Our Eternal Curse I

by Simon Rumney

  “You are correct of course, Miss Wagstaff. What must we to do to help the boy live a normal and fulfilled life?” Lord Pishiobury sensed the educator’s unease. Inside, he silently berated himself for verbalizing these ridiculously spiritual ideas. It was just not done for someone of his status to talk of supernatural events.

  The Head Mistress was clearly relieved to hear his Lordship was not continuing with his blasphemy. People had been burned as witches for far less than this kind of behavior fewer than one hundred years before. She was a strong member of the local church and did not like new or radical ways of thinking. In her experience ungodly ideas always confuse people, particularly children.

  In a sobering tone, Miss Wagstaff added, “I am afraid that there is only one answer. Robert must return to school and learn to mingle with the other children.”

  Equally embarrassed about letting herself become carried away in front of a stranger, Lady Pishiobury sat and lamented the fate of her poor son. It did not seem to matter who she asked, the advice was always the same — throw him in and see if he swims or drowns. It hurt to think of Robert struggling alone in a school that clearly terrified him but he simply could not live his life hidden from society.

  In the coach on the way back to the estate Lady Pishiobury looked at her husband and enquired, “What do you think we felt on the day of Robert’s birth?”

  “I have no idea,” he replied, “but I do believe that we should never speak of it again; people will think us strange and that will never do.”

  Lord and Lady Pishiobury prized their elevated status in polite society. They had no wish to be considered avant-garde or freethinking because that was the fastest way to lose friends. Both of them had seen well-established families fall from the favor of their social class for the most mundane reasons and they had no intention of being the butt of anyone’s snide jokes. The subject of Robert’s ethereal beginning became persona non grata and never raised again.

  Shortly after the Pishioburys return to Pishiobury Park, Robert and Nanny listened in disbelief as they were told that he was going back to Spellbrook School. Quite out of character, Miss Parks protested vehemently against what she was being told.

  “We are sorry, Nanny but what do you suggest we do?” asked Lady Pishiobury. “Robert must be accepted into polite society, must he not?”

  Her employer’s words made complete sense but still Nanny continued to argue on Robert’s behalf because she could feel the fear within her little charge as he sat on her lap. “Could we not employ a private tutor for the boy and keep him here until he is old enough to go to the Leys?”

  “What you say is entirely possible,” replied Lord Pishiobury, clearly distressed as he spoke. “We have thought about private tuition but it does not get us over the problem of assimilation. Our fear is that he will arrive at Cambridge in the same condition as Spellbrook. At least we, and of course you, will be able to see Robert every day if he attends the local school. If we mollycoddle him now his problems may recur at the Leys and that will be all the harder for him in the long run.”

  Miss Parks knew that what they were saying was true but she still felt terrible trepidation for her darling little boy. Robert simply looked from one face to the other as he listened to his fate in disbelief.

  Return to School

  Robert understood nothing of his need to fit into polite society and he wept as his Nanny dressed him for school the next morning. He could not believe that he was being sent back to the very place that caused him so much pain and he pleaded in between heart-wrenching sobs.

  “I am so sorry my little darling.” Miss Parks fussed around, trying to look strong for him.

  Robert thought about running away from home to prevent the inevitable, but the prospect of surviving alone away from Pishiobury Park terrified him even more than going to school. As he boarded the coach he felt betrayed by his mother and father who stood at the bottom of the steps waving his departure.

  Looking from the carriage window Robert felt like his unfortunate Aunty Prudence being paraded through Paris before her execution. Upon their arrival at Spellbrook, Miss Parks projected a very cold aura towards Miss Wagstaff and the ever-sensitive boy picked up on her hostility immediately. Robert had lived his life through his Nanny for so long that her antagonism towards the Head Mistress guided his perception of the naturally kind woman. This unfortunate and mistaken introduction would linger with Robert causing a rift between them which would hamper Miss Wagstaff’s many efforts to help him. The kind school teacher who was endowed with a lifetime of teaching experience was determined to build his character but sadly her plans came to nothing because Robert would never let her in.

  As he walked away from his beloved Nanny holding the hand of the woman he had decided to hate Robert felt the feelings of his first day at school returning. After a short stroll and a few supportive words, Miss Wagstaff opened the door of the tiny classroom and entered with Robert. Every child immediately stopped what they were doing to look at the strange boy who had departed so dramatically just half way through their English lesson two days before.

  Looking at his shoes as though they held meaning Robert lacked the courage to lift his head. He felt terribly self conscious and believed that the children were all staring at him in a critical manner. He did not know why he thought that; he did not even think to ask himself why he felt that way; he just knew somewhere deep within himself that he was unworthy.

  “Please excuse my interruption, Mrs Putnham, but young Robert here is returning to your class.” With that Miss Wagstaff turned to face the children and said in a caring voice, “Now children, Robert is a little sensitive and I would like you all to be especially friendly to him.”

  Mrs Doris Putnham looked at Robert with feigned concern. She had been a teacher at Spellbrook Preparatory School all of her working life and she felt both cheated and angry. Forty years of being passed over for promotion to Head Mistress while doing a job she despised took a terrible toll on her psyche. Hundreds of children had passed through her class during that time and all could attest to her unhappiness. Their humiliation had become her only pleasure in life. Growing even angrier than usual Mrs Putnham knew the boy standing in the doorway was going to disrupt her pathetic, yet organized, existence. Smiling insincerely for the benefit of the Head Mistress she said, “Welcome back Robert.” Then, turning to the class she added, “Everyone say good morning to Robert.”

  Without exception the children gave a parade ground response, “Good morning Robert.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Robert noticed that Mrs Putnham was now looking directly at him and she didn’t appear to be especially welcoming. She looked exactly like a woman who had her class interrupted twice in as many days and Robert’s heart sank because he was the culprit.

  After Miss Wagstaff let go of his hand Robert walked slowly to the back of the classroom with his head sagging sadly down. To make sure he did not have to look into the eyes of the other children he followed the line of the well-worn floorboards. When he came to the desk that he recognized by the aged carvings covering its lid, he turned and sat in the wooden chair allocated to him.

  As with his first day, and the morning of his second, Robert stared at the chipped, white porcelain inkwell set in the top right-hand corner of the extremely old, oak desk. Just as then, his fertile imagination created animals and insects within the dark stain where its contents had leached into the grain. He also recreated the wild life at Pishiobury Park within the carved initials on the extremely dark, hardwood top and he found that becoming lost with these creatures made the classroom vaguely bearable.

  At no stage during the course of that day did Robert look up for fear of provoking Mrs Putnham. His tension levels reached frenzy as the angry lady questioned students near his desk then subsided as she moved her vindictive attention to other parts of the classroom. Robert’s anxiety was also heightened by some of the children’s inability to answer her questions correctly. Whenever an answer
was wrong the offending child would be openly vilified or struck on the hand with a ruler and Robert did not possess the mental capacity to survive either of these earth-shattering forms of humiliation. In order to block out the appalling fear of this suspense-filled torture Robert ran through the woods with Louis and Marie. His mental escape was so effective that by the end of that day all aspects of the classroom had been blocked from his senses. So it was almost like waking when Mrs Putnham’s words brought him back to the reality of finding her standing in front of his desk.

  Looking down from a great height she was clearly very unhappy as she snarled, “I am talking to you, you rude little boy!”

  A freezing sensation passed through Robert’s veins as he realized Mrs Putnham was waiting for the answer to an un-heard question.

  “Well what is your answer? Were you paying any attention, boy?”

  Too afraid to admit his lack of attention, Robert groped for an answer to pacify the angry woman and the reply he gave would teach him that lying was an art form worth learning properly. “Yes,” he said in a whimper, but of course he had no idea what the question was and naively left himself wide open for her inevitable rejoinder.

  “Well then, what is the answer? Tell us all.”

  The valuable lesson was of course if you are going to lie, you must have a fundamental idea of what you are lying about. He looked away from her maniacal gaze and before he could fully control the fear which pulsed throughout his body, a pool of warm water appeared on the floor below him.

  “What in heaven’s name do you think you are doing boy?” shouted the red-faced teacher while tugging at his arm. “Go to the Head Mistress at once and tell her what you have done!”

  Mrs Putnham was not smiling but she was enjoyed his pain. She turned to the other children and encouraged them to goad him for his lack of bladder control. “Do you see what young Robert has done children? He has wet himself like a big baby!”

  Robert wept uncontrollably as he followed the same floorboard to the door of the classroom. He did not dare look at any of the children whose raucous laughter cut through him like a knife.

  Upon Robert’s arrival at her office, Miss Wagstaff looked at his breeches and understood immediately what had happened. Taking his hand she said in a gentle voice, “Please come with me, Robert.”

  They walked together hand in hand into a sun-drenched part of the playground and sat on a small brick wall. “Your pantaloons will dry here my dear,” she said feeling his pain completely.

  Robert sat with his head in his hands weeping. Every anxiety-filled emotion in his body letting go at once. He was truly in despair and at such a young age. Miss Wagstaff wondered what could possibly have happened to cause this as she held his quivering body.

  In less than an hour the Pishiobury’s coach pulled to a halt at the front of the school and out ran Nanny. As luck would have it she wanted to be there at the very moment Robert came out of class and Miss Parks was very thankful that she had arrived early. Without saying a word to, “that woman,” as she called her nemesis, Miss Parks clutched the boy into her arms asking, “What have you done to my little darling this time?”

  Without another word to Miss Wagstaff, Miss Parks instructed the driver to pick the boy up and place him in the carriage. This done, they made all haste for Pishiobury Park. Upon her return to the estate Miss Parks pleaded on behalf of Robert but Lord and Lady Pishiobury were adamant. They were determined to bring the boy into society, they felt his pain just as she did but her employers would not hear of shielding their son from his inevitable confrontation with life.

  Lord Pishiobury insisted that, “He must return again and again until he builds some kind of resilience. He is over sensitive and must learn to become more stalwart, he must toughen himself up!”

  Building a defense

  Day after day Robert returned to school and sat in his little chair in a state of fearful concentration. Having learned the shame caused by letting his imagination roam he was determined never to make the same mistake again.

  Mrs Putnham eventually gave up asking him questions after a while because he always knew exactly what she had been talking about. Even she could not find reasons to be spiteful to a child who gave the correct answers so Miss Putnham turned her wrath onto other, less attentive children. She settled for the fact that Robert’s silent concentration created no disruption to her class but was very disappointed that he could no longer be startled into soiling himself.

  After many months of terrible stress-filled days in the dingy classroom Robert accidentally discovered something within himself that changed his life completely. Quite spontaneously he said something funny in the middle of a lesson and his words were inadvertently heard by the children who sat close by. His naturally sharp mind had seen the funny side of a story about a man called Isaac Newton. According to Mrs Putnham, he discovered something called gravity when an apple fell from a tree and hit him on the head. Quite instinctively Robert quipped with perfect comedic timing, “It’s lucky for him he wasn’t sitting under our dovecote,” and the laughter he provoked among his peers felt intoxicating.

  Mrs Putnham immediately turned from the blackboard and looked at the boy sitting next to Robert and fired from the hip, “What may I ask is so funny?”

  “Nothing Miss,” replied Reginald.

  “Do you expect me to believe that you just burst into spontaneous laughter for absolutely no reason?”

  “Yes Miss.”

  Reginald was struck over the knuckles for his insolence and Mrs Putnham ranted about respect for one’s elders. Then, completely worn out by her own tirade she angrily dismissed the children, sending them outside for their morning play-time. Realizing that there was more to the strange boy than met the eye, Reginald walked over to Robert who stood alone in the playground as always. Fearing the worst Robert flinched as he heard the boy ask, “Do you want to play with me and my friends?”

  Robert gave a shy nod and walked over to join the lads in a game of football. These were the elite boys who all others in his year looked up to and their acceptance gave Robert the strength to crack another joke. All of the boys laughed causing the warm feelings of approval to wash over him once more and this simple act of inclusion determined that Robert’s personality would develop with wit at its core. It was an odd thing but children laughing at him caused deep pain yet the same children laughing with him provoked ecstatic pleasure.

  From that day on Robert developed his sharp brain to make people laugh and over time he fine-tuned his skill to become a very accomplished school clown. It felt fantastic to be popular but as with all children who seek meaning through the approval of others he sacrificed control of his emotions. Robert was effectively handing responsibility for his mood to others and condemning himself to a life of volatility in the process. On a good day when his playmates approved Robert felt wonderful, but on a bad day when they did not respond to his clowning he felt very low. The fact that others may not be laughing because of problems in their own lives was irrelevant to Robert. The only time he felt himself to be of any value was when others showed their admiration.

  The following three years at Spellbrook were made tolerable by hilarity. Laughter was Robert’s lifeblood and amusing others became simple because his very fast mind saw things so sharply. He could bend words and meanings of sentences to make the most incredibly amusing observations out of the most ordinary of things.

  Unfortunately, Mrs Putnham punished Robert for making any kind of joke during her lessons so consequently his new confident persona existed only in the playground. In the classroom Robert sat quietly and paid perfect attention to every word. The information was never remembered on a conscious level because his concentration existed purely to prevent humiliation in front of his peers. In order to perfect this illogical arrangement Robert worked out a system of memorizing her last few sentences; then when he felt sure that he would not be asked a tricky question he let them drift from his memory to be replaced by the next
. Robert was so scared of being humiliated again that all he could remember of his years at prep school was the constant feeling of living on a knife’s edge.

  Almost everyone found Robert’s outward change remarkable because the only character they ever saw was the one who existed in the playground. Miss Wagstaff could not believe the difference in the boy and his parents heaved a great sigh of relief. Only Nanny observed the truth of what was happening to her beloved charge. She could see that he was the same vulnerable young man who had merely created this character to mask his weakness. Miss Parks knew that if anyone looked close enough they would find the vulnerable child within but for now it would have to do; and of course, it was inevitable that like all things in life — for now became forever.

  Cambridge

  His departure for school in Cambridge was an emotional occasion for all on the estate. Every member of staff came out to see Robert off and even the men fought back tears. They had all taken such a keen interest in every aspect of his years at Spellbrook because each day Miss Parks and the coach driver provided the gossip. They kept the servant rumor-mill fully informed while sitting around the big fire in the scullery every evening after dinner. All below stairs knew the characters in Robert’s saga intimately as Wagstaff and Putnam became their villains and Robert their hero. These exaggerated tales then began the gossip that passed to every corner of the estate. Even the farmhands and gamekeepers followed the daily updates with great interest. They all cheered and waved as Robert’s coach moved along the driveway from the big house on its way to the gatehouse by the main road. As his carriage turned at the massive gates the gatekeeper’s family came out to cheer him off. Robert waved at the keeper, his wife and ten children standing in a line all arranged according to their height, and then he was on the road to his future.

  As the coach traveled the thirty miles to Cambridge along the old Roman road it passed through the market town of Bishops Stortford. It was a busy day in the town because, being a Thursday, it was market day and the coach had to slow down for the cattle and sheep being herded to auction along the high street. From his window Robert watched hundreds of people milling around the brightly covered market stalls lining both sides of the street. He observed money changing hands as food of all kinds were sold. Auctioneers called out as they sold their livestock and market stallholders shouted to attract customers. Something about this scene provoked vague feelings of familiarity within Robert but he gave it little thought because he was quite certain that he had never seen anything like it before.