Her mother took out her handkerchief and blew her nose. She looked dreadful, her face tear-stained and marred with worry lines, even her permed hair seemed awry as if it was consumed with all the nervous energy coursing through her mother. Angela’s hands were trembling as she fumbled in her bag for her purse for the bus fare. Mother and daughter passed the rest of the journey in silence. Patsy stared out of the window and bid a silent farewell to the school which had caused her so much pain over the last year. She would miss her friend Susan, but there would still be opportunities to see her at weekends and in the holidays. However bad the new school was it wouldn’t contain The Pinkies gang.
The silence continued as they walked the last half a mile or so back to Princes Avenue.
‘Your father’s not home, yet,’ said Angela. ‘You will go to your room, and I will speak to him in private. God knows how I’m going to tell him.’
As they walked up the driveway, the front door opened causing Angela to scream, fearing they had stumbled upon a burglary of their own home.
‘Oh, God,’ she exclaimed as her brain recognised the man before her. ‘You gave me a fright! It’s Graham, isn’t it?’ she asked. She recognised her husband’s manager from the annual Christmas party. ‘What’s happened? Why are you here?’ The questions tumbled in quick succession from Angela’s lips. Patsy remained silent as a mere onlooker. Something very odd was afoot, that much she realised.
‘Angela, Mrs Locke, I need to have a word with you, about Roger.’
‘Roger! Is he ill? Oh God, he’s not dead, is he? Has he had a heart attack?’ The questions were again being fired at Graham as Angela held on to the door frame. Her world was falling apart around her, and she felt her knees buckle.
‘No, no, he’s not dead. Look, come in. I’ll explain,’ said Graham, getting hold of Angela’s arm and helping her into her own house.
For a moment, Patsy’s heart had missed a beat as she thought that her father had met his demise, but he was clearly still breathing. But why had Graham and not her father answered the door?
‘I’ve put the kettle on, I hope you don’t mind,’ said Graham, reboiling it and making a pot of tea.
‘Where’s Roger?’
‘He’s in bed asleep,’ he whispered.
‘Asleep? In the afternoon? Oh, God, is it the new tablets? I’ll go and see him!’
‘I think it’s best to just leave him for the moment. Please, sit down, and I’ll tell you about it.’
‘Graham, I don’t normally do this, but I need a drop of brandy. I’ve had the most awful shock this afternoon. Patsy, go to your room. I want to speak to Mr Stevens in private.’
‘Can I go into the garden?’
‘Yes, OK. Close the door behind you.’
Angela sipped her brandy, followed by the cup of tea made by Graham. It was strange sitting in her own kitchen being waited upon by her husband’s manager, but after the day she’d had, she was past caring about the normal protocols of life.
‘Angela,’ said Graham taking a seat opposite her. ‘Roger behaved rather oddly this afternoon, so I brought him home. We also got the doctor to call around to check him over.’
‘Why, what happened? He’s on some new pills for heart arrhythmia, oh, what are they called?’
‘Quinidine, according to the doctor.’
‘So, is it a side-effect?’
‘Well, not according to the doctor. He’s not aware of them affecting anyone like that before, but he couldn’t be sure.’
‘Like what?’
Graham relayed the incident at work and Angela could hardly believe her ears. Was this really her husband he was describing? The whole situation was completely unreal, and she had yet to tell Roger about Patsy. Suddenly, she could hold in her emotion no longer and a loud cry burst forth causing her whole body to shake with racking sobs.
‘I’m sorry,’ she struggled to say.
Graham was embarrassed. Should he try to comfort her? It wasn’t as if they knew each other very well. The whole situation was extremely awkward. He too poured himself a small dose of brandy, not very much as he was driving, but he simply had to have something to take the edge of the situation.
‘The doctor gave your husband a mild sedative, and he wants you to let him know how he is in the morning. He’s signed him off sick for a week until he’s got used to his tablets.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, thank you so much for bringing him home. I’m sorry I’m in such a state, but you see Patsy has had a few problems at school as well and she’s....’ her voice trailed off as she realised she didn’t want anyone to know about what had happened.
‘I’ll leave you now but here’s my direct number and my home one. Don’t hesitate to phone if you need any help.’ He patted her hand then took his cup and glass to the sink. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
Angela continued to cry and poured herself another brandy. She wandered outside to inform Patsy about her father’s strange turn but left out many of the details, deciding to focus on his heart problems. Her mundane world had just suffered a catastrophic perturbation of its equilibrium, and she had no idea whether it would ever be the same again.
Chapter 38
Patsy had been confined to her room for the rest of the day with only a piece of toast to eat and water to drink. Her brother Andrew had popped in briefly, but as he appeared to be revelling in her misfortune, she had refused to speak to him, pretending to read instead. Thursday evening was his customary cricket nets practice so she wouldn’t be troubled by him again that evening.
As she stole along the landing to the bathroom, she could hear her father snoring loudly. Her mother had gone out without telling her, and her subsequent return fifteen minutes later was betrayed by the closing of the front door. Presently, muffled noise from the TV in the lounge filtered up through the floorboards.
Patsy crept halfway down the stairs and peeped over the bannister to see her mother through the open lounge door, a glass of red wine in front of her on the coffee table. At least it would help her relax, thought Patsy. She genuinely felt sorry for her mother and would try to explain what had driven her to take such drastic action against Eugenia, but that would have to wait for a few days. The fact that two shocking incidents had occurred on the same day had been unfortunate but from Patsy’s point of view not entirely unexpected.
Patsy retraced her steps, grimacing at the protesting creak from the third tread from the top. Tiptoeing along to her parents’ bedroom, she carefully inched her head around the door. Her father was flat on his back with his mouth open, still snoring loudly, a trail of drool extending down to his shirt collar. His trousers and jacket were slung across a chair, and he lay atop the bedclothes, his pale hairy legs visible above his black socks. It was a most unattractive sight, and Patsy blushed to see him looking so undignified.
Before her, was the hypocritical bully who had beaten her so ferociously and had killed a defenceless animal. Her feeling of embarrassment was replaced by a surge of anger and loathing towards him. She hated him. Her eyes strayed to the pillows on her mother’s side of the bed. How wonderful it would be if she could suffocate him. But who would they suspect? Possibly her mother and then someone entirely innocent would go to gaol, and she and Andrew would be put into care. As her mind mulled over the consequences, she realised the fallibility of her idea.
Instead, she went over to his suit and lifted it cautiously from the chair. Despite her attentiveness, his office keys jangled noisily in his trouser pocket, and Patsy froze. Her father gave a big snort and turned over on his side. She continued her search through the numerous jacket pockets, the first one yielding his wallet. Patsy stared at it, wrestling with temptation which soon won the battle over honesty and she opened the flap. Inside she counted five ten pound notes and two fives. Very carefully she withdrew one of the tens. This was the first time she had ever stolen any money and her face flushed with the shame of the action, even though she was unobserved. However, this was a bonus, a reward for
the risk she was taking and not the real object of her search which was soon rewarded when she felt in the outer right-hand pocket. Clutching the item tightly, she tiptoed back across the landing regaining the safety of her own room where she began to breathe again normally.
**
Eugenia was discharged from hospital having received a tetanus injection and some sterile dressings to her arms. Her parents had decided that she would miss the final day of term and spend the day at home recuperating.
‘I will be phoning Mrs Stott, tomorrow,’ said Eugenia’s father. ‘I don’t know what has happened to discipline at that school! It’s completely outrageous.’
‘Perhaps we should discuss this later,’ said his wife. ‘There can be two sides to every story.’
‘You sound like you are defending that Locke girl. You are always the same, Lynn,’ he shouted. ‘I know what the situation is, and who is in the wrong and it doesn’t help when you challenge my judgement.’
‘All I’m saying is that we need to stay calm. Watch out!’ she cried as the car sped towards a road junction where a woman with a pushchair had started to cross. The car skidded to a halt causing Eugenia to slide forward and almost bang her head on the seat in front.
‘Ow, my arm!’ she cried out.
‘Be quiet, Eugenia. Don’t be so dramatic,’ scolded her father. She was about to answer back but thought better of it. Her father was in a foul mood and once again had made it clear he wasn’t prepared to listen to his wife’s point of view.
‘Can you drop me at the supermarket?’ said her mother, ‘we’ve nothing much in for dinner.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me, I’ll be out this evening.’
‘Again? Where are you going?’
‘Oh, we are interviewing someone for Felix’s job.’
‘You don’t normally take people out to dinner,’ said Lynn, frowning.
‘Well, we do nowadays, it’s a new policy. I’ll be back late so don’t wait up.’
‘OK, well, we can just go home. Eugenia and I will just have some eggs on toast.’
Eugenia had been stunned when her taunts had finally provoked Patsy into violence. Never would she have predicted such a ferocious outburst. Patsy’s eyes had looked cruel and crazed as she stabbed the compass repeatedly in a manic frenzy. Deep down Eugenia knew she had been fully deserving of the punishment, and a niggling unease was beginning to develop inside her. Their feud was now out in the open, and it was always possible that other girls would now have the courage to come forward and report incidents which would doubtless have been seen. It was also possible that once the incident was discussed in the Staff Room, the other teachers would remember some other instances and the true picture would gradually take shape, rather like a police photofit.
For Eugenia, it had been a case of history repeating itself as she recalled her behaviour in the junior school when in a moment of rage, she had struck a fellow pupil with a wooden toy which had resulted in the little girl receiving stitches to her forehead. She had been careful to administer the blow out of the view of the teacher and had thus claimed that the child had slipped and banged her head. Her friends’ fortitude was also a matter for concern as she considered the possibility that Sophie and Harriet could choose to distance themselves from her. If that happened, then she too could become the recipient of an isolationist policy. Would they support her if challenged or would they decide that the matter had reached such a level that they wanted no part of it? The whole thing was a mess, and she was beginning to fret that she had pushed her luck too far.
**
‘Thank you, perhaps we can make a start,’ said Mrs Stott, the headmistress.
The packed Staff Room fell silent, and all eyes faced their leader.
‘Now, I’m sorry to detain you this afternoon as we are so near the end of term but obviously, the dreadful events of today necessitate this meeting. I hope that you will all exercise discretion and not discuss this with anyone outside the school. This is extremely bad publicity for us, and we need to minimise the impact.’ She paused and looked weary.
‘So, Susan Hepworth, Patsy’s friend came to see me at the end of school, just before I came along here and told me about a series of incidents involving Patsy, dating back to the beginning of this school year. From what I heard, they have increased in intensity over the last few weeks. She repeatedly encouraged Patsy to speak out about it but claims that each time she was rebuffed. I was unaware of this ongoing problem, but she, that is Susan almost accused me of turning a blind eye to Eugenia’s behaviour due to her father’s donations to the building work here. I assured her that this wasn’t true. Yes?’ she said, nodding at Miss Harrison.
‘Doesn’t she have a point?’ said the plain-speaking teacher of German. ‘We all know what a spoilt brat Eugenia is. I can’t stand her. In my opinion, she deserved all she got!’
‘Ruth! We cannot condone physical assaults between pupils. Bullying is a serious issue, and I am disappointed we have not fostered a culture of openness here where girls can express their concerns.’
‘Well, you didn’t listen to me, so why would you listen to the girls?’
‘I really don’t know what you are insinuating?’
‘Really. Well, we all know how much that family has given over the years, don’t we? Susan Hepworth was quite right. Money talks, it always has and always will.’ She sat with her arms folded. Miss Harrison was the union representative for the National Union of Teachers and one of its most vociferous members, often calling for a walkout but to her regret had never managed to garner sufficient support.
Undeterred she continued to press her case, ‘Wasn’t there an incident in the Junior School involving Eugenia? The parents of the abused girl were threatening to go to the local paper but decided against it in the end. I wonder why they changed their minds?’
‘I think we need to move on and discuss how we assess the current incident and resolve the issue,’ said Mrs Stott, looking decidedly uncomfortable. ‘So, I would like any member of staff that has evidence of bullying by Eugenia or retaliation by Patsy to put it in writing to me by first thing tomorrow morning.’ She raised her hands as there was a groundswell of mumbling emanating from the room. ‘Yes, I know it’s short notice and you are all tired as it’s the end of term, but this is of the utmost importance. Thank you, I won’t keep you any longer.’
The headmistress disappeared back to her private sanctum before any opposition to her request could be raised.
Chapter 39
Autumn Term 1980
Stour High School.
Patsy had settled in well at Stour High School, a non-selective school in Canterbury and had forged some new friendships. In some cases, it was a renewal of relationships with girls whom she had known at primary school. Having left those girls to attend what they regarded as a “posh” school, Patsy had worried that they might treat her with a certain aloofness. However, those fears failed to be substantiated, and once word got around about the stabbing incident with the compass, it gained her respect. Despite this, Patsy knew only too well that she was far from the toughest girl in the school and would need to watch her step.
Many of the lessons were much easier than they had been at Stourford School for Girls and the amount of homework much reduced. On occasion, she had to refrain from answering in class as she didn’t want to appear too clever in front of her peers. Besides, it didn’t really matter how well she performed for the teachers, her future depended on her exam papers, and they would only be seen by the external examiners. A good set of O level results would entitle her to study whatever she wanted at sixth form college and subsequently enable her to go to university.
Patsy had relaxed her well-spoken voice which she had cultivated in order to fit in at her previous school and had now reverted to a somewhat stronger local south-east accent to ease her acceptance at Stour High School. However, when she met up with Susan, she spoke as she would have done previously, enunciating her words more caref
ully, avoiding the glottal stop and using less slang.
‘See ya tomorrow!’ she called to her friends as she stumbled down the stairs on the bus.
‘Sees ya!’ they shouted back.
This evening she planned to pamper herself by taking a long bath and washing and conditioning her hair. Thankfully, the atmosphere at home had improved slightly over the summer holiday, although relationships were still somewhat strained. She was aware that the investigation into her and Eugenia’s behaviour was still ongoing at her previous school and her mother had been asked to attend a meeting the following week.
Her father seemed to have washed his hands of her and had turned his attention to her brother Andrew, who was the apple of his eye and in turn delighted in the increased attention showered upon him. He had recently started to accompany his father on fishing trips and helped him in the garden at the weekends, taking on the heavier tasks such as digging and pruning trees.
Patsy kept out of her father’s way as much as possible, devoting herself to assisting her mother who appeared to have aged considerably. Thus the household was divided along gender lines, and at times Patsy recoiled at the fact that her efforts at providing domestic help were reinforcing traditional stereotypes. However, her mother was clearly in need of support as her hair was now noticeably grey and she lacked energy and sparkle.
Despite avoiding her father as much as possible, her loathing for him had increased considerably. She felt certain he was physically abusing her mother. One day, her mother had come down to breakfast with a noticeable mark on her cheek which she blamed on a collision with the bathroom door during the night. It was a familiar, lame excuse which didn’t fool Patsy. Additionally, the parental double bed had been taken away one day and replaced by twin beds, on account of her father’s restless sleep, or so her mother explained.
Stour High School was a less convenient journey from the Locke house, meaning that Patsy had to take two buses to school and unless she wanted to take a particularly circuitous route, the short distance between bus routes meant she needed to skirt the grounds of her old school. It didn’t concern her too much though, as she looked completely different in her new uniform and her hair sported a different style as well as colour, courtesy of a semi-permanent colouring she had used in the school holidays. Patsy felt that the deeper autumn tone quite suited her and brought out the chestnut colour of her eyes.
A Form of Justice Page 20