by Carys Jones
Tilly sank further into the lukewarm water. She didn’t want to rush her bath. To do so would edge her one step closer to the following Monday morning and the first day at a new school. Her stomach churned uneasily at the thought.
As much as she wanted to stay in the tub she knew her sister would make good on her threat and come barging in, allowing all of the trapped warm air to spew out on to the landing. With a sigh, Tilly climbed out and wrapped herself in a grey towel which had once been white.
The storm for her sailors had now cleared and there were only blue skies ahead as they continued their journey to the Kingdom.
Tilly did her best to delay going to bed. She dried her hair by the fire and watched television with her mother while she did the ironing. She offered twice to hoover or do some washing up but Ivy just shook her head and smiled.
‘Try to relax,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.’
Frowning, Tilly tried not to think of the printed class schedule shoved into the front pocket of her bright pink backpack. A day of science and French awaited her. But it wouldn’t just be the classes that were unfamiliar. It was all going to be foreign. She’d be walking down corridors she’d not seen before amongst a sea of unknown faces.
She’d passed by her new school numerous times when her sisters had required collecting or dropping off. It was a huge, grey building which cut an ominous shape against the sky. It looked more like a prison than a school.
It was easy to imagine that the school was an elaborate castle for some villain. To Tilly it was obvious that nothing good could reside within. It was as if it had been built out of a dreary Wednesday afternoon. Everything about the school embodied drudgery and dismay.
‘Mum, do I really have to go?’ Tilly asked her mother in the vain hope that perhaps her parents had changed their minds and decided to recognise her as the princess she truly was.
‘Yes, you really have to go,’ Ivy stated, her eyes never leaving the handsome man who had appeared on the television screen.
Tilly made a sound of disappointment.
‘It’s only five years; it’ll be over before you know it.’
Five years. Tilly felt her throat start to constrict. Five years felt like a lifetime. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how long that really was, but it felt infinite.
Tilly’s spirits failed to rise as she climbed the familiar path to her tower. She was thankful to lie down and try to imagine herself somewhere far, far away. But despite the darkness, the street light just beyond her window was on and it shone bright enough to illuminate the outline of shapes gathered around the room. Tilly could make out the uniform hanging on her chest of drawers. It had no colour in the darkness but it looked just as awful as it did in the harsh light of day. She didn’t want to wear it, didn’t want to attend the school where her sisters already went. They knew their way around, where to avoid, and who to make friends with but they wouldn’t share such hard-earned secrets with Tilly. She knew they expected her to fend for herself just as they once had.
How had the summer holidays slipped by so quickly? Tilly thought that six weeks would last forever. Yet the days had grown sharper and trees were already starting to cautiously shed their leaves. Autumn was growing closer and with it, the start of a new school year. All Tilly wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry herself to sleep. She wasn’t ready for this adventure, for this meteoric change about to occur. She needed to be the princess in the tower, safe and far removed from the real world.
But her dreams didn’t come to save her. Instead, she gazed bleakly at the shadow of her waiting uniform before she finally fell asleep.
A Pumpkin for a Carriage
‘No way,’ Monica shook her mane and pursed her glossy lips.
‘Yeah, Dad – not happening,’ Maria agreed.
Tilly stood awkwardly beside them on the street outside their house where her dad was waiting in the family car. She tentatively eyed their uniforms which, whilst the same as hers, looked wildly different on them.
Monica had rolled up the sleeves of her jumper and wore silver bangles on her wrist which gave a musical tinkle each time she gestured. Her regulation trousers seemed to pinch in tightly at the waist and give her a flattering silhouette. She wore heavy black boots and her dark hair cascaded down her back like a gothic waterfall.
Maria had also made alterations to her uniform. Her tie was short and fat instead of long. Her hair was gathered atop her head in an oversized bun and studs lined the length of her ear. Both sisters had on too much eyeliner, which made any dark looks they gave even more sinister.
In contrast, Tilly wore her brand new uniform exactly as the regulations stipulated. Her tie was tucked into the band of her trousers, she wore flat black ballet pumps with black socks, and her brown hair was pulled into a long plait. The only flair of individuality she’d dared bring to the outfit was her bright pink backpack adorned with a glitter-infused image of a smiling princess.
Tilly had heard her sisters scoff in disapproval when they saw it. They both carried more fashionable shoulder bags adorned with badges which publically announced which TV shows and bands they favoured.
‘I’m giving you girls a lift to school,’ Clive repeated. ‘I don’t have to be at work until nine so come on, get in.’
Tilly immediately approached the car but her sisters remained rooted where they stood.
‘No.’ Monica was shaking her head, her eyes wide.
‘No offence, Dad, but I wouldn’t be seen dead in that thing.’ Maria added with a lift of a perfectly-shaped eyebrow.
The family car was by no means a Porsche. It was a much more humble model and time had not been kind to it. Most of the paintwork had been replaced by the deep red of rust and its design was so old that you had to wind down the windows and lock each door individually.
‘Stop being precious,’ Clive scolded, growing impatient. ‘It’s Tilly’s first day.’
‘Seriously, you’d be better off walking,’ Monica told her. Tilly felt like she was about to be torn in half. One part of her wanted to climb into the musty-smelling car like her dad wanted, but another, more timid, part of her wanted to listen to her sister and heed her advice.
‘Yeah, roll up in that banger and it’s social suicide,’ Maria agreed, folding her arms across her chest.
‘Fine, walk, whatever,’ Clive sighed. ‘But Tilly doesn’t care about silly things like being popular. You just want to get to school on time, don’t you, sweetheart?’
Tilly looked up at her father. She could see the tense lines around his eyes though he was trying to smile. If she walked away now she knew he’d feel like he’d lost all of his daughters to adolescence. Without saying another word she climbed in the car.
‘Your funeral.’ Monica waved a hand at her, her bangles providing a soft accompaniment to her words. Arm in arm, her sisters turned away from the house and began walking down the street, their heads bent in close as they gossiped about the day ahead.
‘You’ve always been the sensible one,’ Tilly’s father smiled at her as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
‘You changed your shift at work on purpose, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ Clive gave a sad smile as he turned the key in the ignition. After repeating this several times the engine reluctantly spluttered to life.
‘Your mum wanted one of us to see you off on your first day.’
‘Is she still sleeping?’ Tilly glanced back at their house and the largest window upstairs where the curtains were drawn. She wondered if she willed it hard enough they might part and her mother’s smiling face would appear to wave her off. But the curtains remained drawn. It was strange that her mother wouldn’t get up to see her off. At breakfast, everyone else had been so busy pretending it was normal for her to sleep in that Tilly hadn’t dared to question it.
‘Yeah, she is. She’s just a bit run down.’
‘There are a lot of colds going around,’ Tilly commented. Something about
what she’d said made her dad smile.
‘What?’
‘Sometimes you’re very much my little girl. And other times you say things that make you sound so grown up.’
‘What’s grown up about what I said?’
‘Nothing.’ Her dad shook his head as he turned out of their street. ‘It’s just what I’d expect to hear from someone at work, not my little girl.’
Tilly leaned back contentedly in her seat, ignoring how rigid and uncomfortable it felt. She liked it when Dad called her his little girl. There was something safe and comforting about it.
The drive to school only took ten minutes. As the car weaved through town it passed near the centre of Dullerton, which had once been thriving but was now mostly derelict. It had been in its prime several decades ago. Tilly often heard her parents reminiscing about how things had once been. How the town used to feel lively and busy and that there was always enough work. Now jobs were scarce and the town was slowly succumbing to decay. Each time someone left Dullerton they never came back –they had no reason to.
The car paused at the traffic lights and Tilly looked out through the smeared window and saw the local park where she’d blissfully spent hours as a child. Back then it had felt like a sprawling wilderness, an enchanted forest. At the centre of it there was a glittering gold carousel which Tilly could ride for the price of an ice cream. She loved getting inside one of the ornate carriages and going round and round as the carousel music played. Each time she passed her mother she’d wave wildly as she pretended that she was on her way to a royal ball. The horses became free from their poles and galloped beside her carriage, their manes flowing in the breeze. The sound of hooves thundering against the ground could be heard from miles around. People would lean out of their windows and exclaim that the princess must be coming.
But like the rest of Dullerton, the carousel had fallen on hard times and had ceased running several years ago. Now nature was doing her best to reclaim it. Weeds sprouted up within the carriages and trees greedily stretched their long branches underneath the main canopy.
From the car, Tilly could make out the raised dome of the carousel in the park. It wasn’t as bright as it had once been. Years ago it had glittered as brightly as a star, blinking out to nearby children to take a ride. Now the dome had been dulled by time and weathered away to a shadow of its former self. She raised her fingertips against the window and looked out longingly towards the park. How she wished she could climb into her carriage and be swept away to a faraway Kingdom.
‘I forgot how bad the school traffic can be,’ her dad moaned as he managed to find a space and haul the car onto the curb. The pavement was a sea of green as hundreds of students congregated together like migrating birds heading towards the great stone structure which loomed before them.
‘Dad, do I have to go?’ Tilly sunk into her seat. She felt sick, as though she’d taken one too many rides on her beloved carousel.
‘I’m afraid so, Tilly,’ her dad said as he leaned over her to open her car door. The morning air gushed inside, offering a brief respite from the overwhelming musty odour which lingered in the car.
‘I don’t want to,’ Tilly announced stubbornly, clutching her backpack to her chest as though it were a shield.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, but you have to. Besides, your mum will want to hear all about your day later. You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?’
Tilly chewed her lip as she looked over the dashboard at the ominous building. It was a black hole on the landscape. Once someone went in youthful and brimming with optimism they never came back out the same way.
‘Come on, Tilly, I need to move the car. Other people want the space.’ An angry edge had crept into her dad’s previously warm tone.
‘OK.’ Tilly forced herself to leave. She positioned her backpack firmly on both shoulders before waving farewell.
He offered her only a brief nod, his attention already consumed with manoeuvring out into the throng of traffic.
Taking a deep breath, Tilly forced herself to walk in the same direction as the other green jumpers. People were talking excitedly, catching up on their summer adventures. Tilly scanned the crowd for something she could draw comfort from – perhaps another bright pink bag with a smiling princess on it. But all the students around her were like her sisters. They even smelled like them, as though a florist had collided with a sweet shop.
‘You can do this,’ Tilly told herself. All she’d wanted to do was cry. Ever since breakfast when her mum had failed to materialise, she’d yearned to curl up atop her tower and never come back down. She’d needed to see her mother’s face, to hear her soft voice.
‘Hey, watch it.’ A ginger-haired boy wearing too much hair gel turned and scowled at Tilly as he fiercely pushed past her. Tilly’s cheeks started to burn but she managed to keep walking. As she approached the green iron gates she was shoved a few more times. People pushed her aside like she was nothing more than an unwanted condiment on the table. After one particularly forceful encounter, Tilly almost lost her footing.
Finally she reached the main yard and started to spot the occasional familiar face – students also embarking on their first day. Tilly felt a wave of relief sweep through her. She wanted to run to them, to skip over to Kate, Sophie, and Claire and ask how their summer had been, just as she’d heard others do on her walk to the gate. But they didn’t look like they had at junior school. Tilly stopped short when she noticed their sleek new hairstyles and shoulder bags they had casually slung across them. Gripping the straps of her own backpack she remembered how they used to tease her for being childish. Would they seek her out only to mock her in her pristine uniform?
‘Oh, Tilly.’ It was too late. They had spotted her. It was Kate who had addressed her. She had eyes the colour of ice and was just as cold. She tossed her white-blonde hair over her shoulder and not very discreetly nudged Sophie standing beside her. Sophie already towered above her friends and she gazed down at Tilly with a sinister smile.
‘Hey, Tilly.’
‘Hi.’ Tilly hovered nervously. She felt them crowd around her like witches before a cauldron.
‘Nice backpack,’ Kate laughed cruelly. ‘We’re in secondary school now, Tilly. You might want to think about growing up a bit.’
The others cackled and Tilly edged away, her hands tightening against her bright pink straps. More than anything she wanted to be in her tower, where no one could get to her.
As the day wore on, it didn’t improve. Tilly attended registration where she was handed a worryingly vague map of the school and her timetable. Each minute of the day was accounted for, boxed away into the neat little spaces. Tilly swallowed down her sense of dread as she read through her weekly schedule. She’d be studying science, French, mathematics, English language and literature. All the subjects blurred into one giant, never-ending box of allocated studying time.
Pushing her timetable away, Tilly tilted her head to gaze outside through the large window she was sat beside. It was hard to tell where the grey sky ended and the tarmacked sea of the playground began. They blended together seamlessly, making the entire landscape look like it was doused in a dense fog.
Tilly wondered what was happening back at her old school and her heart tightened in her chest. She’d liked her junior school. The walls were painted vibrant shades of the rainbow and the building was spread out over one level – there were no one-way staircase systems to navigate. Tilly’s best friend, Josephine, had been there. Together they’d discuss what books they were reading. On weekends they had sleepovers and watched their favourite Disney films back to back.
When summer started, Josephine and her family moved away. Her dad had taken a job in London. Tilly angrily knotted her hands together as she bent her head towards her chest. Josephine might as well have moved to the moon. If only she was there with Tilly, then this new, big school might not seem so scary.
‘Let’s see what classes you have.’ Tilly had unwillingly ended up sa
t beside Kate, who had dropped down beside her just as the bell rang, her two cronies to her right.
Kate reached for the timetable with her neon pink nails before Tilly could protest.
‘Ooh,’ Kate cooed dramatically as she showed the piece of paper to her friends.
‘Someone’s a swot,’ Sophie commented.
‘Am not,’ Tilly mumbled, refusing to look at them.
‘You are too!’ Kate insisted in her annoyingly shrill voice. ‘Look at this,’ she jabbed a nail at the timetable, ‘you’ve got higher maths and English.’
‘Swot,’ Sophie repeated with a smug smile.
‘Give that back,’ Tilly ordered, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. Kate’s blue eyes sparkled teasingly but she thankfully relented and handed Tilly her timetable back.
‘You can be such a baby,’ she said with a roll of her eyes as Tilly shoved the paper inside her backpack.
‘Girls,’ a stern voice boomed from the front of the class. They all straightened up in their seats and looked towards the whiteboard where Miss Havishorn was standing, her hands on her large hips. Her red-stained lips were drawn in a tight, angry line.
‘You’re supposed to be writing down what you want to achieve during this academic year, not talking amongst yourselves. Gossiping can wait until break time.’
Miss Havishorn was to be Tilly’s form tutor. She was a plump woman with permed hair and pretty eyes hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses. When Tilly had first seen her she had hoped she would be kind, but the moment one of the unruly boys in the class spoke out of turn, Miss Havishorn showed she was a force to be reckoned with.
Furtively, Tilly pulled her notebook from her backpack, along with her pink pencil case on which several princesses were pictured. She heard Kate snicker when she saw it but refused to give her the satisfaction of reacting. Tilly pulled out one of her favourite pens and looked down at the crisp, new page in her notebook.
