The Girls of Cropton Hall

by Stanlegh Meresith

  "Oh God ..." Grace's face had turned white and her hands had gone to the back of her skirt. "Oh Alice ... do we really have to ... couldn't we just..."

  Alice looked squarely into Grace's eyes and slowly shook her head. Grace bit her lip, looking as if she might cry.

  "We'll talk again later," said Alice. "Grace, I mean it - you don't have to, if you..."

  "Of course I HAVE to," said Grace loudly, and some more curious looks came their way.

  "All right," whispered Alice. "Grace, thank you. I know it's ... really scary, but..."

  The bell rang and Miss Waring was already striding up to the teacher's table. "Come along, girls," she called out brusquely. "Middleton, Jennings, don't skulk in the corner. To your seats, the pair of you."

  Alice took Grace's hand surreptitiously and squeezed. Grace squeezed back and they hurried over to their places.

  "Now then, 5B," announced the mistress, "today we look at Australian exports. Oh, and Jennings, I hope you've written out that homework again, and without Me Springs and the Tasmaniacs this time?"

  Several giggles greeted this reminder, but Alice was for once not smiling as she opened her desk to retrieve her exercise book.

  "Yes, Miss, I have."

  As she pulled out the book and shifted in her seat, poor Alice had an entirely different 'down under' on her mind.

  ---oOo---

  Monday 3.15 p.m.

  Helen Patterson was engaged in writing a timed-essay in silence when Margaret Dawson located her. The A level History girls were all leaning studiously over their desks, beavering away at the Economic Benefits for the British in India as Margaret walked quietly over to Monica's table and whispered the reason for her visit.

  The two mistresses spent some time in very hushed conversation, Monica keeping an eagle-eye on the rows of girls as they variously wrote, chewed on the ends of their pens or stared at the ceiling. Julia, seated near the front, thought she heard 'Patterson ...' and what might have been 'Headmistress' and noticed the mistresses glancing in Helen's direction. She managed to turn surreptitiously and observe The Worm at her desk. She didn't seem to have registered what was going on, but just as Julia was still half-turned in her direction Helen looked up and saw Miss Dawson looking right at her and in the next instant she caught Julia giving her a meaningful stare and a slightly twisted smile. A shadow passed over Helen's face and she suddenly looked very frightened. Good! thought Julia. However, it seemed the summons was not to be immediate - Gibbo must have intimated that the girl should finish her essay first.

  Miss Dawson left the room and the remaining forty minutes of History became a hell for Helen Patterson. Her heart thumped and a variety of painful visions tormented her as she struggled to concentrate on cotton exports and salt taxes. She looked up frequently at Miss Gibson who was now marking exercise books, and on about the fifth occasion Helen found the mistress frowning directly at her. This deepened Helen's fearful certainty that something awful awaited her.

  About two minutes before the bell was due to ring, Miss Dawson reappeared and stood waiting just inside the door.

  "Right, girls," called Miss Gibson as the bell went. "Time's up! Make sure your name is at the top of your essay, please, and place them here as you go out."

  Papers were shuffled and desk seats lifted as one by one the girls came up and left their essays. Miss Dawson's gaze never left Patterson. Gabrielle got up and looked quizzically at Julia who darted a glance behind at Patterson and muttered, "Hang on a moment." Gabrielle looked back at Patterson, shrugged and stood waiting. Patterson delayed as long as she could but eventually had to get up and come forward. Once she'd passed Julia's desk, Julia got up herself and joined Gabrielle.

  "Miss Dawson wants a word with you, Patterson," said Miss Gibson evenly as Helen put her essay on the table, followed by Julia and Gabrielle. Miss Gibson smiled at her two hockey stars.

  "How was the essay, girls? I hope you remembered the Maharajahs?"

  But Julia was listening elsewhere, hearing Miss Dawson say,

  "Come with me, Patterson. The Headmistress wishes to see you immediately."

  Gabrielle said, "Oh yes, Miss. How could I forget them?" and she nudged Julia.

  "Eh? What? Oh yes," she said, glancing away again at the disappearing figures of Miss Dawson and The Worm. She couldn't help herself: "Miss, why does the Head want to see The W-- ... I mean, Patterson?"

  Miss Gibson smiled. "I'm afraid I couldn't possibly comment on that, Bennett." She seemed to consider for a moment, then continued: "But rest assured, Julia, that Miss Markham has already unravelled one part of today's mystery and will not be long in unmasking all the wrong-doers. And you, my dear," she said, standing and moving round to place her hands on Julia's shoulders, "will be completely exonerated, as I suspected all along, and I can only say that we ALL regret very much that you were caned in such haste this morning. I'm sure you will be receiving an apology from Miss Bainbridge in due course."

  Julia and Gabrielle turned to each other in delight, both beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you, Miss," said Julia.

  "But Julia," continued the mistress, "I must say that I do wish you wouldn't smoke - it slows you down, you know, and we need you at your very fittest this term. Hm?"

  Julia looked down sheepishly. "Yes, Miss," she muttered, still smiling.

  ---oOo---

  Monday 4.00 p.m.

  "Enter!"

  Margaret Dawson opened the door to the study and ushered Patterson in. The Headmistress was seated at her desk.

  "If you wouldn't mind staying, Miss Dawson ... come forward, Patterson. Stand there," she said, indicating a spot in front of her. She leaned back, steepled her fingers and eyed the quaking sixth-former sternly. "Oh Patterson ... what have you done?"

  Helen lowered her head. Verily let the silence hang. Helen took a hankie out of her blazer pocket and brought it up to her eyes. Her shoulders began to shake.

  "I think you should tell me everything, don't you?" suggested the Headmistress. "Although I must warn you that I am already aware of most of the sordid details of your vicious behaviour ... and I am deeply ... deeply disappointed that the caning you received in this study not three weeks ago appears to have had no effect." She paused. "Did I not warn you about fairness and decency?"

  "Yes, Miss," squeaked Helen, barely audibly.

  "SPEAK UP, girl!" commanded the Headmistress.

  "Yes, Miss." Helen spoke more clearly, looking up in terror. Her face burned red with shame and tears streaked her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Miss, I'm sorry. It was Barton, Miss, she ... she made it all sound so easy, Miss, and ... and... "

  "And you wanted to see Julia Bennett get punished again, didn't you?"

  Helen lowered her head again.

  "DIDN'T YOU?" bellowed Miss Markham.

  Helen nodded.

  "Right. You will now tell me EXACTLY what you and Barton did, down to the last detail. Is that underSTOOD?"

  Helen jumped. "Yes, Miss."

  Her legs shook as she began to recount everything she knew - what Barton had told her about seeing and overhearing the two girls in the woods burying the paint and the brush and then searching for the graffiti in the Hall. Then, how Barton had come to her and suggested a way of getting even with Bennett; how they'd coated the Art room door knob with black paint and hidden the turps so Julia wouldn't be able to clean it off once she'd got it on her hands; how they'd got Mary Wilkinson to tell her sister Jane to pass word to Bennett that Thomas wanted to see her there; how they'd wiped the door knob clean again; and finally, how Helen had kept watch while Barton put the damning items in Julia's desk.

  Verily examined the girl's face closely as the whole sorry tale came pouring out. She glanced over at Margaret and wondered if she too were remembering their own school days, and other girls whose fear just made them tell all.

  When Helen finally exhausted her store of details and stood there twisting her hankie in her hands, Verily paused for a few moments before asking,
<
br />   "Who were the two girls in the woods?"

  "I don't know, Miss, honestly I don't!" Panic rose in Helen's voice. "Barton didn't say, Miss."

  Verily nodded. "And what does SWACK stand for?"

  "I don't know, Miss. I'm sorry. Nor does Barton, Miss. We don't know what it means."

  "And what about the cigarettes? How did they come to be in Bennett's desk?"

  "Barton put them there, Miss, but she didn't tell me she was going to do that. She only told me after, Miss."

  "And you gave her the money for them?"

  Helen was stunned for a moment. "Erm ... yes, Miss, I..."

  "And how much did you give Barton?"

  "A pound, Miss."

  "For this?" asked Verily indicating the packet on the desk.

  "Yes, Miss."

  "But these only cost one and six!" revealed Verily. She watched dismay and embarrassment and anger sweep in succession across Helen's face as she realised how her new friend had duped her out of eighteen shillings or more.

  "I didn't ... I didn't know that, Miss."

  "And you imagined Barton was your friend, did you?"

  "Er ... yes, Miss ... I mean no, Miss ... " Helen stood in painfully humiliating confusion.

  Verily's tone became colder still.

  "Are you aware that Bennett was caned this morning for having those cigarettes in her desk?" She took one glance at the look of guilt on Helen's face and continued, "Yes, of course you know. In fact I imagine you went round gloating about it, didn't you?" Verily's voice was icy with contempt. "DIDN'T YOU, PATTERSON?"

  Helen's face crumpled in abject shame and fear as she nodded her head. Verily stood up, placed her hands squarely on the green leather-topped desk and leaned forward.

  "WHY, PATTERSON? TELL ME WHY!"

  Helen flinched. She stood there, shaking her head.

  "NOT GOOD ENOUGH, GIRL!"

  Margaret's eyes widened in alarm. She'd never heard Verily's voice booming with such force.

  "NOW TELL ME WHY! ... WHY DID YOU JOIN IN SUCH A CRUEL INJUSTICE?"

  And suddenly, as if physically shaken by the blast of the Headmistress' voice, Helen Patterson was transformed. Her face contorted and fury filled her eyes.

  "BECAUSE IT'S NOT FAIR!" she shrieked. "It's not FAIR that girls like Bennett get admired, whatever they do." Now it was her voice that could be heard down the corridor. "It's not FAIR that I'm PLAIN and DUMPY and nobody likes me and they call me The Worm! Where's the justice for ME?! ... Miss ... Where's the ... justice for ... meeee..."

  She broke into wracking sobs and covered her face with her hands, wailing out her sorrow.

  Verily stood back and glanced over at Margaret, who was staring in amazement. Verily gave a brief nod as if to say all was well, then she came around the desk and took Helen in her arms. Helen clutched her tightly, crying, "I wish I was dead ... I hate being me, Miss, I just wish I was dead ..."

  "Now now," said Verily. "Don't say that ... life is long and you have much to give ... you are a beautiful, lovable girl, Helen..."

  This just brought renewed gales of weeping. Margaret was reminded of the way Jenny Simpson had broken down when she'd given her that slippering. Despite the strong feelings of dislike she'd felt for Patterson throughout the interview, now she found herself fighting back the tears as she watched Verily soothing and encouraging the sobbing girl.

  Eventually, Helen started to cry herself out and Verily released her and stood back. "There now," she said, placing her hands on either side of the girl's face and looking down into her eyes. "Helen, you can be a good, strong girl, but you must first accept who you are and stop this nonsense about hating yourself. Yes?"

  Helen sniffed and nodded.

  "You must take one step at a time, Helen, and be brave. Have courage. Each time you do, you will double your store and be doubly brave, and you will admire yourself and then others will admire you too."

  Helen's eyes brightened a little. "Yes, Miss," she said hopefully. "That's what I want, Miss."

  Verily returned to sit behind her desk. "Good," she said, sitting down. She steepled her fingers again and waited in thought. Eventually she fixed the former Head Girl with a stern but compassionate gaze and said,

  "Helen, you know I must cane you for this, and cane you most severely, don't you?"

  Helen looked down. Her hands were shaking. "Yes ... yes, Miss ... I know."

  "You and Barton will have to be made an example of, and this will require the utmost bravery from you. And I want you to embrace this chance to show yourself how brave you can be, Helen. You will not complain. You will apologise to Bennett. You will bear the caning with as much dignity as you can and you will find respect, Helen, for yourself, and from others. Do you understand?"

  Helen took a deep breath and nodded. "I ... I hope I can, Miss. But..."

  "Yes? ... What is it, Helen?"

  "Miss, it ... it hurts so much! Last time, I ... I just couldn't bear it, Miss."

  "I know, Helen, I know," said the Headmistress, gently. "But I will let you into a little secret. You must promise not to tell anyone, is that clear? Miss Dawson here knows, because we were at Cropton Hall together as girls."

  "Yes, Miss ... I promise."

  "Well, Helen, I was caned many times at your age myself, and despite receiving twelve strokes once - with Molly -as a senior girl, the first time - when I only got four with a junior cane - was the worst. The first time for many things in life is the most intense, Helen, whether for good experiences or bad. So, I think you will find that when I cane you tomorrow, it won't be quite as bad as you imagine, or as it was three weeks ago. And you are braver now, aren't you?"

  "Yes, Miss." She looked a little uncertain but there was hope in her voice.

  "Right," said Verily, returning to a sterner tone. "You will say nothing about our conversation to anyone. Tomorrow, you will be caned in front of the Upper Sixth girls in the Sixth form common room, but you will be dignified and you will be brave and your foolish involvement in this whole affair will be forgiven and soon forgotten." The Headmistress continued more kindly. "I suggest that you try to find a moment alone with Julia Bennett to tell her you are sorry. Tell her what you told us about yourself. She is a kind girl beneath that rebellious exterior. She will understand and she will admire you for your honesty and your bravery in approaching her. Do you think you can do that, Helen?"

  Helen bit her lip and looked unsure but after a moment she nodded. "Yes, Miss. I'll try, Miss."

  "Just do it, Helen. It is step one," said Verily, firmly.

  "Yes, Miss."

  Verily turned to Margaret.

  "Miss Dawson, would you bring Barton now, please, and ensure that she has no opportunity to speak to Helen here in the mean time?"

  "Yes, Headmistress."

  Margaret opened the door and ushered Helen out. Verily sat back and sighed. All must be redeemed, she remembered. One down, one to go, though she suspected Barton would be a much tougher nut to crack. And who had painted SWACK on the crest? And what, come to that, was SWACK? She was no clearer on that score, though she had a rough idea.

  She turned to the correspondence she hadn't had time to attend to in all the hectic doings since her return. First on the pile was an elegant, slightly perfumed envelope in a woman's hand that seemed vaguely familiar. She opened it.

  How delightful! It was from Patricia Thomas ... Patricia Desmond as she'd known her when they'd been Cropton girls together.

  She read eagerly. Patricia thanked Verily kindly for hers ... hoped Rachel wasn't being too much of a nuisance, though wasn't surprised she'd already had so many whackings ... carry on the good work in that quarter ... happy to say she'd be able to attend Founder's Day on October 1st and hoped they'd find time for a brief chance to reminisce ... all best wishes, Patricia.

  Verily smiled happily and tucked it back in its envelope. She'd enjoy seeing mother and daughter together on Friday, she thought.

  ---oOo---

  Monda
y 4.45 p.m.

  Prudence Waring had separated Thomas and French in Geography lessons last week due to their not infrequent habit of distracting each other. She'd relocated Thomas to the front on her right and French to the back on the other side of the classroom by the window. However, for most of this last lesson of what had been a long day (5B having been pretty hard work just prior to this Lower Sixth class) she'd noticed French looking wistfully across the room at Thomas and no fewer than three times she'd had to warn her to pay attention. If it had been any other girl, she'd have lost her patience and doled out a Punishment slip, but she felt French was still owed a kind of Free Pass after that VS mark she'd given her ten days ago. Still, it was annoying and she wondered what was on the girl's mind - some romantic infatuation, no doubt.

  And her casual speculation wasn't that far wide of the mark, though it scarcely did credit to the Sixth-former's depth of feeling.

  Flooding and waylaying Susan's mind was an overwhelming storm of emotions so dense and intense she was hardly aware of how close she'd been sailing to a whacking-referral from the mistress. For she was contemplating an entirely more serious punishment - a caning of the severest kind - and the thought made her stomach churn, even as it made her heart soar.

  Ever since their walk with Alice after lunch, something had been pushing Susan to pre-empt Rachel and go to the Head herself and confess. The image of those brown stripes on Rachel's gym shorts which Susie'd thought at first were blood, and of Rachel's agony that day as she'd emerged after being caned with Molly - these and the thought of her possible expulsion all conspired to tear Susie's heart apart. She loved that girl, loved her so much it hurt, and she felt an intolerable guilt at the thought of standing by and letting her walk into the lion's den as she'd offered to. Greater love hath no ... girl... thought Susie, than to lay down her ... bum ... for another.

  So after the bell signalled the end of the lesson, she went over quickly and said, "Hey, Rache, I've just got to see Dawson for a minute - meet you in the dorm in ten minutes?"