A Form of Justice

by Dawn Marsanne

  **

  Patsy had relented under pressure from Susan and thus both were waiting outside the Staff Room. The hubbub of school was slowly diminishing as girls left for the weekend. Teachers entered and left the Staff Room every few seconds, allowing a faint whiff of coffee, overlaid with tobacco smoke to escape. Patsy willed Miss Dent to appear, then the encounter would be over and finished.

  ‘Ah, Patsy,’ said Miss Dent, holding a mug of tea. ‘What are you doing here, Susan?’

  ‘I’ve come with Patsy.’

  ‘I can see that. I asked why are you here?’

  ‘Wait for me at the gates,’ said Patsy.

  ‘I think I should stay,’ hissed her friend.

  ‘When you two have quite finished, perhaps we can begin?’

  Susan slunk off down the corridor.

  ‘Now, Patsy, I’d like an explanation as to why you are defacing school property and behaving like you are in kindergarten?’

  ‘I didn’t do it. My book was taken from my desk, and I found it in the corridor with the pages removed.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, it was Eugenia, she did it. She’s always picking on me.’

  ‘Eugenia? I find that very hard to believe.’

  ‘She does, Susan will back me up. Ask her.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Patsy.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Dent.’

  ‘I have always found Eugenia a very polite girl and most well-behaved. She is not the sort of girl who would do such a thing.’

  ‘If you say so,’ replied Patsy, petulantly.

  ‘I do say so. In fact...,’ she stopped mid-sentence as she quickly regained control of her emotions. Miss Dent had been about to let slip that she had been privately tutoring Eugenia in maths one evening a week. ‘We are nearly at the end of term so I won’t be issuing a detention but mark my words, next year, I will be keeping my eye on you, Patsy. Now run along and think about what I’ve said.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Dent.’

  The teacher returned to the Staff Room, and Patsy jogged along the corridor and hurried down the stairs to rejoin Susan.

  ‘So, what did she say?’

  ‘What I expected. Sweet little Eugenia wouldn’t do such a thing. It must have been me, and the teachers will be watching my every move next term. It’s hopeless.’

  ‘Oh, Patsy. I’m so sorry. We mustn’t give up.’

  Patsy didn’t reply.

  ‘So, do you fancy coming swimming tomorrow?’

  ‘No, thanks, but I can meet you afterwards.’

  ‘Oh, what are you doing?’

  ‘Helping my Mum, that’s all.’

  ‘OK, well, we could meet at noon, in town.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. Can you meet me outside the cathedral gate?’

  ‘Well, yes, I can if you want.’

  ‘Great.’

  Susan seemed satisfied with the answer which was far from the truth. Although Patsy quite liked swimming, she had another destination in mind, and she hoped it would be a worthwhile use of her time.

  Chapter 29

  ‘You’re up early for a Saturday morning,’ said Patsy’s mother. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’

  ‘I’m meeting Susan, we are going into town and doing some homework in the library,’ she replied, taking a bowl and pouring in some cornflakes.

  ‘That’s good. Got some stuff to look up?’

  ‘Yes, I need to look at some history books.’

  ‘I’m going shopping today, so do you need anything for your domestic science class next week. What are you making?’

  ‘Oh, I need the things for cakes. Margarine, eggs, flour, sugar. Icing sugar as well.’

  ‘I think I’ve got enough of those, I’ll check. Anything else?’

  Patsy ran upstairs to check in her notebook.

  ‘We are learning how to make fancy cut vegetables. It says to bring a carrot, some radishes, two tomatoes and part of a cucumber.’

  Her mother noted the items down.

  ‘Well, I look forward to seeing what you will make with those.’

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Patsy.

  ‘Oh, he’s upstairs having a lie in. He didn’t sleep well. I heard him wandering around the house last night, it was rather hot and stuffy.’

  Patsy began to think that the gods were shining on her that morning. With luck, she wouldn’t see her father all day as he often went out on Saturday evenings for drinks with friends from work. Separately, her mother sometimes had a friend of hers around to watch TV or to do knitting together, and as Patsy considered her parents’ lives she wondered why they were still together. As a couple, they seemed so ill-matched and consequently rarely went anywhere together. However, her mother appeared happy enough, so perhaps they were used to each other’s behaviour. When, and if she met someone she would make sure he treated her with respect, rather than a live-in housekeeper which seemed to be her mother’s status in life.

  ‘I’m going out soon,’ said Patsy, taking her bowl to the sink and washing it up. ‘Susan and I will get a sandwich in town.’

  ‘Make sure it is a sandwich and not just chips,’ said her mother, ‘and none of that fast food rubbish. It’s not good for you.’

  Patsy nodded and went up to her room to collect her bags. She hoped her trip to the library would be fruitful.

  **

  ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ said Susan.

  ‘Sorry, I got engrossed in the library.’

  ‘Girly swot!’ said Susan, teasing. ‘It’s nearly the end of term so why the sudden burst of studying?’

  ‘It’s not for school, well, not directly. I just wanted to look a few things up, that’s all.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, just something I’m interested in.’

  ‘You’re very secretive all of a sudden.’

  ‘Look, never mind, how was swimming?’

  ‘Brilliant and guess who was there?’

  ‘Er, no idea,’ said Patsy, showing little enthusiasm as she was still mulling over her research in the library.

  ‘Gavin Edwards!’

  ‘Oh, him.’

  ‘What do you mean, oh, him? He’s seriously dishy and looks amazing in his pair of Speedo trunks! I couldn’t stop staring.’

  ‘Really. So, did he ask you out?’

  ‘Of course he didn’t, but he did speak to me.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, he said, hello.’

  ‘Hello? That was it? Not exactly a proposal of marriage then.’

  ‘Patsy! What’s the matter with you? Are you jealous?’

  ‘No, I’m not jealous. I won’t stand in your way. Best of luck. I hope you had shaved your legs before you went swimming and your other places,’ she joked.

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Look, I’m starving. Come on, let’s get some chips!’ shouted Patsy as she broke into a sprint, leaving Susan to chase her along the crowded pavements receiving curses from the tourists and shoppers.

  **

  ‘I was just about to send out a search party,’ said Patsy’s mother. ‘It’s nearly six o’clock!’

  ‘Sorry, the time just flew by.’

  ‘In future, find a phone box and let me know you are OK. I was getting worried and I phoned Susan’s mother to see whether you were round at their house.’

  ‘What’s for tea?’

  ‘Cold ham and salad things because I didn’t know whether you were coming back,’ she added pointedly. ‘You can sort it out yourself. I’m going to watch TV. Oh and I phoned Susan’s Mum and I asked her around this evening for a chat, so you better stay in your room or you can use the dining room.’

  ‘It’s OK, I might sit out in the garden and read, it’s so warm.’

  ‘Suit yourself. I got the impression Susan’s Mum wanted to chat, and you know what about.’

  ‘Her breast cancer?’

  ‘Well, she didn’t say, but I assume it’s that. I feel so sorry for her. She�
�s only forty-three I think.’

  ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘He had a bowls match this afternoon, and this evening he’s playing darts. I doubt he’ll be back before you go to bed. Why? Did you want to ask him something?’

  ‘No, just curious.’

  Patsy smiled as she busied herself assembling a plate of salad and a couple of slices of ham. Today, the gods had indeed been favourable, a whole twenty-four hours without her Dad’s pearls of wisdom on life, as she thought of them. It was surprising he had any friends who were willing to spend any time with him, but perhaps they were of the same ilk. Finally, she cut herself a slice of bread and poured a glass of orange squash. Susan had invited her to go to a friend’s house to listen to some music, but she had declined as she had plans of her own. The fact that her mother was also occupied this evening meant that she could carry out her research without interruption.

  Chapter 30

  ‘Get off me! Ow! Leave me alone!’

  ‘You need to be punished! You disobeyed me! I will not be disobeyed! I am the one in charge! Do not forget that!’

  Patsy was held by the hair which was being twisted tightly. Whichever way she tried to struggle she couldn’t get free.

  ‘Teach her a lesson that she won’t forget!’

  ‘I intend to. She’s had her warnings. This time it will be more serious.’

  She was slapped about the face, then an even stronger blow hit her on her nose, causing her eyes to water. Blood began to cascade from her nostrils and into her mouth.

  ‘Can I take a turn? Please, I want to. I need to learn how to administer the punishment.’

  Patsy lashed out and managed to scratch her assailant, creating an ugly scar down her cheek. The shock of the counter-assault caused the grip on her hair to lessen and using all the effort she could muster she ducked to one side, then the other and slipped through their hands, her top ripping in the process. She was away. Freedom was in sight.

  Running seemed entirely unnatural, her limbs felt leaden, as if her shoes were being gripped by the sticky pavement. She ran through the city, and her fellow pedestrians jumped to one side giving her a wide berth. As she crossed the road by the Westgate Towers, cars beeped their horns, but she ignored them, tracing her way through the traffic. She could feel her body beginning to tire, and in the distance, she could hear the cries of Eugenia and Harriet. They were closing in on her like a fox in pursuit of its prey, their teeth bared in a show of aggression, they sensed blood. Her lungs ached, desperate for more oxygen, so she opened her mouth to aspirate as much air as possible.

  She ran up St Dunstan’s Street towards the railway line, but a bell was ringing, resonating above the traffic noise of the city. Flashing red lights accompanied the bell, signalling the imminent closure of the level crossing. Patsy saw it as an opportunity rather than a dead end. Despite the screams of other pedestrians, she ducked under the barrier and looked back, waving triumphantly at Eugenia and Harriet. She was safe at last, and she had outwitted her two huntresses. Patsy took a few paces backwards, still waving at Eugenia and Harriet. They had stopped, staring at her, their faces full of shock and fear. Patsy was unaware that the screams were directed towards her. She turned around. Unable to react in time, the train driver travelled across the level crossing, feeling the impact as the train hit her.

  Patsy let out a scream which woke her. For a few seconds, she couldn’t work out what was happening. Her heart was racing, and her sweat-soaked nightdress clung to her. She peeled her hair from her neck and threw back the covers. She felt sick. It had been the most horrendous nightmare and the worst so far. Over the last few weeks, they had become more graphic and sinister in nature. Not only was she been bullied during school hours, but those bullies were now encroaching into her subconscious. Even the hours of darkness were still available to inflict more agony. She felt as if their tentacles were enfolding her, strangling the life out of her being. Her whole existence was being seized by them in real and virtual form.

  Patsy swung her legs out of bed and sat up gingerly. Her mouth felt parched, presumably because she had been sleeping with her mouth agape. She crept downstairs to get a glass of water. The house was still apart from the familiar noises from the cooling and contraction of the wooden eaves and roof tiles. The clock on the mantelpiece indicated it was still only 11.20 p.m. yet she felt she had been asleep for ages. How could that be? Moreover, it meant that there could be many remaining hours of darkness to inflict more agony on her already troubled soul. Perhaps it would be better to read for a while to distract her troubled mind?

  She carefully climbed the stairs, walking on the side of the treads nearest the wall to minimise any creaks. Lying on top of the bedclothes, she picked up her copy of David Copperfield which they had been told to read over the summer holidays and turned to chapter six. It was difficult to concentrate as her mind was still occupied with her disturbing dream. Her ears pricked as she heard the front door close followed by some muted swearing. Her father had returned from his evening out with his pals and had no doubt had a few too many drinks. Patsy quickly switched off her bedside light and closed her eyes. She heard the flush of the downstairs toilet and expected it to be followed by footsteps climbing the stairs, but her father was clearly in no rush to go to bed. Perhaps he really was drunk and had fallen asleep on the sofa? Then she heard the sound of the back door which squeaked as the door was sticking slightly in the frame. No doubt he was in need of a smoke, she mused. Her father had many vices but to hear him speak he was such a paragon of virtue, it was everyone else who was lazy, weak-willed, feckless and dishonest.

  Patsy sighed with frustration. The hot and humid night was going to seem interminable without sleep, and the aftermath of her dream followed by her father’s night-time wanderings was making further sleep elusive. She climbed off the bed and straightened the covers, then went over to her window which overlooked the back garden and peeped through the curtains. The air filtering through the gap was slightly cooler, and Patsy breathed deeply as her eyes scanned the dark garden, made eerie by the light from the full moon.

  To her surprise, her father was out in the garden, down towards his greenhouse, betrayed by the orange glow from the tip of his cigarette. Had he gone completely mad? Being a keen gardener was one thing, tending plants at nearly midnight was entirely another. Patsy bumped her forehead on the window as she stretched forward in an attempt to get a better view and the shock of the impact made her recoil quickly. Luckily, her father was either too engrossed or too inebriated to look up towards her window and besides the sound was probably inaudible to anyone outside.

  The nocturnal gardener walked over to the left-hand flower border and bent down. For a few moments, he was obscured by the taller plants. Patsy was enthralled. Her heart was beating far more rapidly than normal, and she realised she had been holding her breath. Her father then stood up, stepped out of the bed and walked across the lawn. On this traverse, he was carrying something white, and the object hung down, almost touching the grass as he walked along holding it at arm’s length. Patsy’s hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped. She recognised the object of her father’s attention. It was Bella, their neighbour’s cat and she was dead.

  Chapter 31

  ‘Patsy! Patsy! It’s time to get up!’ shouted Angela up the stairs.

  ‘What a lazy girl she’s turning into,’ said her father.

  ‘I’ll go and wake her,’ replied Angela.

  ‘If I go up there, I’ll get a wet sponge, and that will get her out of bed.’

  ‘She might be ill,’ said Angela.

  ‘Ha! That’s a new word for it,’ he muttered. Roger had been similarly reluctant to get out of bed that morning, and before breakfast, he had taken a couple of painkillers to ease his hangover.

  There was no reply, so Angela went upstairs to investigate and pushed open her daughter’s bedroom door. ‘Patsy, it’s time to get up, we are off to church, we don’t want to be late.’

  ‘Hu
h?’ murmured Patsy.

  ‘It’s time to get ready for church, you’ve missed breakfast. Come on, just have a quick wash, and then we can go.’

  ‘Not coming, not well,’ she groaned, burying her face in her pillow.

  ‘What’s the matter, love?’ She sat on her daughter’s bed and felt Patsy’s forehead. ‘How do you feel ill? Tummy ache, headache, what?’

  ‘I was sick in the night, and I had diarrhoea. I can’t go to church.’

  ‘It must be something you ate. What did you have in town?’

  ‘I told you, we had a sandwich, that’s all.’

  ‘I hope you aren’t lying to me, my girl. Did you go and get one of those burgers?’

  ‘I didn’t, I swear. Leave me alone, please.’

  ‘I’ll get you some water, you need to drink.’

  Patsy remained supine. She could hear an argument downstairs.

  ‘You are too soft on her!’ shouted her father. ‘How do you know she’s really ill?’

  Her mother returned with a large glass of water. ‘Here you are. Drink this and then go and have a shower. It will make you feel better.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ she replied. ‘I’ll just lie here a while. I’m tired.’

  ‘OK, well, we are off to church so we’ll be back by about twelve. I’ve set the timer on the oven for the chicken. I’ll do the veg when we get back unless you want to peel them?’

  ‘I don’t know, I feel sick,’ groaned Patsy, rolling over and cradling her stomach.

  ‘OK, see you later.’

  Patsy lay in bed listening for the sounds of her family completing their preparations to go out. Then the front door slammed, and her father admonished Andrew for closing it too roughly. Next, she could hear the car start, followed by the closure of two more car doors. This was it. She was alone in the house and more importantly, the garden was hers for the next two hours.

  **

  ‘You go in, Andrew,’ said his father. ‘I just need to speak to your mother for a minute.’