Staverton

by Caidan Trubel

  I smiled and looked out at the pitch-black night as we rolled up the hill to Freddie’s cottage. I told him about the dance, trying to make it sound as though I’d made an effort to be sociable.

  Chapter 7

  Slipping back into life at St. Catherine’s turned out to be harder than I expected. Most of the other girls stared and whispered behind my back, and I wasn’t sure whether they were talking about the death of my parents, or gossiping about the fact I was now a scholarship kid, a charity case.

  Caroline was brilliant though, she talked to me as if nothing had changed and furiously confronted anyone she suspected of gossiping about me.

  I was determined to make the best of this opportunity and worked much harder than I had at my previous years at the school. I’d come close to missing out once, and I wouldn’t let that happen again. I completed my application to St. Andrews University and received a provisional acceptance, now I just needed to meet the required grades.

  Sometimes, I had to get away when the other girls were talking about their families, or when parent’s evening rolled around. I made a habit of strolling in the school’s gardens whenever things got too much. It was the only place I could get the peace and quiet to remember my parents, without someone demanding to know why I looked so sad. Occasionally, I would see Jason, the gardener, but he never spoke to me, only smiled.

  I phoned Freddie once a week and went back to Scotland for the Christmas and Easter holidays. I missed him and Bert when I came back down to St. Catherine’s, but I didn’t miss the lack of TV and lack of shops.

  The year passed quickly, and on the anniversary of the day I’d been told of my parents accident, I sat in the same classroom, with the same teacher. My last exam was tomorrow, and Mrs. Smith offered to give one last revision class to anyone who was interested.

  Caroline looked disgusted when I told her I was going to attend a math revision class when it wasn’t compulsory.

  “Why on earth would you put yourself through a class with Mrs. Smith voluntarily?” Caroline said.

  “It might help. There might be something in the class that is in the exam tomorrow.”

  Caroline groaned, but she went with me to the lesson.

  Now, I glanced at my friend and knew she regretted coming. Caroline sat by the window, with her head resting in her hands. Her eyes were half-closed, and she kept jolting awake, then looking around the room to see if anyone noticed.

  Jason, the school gardener, was outside, fixing the small fence between the walkway and the playing fields.

  I tried to focus on the equations on my revision sheet, chewing on the end of my pen. Mrs. Smith wrote a new equation on the board, and I struggled to work out the solution. Numbers floated through my mind. Maths wasn’t my best subject. I racked my brain for the answer. I had been revising this topic last night, so why couldn’t I remember?

  “Lucy?” Caroline said, keeping her voice low.

  I turned, irritated, and Caroline passed me a note and nodded in the direction of the window. Outside Jason had his back to us, striding away.

  “It’s from Jason,” Caroline said, looking wide awake now.

  I bit my lip and hesitated, before slipping the unread note into my pencil case, and turning my attention back to Mrs. Smith’s workings on the blackboard. I could feel Caroline’s frustrated gaze on me, but I ignored her.

  At the end of the revision session, Caroline made her way over to my desk and stood leaning over it, hands on her hips. “Well, what did it say?”

  I waited until Mrs. Smith bustled out of the classroom before I pulled the note from out of my pencil case. The note was written on cheap, thin paper, with a ragged edge where it had been torn from a pad.

  Caroline tapped her foot as I read.

  “He wants to meet me tonight,” I said and looked over Caroline’s shoulder to the window, but Jason was nowhere to be seen.

  “Tonight? Where? What will you wear? What about that little black top, and jeans. You don’t want to look like you are trying too hard.”

  I smiled, and tried to act as if getting notes from admirers was an everyday occurrence, when truthfully, my heart was hammering. “I’m not going to meet him,” I said, standing up and shoving books into my rucksack.

  “What? But why? He’s gorgeous...”

  “I don’t want to mess up. We’re in the middle of our exams.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything? It’s only a bit of fun.”

  “And what if I get caught? It’s different for you. I won’t have another chance. I was so lucky to get this scholarship. I can’t mess everything up when I’m so close to finishing,” I said.

  Caroline opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it and linked her arm with mine. “All right. I still think you’re crazy though.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So have you thought about what you are doing this summer? A whole six-weeks away from studying before we go off to uni,” Caroline said.

  I sighed. “I need to get a job. I thought I’d stay at Freddie’s and work at The Anchor for the summer.”

  “At the pub? All summer? But you said you’d come to Staverton this summer.”

  “I want to, but...” I shrugged.

  “At least come for a little while. I’m supposed to be doing that stupid piano tour at the end of August that my mother’s organised. Say you’ll come before the tour, just for a little while?”

  I closed my eyes and imagined spending a week in Devon, with Caroline and her family. A proper family. “I’ll speak to Uncle Freddie, perhaps I could come down for the first week of the holidays.”

  Caroline grinned. “Fantastic. We’ll have such a brilliant time I promise, and you’ll see Staverton, finally.”

  A week in Devon would be perfect, and I would still have five-weeks left of the holiday to work at The Anchor and spend time with Freddie. I wanted to see Staverton, the house Caroline spoke about in reverential tones, but most of all, I wanted to be part of a proper family, even if it were only for one week.

  Chapter 8

  Freddie replaced the telephone handset. He’d just finished his weekly chat with Lucy. She telephoned, regular as clockwork, every Wednesday night, and every time he hung up smiling, knowing he had done the right thing by encouraging her to return to St. Catherine’s. But tonight he didn’t smile when he hung up.

  He pulled out a bottle of ale from the cupboard and rattled around in a drawer, until he found the bottle opener. The view from the kitchen window was stunning tonight. He leaned against the worktop and gazed out. The sky, the colour of purple heather, melted into the navy sea, and the scattered clouds reflected various shades of lavender.

  Freddie felt Bert nuzzle against his leg, and he reached down to pet him. Bert had an uncanny way of picking up emotions, of knowing when you needed a bit of company. The dog followed Freddie through to the living room, where Freddie settled in an armchair, his legs stretched out in front of him, and Bert curled at his feet.

  He took a sip of ale. Lucy hadn’t done anything wrong. She planned to visit friends for a week, and after a year of working so hard, she deserved to relax and enjoy herself. But the truth was, he would miss her.

  Lucy said she would still spend most of the summer here, but he wasn’t convinced. If her friend’s family invited her to stay on, then she’d be mad to refuse. They could probably arrange a job that paid better and was more appealing, than working for Bess in The Anchor.

  Freddie glanced over at the pretty, green cushion on the sofa. Lucy embroidered it during the Easter holidays and had given it to Freddie for his birthday. Freddie didn’t know much about that type of thing, but he reckoned she had a talent for it.

  He sighed. He expected too much. There wasn’t much for a girl of her age to do up here. Lucy had her own life, and that was the way it was meant to be. The last thing he wanted to be was a clingy relative. He had chosen not to settle down, not to have a family of his own, so there was no point getting maudlin about
it now.

  Freddie reached down and patted Bert. “Come on, Bert. Let’s go and see Bess.”

  Chapter 9

  I was walking back to my room from the library, with a pile of maths books under my arm, when I sensed someone was following me. I quickened my step, my shoes clipped against the hard wooden floor, which gleamed under the harsh artificial lights.

  It was eight pm, and most of the other girls would be in their rooms, chatting, or watching television in the common room.

  I paused at the door, leading to the courtyard and turned, looking down the corridor. There was no one there. Could I have imagined the sound of footsteps approaching?

  A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been so jumpy, but recently, I’d come to the attention of a vicious clique of girls, who called themselves the glitterati. Stupid name for a bunch of stupid girls. It hadn’t been serious, a bit of name-calling, someone shoving me, or pulling my hair when I had my back to them. Spiteful, petty things.

  There was no one there now. I sighed with relief, pushed open the door and walked out into the courtyard. The students’ accommodation, an old and attractive red-brick structure, was on the other side of the yard. It was a new addition, only forty years old, but it had been designed to fit in with the main school building.

  The courtyard was threaded with footpaths, which were lined with flower beds, planted with a variety of brightly coloured flowers. I took a deep breath, savouring the scent of them.

  Half-way across the courtyard, I heard a noise behind me. I turned and bit my lip. Mary Clark and Cindy Whitaker, two of glitterati’s ring leaders, stood a few feet away.

  Mary smiled. Her thin lips drawing back over her pointed teeth. “What’s the hurry, Lucy? Too good to mix with the likes of us?”

  Cindy cackled.

  I was close to the entrance of the dorm. If I turned and ran, I could make it inside and lock myself in my room before they reached me. But I wasn’t going to run. Not from them.

  “What do you want?” I said, gripping my books to my chest.

  “An apology,” Mary said, and Cindy just laughed again. Obviously Mary was the leader.

  I waited for them to walk up to me. “What for? I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “You stole her boyfriend, Jason,” Cindy said, and then was silenced by a glare from Mary.

  “Your boyfriend? Jason?” I shook my head. “I’m not interested in Jason.” I turned away.

  “Don’t turn your back on me, you stuck-up bitch,” Mary shouted, reaching for my arm. Her fingers dug in, and the books I had been holding fell to the ground.

  I shook off Mary’s grip. Shaking with adrenaline and anger. Even in the red mist of rage, I could see the absurdity of Mary calling me a stuck-up bitch. Over the past few weeks, Mary had been quick to point out how my scholarship, put me far beneath the other girls at St. Catherine’s.

  I took a deep breath and bent down to retrieve my books. “You’re being ridiculous. I –”

  Before I could finish, Mary kicked me in the ribs, not very hard, but enough to send me off balance and graze my knee.

  Anger flashed through me, and I picked up my Algebra text book, the heaviest of my hardback books, and lifted it above my head, intending to hit Mary with it as hard as I could.

  A light dazzled us. Mrs. Smith stood at the opposite end of the courtyard, waving her torch at us. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Nothing, Mrs. Smith,” all three of us replied in chorus.

  “Well, get inside and stop making such a noise.”

  Under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Smith, I gathered my books and followed Mary and Cindy inside.

  I hoped that would be the end of it. Mary and Cindy left me alone when we entered the accommodation building, so I hurried to my room.

  This year, I was sharing a room with a little mousy girl called Beatrice. At the start of the school year, I tried to make friends, calling her Bea, inviting her to watch television with Caroline and me, and encouraging her to join us on trips to town. But Beatrice held back. I wasn’t sure if she simply didn’t like me, or whether she didn’t want to be friends with a scholarship girl. In the end, I stopped trying to make friends and settled for curt nods and abrupt hellos and goodbyes each day.

  Beatrice was sprawled across her bed, flicking through the pages of a magazine, when I returned. I said hello, and Beatrice gave a grunt of acknowledgement and pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose.

  I rolled my eyes and dumped the heavy text books on the desk.

  Beatrice sat up. “Don’t put them there. You’ve put them on top of my revision.”

  I looked down at the desk. Beatrice had covered it with A4 sheets of handwritten notes. “Maybe you could make a little space on the desk for my books. It is supposed to be a shared desk.”

  Beatrice got up and shuffled her notes into piles, muttering under her breath. I decided to go and see Caroline. I opened the door and saw Mary with her hand raised as if she’d been about to knock. Cindy and two other girls stood behind Mary.

  My stomach tightened.

  “Beatrice, get out,” Mary said, and Beatrice scurried from the room without a backwards glance.

  I tried to close the door, but Mary was too quick and wedged it open with her foot.

  “You thought you’d gotten away with it, didn’t you?” Mary said. She reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair.

  I struggled, but two other girls held my arms. Panicking, I kicked out and screamed.

  “Shut up! You stupid cow.” Mary slapped a hand over my mouth, and I reacted instinctively, clamping my teeth down on one of her fingers.

  Mary squealed and pulled away. My arms were held back by two other girls while Mary snarled at me and raised her fist. Her punch connected with the bridge of my nose. The pain was incredible, and I could taste the blood in the back of my throat.

  Mary lifted her fist for another blow, and I flinched.

  Then I saw a hand come out of nowhere to clasp Mary’s wrist. Unbalanced, Mary wheeled backwards and then sunk to her knees.

  It was Caroline. She held on to Mary’s wrist, bending it back until Mary whimpered.

  “What the hell is going on?” Caroline’s voice was barely a whisper.

  The girls, who seemed so menacing a few seconds ago, seemed to shrink in Caroline’s presence.

  Caroline’s family background and money made these girls respect her. Maybe they were even a little afraid of her. She did look scary now. Her face was white and pinched, and her hair was a halo of red.

  “Lucy started it. She stole Jason from Mary.”

  “Mary?” Caroline looked at the girl kneeling at her feet and released her wrist. “You can’t be serious. Why on earth would Jason be interested in that? Look at the state of her. She looks like the back end of a hippo.”

  Mary’s face crumpled, and despite my stinging nose, I almost felt sorry for her.

  After the others traipsed out, I looked in the mirror and gasped. My nose was red and swollen.

  “You’ll have a job explaining that to the teacher on breakfast duty tomorrow,” Caroline said, handing me a box of tissues.

  “Do you think it’s broken?” I said and turned to face Caroline.

  Caroline clasped my chin and tilted my face to the light. “I don’t think so. Do you want me to get the nurse?”

  I shook my head and sat down on the bed.

  Caroline sat down next to me. “Are you sure? You look a bit shaky.”

  “I can’t believe she went for me like that. And the others, helping her, holding my arms. I couldn’t even defend myself.”

  Caroline stayed silent for a few moments, her clenched fists resting in her lap, then she turned to me. “Don’t worry they won’t dare do it again.”

  I shuddered. “We only have a few days left at school. Then I’ll never have to see them again.”

  Caroline gave a tight smile. “Enough time for a little revenge, though.”

  “I don’t want re
venge. I want to forget them.”

  Caroline frowned. “Really? You don’t want to get your own back?”

  I touched my nose and flinched. “No, I want to go to bed and forget about it.”

  Caroline went to get some ice and some painkillers, which helped a little. She snarled at Beatrice when she returned. Ignoring the mousy girl’s spluttering protests that it was her room, Caroline shut the door in her face.

  I was glad. I couldn’t believe Beatrice had left me to get beaten up by four girls. She may have been too afraid to stand up to them herself, but she could have gone to get someone to help.

  The following morning, some of the swelling had gone down, but the bridge of my nose was badly bruised. I covered the bruises with foundation, set with a little translucent powder. I wore my hair down. If no one scrutinized me closely, I thought I might get away with it.

  The conversation hushed as I walked into the dining hall. Obviously, I had been the subject of gossip this morning. I felt a hundred eyes follow me as I walked up to the serving counter and picked up a bowl of fruit salad.

  Caroline sat at a table near the window. She waved me over. The level of conversation in the dining hall gradually returned to normal, and neither of the two teachers on supervision duty noticed my bruise.

  Unfortunately, the bruise darkened as the day continued, and the makeup wore off. Every teacher, for every one of my lessons, asked me what on earth I’d done to myself. I kept my head down and muttered an excuse, involving walking into a door.

  Over the next few days, the bruise went from dark purple, to brown to yellow. Caroline had been right, none of the glitterati dared do anything else to me. I did hear some gossip about Mary, though. A rumour spread around the school that someone had broken into Mary’s room and cut up all her leisure clothes. Apparently, every item of clothing that wasn’t part of her St. Catherine’s uniform had been cut into little pieces. I knew from the looks some of the other girls gave me they suspected I had a hand in it, but I hadn’t. My money was on Caroline.