A Form of Justice

by Dawn Marsanne

  Patsy smiled at her mother, ‘OK.’ As she walked into the kitchen, she turned around to look at her mother again. ‘Oh, your hair looks nice, by the way. Did you have it permed again?’

  ‘Yes, this morning, it’s a bit tight, but it will settle down.’

  Her mother’s mousy brown shoulder-length hair was permed every few months which meant it required little attention on a daily basis. She’d worn the same style for as long as her daughter could remember. Pouring herself some water, Patsy went out into the garden. ‘Hi, Dad,’ she called.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he replied. ‘Shouldn’t you be doing your homework?’

  ‘Give me a chance, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Don’t swear at me, you cheeky girl. The teachers told us your marks haven’t been as good recently. You need to knuckle down. You’ll be starting taking your O level courses next year.’

  ‘Thank you for reminding me, I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Don’t give me that sarcastic tone. I don’t know what’s got into you. I hope you’ve not been hanging around with that girl, what’s she called, Tracey, isn’t it? She’s no good.’

  ‘I’ve not been hanging around with Tracey, don’t worry.’

  ‘I just wish you’d take advantage of all the opportunities at that school. My goodness, you don’t know how lucky you are.’ He turned away, shaking his head and tutting.

  Patsy decided to distract her father from his familiar rant, that would just be too much to bear at the moment. Experience had taught her that flattery was often the best tactic to use with him.

  ‘The garden is looking very nice, Dad.’

  ‘Well, it should considering the hours I put in, without any help from you, I might add.’ Roger leant on his garden fork and surveyed his handiwork. Due to his fair complexion, any exertion made his face flush, and he had two rosy red circles on his cheeks. He looked like a puppet or a doll whose features had been emphasised with paint.

  How typical she thought, even a compliment could somehow be thrown back at her and be used to point out her failings. One minute she was being told to do her homework, the next she was being criticised for not helping with the garden. If there was an O level in hypocrisy or meting out blame, her father would have gained a top grade. Why couldn’t her brother, Andrew help out with the garden, he went to the local High School and didn’t get much homework? He’d no intention of following an academic route and was planning to leave at sixteen to join the army. It was hardly surprising that he would prefer to be shouted at by a sergeant-major than listen to the constant sniping and criticism from his own flesh and blood. Even dodging bullets on a battlefield was preferable to having to face a volley of hurtful accusations and charges of ingratitude, laziness and lack of ambition.

  She wondered whether her father was like this at work with his colleagues or whether he had to repress his anger and toe the line, meaning that once on his home territory he allowed it to flow freely. He had started at the age of sixteen as an operative at a local company manufacturing bulk chemicals for industrial use, CantChem and had now completed thirty years’ service. Through hard work, he had risen through the ranks to become a supervisor and nowadays spent his days at a desk with the occasional foray on to the factory floor. In addition, he was a union representative, and his bellowing voice was perfectly suited for calling meetings to order.

  On this occasion, she allowed the comment to pass and instead wandered over towards the fence to look at the plants, trailing her hands through some of the frondy leaves. The small garden did look immaculate. Not a weed in sight and the purr of the lawnmower could be heard at least twice-weekly in the spring and summer months.

  ‘Don’t trail your hands through those purple flowers, I’ve told you before that they are poisonous.’

  ‘Why do you grow them if they are poisonous?’

  ‘Because I like them and they aren’t poisonous if you look at them.’

  ‘What are they called?’

  ‘Aconitum.’

  ‘A-c-o-n-i-t-u-m’ she repeated, then spelt out the letters. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘That’s it. Now unless you are going to help me you had better get on with your homework.’

  Patsy made her way back along the border.

  ‘What’s this?’ she said, pointing to a saucer which looked like it contained cat food.

  ‘What?’ asked her father, wandering over and sighing. He wiped the sweat off his brow on to his arm and pulled his sweaty shirt away from his back.

  ‘In the saucer?’

  ‘Oh, that’s for the hedgehogs. They come out at night, I’m feeding them.’

  ‘I didn’t know we had hedgehogs,’ replied Patsy.

  ‘That’s because you aren’t out in the garden at midnight, are you?’

  ‘Are you?’ she retorted.

  ‘Don’t be cheeky, that lip of yours will get you into trouble. And don’t smirk at me!’

  ‘Where do they come from, the hedgehogs, I mean?’

  ‘Goodness me, questions, questions, under the fence of course,’ he huffed.

  Patsy looked along the fences. ‘But there’s concrete at the base. How can they get in?’

  ‘They just can, stop bothering me and go and do your homework, go on. Goodness me, if only you asked as many questions at school the teachers wouldn’t be complaining about you.’

  Patsy sulked off back into the house, and her father continued to deadhead his roses. She was puzzled about the saucer of food and also her father’s demeanour. His normally confident manner had deserted him when she questioned him about the hedgehogs, and he’d appeared flustered and unsettled. She repeated to herself the name of the poisonous plant and as soon as she started her homework, she would note it down so she wouldn’t forget.

  Chapter 27

  Friday had finally arrived, and Patsy was counting down the hours until she could leave school and relish two days of freedom. So far, this week hadn’t been too bad, and she began to feel hopeful that perhaps Eugenia and her cronies were tiring of their campaign of intimidation, although she tried not to think like that in case she was tempting fate. Her group of tormentors was called The Pinkies and purportedly took its name from Harriet Pinkerton’s surname. For a while, she had been the ringleader but of late, her friend Eugenia appeared to have assumed command. Patsy thought it most likely that the group had taken their inspiration from the film Grease, where the fashionable set of girls was called the Pink Ladies.

  Her friend Susan, was busy rehearsing in the choir for the end of term concert and her other close friend Mandy, was finishing some overdue homework in the school library. This left Patsy at a loose end at lunchtime and as it was such a hot stifling day she’d given up trying to read her book inside and was sitting on a bench overlooking the playing fields. The school had extensive grounds comprising a hockey pitch as well as a concrete area in the courtyard for netball. To the edge of the mowed playing field, was a small woodland where the ground fell away into a slight dip, and the area had been left as a natural wildlife habitat. Patsy had stretched out her long frame on the seat with her face upturned towards the sun when she sensed a group of girls approaching from behind.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t our friend, Cornish!’ rang out the familiar clarion voice of Eugenia. They had decided to change her name from Patsy to Pasty and hence, it wasn’t long afterwards that Cornish as in Cornish Pasty, had been appropriated. ‘All on your own again? Not surprising is it really?’

  ‘She’s often alone. Probably due to the smell!’ laughed Harriet.

  ‘My horse smells better than her,’ laughed Eugenia, ‘even when he needs mucking out!’

  Patsy carried on staring into the distance, ignoring the taunts.

  ‘Fancy a sweet?’ asked Sophie, picking up Patsy’s legs so she could sit down next to her on the seat.

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘We’ve come with a message, Miss Maynard wants to see you.’

  ‘You’re so funny,’ replied Patsy.
>
  ‘It’s about the incident when you kicked me the other day. I think you are going to get a detention.’

  ‘Really. Well, if I’m going to get a detention, I’ll be seeing you there as well, considering you were the one who pushed me.’

  ‘Ha! That was quite a good response, for you anyway. Do you know girls, I think our little friend Patsy is beginning to stick up for herself? What do you think?’

  ‘I doubt it, she’s a coward,’ replied Harriet.

  Patsy remained silent. She partly regretted her riposte, as it only encouraged them but she was feeling irritable and felt like taking her anger out on them.

  ‘Let’s take a little stroll? Lovely day for it, don’t you agree?’ suggested Eugenia.

  ‘Piss off. Go and annoy someone else.’ Patsy surprised herself with her last comment. Something had made her feel emboldened, but as soon as the words left her lips, she immediately regretted them. She started to rise from the bench, but two pairs of firm hands pressed her back down again. Patsy shrugged the hands off and remained seated.

  ‘Ooooh, I’m so frightened,’ replied Eugenia, throwing her head back and laughing uproariously. ‘Patsy is trying to act all confident!’

  ‘She’s trembling with fear, can’t you see?’ said Harriet.

  ‘Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat!’ taunted Sophie.

  ‘Let’s see how brave she really is!’ said Eugenia. ‘Get up!’ she shouted, putting her head close to Patsy’s ear.

  ‘No!’

  At this point, the three girls got hold of Patsy and dragged her to her feet and forcibly carried her into the adjacent patch of woodland. All the time they were laughing and lifting her up and down as if giving her the birthday bumps and Patsy’s wriggling and protests looked like it was all part of the fun. The other girls on their lunchtime break were too busy with their own games and conversations to pay any heed.

  In the woodland, she was dropped carelessly, her dress riding up and showing her underwear. Patsy pulled down her dress and tried to get up but the Harriet and Sophie held her down.

  ‘Oooh, nice knickers!’ shouted Eugenia. ‘I wonder how many days she’s had those on for!’

  ‘Probably a couple of weeks,’ laughed Harriet.

  ‘OK, hold her down for a couple of minutes whilst I get a head start,’ shouted Eugenia, scurrying off towards the school buildings.

  Patsy continued to wriggle around on the ground, but she was being overpowered. Suddenly she had an idea. She gathered a glob of saliva in her mouth, then spat it with all the force she could muster, projecting it right into Sophie’s eye who cried out, simultaneously recoiling and falling backwards.

  ‘Ahhh, you filthy tart!’ she screamed. ‘I might catch something from you!’

  The pressure on Patsy was released, and she sprang from the ground and sprinted off towards the school as the warning bell sounded for the start of the afternoon lessons.

  Chapter 28

  Patsy arrived at her form room to collect her books for the remaining lessons of the afternoon. First was maths, then religious studies and finally French. She rummaged in her desk for the relevant books but couldn’t find her maths’ exercise book. She was sure it had been there earlier, and she had a good idea who had taken it.

  ‘Where is it?’ she shouted at Eugenia, putting her face up against that of her foe.

  ‘Ew, your breath smells,’ she said, flapping dramatically with her hand. A few of the girls in the form room sniggered.

  ‘Give it back!’ persisted Patsy trying to grab at the pile of books in Eugenia’s arms.

  ‘Must dash,’ she shouted, flouncing out of the room and hurrying down the corridor towards the room for the maths lesson.

  Susan rushed into the form room, slightly late after her choir practice. ‘What’s up, Pats?’

  ‘They’ve taken my maths’ exercise book. I’m sure it was in here earlier.’

  ‘Have you checked properly?’

  ‘Yes, that bitch has taken it, I’m sure.’

  ‘Come on we’re going to be late, and Miss Dent will go mad. You know what she’s like.’

  ‘But my book!’

  ‘We can sort it out later. You’ll just have to use some sheets of paper until we can find it.’

  ‘I’m going to sort out Eugenia, I’ve had enough,’ said Patsy, running along after her friend.

  **

  Susan and Patsy had found the exercise book in the corridor as they left the room, Eugenia must have either dropped it or more likely have discarded it.

  ‘They’ve torn some pages out,’ Patsy whispered to her friend as they sorted out their books at the beginning of the lesson. Susan exchanged a sympathetic glance with her friend. ‘You’ll have to tell the teachers about her,’ she whispered back, ‘it’s getting too much.’

  ‘Be quiet!’ shouted Miss Dent. ‘We must make a start, you will have all weekend for chattering. Now, page 57, question 3, is the next example we will look at,’ announced Miss Dent in her high pitched strident voice. ‘I’ll give you a few minutes to read the question and draw the diagram from the information given.’

  The room was totally silent, as the girls concentrated on the geometry question. During that time Miss Dent wandered back and forth at the front of the room.

  ‘So, I’ll draw up the diagram on the board, and we will work through the example together.’ The teacher drew an almost perfect circle, free-hand with a flourish and proceeded to add in a triangle on top of the circle and various tangents. ‘The question asks you to calculate the angle ABD. Who would like to suggest where to start?’

  ‘Yes, Susan, come and show us on the board how to start.’

  Susan went to the front and proceeded to write out the beginning of the calculation on the board. Whilst Miss Dent’s attention was fixed on the blackboard a scrunched up ball of paper was thrown from the back of the class and hit Patsy on the back of her head, causing everyone other than Patsy to burst out laughing. The paper ball bounced off her and rolled towards the front of the room.

  ‘What is going on?’ screamed Miss Dent. ‘Who threw that?’

  Patsy was furious but remained silent along with the whole group. Miss Dent went to pick up the ball of paper and flattened it out to scan the writing. Her face was set in an angry grimace as she looked up at the girls.

  ‘Patsy, why are you tearing out pages of your notebook and using them as missiles?’

  ‘I’m not, it wasn’t me!’

  ‘Really?’ she took the sheets over to Patsy. ‘Is this not your writing?’

  Patsy had very rounded distinctive handwriting, and her numbers were written boldly and confidently.

  ‘Well, done, Patsy, I have written at the bottom of this page,’ said Miss Dent, triumphantly.

  ‘Yes, they are from my book, but I didn’t rip them out,’ said Patsy, defensively.

  ‘No? Well, who did?’

  ‘Eugenia,’ said Patsy.

  ‘I did not! She’s lying,’ said Eugenia. ‘I saw her do it!’

  ‘I did too, Miss,’ chimed Sophie.

  ‘Come and see me at the end of school,’ said Miss Dent. ‘Goodness me, we are wasting so much time, now where were we?’

  Patsy was furious. Eugenia was pushing things too far and would regret this. She turned around and glared at her enemy who waved back at her cheekily. Once again, it had been her word against Eugenia’s, and although Miss Dent hadn’t actually admitted it, she clearly didn’t believe Patsy. It was ever thus, Eugenia had managed to create the persona of the perfect pupil and was revelling in the aura of untouchability. Somehow Patsy needed to find a way to strip the cloak of deception from her antagonist, and she vowed that the moment of revelation would not be far in the future.

  **

  ‘Look, do you want me to come with you to see Miss Dent?’ asked Susan as they made their way to the last lesson of the day, French with Mrs Howarth.

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t want it to look like I’m a baby. I’ll go and explain, not that
it will do much good, they never believe me.’

  ‘But I can back you up.’

  ‘Ha! What good will that do? Eugenia knows that they won’t do anything about her as they are frightened of her father. It was in the school magazine about how much money he has given the school.’

  ‘But you shouldn’t have to put up with it. Something serious is going to happen. I know it.’

  ‘She will get tired of it soon. Didn’t she pick on Wendy last year?’

  ‘Yes, and she left because of it.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to leave. She’s not going to get the better of me.’

  ‘Hurry up, girls. We don’t have long!’ shouted Mrs Howarth.

  Whereas Patsy and Eugenia were both in the top set for maths, Patsy found French much more difficult and so was in a lower set along with Susan, meaning that she could finally relax and enjoy the lesson. It was normally the high point of the week, but today the incident of the previous lesson was tempering her enjoyment. She was still seething from the incident in the previous lesson, and it was proving a determined distraction.

  One thing was now certain, today’s episode marked the turning point, and she was resolute in her desire to show them that the scholarship girl was a force to be reckoned with. She would choose her time to fight back and plan carefully. It was high time to boost her courage and self-esteem. Whilst those were admirable goals, at that precise moment she had no idea how that was going to be possible. On the plus side, there was the weekend ahead, two full days and she would think of something. She simply had to think of something. It was as if they had scented blood and it would only increase their resolve.

  ‘Nous attendons! Patsy! ‘We don’t want to wait all day!’

  ‘Er, sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Pardon.’

  ‘Qu’est ce que vous faites ce week-end?’ asked the teacher.

  ‘Er, je vais à la piscine.’

  ‘Bien. Et, vous, Susan?’

  Patsy breathed a sigh of relief that she had managed not to make a complete fool of herself. She needed to concentrate on this lesson and draw her mind away from her meeting with Miss Dent.