One Day at a Time

by Susan Lewis

  I don’t think that was a very nice way of telling me to leave, but I’m more than ready to go, and absolutely gutted about the detentions. She was supposed to expel me, the stupid cow, not keep me locked up even more than I already am.

  Everything’s going wrong, and now I haven’t got a clue when I’ll be able to see Kev again. I’ll have to get Mandy to persuade him to come up to the back lane. If he does, then I’ll pack everything I can into my satchel and run away with him. We can live somewhere in secret together until I’m old enough to get married and be his wife.

  Eddie

  I’m sitting in Fishponds library again, my usual place on a dinnertime, especially when the weather’s bad. I love it in here, where everyone’s quiet, as though respecting the solemnity and grandeur of so much knowledge. Sometimes, when I browse around, I feel as though I’m visiting old friends, or making new ones. Other times, I think of the bewildering variations of subject and content, the men and women who created these works, and the thousands, millions of people who’ve read them. I imagine that each volume that sits along the shelves contains a single piece of an enormous puzzle that would, if I could track all the pieces down, create a full and glorious understanding of life itself.

  Today, in order to exercise my pen and free my mind from the awful captivity of worry, I have been writing out Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.

  Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

  Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

  Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

  And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

  Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

  And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;

  And every fair from fair sometime declines,

  By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;

  But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

  Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

  Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

  When in eternal lines to time thou growest;

  So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

  So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

  Since I first started to read the sonnets, back when I was a boy and our priest gave me an old copy that belonged to someone who’d died, I’ve loved every one of them. Their music sings through my soul as I read them, whether silently to myself, or aloud, as I used to for Eddress. She didn’t read them herself, she never had time, she’d say, but whenever I started to recite one she’d pause in what she was doing and let the beauty of the words fall around her like summer blooms. That was how I liked to see her, radiant and refreshed by the master’s verse. She always claimed not to understand it, it was my voice she liked to listen to, she said, but there were times when she’d recite some of Sonnet 18 along with me, and whether she understood the words or not, they always brought a light to her eyes.

  I said that to her once and she called me a daft old sod. That was Eddress, always ready to quash romance, while thriving on it really.

  I’d love to think there was a sonnet that could reach our Susan. I fear it’s going to take a lot more than that, though, to alter the course that’s about to unfold.

  I went to see Dr Leigh on my own yesterday morning, and he was very polite and regretful when he told me that Miss Dakin would like me to remove Susan from Red Maids School at half-term.

  She’s too disruptive and is leading other girls astray. It wouldn’t be fair for their education to suffer any more than it already has, so the bad apple that is spoiling the barrel must be cast out.

  Those weren’t his words, of course. It’s what I’m writing down now, with my sandwiches next to me, uneaten, unwrapped, and my flask of tea, also untouched. I don’t know yet where they’re intending to send her, Dr Leigh was talking about somewhere in the Midlands, but I told him I didn’t want that. If she’s not going to be at Red Maids, then I want her at home with me.

  I’ll have to see about borrowing a car when I go to pick her up for half-term next week, because the Anglia’s packed up on us, and I expect she’ll have quite a lot to bring home. He said I can break the news to her myself after church this Sunday. It’ll be a good opportunity to pray for guidance before I see her.

  I think I’ll borrow Kant’s Metaphysics of Morals today. He always gets my mind going, and a busy mind is a far healthier mind than one that is steeped in misgivings and dread.

  Oh Eddress, my love, what am I to do with our girl?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Susan

  THAT’S IT! WE’VE definitely got to run away now. I’ve just managed to push Seaweed down the stairs – by mistake – and I think she’s broken her neck. Or her leg, or her nose – definitely her record for getting on people’s nerves.

  ‘It was her own fault,’ Sadie gasps, as we race into the dorm. ‘She shouldn’t have pushed you first. And all you did was turn around. You didn’t actually shove her.’

  It’s true, I didn’t, but I know she’s going to say I did, so before everyone can start blaming me for something I didn’t do, Sadie and I are going to make ourselves scarce. We’ve been plotting our escape all day anyway, drawing maps and working out how to get to Temple Meads station from here, so we’re already quite well prepared.

  Word that we’re going spreads round the dorms like wildfire, and by the time we’ve dressed in all five of our uniforms to keep warm, and collected up as much tuck as we can get into the inside pockets of our cloaks, we find that everyone’s been donating as much cash as they can spare to help us on our way.

  Cheryl hands us the money. ‘Ten pounds thirteen and eight,’ she says. Her eyes are brimming with tears. She doesn’t want us to go, and we don’t want to leave her, but we don’t have a choice now Seaweed’s gone and injured herself.

  ‘I’ll go and make sure the coast is clear,’ Cheryl tells us, and as she zooms off to check, we start saying our goodbyes to everyone else. It takes ages, because all the first, second and third years from the other dorms have managed to sneak up to Speedwell to wish us good luck.

  ‘Don’t forget to write,’ Peg says, giving us a hug. ‘And don’t worry about paying me back.’

  I don’t think either Sadie or I have even considered it, but it is nice of her to be that generous, so we thank her, then creep out of the dorm to see what Cheryl’s up to.

  ‘Everything’s really quiet,’ she whispers, when we reach her at the top of the stairs. ‘They must be in Seaweed’s office.’

  ‘We should go before the ambulance gets here,’ I say to Sadie.

  ‘Or the police,’ Cheryl adds.

  I turn cold and can’t wait to get out of there.

  It’s Saturday night and the older girls are either in the sixth-form common room, or watching telly in the main hall. That’s where Sadie and I were when Seaweed found us. We’d crept down after lights out to watch the entries for The Eurovision Song Contest. Honestly, the fuss she made when she discovered us. You’d have thought we’d committed a major crime, and if she hadn’t kept poking me in the back all the way up the stairs, before shoving me really hard on to the nursery landing, I wouldn’t have got angry and turned round so fast. I think I frightened her, because my hand was up, but only to stop her hitting me again. She probably thought I was going to whack her, so she took a step back and the next thing we knew she was bouncing down the stairs – in so far as someone that thin can bounce!

  I hope she’s still alive, even if she isn’t in one piece, but only because I don’t want the blame for her death, otherwise I wish she’d bugger off to the pearly gates as soon as she likes and leave us all alone.

  I could be in really big trouble for this, and I’m actually scared stiff, but it’s best not to let it show.

  I wish there was a way of letting Mandy know what we’re doing, because she could get word to Kev and he might come to find us. We’d be a lot safer going out at night with him around, and he’d probably know exactly how to get from
here to the station. When half-term comes next Thursday I’ll go home as normal, but until then Sadie and I are going to her parents’ house in Dover, because they’re in the Caribbean at the moment so there’s no one there. It would be great if Kev could come with us, and Slash, because Sadie’s got a big crush on Slash now. We could spend five days, just the four of us, cooking and smoking, and lazing about in front of the telly. It would be like we were all married.

  I suppose I’ll have to get a note to Dad somehow to let him know I’m all right, or he’ll only worry – or end up calling the police

  It’s pitch black outside and freezing cold. There’s no moon, only a howling wind and things scuttling about the undergrowth as we scurry down the drive, making us shudder and jump.

  Once we’re out on the main road we can see a lot better, thanks to street lamps and headlights. We walk top speed towards the Downs, certain we know how to get across them to Clifton. From there we’re going to follow the same route we take on Founder’s Day, down to the cathedral, and after that we’re not sure where Temple Meads is, but I expect we’ll find it.

  The Downs are really spooky at night. Trees are looming up all over the place like monsters ready to pounce, and I’m sure loads of bogeymen and loonies are hidden inside the bushes waiting to jump out and flash us. I’m starting to feel quite afraid, and I think Sadie is too. We hold tight to one another’s arms and walk so fast we’re almost at a run.

  A car slows up on the other side of the road.

  ‘Don’t look,’ Sadie hisses. ‘Keep going.’

  We walk and walk and the Downs never seem to end. There’s nothing but a sea of black grass all around us, and I’m starting to wonder if we’ve taken a wrong turn.

  After a while another car slows up alongside us. I take a quick peek and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. ‘It’s the police.’ They’re going to arrest me for hurting Seaweed, I know they are. We have to run.

  ‘Madams! Madams!’ one of the policemen calls out. They’re driving alongside us, keeping up with our pace.

  ‘Don’t listen,’ I tell Sadie.

  ‘Madams, could you stop a minute please?’

  We don’t. We just keep going, holding tight to each other and trying to pretend they aren’t there. But then they drive past us and stop the car.

  ‘They’re getting out,’ Sadie gulps.

  We stay where we are, frozen to the spot, watching them coming towards us.

  ‘Are you from Red Maids School?’ one of them asks.

  I try to swallow. I’m going to be arrested now, I know it. I’ll go to prison and I’ll never see Dad or Gary or Kev again.

  ‘You are, aren’t you?’ he says. He sounds quite nice, but you can never tell, it might be a trick to get us to trust him. ‘So what are you doing out here on the Downs at this time of night?’ he asks.

  It’s either still a trick, or he doesn’t know about Seaweed. ‘We’re … We’re going home for half-term,’ I tell him.

  ‘I see. And do your parents know you’re coming?’

  I feel Sadie’s arm tighten on mine. Neither of us replies.

  ‘Do you know what?’ he says.’ ‘I have a feeling you might be running away. Am I right?’

  We only look at him, not saying a word.

  ‘I think I am,’ he decides,’ ‘and it’s too dangerous around here for young ladies to be wandering about on their own, so you’d best get in the car. We’ll take you back to school.’

  I don’t want to do as he says, and I don’t think Sadie does either, but neither of us has the guts to argue with the police. Also, if we are lost, we could be out here all night, and if we aren’t murdered we’d probably end up freezing to death anyway.

  As they turn the car around I start to panic about Seaweed again, because if the police don’t know yet, someone will be bound to tell them when we get there, and there’s no knowing what they might do, especially if she’s dead.

  The policeman in the passenger seat says, ‘It’s not that bad at your school, is it, that you have to run away?’

  Sadie doesn’t hold back. ‘It’s horrid,’ she tells him. ‘We hate it there, don’t we, Su? The teachers are really mean to us. They treat us like slaves, or as though we’re in prison. I don’t think it should be allowed.’

  ‘No, it shouldn’t,’ I say. ‘We have to go to bed at seven o’clock, and when we get up in the mornings we have to do offices, like servants, and we’re never allowed to go out of the grounds, except for church on Sundays.’

  ‘And if we do even the slightest thing wrong,’ Sadie continues, ‘they put us in detention to stop us going home on our exeats.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I confirm. ‘I haven’t been home now since Christmas, which is ages ago. They’re wicked, our teachers, so we’re glad to have the chance to report them.’ If I can let them know how foul and mean everyone is before we get there, they might be a bit more understanding about what I did when they find out.

  Neither of the policemen says any more after that, but I think they might be wondering if it’s a good idea to return us to such a terrible place.

  They do though, because a few minutes later we’re going up the drive, and when we reach the front door Dot and Cluttie are only standing there waiting!

  ‘Go inside,’ Dot orders us in a voice that’s as deep as the Devil’s. ‘Miss Clutterbuck will see to you.’

  As we pass her she says to the police, ‘Thank you, officers. You’ve been most helpful.’

  ‘Happy to oblige, ma’am,’ one of them replies, and then we’re on our way up the front stairs – front stairs, we’re never allowed to use them normally – to Dot’s private flat. I wonder if I should ask about Seaweed, but I don’t dare to say a word as Clut makes us stand outside the flat, facing the wall, until Dot comes up.

  When she does she says, ‘Susan, you’ll sleep in the lower nursery tonight. Sadie, you will sleep in the upper. Miss Clutterbuck has already collected your night clothes and toiletries from your cubicles, so there will be no need for you to return to the dormitories. I’m sorry that it’s going to be necessary to lock you in, but your actions this evening have left us with no choice. Now off you go, I’ll speak to you again before church in the morning.’

  Not a word about Seaweed. Does that mean she’s all right? I really hope so, because I swear I didn’t mean to hurt her, even though I hate her guts and wish she’d get carried off by aliens.

  I’m on my own in the lower nursery, because no one’s sick. I wonder if Sadie’s on her own too, over the other side of the landing, at the end of a spooky corridor. I’m glad I didn’t have to go there, I’d never have been able to get to sleep if I had. As it is, I might not be able to anyway.

  ‘Can I keep the light on?’ I ask Clut when she comes to check on me.

  ‘It’s “may I”, and the answer is no, you may not.’

  Typical. She’s such an old bag. I’d never be like her if I was in her position.

  ‘It’s lucky for you, young lady,’ she goes on, ‘that Miss Sayward only twisted her ankle when she fell. There might have been some serious consequences to pay if it had been any worse.’

  Well, that’s a relief anyway, at least I won’t be going to prison, except I’m in one already.

  As soon as I hear Cluttie turn the key, I wait for her footsteps to clomp and creak off along the landing, then I turn on the light. No way am I going to stay here on my own in the dark.

  I wonder if the other girls know we’ve been brought back yet. They’ll all be talking about it if they do. If they don’t they’ll find out in the morning, when I expect they’ll want their tuck and money back.

  Remembering the tuck in my cloak pocket, I go and dig out an Aero and take it back to bed. I wish I had a book to read, but there’s nothing in here at all, apart from five empty beds, a curtained cubicle at one end where the doctor does his examinations, piles of clean linen on the shelves next to it, and all sorts of medical stuff. We finished the best book I’ve ever read in
English Lit the other day. It’s called Pride and Prejudice. I love Darcy so much that I’ve already started reading it again. He reminds me of Kev, moody and handsome, and pretending not to be interested in Elizabeth, when really he’s madly in love with her. Well, actually, he looked down his nose a bit at her at first, but then it all ends happily, which is what really counts.

  Yesterday, because I was bored, I decided to pay attention during Latin, just for something to do. To my surprise I didn’t find it very difficult, which made me wonder why everyone gets such bad marks. I probably got it all wrong though, and what do I care? It’s a dumb language anyway. No one speaks it, except doctors and Catholics, and so I don’t see why we have to study it unless we want to be nuns or nurses.

  I think about that for a while, mulling over the idea of being in a convent or working down Frenchay Hospital. I’d much rather be an air hostess, or a model, or a fashion designer. I’d have people working for me who could do all the sewing, like the girls who work up the corset factory. I’d be the boss and tell them which machines they have to work on, and when they can take their breaks.

  Yes, I think I’d like to be in charge.

  It’s morning now and I’m standing outside Dot’s flat waiting for her to open the door. Cluttie says Dot knows I’m here, so I don’t have to knock, I just have to face the wall and keep my lips together. As she walks away I open my mouth as wide as it’ll go, then poke out my tongue.

  There’s no one else on the landing, but I can hear plenty of footsteps charging down the back stairs as everyone gathers outside ready to crocodile off to church. I hope they’re going to let me go too, otherwise I won’t see Dad.

  I had the most terrible thought earlier, when Cluttie brought my breakfast into the nursery. What if they’re going to keep me in detention for the whole half-term holiday? I’ll go mad if they do. I won’t let them get away with it, because I’ve gone long enough without seeing Kev, I can’t go any longer.