A Little Learning

by Anne Bennett

  Janet looked at the blistered ridges that had appeared overnight and pulled away from the doctor’s grasp. ‘I fell over,’ she said again. ‘Auntie Breda told you about the state of my clothes.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dr Black, ‘but Auntie Breda’s not here now and you can tell me what really happened.’

  ‘I told you.’

  ‘Janet, I’m not a fool,’ the doctor said impatiently. ‘Who did this to you?’

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Someone’s hit you with a cane or something,’ Dr Black said. Despite his impatience, he understood Janet’s reluctance to speak out: she wasn’t the type who was often in trouble and was probably ashamed that she’d been punished.

  Janet looked at the doctor. She’d known him all her life. She wondered what would happen if she was to tell him everything. She gave an involuntary shiver. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  She stared at him and said decisively, ‘I fell over.’

  Dr Black sighed. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘have it your own way. But you’ve got dirt in it. If you don’t want it to fester, it will have to be cleaned and dressed.’

  By the time Breda came down, Dr Black was winding a bandage expertly around Janet’s hand.

  ‘Young Janet got some dirt in that cut on her hand,’ he said by way of explanation to Breda. ‘Have to keep it out of the water for a day or two.’

  ‘What some people will do to get out of the washing-up,’ Breda said with a smile at Janet.

  Janet was too nervous to smile back. She’d been worried what the doctor would tell Auntie Breda and was grateful to him for saying nothing. Her hand felt much better, though it had stung like mad when he was cleaning it. But the ointment he’d dabbed on it was soothing and now it felt much easier, protected as it was by the thick wad of bandage.

  Duncan, much to his disgust, was dispatched with a shopping list later that morning. Seeing the sulky droop of his lips Breda said sharply, ‘Don’t even bother complaining, Duncan. Janet is more help to me in the house, and anyway, she can hardly carry heavy bags with her sore hand.’

  He went, only slightly mollified. Being unused to shopping, it took him even longer than it did Janet, and when he’d finished he turned for home gratefully. He was aware of his grumbling stomach and knew it must be nearly lunchtime. As he turned into Paget Road, the rain began. The early April shower was cold and stung his face, and he bent his head against it. Suddenly he cannoned into someone whose own view was obscured by the umbrella they were battling with. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t see … oh, hello, Miss Wentworth.’

  ‘Hello, Duncan.’

  Claire saw the bulging bags and realised that he’d been kept at home to help. She’d hoped that was the reason Janet was away too. ‘How’s your mother?’ she asked. Duncan looked at her in astonishment. Although news on the estate travelled like wildfire, usually teachers were excluded from the inner circle of gossip.

  ‘I called at the house yesterday,’ Claire said, seeing Duncan’s surprise. ‘Janet left school in such a rush, she forgot her coat and bag.’

  Duncan’s eyes narrowed. Janet hadn’t left school in a rush. She’d arrived at Breda’s after him. But this wasn’t the time to go into it. He was aware of the rain seeping into his coat, despite the umbrella Miss Wentworth held over them both.

  ‘My mom’s all right,’ he said. ‘She had a baby girl.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘She’s in a special baby place,’ Duncan said. ‘The doctor came round and told us. She’s sick but the doctor seems to think she’s a fighter.’

  He fidgeted a little. The bags were getting heavy. ‘I gotta go,’ he said. ‘The shopping!’

  ‘Yes,’ Claire said, ‘of course.’ Then added, ‘Is … is … Janet’s hand better?’

  Now, how did she know about Janet’s hand? Duncan thought.

  ‘She says it feels easier now the doctor’s dressed it,’ he said. He watched carefully to see what Miss Wentworth’s reaction would be to his words.

  He wasn’t disappointed. Miss Wentworth started, her eyes seemed to grow larger and her voice was a mere whisper as she said, ‘A doctor! She had to see a doctor?’

  ‘No, he came round, I told you,’ Duncan said. ‘To tell us about Mom. He saw Janet’s hand and said she’d got dirt in it and he cleaned it and put ointment and stuff on and a bandage.’

  ‘She’d got dirt in it?’ Miss Wentworth repeated.

  ‘Yes, from when she fell over,’ Duncan said.

  ‘From when she fell over?’

  Duncan wondered if Miss Wentworth was going deaf or daft. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That was how she hurt it, wasn’t it?’ He wondered again how Miss Wentworth knew. Had she seen her fall or what? Or maybe one of the kids had said? It wasn’t important. His arms felt as if they were breaking and he dared not put the bags on the soggy ground. ‘I really must go,’ he said.

  ‘Of course. Tell your sister I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Just tell her.’

  Duncan’s face was creased in a frown. He was certain Miss Wentworth was going loopy. It’s all that studying, he thought, enough to turn anyone’s brain. He was even more certain of this when Miss Wentworth continued, ‘And tell her she’s sure to hear any day now about the examination results.’

  ‘But … well, she knows, doesn’t she?’ Duncan said. He’d read the thing himself, for heaven’s sake, and he knew Miss Wentworth must know. He’d been sent to the factory to tell his dad, and when he got back his mom said Janet had ridden over to tell her teacher. He looked at Miss Wentworth and wondered if she’d had a knock on the head. She was staring at him as if he was the one who was odd, her eyes narrowed in disbelief and her mouth agape.

  ‘She … she can’t know,’ she said at last. Her mind didn’t want to accept it.

  ‘She does know,’ Duncan said emphatically. He didn’t like being disbelieved. ‘I picked up the letter and opened it because she wouldn’t, and it said she’d won a scholarship to Whytecliff High School. They went to see the school as well on Monday, Janet and our mom. Auntie Breda said that’s what brought the baby so early, with Mom not being well and then …’ He broke off and said to Miss Wentworth, ‘Are you … are you all right?’

  The colour suddenly drained from Claire’s face and she swayed on her feet. She felt light-headed and tears swam before her eyes. It felt like the ultimate betrayal. Why, for God’s sake? Why? her mind screamed. Perhaps, she thought, Duncan might be mistaken. She doubted it, but she had to know, and she had to get rid of Duncan before he reported that he’d seen Miss Wentworth bawling her eyes out in the street. ‘I’m perfectly well,’ she replied stiffly. ‘I have just remembered something I have to do in school and I really mustn’t keep you any longer.’

  Duncan watched her walk away and shook his head. Queer kettle of fish, teachers, he thought. Nice as ninepence one minute and pulling rank the next, going all stiff and starchy. To hear Janet talking, you’d think Miss Wentworth was a blinking saint, but she was as bad as all the rest and crackers into the bargain. Less you had to do with teachers the better, he decided.

  Claire’s legs were shaking as she walked into the school. She went straight to the headmaster’s room, knowing he was away for the day, picked up the phone and asked to be put through to the education department. As she listened to the girl’s voice at the other end explaining that the letters had been sent out of the office on 24 March, she realised that Janet Travers had indeed won a scholarship to Whytecliff High School but for some reason had not had the decency to inform her teacher.

  She didn’t understand. She thought she knew Janet so well, but the girl seemed to have undergone a character change. Claire was willing to admit she’d hit Janet harder than she’d ever hit anyone before. In fact, she’d hit her because she was Janet Travers. She’d taken her insolence as a personal affront and overreacted.

  Janet obviously hadn’t mentioned it at home, but that wasn’t unusual. Claire used the cane and th
e strap sparingly, but when she had occasion to resort to it the boy – it was usually a boy – took his strokes with good grace, usually knowing that he’d well deserved it. No one ever mentioned getting in trouble at school to their family. They knew they would get little sympathy, and probably another dose to remind them to behave better in future.

  In the same way, no child would say what they’d seen Miss Wentworth do to Janet, for they’d have to explain why. When their parents heard the reason for her discipline, they would think the punishment justified. It was Claire herself who was having doubts.

  In the worry of the Travers household that day, where the mother lay ill and in grave danger of giving birth to a premature child, little notice would have been taken of Janet’s hand. When the doctor had spotted it, she’d obviously told him she’d fallen over. He must have known she was not telling the truth, but that was the story she must have stuck to, for it was all Duncan knew.

  Claire wondered whether, if she’d sent the child from the room in the beginning, when she was still in control of her emotions, Janet would have told her what had upset or offended her, for it was obvious to Claire, thinking it over now, that something had.

  I need to talk to her, she decided, and I must do it this evening after school.

  Duncan dumped the bags on the cupboard top by the sink and said, ‘I’m starving, and these bags weigh a ton.’

  Auntie Breda laughed. ‘Come up to the table, your dinner’s ready. Your dad’s been round and said your mom’s looking a lot perkier, so the news is good.’

  ‘And the baby’s holding her own too,’ Janet said.

  Duncan didn’t really care about the baby, but he wished that everything was over and he could go back home. He didn’t mind Breda, despite her bossiness, but he’d rather be at home, and he even thought he’d rather be at school than being sent shopping and looking after his little brothers and Linda all the time. The thought of school brought to mind his strange meeting with Miss Wentworth. ‘I met your teacher coming home,’ he said to his sister.

  ‘Did you?’ Janet’s response was guarded and cool. She didn’t ask what she’d said, or how she was. Duncan was still puzzling over this when his aunt asked, ‘Did she wonder at you not being at school?’

  ‘No, she knew, I mean about Mom. She asked about her.’

  ‘How did she hear?’

  ‘She said she went to the house yesterday after school.’ He looked across at Janet and said, ‘You left your coat and bag behind and she took them round.’

  ‘That was kind of her,’ said Aunt Breda. Janet and Duncan looked at each other. Janet thought that Aunt Breda hadn’t been a mother long enough to worry over a child losing a coat.

  ‘She asked about your hand as well, Janet,’ Duncan said. ‘She asked if it was all right.’

  ‘Did she?’ Janet’s eyes were trying to tell Duncan something. Asking him to be quiet. He ignored the pleading look.

  ‘She said to tell you she’s sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ Aunt Breda said.

  ‘That’s what I asked her,’ Duncan said, ‘and she said just to tell Janet sorry.’

  ‘She must have seen you fall,’ Breda said, but her mind was distracted because just at that minute, Noel almost tipped what remained of his dinner over his lap.

  ‘I’m putting these little ones down for a nap,’ Breda said, ‘so you two deal with the dishes, and Duncan, you’ll have to wash.’

  ‘Are we going home tonight?’ Janet asked.

  ‘I’ll see how the land lies,’ Breda said. ‘I’ll pop and see your dad. If you can’t, I’ll have to phone in to work. They won’t like me taking another night off, but they’ll have to lump it.’

  Janet knew her aunt’s words were mere bravado. Twilight shifts were like gold dust to mothers, enabling them to bring money in without paying most of it out again in childcare. No one could afford to jeopardise their job by taking days off all the time.

  Duncan waited until Breda left the room and then began swirling the soapy water in the bowl over the plates. Suddenly he turned to face Janet and said, ‘Why didn’t you tell Miss Wentworth you’d passed the eleven-plus?’

  Janet could think of nothing to say, no excuse. ‘I … I did,’ she said.

  ‘Miss Wentworth said you didn’t,’ Duncan said. ‘She was upset, I think.’

  Janet knew she had to tell Duncan something. ‘I … I went but she had someone with her, a friend. I’d not seen her before and I didn’t want to say anything in front of her, so I came away.’

  ‘You could have gone again.’

  ‘I didn’t know how long the friend would be staying. I thought I’d wait till I got to school.’

  ‘But you didn’t tell her then either,’ Duncan said. ‘She knew nothing.’ He stared at Janet for a minute, and then, because he knew that in some way it was connected, asked, ‘What really happened to your hand, Janet?’

  Janet pondered the question. Many of the kids in her class had older brothers and sisters in the secondary school and would tell them about yesterday’s incident, especially as it was Janet who was caned. It was only parents they’d be wary of informing; and they’d take particular pleasure in telling Duncan. In fact, she thought, probably the only reason he doesn’t already know is because he wasn’t at school today. If she didn’t tell him now and he found out from others, he might, from spite, fling the knowledge out in front of her gran, Dad or Auntie Breda. Again she gave her version of the truth.

  ‘Miss Wentworth gave me the cane,’ she said.

  Duncan’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He’d had the strap a few times, and a couple of strokes of the cane, usually well deserved, and he’d accepted it as one of the trials of growing up. Girls seldom had corporal punishment administered. He stared at Janet.

  ‘Don’t tell, will you?’ she said.

  ‘What do you take me for?’ Duncan said scornfully. ‘But what did she give you the cane for?’

  ‘Cheeking her.’

  ‘You cheeking Miss Wentworth?’

  ‘Yes,’ Janet burst out angrily. ‘What d’you think I am, a saint or something?’ She sighed and added, ‘I wasn’t at school Monday, was I? I didn’t tell Miss Wentworth I’d be away, but Mom thought I had so she didn’t send a note. Then I was late because Mom felt bad and I had to go and fetch Gran round to see to the twins. I was a bit worried about Mom and when Miss Wentworth went on about the note I gave her some cheek and she gave me a couple of strokes of the cane and sent me out of the classroom.’

  She stopped there. No way was she going to say she’d run away – he’d think she was feeble – and she wasn’t going to tell him how many strokes of the cane she’d had either, or how bad her hand was. He might think flogging her hand for cheek was excessive, especially if he’d seen the seeping open wounds on her palm and fingers. She blessed Dr Black and his concealing dressing as she went on.

  ‘Anyway, that was it really, or would have been if I hadn’t fallen down on the way home and cut my hand and got dirt in, and you know the rest.’

  Duncan doubted he did. He knew Janet a sight better than Miss Wentworth did, and he was certain he wasn’t getting the whole truth. He also knew that if he talked to her till the next morning he’d get no more. She’d always been stubborn. He thought of asking her why she’d left her coat and bag behind but knew she’d come up with some other plausible lie, so he didn’t bother. He knew he’d got some of the truth, and it certainly explained Miss Wentworth’s strange behaviour earlier that day. Neither of them spoke of it again, and when Breda came back and said they were to return home that day, they were both pleased.

  ‘Your gran’s coming in to see to you,’ she said, ‘because you won’t be able to cook meals and things till your hand’s mended, Janet. And you’ll be going back to school tomorrow. You know how much store your mom puts by education!’

  Duncan made a face, out of habit. For once, he was looking forward to going back more than Janet. She had a cold pit of dread in the base of he
r stomach every time she thought of it.

  Mrs McClusky hadn’t yet arrived when the knock came on the door. Janet was by herself. Bert had gone to buy flowers for his wife and taken Conner and Noel with him, and Duncan was out somewhere. When she saw Miss Wentworth on the doorstep, she wasn’t even surprised.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ she said, and Claire walked past her into the room, where they stood apart like two combatants. Neither spoke, and the silence became uncomfortable. Claire felt she should apologise for hitting Janet so hard, but she also felt that Janet should apologise and explain why she’d not told her about passing the eleven-plus. Eventually the silence became too much for Claire, and she said:

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve just come like this?’

  ‘No,’ Janet said. ‘Duncan said he met you. I almost expected you.’

  ‘He told me your mother’s had a baby girl.’

  ‘Yes, she has.’

  ‘You … you must be pleased,’ Claire said. Janet was being deliberately terse and unhelpful.

  ‘Not really,’ Janet said. ‘I told your mother but she didn’t believe me. No one wanted this baby.’

  ‘Oh, but I’m sure …’

  ‘You didn’t come to talk about any baby, did you?’ Janet said. ‘Nor my mother either.’

  ‘Janet, why are you like this?’

  ‘Like what, Miss Wentworth?’

  ‘So antagonistic,’ Claire said. ‘What have I done, what has happened between us?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’re like a different person.’

  Janet shrugged.

  ‘Oh, Janet,’ Claire burst out, ‘why didn’t you tell me you’d passed? You must have known I’d want to be told straight away.’

  ‘I came to tell you,’ Janet said. ‘It was a week ago today, the morning after my party, when the letter came. Mom told me to go straight round and I cycled over after breakfast.’

  ‘Was I out?’