out of the window here. It’s so pretty.’

  They strolled down the stairs and stepped outside while Harry told her about the hour of useful work that everyone had to do before classes. ‘It can be whatever you like,’ he said. ‘It can be on the school farm or in the gardens, or log carrying or sweeping, or you can help mend the books. We learn bookbinding here as well as printing.’

  ‘Do I have to do that now?’

  ‘No, not on your first day.’

  As they turned the corner of the house, Rusty let out a groan. ‘Oh no!’ she cried.

  The bonnet of the Headmaster’s car was now folded back, and he and her mother were leaning over it, deep in discussion.

  ‘He’s mad about old cars,’ said Harry.

  ‘And my mother’s nuts about engines.’

  Her mother looked up. ‘I thought I heard your voice,’ she said. ‘Guess what? I’ve been offered a job on the Estate.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’ yelled Rusty. ‘Doing what?’

  ‘As a mechanic. They need someone to help out with maintenance here.’

  Rusty shook her head in disbelief. Her mother laughed, and she and the Head returned to engine gazing.

  ‘I’ll show you the woods,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve got a hut there. I’ll show you Folly Island too.’

  Rusty grabbed his arm. ‘Say,’ she breathed, ‘I just realized. If my mother has a job here on the Estate, then that means she won’t have to pay fees, doesn’t it? Like your parents?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘That means I can stay here. Period. Zowee!’

  They broke into a run. Two boys were standing by the path. ‘Hello, Harry,’ they said.

  Harry joined them. Rusty stood by his side.

  ‘Hi,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Hello!’ said one of the boys. ‘Are you American?’

  ‘I was evacuated out there.’

  ‘Have you only just come back?’

  ‘Oh no. I went to another school first.’ She felt her face growing hot.

  ‘I like your jeans,’ said the other boy.

  ‘Me too,’ added his friend. ‘They’re American, aren’t they?’

  Just then a girl passed by. She was barefoot and wore a loose green frock. Her blonde hair stuck out wildly. Rusty glanced at her. The girl stared back. Her intense blue eyes were far from friendly. She scowled. ‘What’s so bloody special about American jeans?’ she snapped. ‘Bloody America.’

  Rusty felt her mouth drying up. ‘I didn’t say they were special.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said the girl. ‘You wouldn’t. I suppose you’re used to them.’

  ‘Come on, Rusty,’ said Harry.

  He seemed so cheerful, as if the blonde girl had said nothing more than ‘Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?’

  Rusty walked numbly beside him towards a small opening in the trees, aware only of the ground becoming less grassy, more earthy and more blurred.

  Harry slid down a small slope. Rusty stumbled after him. The other two boys had gone on ahead.

  Harry touched her gently on the arm. ‘Don’t mind her,’ he whispered. ‘She didn’t mean it. She had a letter a few days ago from her parents. They’re getting divorced, and ever since, she’s just been picking on everyone.’

  Rusty looked at him, startled. ‘Wait there a minute,’ she said, and she turned and sprinted up the slope.

  The girl was walking away in the other direction.

  ‘Hey!’ yelled Rusty. ‘Hey, you!’

  The girl whirled around. ‘What do you bloody well want?’

  ‘We’re all bloody going down to the bloody woods to bloody Folly Island. Why do
n’t you bloody well come too?’

  The girl gazed hastily down at the ground. Rusty could see that the sides of her mouth were twitching. She gave a nonchalant shrug and, against her will, her face collapsed into a smile.

  ‘All right,’ she said, and she ambled towards Rusty.

  Harry was still waiting for them below. He grinned up at them. As they slid together down the slope to join him, Rusty put her arm around the girl’s shoulder.

  ‘My name’s Rusty,’ she said. ‘What’s yours?’

  * * *