Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.
Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.
Geoff finished packing the last box of his personal effects from his old work office. It had been quite a run, and extremely strange how he had ended up with this career. However, it was the end of this chapter in his life. Time to let go, even if he had not planned to. It was a fair deal, but he was being pushed out. The writing had been on the wall when Blaylon’s Medical had been purchased by their biggest competitor, and unlike the layoffs and the kept employees, he was one of the few that got an early retirement. For the next seven years he would get thirty-five percent of his current salary with full medical, to not take a job in a similar field. With the house paid off, and little expenses he could get by without needing to use his savings. He just needed to find something to do with his sudden abundance of free time. Perhaps get out and travel while still in his forties. Take the time to decide what he planned to do next. Maybe get his Doctorate and become a University History Professor.
As to getting a job in this field, considering it was his late wife that had the degree in organic chemistry, it was unlikely for him to do so. He only had this job as he’d been his wife’s assistant on a critical project when life stole her, and their future child from him, due to a car accident. Geoff had put in the hours to complete his wife’s first major project, so there could be a success in her name. He was rewarded with the promotion his wife should have got, and the next lonely twenty odd years of his life began. To avoid grief he sunk himself into his wife’s career.
Geoff figured he was likely the only History and Drama major in the company. If he hadn’t met Kathleen in their last year of Uni he wouldn’t have ended up here. They both found they had an upper division general education class still needed if they wanted to graduate from U. C. Berkeley, so chose the only ones that met the requirement and fitted into an available slot in their schedule. Both had needed to fight their respective advisers as the chosen course was one with pre-requisites they hadn’t taken. Luckily each’s Achilles heel was the other’s strength and so they tutored each other, upon discovering they had two shared classes that term.
Geoff tutored Kathleen in a Civil War History class, while Kathleen tutored Geoff in an Organic Chemistry one. The shared time under pressure allowed their mutual attraction to blossom into a relationship. The nearly six years were Geoff’s best. They’d married even though he was unsure if he should work toward a history doctorate or keep trying to jump start an acting career. After completing his history Masters, he had instead become his wife’s assistant as her promotion gave a staff of seven beneath her, three of which being allowed to be new hires.
Placing the photo of the two of them into the last box, he gave the office one last look to check he had packed everything. “Love you, Kathleen.” Geoff whispered while stroking a finger over her hair in the photo, and recalling the trip to Carmel Beach, California, where the picture was taken at. Knowing he was running low on time he popped the lid on the box. Pushing the cart that the boxes were on he left his office that should have been his wife’s for the last time.
It was less than six months for boredom to demand he do something. Geoff had got the yard and house straightened, finished the books he’d checked out from the library, and didn’t really want to go there a third time this week. He didn’t even want to play any more MMORPG, as he had spent far too many hours on them. The current random web surfing was to find something to capture his interest and alleviate his boredom. Seeing a deal to fly from Portland to Le Guardia, New York, and moments later he had a vacation planned to head to the east coast in a couple of days for five nights. When there, he would chose the next step based on what grabbed his attention next.
Geoff was returning from a moseying trip down Broadway on his fourth day in New York in the late afternoon. This evening he would do his random web surf to find out where he was going next. On Broadway he had watched a play and two skits. He could do three sides of the square or slip up Prior Street to get back to the hotel. If it was later he would have taken the longer route but four-forty in the afternoon wasn’t a bad time to be in a narrow alley close to busy New York streets. In fact there were a fair number of people walking the street. Of course famous last words and Murphy’s Law can cause things to go bad all too easily.
Geoff had turned at the noise of something running toward him from behind. He was just registering a young just teen girl was running toward him, barely dressed, when a loud bang rang out and he was surrounded by blackness and pain. Then he couldn’t feel any pain but was extremely dizzy.
Blinking, his vision slowly focused. He staggered, trying to not fall over, and one leg seemed shorter than the other. He was extremely dizzy and momentarily he thought he saw his foot of the shorter leg in the pavement. Concentrating on his foot he saw it was correctly on the pavement not in it, as his obviously dizzy senses had misinformed him on earlier. There was a lot of blood on the pavement near his feet.
Finally snapping out of his momentary feeling of dizziness, he noted that the street had emptied of people. It was just him and the girl, stood facing each other. The sounds of sirens caused him to turn and see two police cars arriving. Turning back to the girl he forced himself to look at the blood. There were two corpses on the ground beside them. Pointless to try to do anything for them as they had both been shot in the head. Probably with hollow tip bullets Geoff decided, as both of the corpses were almost headless. Brain matter was spread out over pavement and bodies. Blood was just about everywhere.
“I’m Daphne.” The girl suddenly said.
“Geoff.” He grunted. “Let’s step away and let the police investigate what happened.” Moving to one side as the police approached. “I only heard the one shot, and didn’t see the gunman officer.” He informed the first policeman. Daphne gave him an odd look but moved over to him when he beckoned her to back away and not interfere with the cops’ jobs.
“We’ll get the area cordoned off before taking statements.” The officer told him. Obviously expecting Geoff and the girl to stay out of the way.
The second officer arrived putting gloves on. “Likely the residents will in typical New York fashion deny they were looking through their windows, or even heard anything. Yep a Jane Doe here. Doubt John Doe over their will have I.D. either, Paul.”
“Did you see who fired the shots, Daphne?” Geoff asked.
Daphne looked at Geoff oddly. “Well I bet you anything it was Ralph, but you would have had a better chance of seeing him. What with you looking the right direction, and my back would be to where Ralph would have been coming up those townhouse basement steps. Lot of good it would do us knowing though. He’ll have bailed from the apartment, but I guess I owe you an apology so if you accept knowing who did it, as an apology then I guess I’m lightly off.”
“Officers, Daphne says the gunman Ralph lives in the basement apartment of the townhouse over there.” Geoff yelled out, but aside from one cop looking at them with a serious frown before ignoring them, the cops were too busy setting up barricades and caution tape. They would probably ask him to repeat what he’d said when they were less busy and able to make note of it later.
“Geoff, they’re not about to talk to us.” Daphne said incredulously.
“Daphne you might have had bad experience with the police, but if you are respectful and calm, they will listen and offer help.” Geoff said, realizing that the young girl Daphne was likely, due to her lack of clothes in the profession that often found itself at odds with the cops. With how young she was he felt bad that she had obviously been coerced into such a profession and obviously for long enough to have a jaded outlook on life. She had likely run away from home hoping to leave a bad situation, and as the saying goes jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“Oh Mike, looks like Jane Doe ain’t a Jane. Think this Geoffrey Stillman was his John that tried to not pay on realizing the call girl were a lad, and it got them both shot for their trouble?”
“Ah, there the two of you are. Oh, you got your brains twisted together and that’s why you stayed around. I was wondering where you had both got to.” An older man in tux, top hat, and an evening jacket with tail walked up beside them. Tapping Daphne and Geoff with his walking stick to get their attention. “Come on I need to get you on, there’s a yacht needing to capsize off Nantucket. You think it can sink on its own?”
“I’m not going!” Daphne stated, while Geoff was trying to find a way of adding three and four, and not ending up with eleven.
“I’m dead? Do I get to join Kathleen?” Geoff finally found an acceptable way to take the new eleven.
“Nope, we need to get you two untwisted. What with the bullet that exploded the lad’s head entering yours next, along with most of his brain. Then of course all of that plus both yours brains punched through the rear of your skull and splattered all over the sidewalk. What a mess. Why if it weren’t for my desire to not get roped in with the two of you I’d likely be puking my guts out over all the grisly matter you two are standing in.” Geoff noticed that the older gentleman in evening wear, was actually floating a few inches off the pavement likely as he said to not stand in the grisly mess.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Daphne said.
“Well then Geoff will be stuck with you ‘till both of you as haunts fade away. Or you can be reborn identical twins, and untwist yourselves into separate entities once more.”
“After we fade away as haunts will I finally be with Kathleen?” Geoff asked.
“Nope, that way is oblivion. Once you can no longer hold your memories together you will cease to exist. You will never see Kathleen again.”
“So the only way to see Kathleen is to be reborn? Then lead on McDuff.” Geoff said.
“Not so fast Romeo. You likely will fall for another girl while you don’t recall Kathleen in your next life, and you can’t go anywhere ‘till the lad agrees too.”
“I am not a lad! I am a girl. My name is Daphne, and I will not be reborn. I am free of that horrible body. Oblivion is better than being stuck in a boy’s body once more.”
“Well Daphne, seems like you need to convince Geoff to the advantages of being a girl. So Geoff will you follow Daphne to the dark side? They allow for selling Girl Scout cookies.” Death inquired.
“If we are reborn, can I remember Kathleen? I don’t want to go through life, losing my identity and having no memory of this one.” Geoff declared.
“Did you not here me! I will not be reborn as a boy. I have no desire to recall this life. Oblivion is better!” Daphne declared adamantly.
“Fine so identical twin sisters with Geoff recovering all of his current life’s memories and identity after the passing of the first half dozen of years or so of your next life. Will you both then follow me?”
“A good life into a society that treats women fairly.” Geoff added, suddenly thinking of the numerous countries he would not want to be born a girl in.
“Well that I’ll attempt as best I can, but no guarantees. That’s as much as I can offer. Will both of you, now, finally follow, as I said before, I need to get to Nantucket to ensure the yacht sinks. Yachts need lots of help sinking; It’s the shape, trapped air….” Death mumbled on as he led the two twisted to be twins toward the opening he’d ripped through reality.
Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.
It was while looking at the two birthday cakes, each with five candles on them that Rachel felt a feeling of de ja vu, and then she was wondering where that word came from. Strangely it was a word she’d known for eons. ‘Eons’, another new old word was unearthed to confuse her. She was pulled out of her internal pondering by clapping. Looking around she saw her parents, the neighbors and a few children.
“Good girl Sally; now come on Rachel; make your wish and blow your candles out too.”
Thankfully the things, like there being two pink birthday cakes with icing flowers, that were deltas to the odd prior de ja vu feeling were able to pull Rachel out of her stalled worrying. Listening to her Mum she leaned forward, and whilst wishing for the intelligence to understand what was happening, blew out her five candles, to another round of applause. Yes, she knew her fifth birthday cake had been shaped like a rocket with bright red and blue icing trim lines on the otherwise white iced cake. The five red candles were inside five blue circle portholes that ran the length of the rocket’s body. Here the pink and yellow candles burst from the center of five of the flowers on each of the two cakes. Each cake had three yellow and two pink candles as the center of three pink and two yellow iced flowers.
Mum quickly took both cakes to the small kitchen area and cut slices onto plates. Aunt Mary helped deliver them to the children, and a moment of silence occurred as they pounced upon their food. The adults had barely started eating theirs’ when the volume in the room increased once more due to the children finishing. “Glenda can you take your sisters and their friends outside and play in the back garden.”
Aunt Marry, their neighbor, added onto the request “Kim and Anne, help Glenda in ensuring none of the children leave the back garden.”
As soon as Rachel saw the five space hoppers being brought out of their and their neighbors’ garages that stood adjacent each other at the end of the shared driveway of the two bungalows, she knew they would be holding ‘horse’ races around the apple tree. They had started doing that on her fifth birthday until they had moved from the Fareham semi-detached bungalow. They used to run the races up and down the length of the bungalows, but as her parents had got her older sister and the next-door girls to keep them in the back garden that day, a new race course was born.
She felt sad that they had sold their first house, and remembered Dad complaining later that one of the biggest mistakes he made was selling the house and moving the family into Naval housing while he was based at sea for eight months. Apparently, inflation hit while he didn’t own real estate and it took nearly seven years to have enough to afford their second house. It also took them ‘North’, closer to relatives but mainly for the cheaper real estate. Rachel held her head as she gained a headache. Was she going crazy where were these thoughts coming from? Her prior thoughts made no sense and discrepancies of near similarities were the worst to try to unravel. Why were there five space hoppers and not just three? Her sister Glenda had one as did Kim and Anne. He didn’t have a girl’s toy.
Well it wasn’t a girl’s toy really, Andy, who as a six-year-old boy wasn't at the girls' party, but had been at his fifth birthday last time, owned one. However, the three girls with naming their mounts and treating them like horses, had made Geoffrey think they were girly. He might have even said they were to his parents. There were times he wondered how much his big sister had manipulated him, or if he had just been an awkward kid. He was thankful his parents had been so good, because they got the brunt of him being difficult whether it was due to his sister’s shenanigans or his own obstreperousness.
“Glenda, don’t let any of the children go to the front of the house…
“But we always race here, and it’s the side, not the front of the house.”
“Your Mum said ensure everyone stays in the bark garden. You can make laps around the apple tree.” Dad firmly stated while herding everyone into the back garden, and closing the gate to the drive way. “You alright Rachel? You look pale.” He added seeing one of the twins had actually stayed in the back garden and only looked through the open gate. Figuring she had to be sick as she had actually followed the rules without a second enforcing he placed the back of his hand against her forehead to see if she felt hot.
“Is Daddy’s princess okay?” Mum asked noticing what her husband was doing having organized the first race around the tree. “Come inside out of the sun Rachel. Do you want something to drink?”
“Dad you mustn’t sell the house when you go onboard HMS Zulu. We lose so much money, and it takes ages to be able to buy a house again.”
“Rachel, you know you mustn’t read Daddy’s work papers.”
“Michael she’s five. She can’t have read them. Do you think Glenda might have, and then told the twins?” Mum defended Rachel from Dad’s accusation.
“I don’t actually recall bringing that paperwork from work. Do you think she heard us talking?"
“Must have, though actually I don’t think you ever said the ship’s name to me before. I would remember Zulu I think.” Mum said as she gently brought Rachel inside. “It’s rather odd for a Royal Naval ship’s name.”
“It’s actually the third RN ship* so named.”
“The first wounded?” Aunt Mary asked, as Rachel relaxed into one of the bean bags in the sun room looking out on the back garden. The four adults had chosen to enjoy their coffee in the sunroom prior to rounding the escaping children upon seeing they’d attempted to go AWOL. From here they could ensure they stayed once more inside the back yard.
“She seems pale. I hope she isn’t going to get sick.” Mum offered noticing Rachel seemed to be day dreaming, then again that was as usual.
“I thought that too, but no temperature thankfully.” Dad offered.
“Well that’s a relief.” Aunt Mary stated then returned to the interrupted conversation. “So how goes you house hunting? We will miss you and hope you’re not moving too far.”
“The two bedroom house is just too small. If we could buy next doors we would gladly stay your neighbor…
“We couldn’t afford that and why would we need two kitchens, plus the expense of joining them together to make a detached bungalow. The building permits. Also, the twins will be fine sharing a bedroom. It’s just too much to place three girls in a single tiny room, otherwise we’d stay here.” Dad quickly killed Mum’s dream idea.
“Well if we went into officer housing, we could get a four bedroom house…
Rachel tuned out what her Mum was saying as she was struggling with thinking how she could stop her parents from selling. It is not like she could say that they must own a house. Or explain knowing a huge inflation occurs over the next year that they will need several years to recover from. Years needed to recover the lost money before they were able to afford buying a house again. Why was she so sure of this happening?
It had started with the wrong cake. There being too many of them and it being pink. That was followed by the new words with recollection of knowing them for years, which jived badly seeing as she was today only five years old. The weird wrongness was next while outside. Watching Glenda, Anne and Kim bring five space hoppers while recalling that there should be three. Correctly knowing they would race around the apple tree and then it happened. So as that happened the fiasco over the house would too. Her parents and neighbors were right now discussing moving and the officer’s housing seemed the best choice.
If the memories were real then she was a boy, and Sally was Daphne. Well Daphne was her girl’s name she never said what her boy’s name was and she; Err, he hasn’t been born yet. He, er she was around twelve to fourteen when we were shot in New York and he was forty something…
“Rachel, how do you know the name of the ship I’m going to be serving on next?” Dad interrupted her wool gathering, having seen the colour return to her face he was less worried she was sick and his earlier concern of her getting into his work documents was re-awoken.
“Well it was in all your letters you wrote home to us. Along with the stick man pictures you drew of how you signaled using ‘paddles’? to the helicopters trying to land on the ship.”
“Rachel, I haven’t left yet, nor written you letters, and I am a Hydrographer and Meteorologist, I am not going to be signaling the helicopter pilots on how to land.”
“Oh, maybe you just thought it was a fun fact to share with your son with pictures, and I thought you were the guy that actually did it. Anyway, the letters said the ship’s name.
Rachel’s parents looked at each other. Their daughter just referred to herself as a boy. Ignoring how she was happily talking about something that hadn’t yet happened as if it had, as explanation of knowing what was going to happen, which surely was circular reasoning. ‘What should they do about Rachel?’ Was more or less the thinking of both parents.
Rachel stopped herself from continuing. She realized that discussing about while being a teenager being told to buy a house as soon as he could afford one, to avoid his father’s mistake would not go across well. She was thankful Dad hadn’t asked about the diagrams of how to hold the ‘bats/paddles’? to prove his knowledge, as that was years ago according to the new old memories, and he recalled there had been diagrams, but couldn’t for the life of her remember what they looked like.
A couple of children stopped the inquisition, and Rachel fled outside leaving four concerned adults behind. However, they convinced themselves that Rachel must have heard them talking and then dreamed up the rest with her overactive imagination. She had said off the wall stuff before. In wanting to avoid discussing the male pronouns and identifiers each adult encouraged the other to shelve the conversation. They went back to discussing why they needed to move and the advantages of naval housing in Porchester that was only a stop away on the railway line to Portsmouth from Fareham. It meant they could keep in touch easily.
Rachel found that apparently, she was up next to ride ‘Pied Eye’ against Glenda on ‘Blackie’ as usual, and Mandy, Susan, and Kim on ‘Black Beauty’, ‘Misty’ and ‘Tomahawk’. Rachel didn’t fuss she wasn’t on her ‘Tomahawk’, Kim always wanted it ever since Rachel named her mount. Kim preferring it to the one she’d named ‘Pied Eye’ moments before.
Anne and Glenda had been the ones to say the girls couldn’t name their mounts the same name as used by another, nor change name after hearing something better. As the three Stillman girls were nearly through being read ‘Black Beauty’ from their Mum, Sally quickly named her mount ‘Black Beauty’ while Glenda grasped ‘Blackie’** to trump her younger sister. Anne had followed with ‘Misty’, and no one knew what Kim and Rachel were thinking other than Rachel following the ‘Pied Eye’ with a ‘Tomahawk’ for her horse’s name.
Rachel glanced at the poor lineup position Kim and Glenda had chosen, but then recalled this was likely the race they flipped the direction of the laps around the tree. Deliberately starting slowly she looked over her shoulder and saw them bouncing in place while turning the space hoppers to face the opposite direction, and he cut back after them in leaping bounds.
While the other four all swung to orbit the tree close, he swung further out wide. Sure enough the planned switcheroo on the lap direction caused the similar tangle when four versus the prior three space hoppers approached close in to the tree trunk on head on collision, and he was able to carry on in the reverse direction away from the snaffle up with his outer orbit of the tree and win the race.
“How’d you know the direction was changed, Rachel?” Anne asked.
“You three do it all the time. One of us will start to notice and pay attention.” Rachel offered.
“But, you weren’t even here when we planned this.” Kim sulked.
“Are you sure you’re the eldest Kim?” Rachel asked. “I mean your pout is the cutest baby pout I’ve ever seen.”
“Rachel and Sally are five today, not nine or something, yes?” The nearly eight year old Anne asked Glenda, as Rachel easily beat Anne’s nine year old sister in the last verbal spar.
* First HMS Zulu, Tribal F-class destroyer launched on 16 Sept 1909 and commissioned on March 1910 had her stern blown up and sunk by minefield off Dover on 27 Oct 1916 during world war one. The forward section was attached to the Nubian’s stern that lost its forward section to torpedo and the new ship became HMS Zubian.
Second HMS Zulu, Tribal-class destroyer was launched 23 Sept 1937 and commissioned 7 Sept 1938. It was sunk 14 Sept 1942 during world war two.
Third HMS Zulu, Tribal-class Frigate was launched on 3 July 1962 commissioned on 17 April 1964 and sold to the Indonesian Navy in 1984.
** “Blackie” was “Black Beauty’s” name from original owner at the start of the book.
Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.
The next few weeks progressed almost exactly the same as Rachel remembered them doing. The realtors ‘For Sale’ sign was stuck in the front garden. They had to constantly clean the house because strangers were visiting to decide if they wanted to take their house away from the girls. Something seemed wrong with that. They had to work harder to help have, what they didn’t want to have happen, occur. Glenda’s tantrum about not wanting to move and ‘lose all her friends for ever’ was summarily ignored.
“Rachel Monica Stillman! Why are you not ready?”
“But Mum can’t I stay at home…
“Come here young lady. We are going to your room!” Rachel was almost dragged to the room where the offending articles of clothing were still where her Mum had left them, the middle of the bottom bunk she shared tops and tails with Sally.
“Arms up.”
“I can dress myself!”
“Obviously not, now we’re nearly late so arms up.” Rachel suffered the humiliation of not just having to wear, but being dressed in white tights, pink leotard, and a flippin’ pink tutu as if she were a baby still unable to dress herself. With her hair roughly brushed collected and tied in a high pony tail she looked like a right prat. Her red ringed and blottey panda circles around her eyes from trying to not cry probably didn’t help any.
This was a drastic change from her memories. She didn’t even remember that Glenda had already been going to ballet at this time. She had memories of her quitting ballet when they lived in Weymouth about three years from now. Perhaps she’d only paid attention to what her big sister was doing alone when there was yelling, screaming and major drama was involved.
Of course Rachel realized as Mum locked the front door with her and her sisters outside with far too much of her body visible, they wouldn’t be getting into the car. No Dad had the car so they were now going to walk in public dressed like… Ah she didn’t even want to acknowledge in thought what she currently looked dressed as. This had to be child abuse.
A lifetime of humiliation later they finally got to the dance studio and were able to get out of public view, and she could at least hide at the back of the sea of five to teenage age dancers in similar enough outfits that she hopefully wasn’t visible.
Twenty-five minutes later and Rachel had succeeded in annoying the ever patient teacher enough by doing nothing and ignoring her that she’d asked one of the older girls to cover the class while she went into her office with Rachel’s Mum. She’d refused to smile, follow directions and stood rigid in the back with arms folded. Initially she had thought to mimic so as to not stand out, but then realized that doing so would lead to capitulation. She did make note of the stretches. Those likely would be useful when not dressed as a ballerina! With any luck the teacher is likely begging her Mum to never bring her here again. Just a few more minutes of being ridiculed and gossiped about and the walk home, and maybe she will be free of this outfit she thought, to allow herself to handle the taunting. Sadly there were Mums here that were as rude and un-accepting, if not more than the children.
Rachel felt a little bad as she almost ran with her sisters after her hastily walking Mum on the way home after class. Her Mum looked like she was about to cry which made no sense. Rachel had told her she wouldn’t enjoy ballet. Mum’d said she just had to try and might find she actually likes it. She was an adult and shouldn’t cry just because the other person was right. If she had just listened to her in the beginning this would never have happened. When she’d said that to her Mum, it had made her Mum more upset. Rachel was figuring it was best to leave it alone. Soon she would be home and out of this ridiculous outfit, and never have to wear it again.
Saturday started with the typical grey gloom of late early-April, where Spring had stalled in escaping Winter. The kids were bundled up into the car for yet another weekend of house hunting. Rachel had lost to Sally for a window seat on the rear bench of the Austin Allegro. Thus, was stuck with feet on the hump. This was nice, as her dangling feet could actually rest on the raised floor. However, said hump was erroneously used to show the space of the seat that was hers. She was also too short to see easily out of the front windshield, so the lack of view often led to making her carsick. She used to think the Allegro was a huge car, having one more sibling seemed to cause the car to shrink.
After the third house in Titchfield the excitement of carefully tearing around different rooms and gardens was wearing even Sally’s previously believed unending excitement. As Glenda and Sally attempted to get Rachel to join in on their pinching and pulling hair game she was unfortunately sat in the middle of, Rachel tried to listen to her parent’s conversation up front, as the car drove to Whiteley next.
“Let’s stop for lunch somewhere on the way to Whiteley, dear.” Mum requested.
“I’ll see what I can do. Anyway, I think the second was a definite candidate.”
“I am not living for a year in a house that needs that much work. Remember you can’t get started fixing anything for almost a year. I can’t live with that kitchen and bathroom. Two of the bedrooms are unusable, and the garden!”
“Dear, I could get the kitchen changed before I left. The second bedroom is larger than the one the three girl’s are currently sharing, so the bedrooms can wait…
“And the bathroom, and the garden?” Mum asked.
“I might be able to get the bathroom done too. Can’t the garden wait?”
“Micheal, even best case, it will take six weeks to move, and that will leave slightly less than two months to unpack and get yourself sorted for your own move. Do you really think during the handful of weekends you aren’t pulled on duty, you can shop for and install the new kitchen, and you think to say you could get the bathroom fixed also. If the Hughes’ offer falls through, and there’s something odd there, then we will still be looking for a buyer. Most likely we will barely have time to sell and move before you’re gone, and I can’t live with that kitchen and bathroom for a year.”
“How about ‘The Wilde Horse’?” Michael quickly changed the subject.
“We’re going to get a horse when we move?” Glenda immediately changed her mind on being against the move.
“Really!” The shriek from Sally was instilled with pure excitement. The two girls began into a hurried conversation of timeshare, grooming, mucking the stall, and other allotments of who gets what when, with the believed family horse. Rachel just sunk back into the rear seat not wanting to be the wake-up call to reality on that one.
“A pub lunch is not really appropriate with the girl’s.”
“We can sit in the garden, the sun’s come out and it looks quite nice.”
“What about our horse?” Glenda tried to get back to the important conversation.
Belinda looked out and noted that there was a patch of clear sky so agreed with her husband on his lunch idea.
Here’s ‘The Wilde Horse’, poppet.” Michael told his eldest as he turned, and the pub’s sign could be seen ahead.
“That’s not a horse.”
“Sure, it is. Look at the picture on the sign.” Dad told Glenda.
“Looks like you’ll have to go in to order.” Belinda offered. “They can have lemonade, are we drinking?”
“I figured I would get a pint.”
“Glass of house white as long as it’s not too dry.”
As Sally and Glenda went to explore the flower garden likely still hopeful on getting a horse, Rachel followed her Mum, whom had brought some printed sheets of paper from the Allegro to the wooden slat table they would be eating lunch at. Placing several house fliers beside each other she tried to plan the order of the afternoons hunting. Rachel to pass time quickly started reading from the side of her Mum.
“What are you doing Rachel?” Mum asked her daughter, having suddenly realized she was not alone in her reading.
“Looking at the choices of houses we’re going to look at next. These two have only two bedrooms, and that one has three, but no driveway or garage…
“How do you know that, there are no pictures on this page? Wait a second what does this word say?”
“fireplace?” Rachel queried trying to work out how that word had anything to do with what she had just said.
“… and this one?”
“fenced.” Rachel more confidently offered. Then as her Mum pointed to several words she called them each out until getting to the last request for ‘panoramic’.
“When did you learn panoramic?”
“Well I’m sure I’ve heard you or Dad say it many times.”
“No, I mean, how it looks written.”
“Well I mean it’s actually spelt just as it sounds, so I’m not sure what to say.” Rachel said being slightly flustered as she couldn’t recall why she knew how the word looked like it did and trying to answer 'when' would open a whole other kettle of fish. She could just see how that one would go over if she said, 'I'm sorry Mum but I can't recall when in my prior life's over forty years of memories I learned that word. Oh, and I was a man then.'
“Fireplace doesn’t though.” Mum replied. “If you spoke it how it’s written you would say something like ‘fiery plackey’.”
“No, I wouldn’t it’s missing the ‘y’s’ and ‘k’ for saying it that way.” Rachel obstinately disagreed and hopefully muddied the water by acting out.
“I brought you the wine list, as the house white is rather dry apparently.” Michael said, dropping the three lemonades, a couple of menus and the wine list on the table.
“Rachel can read all of this.” Belinda informed her husband.
“Well the school says she spends all her free time reading.”
“I’m sure it’s picture books, the school isn’t aware she can read words like ‘panoramic’. They would call something like that out specifically.”
Michael once more found himself in uncomfortable territory before realizing that he had to go back for his pint. “They recommend the Mount Evan Chablis, I can get it when I go back for my pint?” At his wife’s nod he escaped and put off having to address the oddness that was his second daughter.
“Sally, Glenda. Come here girls and chose what you want to eat. Actually, Rachel why don’t you read the menu to them.”
“Rachel can’t read the menu Mum, she’s five!” Glenda exclaimed.
“Sure, she can. Rachel read the choices to your sisters.” Mum requested and didn’t notice the thunderous brow forming on her eldest as Rachel began reading.
As Rachel finished reading the sixth item Glenda tore the menu from her hands. “it’s just a dumb menu anyone can read it Mum. She then began reading the first item on the menu that Rachel had already read. “Cot-tag-ee pie sir-ved with…
“That was ‘cottage pie’ and ‘served’ and I read that one already…
“Of course, it is but I am teaching Sally how to sound out the words. It’s the first step in learning to read but you don’t know that yet. Here you need more practice.” Glenda thrust the menu back at her sister, and their Mum realized that perhaps this hadn’t been as good an idea as she’d originally thought it would be.
Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.
With the house choices whittled down correctly, as Rachel had stated before lunch, there were only two choices to look at in Whiteley. So they had decided to look at the best candidate in Curdridge rather than driving back this way on Sunday. Unfortunately, none of the three were acceptable.
“It is not worth driving back out this way for the others as from the descriptions we already counted them out as unacceptable.” Mum said as they drove back to Fareham in the early evening.
“You want to look at Porchester tomorrow?” Dad asked.
“Why not look at Havant?” Rachel asked, wanting to stop her Dad making the same mistake as last time. “Being the junction of two railway lines you can get direct trains east to Chichester and Brighton, south to Portsmouth, west to Fareham and Southampton, and north to London.”
“Well you are wrong on the direct trains to Fareham and Southampton but the rest is true and a good idea. We never thought to look east.” Dad pondered while thinking. “What time does the realestate office close?”
“It might be already closed. It is five-twenty, and it’s a Saturday. I thought we were looking west of Porchester so I can easily get to Fareham, and I like shopping in Southampton, the girls’ like the ice rink too.” Mum offered, while Rachel realized that it was later that Havant became the junction of the Brighton to Southampton and Portsmouth to Waterloo lines*.
“It’s worth swinging by on the way home just to see. You know your Mum loves Chichester for shopping and we could take the girls to Brighton for the pier or to swim, or the museums in London. The change in Fratton would not add too much to the trip to Fareham or Southhampton.” Dad said and altered the course to include the town center when his wife didn’t object.
Lights could be seen and a group of people standing through the real estate office windows as they pulled up to the curb of the office. “If anyone comes, sit in the driver’s seat, dear. I’ll duck in there before they close.” Dad said pulling to the curb of a loading only zone, and quickly entered the Fareham office.
Barely fifteen minutes later, Dad was back with a few more house prospects. “We need to look at this one in Emsworth tonight. It was reduced a couple of hours ago and someone plans to look at it tomorrow. They called the seller and their aware we’re coming this evening.”
“What about dinner? They’ll want something soon.”
“You think they can eat chips and not mess up the car while I drive?” Dad asked.
“Yay fish and chips.” Glenda cried.
“Just the chips and you eat them one at a time and don’t drop any in the car.” Mum interrupted. “I’ll get them a small bag each as there’s less chance of a mess if they don’t have to share. We can then eat something at home later.”
“Well I was hoping for a few chips myself too.”
“Fine I’ll buy four bags.” Mum countered and checked she had her handbag as they pulled up at ‘The Plaice**’.
The trip to Emsworth was quiet, primarily as the girls were happily munching on chips. Michael following the directions given turned left onto the less busy side street just before the house and found the driveway on the right for the house on the corner lot. The driveway swung right and headed to the garage door. Right of the driveway was a tall hedge that blocked out the main road from the side and rear of the house. Left of the driveway was the fenced back garden. The fence followed the edge of the driveway allowing the garden to widen as it stretched away from the rear of the house after the driveways entrance.
“This is the back of the house. It’s backwards Dad.” Glenda said looking at the unique house.
“The prior owner got planning permission to put windows in at the now back of the garage, which was the original front. Put this driveway here and the old driveway was dug up to allow a bigger front garden.”
“Why would they do that.” Rachel asked pondering the strange idea.
“The main road got too busy to back out into. Other houses along this road have added a second front driveway or spur to turn cars around in. Of course their front gardens end up smaller due to doing that. This house being on the corner with the less busy side street had this third option to solve the issue.”
Leaving the Allegro they used the gate to leave the driveway and follow the footpath to a covered porch with French windows that were open. Sitting in the room beyond enjoying the evening sunset, but sheltered from the stiff sea breeze, the children saw a couple that were several years older than their parents.
“You must be the Stillmans? I’m William Brentwood and this is my wife Patricia.” The gentleman said while crossing to Michael with hand extended. His wife stood and followed. “Come on in. Let’s show you around.”
After the obligatory greeting and name exchanges Patricia informed the family of the room they were currently standing. “This is our sunroom and we were just enjoying the sunset. We use the porch when it’s warmer outside.”
William continued explaining the house. “Yes, the porch is nice for Summer evenings. Anyway, the sunroom here shares running the rear of the house ‘till the breakfast bar where starts the breakfast slash casual dining area. These two rooms and the main bedroom with ensuite above are all part of an extension added to the original three bedroom house that we did when we bought the house. That opening to the study-library used to be a window, and the door there adjacent replaced what used to be the rear door of the house.” Glenda couldn’t help herself running and peering through the opening into the study.
“Girls, best behavior and no running please.” Their Mum reminded them.
“On the other side of the old rear door is the hall and stairs running down the center of the Georgian style house to the front door.” William led them past the breakfast bar into the breakfast dining area where the rear wall had been knocked through so the original small kitchen could increase into the extension sharing with the breakfast dining area half of the new addition.
“We removed the old door from the hall into the kitchen to allow more counter space, kitchen cabinets and make the kitchen more modern and spacious.With the rear wall removed the sink moved into the extension to make the kitchen bigger, but otherwise it is in the same place as the plumbing had been below the old rear window. The cabinets, sink, hob and oven were all upgraded as was the tiling and marble countertop.” Patricia informed them.
After they had looked at the kitchen in detail they followed Mister Brentwood through the archway into the dining room that was at the front of the house. It had a five paned bay window looking out on the front lawn that swept at a slight slope down to a tall hedge that except for a gate in the middle blocked the busy road from the house. A foot path bisected the lawn from the gate to front door. The dining room had cornice molding and a center round that the chandelier hung from. Molding panels ran around the lower portion of the rooms walls. In the middle of the right wall a door led into the main hallway.
“The second bedroom, that was the original master is above us and has a bay window too.” Patricia stated as William opened the door to the hallway.
Running along the far side of the hall were the stairs coming down toward the front of the house. The other side of the hall had three doors too. The door they entered from was the only one on their side of the hallway as the prior kitchen doorway had been walled in. At the two ends of the hall way were the front door and old rear door. Before the stairs started there was a door near the front door that led into the living room. The living room like the dining room had a bay window.
“There is a half bathroom under the stairs.” William told them opening the middle of the three doors on that wall to show a tiny sink and loo with sloped ceiling.
The third door like the first was sunk back as the stairs had ended prior to it. Due to being indented it was clear of the old back door and it opened in to the study-library. The new fourth bedroom was directly above the study. It was smaller than the third bedroom due to the ‘U’ shaped landing at the top of the stairs removing a bit more than three foot of width from it verses the third bedroom. The third bedroom was above the living room, so as well as being three feet wider it had a bay window too.
At the top of the stairs, and at the base of the ‘U’ landing was a door. “This door is where there used to be the landing window.” Patricia said opening it and bringing them into the new master bedroom. Near the bedroom’s windows there was an archway to the right which led into a sitting/dressing area with several closets. It had a door coming back toward the main house, where the ensuite butted onto the original exterior wall. The other side of that wall was where the main bathroom over the kitchen was located. The new ensuite had a window on the north side of the house. The one window in the main bathroom that had been on the original exterior rear west wall had been blocked with sheet plaster to make a recessed interior wall. The recess was utilized with medicine cabinets and shelving for both bathrooms. An expel air vent had been added to the north side wall of the main bathroom as it now had no window.
Back on the upper landing there was a door at the end of each arm of the ‘U’ that ran just about a third of the length of the original house’s hallway below. One side led into the previously second and now third bedroom. This side of the ‘U’ also had a door in its middle that led to the fourth now windowless bedroom, above the study. The other arm of the ‘U’ had two doors along its side, and thus three total. The two side doors provided were one for the main bathroom and one for the original master, now second bedroom.
“Where does that door go?” Michael asked about the locked door at the end of the ‘U’ that had three doors. Sally had tried opening it earlier while almost running around the house in excitement.
“That door leads up into the floored but unfinished attic. The house has mid to steep roofs and we have two full gables above the extension at the rear and two mid size bay window gables at the front of the house allowing four large rooms with windows to be made easily up there. Or you could make those rooms smaller and have two windowless storage areas, one in the middle of each pair of rooms.” William told them unlocking and opening the door. Stairs started right behind the door running the rest of length of the house to the front door, which explained how the front entrance below had a higher vaulted ceiling. The stairs turned at the front of the house and finished running back above the main-stair case, up to the attic space.
Rachel looking at the turning point and seeing a window to the outside evening got a little confused. “How can there be a window here? We’re above the front door and the roof should be sloping in here.”
“In addition to the two bay window gables there is a small gable in the center of the house above the front door, which is where this window is. See the edges of this mid landing’s ceiling. They are the slope of the gable above us.” Mister Brentwood informed them. From the mid landing only four stairs were needed to get into the attic.
The entire attic was floored. With the steep slope of the roof about seventy percent of the floor’s area was usable. For the twin girls it was likely over eighty percent they could stand up in, though that took a bit of twisting between the wooden framing in places. The collar beams were run above head height and would not interfere with the livable space.
Standing in the right hand bay window and looking through the furthest right hand pane of the five panes of glass making up said bay window you could see Emsworth Harbor and then beyond the channel Hayling Island blocked the view of the joining between the Solent and the English Channel. Hayling Island also blocked the view of the north eastern coast of the Isle of Wight eight miles or more south west***.
Aside the houses on the other side of the main road it was just the few taller buildings of Emsworth town center poking above the trees that could be seen. Even from this height the front hedge blocked the main road. Thus aside the blip of a car seen going one way or the other at the break where the front gate stands one could easily forget a road was there. Due to all the wooden beams and joists along the sides of the roof to enable the open area Glenda felt they were looking down from atop a magical tree house within a huge forest.
Glenda swung her arms while twirling. Then she ran to her Mum. “Mummy if we move here I want this room.”
“This isn’t finished yet princess.” Her Dad told her before one of the other girls started demanding the room too. “It will get extremely hot in the summer and cold in the winter as there’s no insulation or walls and it would be drafty and too big to sleep in alone.”
“Daddy, why? I can’t keep my friends, can’t have this attic, and can’t have a pet; I can’t even have a horse!” Glenda in eight year old exasperation declared.
‘*’ In the 70’s and early 80’s Fratton just outside Portsmouth was the junction as it was the first train station that the three routes, Southampton to Portsmouth, Brighton to Portsmouth and London to Portsmouth shared. During the late 80’s to 90’s Havant had grown significantly that it became the junction with the three routes being decreased into two.
‘**’ Plaice is a common commercially caught flat fish that lives on the European Continental shelf. It is not commercially viable in the U.S. which is more familiar with flounder and sole that are similar. Thus the joke of a fish and chip store called ‘The Plaice’ is often lost on US tourists. There are quite a few UK fish and chip businesses that use ‘Plaice’ in their name.
‘***’ At eye level about 5’ 7’’ when standing at sea level you can see about three miles. Standing in the attic on top of a two-story house that is itself around fifty feet above sea level will enable one to see about nine miles without obstruction. So, If Hayling island wasn’t there the coast of the Ilse of Wight could be seen. Of course Hayling Island is there so the Isle of Wight still can’t be seen.
Geoff estranged from his UK relatives is a widower living in Portland. He is in his late forties when he faces the bad midlife crisis of being forced into retirement. Unlike many it might be one of the best things to have ever happened to him recently. For sure the next bad thing that happens could also be considered candidate for the title of 'Usually a really bad thing that is actually for the best'.
Though the house had been listed almost five years ago as being in Emsworth, it was actually in New Brighton as it was north of the A27. The train station was on the south side of the main road so, Emsworth was used to describe most of this area unless people wanted to be clique and exclude themselves from other neighborhoods. Emsworth railway station also actually served Westbourne, New Brighton, Thorny Island, Prinsted and it could be argued Southbourne too. Southbourne was actually directly in the middle of Emsworth’s and Nutbourne’s railway stations.
Rachel stepped into the bay of her bedroom and looked in the furthest right pane. Being a floor lower than the attic bay window, she could only see a bit of the Coast of Hayling Island. It was her glimpse of sea to recall her odd dreams of the Pacific Ocean. They had lived here nearly five years and she had always had this bedroom. Glenda took the attic room above hers two years ago. Rachel wonders if Dad had finished the other side first if she could have got the room she wanted.
Unfortunately, the attic bay window room above the old main bedroom was finished second, and when Rachel turned it down it went to Sally, whom moved from sharing the third bedroom with Rachel to it, as soon as it was completed. When the windowless attic bathroom was finished against the north end wall of the roof, the original main bathroom of the house became hers alone, except when their Grandparents visited. Rachel constantly reminded herself of this fact to show herself that good stuff did still happen in her life.
Her Mother made friends in Emsworth far quicker than she had in Porchester. In fact as in her old memories or weird dreams they had seemed to live in Fareham, and only sleep in Porchester her memories as Geoff didn’t include her Mum making friends there. As surely she must have, it was one of several reasons she was seriously questioning if the memories were not made up. Rachel wished that her Mother’s two best friends in Emsworth weren’t Laura and Ester.
Well Laura wasn’t too bad. She was a perky ball of energy that had a lovely smile that seemed almost a permanent fixture. Rachel had never met someone before that just didn’t seem to get upset, ever. The problem was she had too much energy and got her Mother hooked on aerobics. Paired with the two spare finished bedrooms in the rear of the attic and it meant one was quickly re-purposed and filled with her Mother’s aerobic stuff. It also had a partially mirrored wall and barre added for Sally to practice her ballet.
Though she and Glenda usually were able to duck out of ballet practice they weren’t as lucky avoiding aerobics. All three girls were routinely press ganged into their Mother’s aerobic torture sessions. She’d never before thought she would curse having a large house with empty rooms. Her dreams of the earlier life living in smaller houses had never included dance torture.
Rachel had quickly learnt to not mention anything about what was going to happen, and actually a fair amount occurred differently. They hadn’t gone to live in Portugal, which meant the eight months before turning seven she had put into starting to learn Portuguese was a wasted effort. Their Dad had instead gone for a year to the Naval Post Graduate School in Monterey, California to get his masters in Physics. Due to it being only a year instead of a typical two years working abroad there was no family travel provided so the family stayed in Emsworth. She was worried that with her Dad going to Monterey already he wouldn’t take the two years exchange officer program to work at the F.N.O.C.* when she was sixteen like he had before. Meaning she wouldn’t get out to California and meet Kathleen in University there.
She was unsure if the changes with what she had thought was a prior life were due to her causing the change in how the dreams of her prior life went, her memory not being perfect, or if it proved they were dreams and not real in the first place. Sally had never shown any indication that she was Daphne or a boy before. In fact if she declared that Sally was a boy they would likely commit her as she’d never met a more girly girl. No one could act all the time oblivious to a prior life. Finding there was a Kathleen studying organic chemistry in UC Berkeley would surely prove Geoff was real. So she had eight years to wait until she could prove definitively that Geoff was real.
Sighing, Rachel wondered what to do about her boredom. Due to being thought smart she had been bumped up two years, and at becoming ten a few weeks ago was finishing her first year of secondary school. This fact was definitely disliked by Glenda who at thirteen and in her second year of secondary, probably was worried they would be in the same third year next school year. She hoped it was just immature jealousy that caused Glenda to ensure Rachel’s life in Warblington was absolute hell.
Had she messed up her new life? From her dreams or memories of Geoff’s prior life, where it had just been the two of them, she recalled Geoff generally having a good relationship with his big sister. He had a good one with his parents until his late teens when he failed his Maths O-level, which should be no problem for her this life. Then again, this life she didn’t have a great relationship to mess up, as she already did that over the last five years. Rachel was sure it was Misses Fowler and her changeling conversations with her Mother that had soured her relationship with her parents.
Misses Fowler was Ester’s Mother, and she had definitely never been Ester’s Mum. For that reason Rachel forgave how Ester treated her, as she felt sorry she’d never had a Mum. Rachel had memories as Geoff of being raised by a loving Mum, which of course could be her imagination, but even if that wasn’t real she has five years of knowing that Glenda, Sally and her, were loved that Ester never got. Her Mother was still a good Mum to Sally and reasonable to Glenda. It could be her own fault. Maybe being a weird adult in a child’s body couldn’t be loved. She tried to act childish, but that only caused more problems.
They’d become a dysfunctional family and no matter how you sliced it Rachel knew it had to mainly be her fault. Maybe she was a changeling. If the fey messed up their spell it could explain her dual existence as both male and female. If the memories were true then as she was what was changed between that life and this then it was her fault her Mother treated her the way she did. Dad had always favored Glenda. In the memories of the prior life, Mum favored Geoff. Before Ester and Misses Fowler arrived, she favored the twins. Now, she favored Sally.
Rachel was constantly berated for not being like her sisters, and yet praised for being smart. It was weird she was constantly under pressure to study harder and behave like a lady as she was a disappointment being so much of a tomboy unlike her good sisters. However, her academic skills were lauded to all and sundry. In private though it was as if she wasn’t trying hard enough and she could do no right. If she didn’t feel sort of guilty of cheating with Geoff’s memories to lean on she would be disgruntled with how she, the girl that skipped two years ahead, was considered the family’s disappointment.
The other problem was that her parents wanted her to concentrate on studying and wouldn’t let her do anything she had suggested so far as a hobby to provide a break. Well that wasn’t completely true they had finally allowed her a racing bike instead of the three speed girl’s bike being handed down from Glenda. That old bike went to Sally instead, and she was made to feel she owed Sally for accepting it and enabling her to get an inappropriate bike for a girl. Maybe she imagined that. She was constantly second guessing whether her inadequacies in her parents’ eyes were dreamed up due to her own guilt or were actually present.
The cycling hadn’t provided her with what she desperately needed, friends. The local bike club in Emsworth, ‘The Kingley Nights’ was geared totally to mountain biking. If she put more effort maybe she could do better and find a safe way to get to a road bike club that was further afield. However, this was for fun and she wasn't even allowed to go riding on the Isle of Wight after using train and passenger ferry with her bike as he was when Geoff lived in Portsmouth. No, where the bike gave Geoff freedom, she was severely limited in how far she was allowed to roam.
It was her friends in the CC Weymouth bike club she missed. She’d never been anything better than average at cycling but they used to ride all over Dorset. She especially enjoyed their Weymouth to Dorchester trips up the scarp steep hills. She’d lost count of how many times they made that trek during the nearly three years Geoff had lived there the second time Dad was posted at Portland after returning from Portugal. As Dad had never worked a day in Portland this life, this was yet another nail to show Geoff was a figment of her overactive imagination. It would mean those friends too, were imaginary. Rachel sometimes felt her desire to cling to those memories was to prove she had, and therefore deserved in this life too, friends.
Unlike the roads around their house, the roads in Dorset were quieter. If they had lived there and she’d been allowed to do so much more as her memories said they did, she had to think it was not only because she was a boy, but the quieter roads and her having a group of friends that had allowed her true freedom at nine years old that at ten she still hasn’t got yet. True her parents allowed her a racing bike but it hadn’t lead to the friends it did last time, and her other choices of things she wanted to try, didn’t get as good a reception. She tried to stop herself from thinking that being a girl was to blame for this worse version of life. Sally and Glenda appeared happy. It was just Rachel’s life that seemed to suck compared to Geoff’s. Worse though was Geoff’s life seemed rather average with moments of something great. A child shouldn’t be jealous for that.
Her parents out right refused to let her learn the drums or guitar. Her Mother knew how to play flute and violin which she was teaching to Glenda. Mother also taught the flute to Sally. Sally had her ballet that neither other girl was interested in. Though they hadn’t gone to Weymouth, Glenda quit sooner, which Mother blamed Rachel for causing. If she wasn’t second guessing whether her prior memories were true she could possibly feel less guilty of being the problem. If they were true she still had to still feel guilty of making it occur sooner.
Glenda quitting was either due to her, as her Mother espoused, because Glenda dislike being shown up, as Sally quickly showed she was better at ballet, the teacher in New Brighton that was not as patient as the one in Fareham, the lack of her friend Anne in the class, or one or more of those combined with the fact she would have quit anyway eventually. Regardless it was another proof that her belief of what was going to happen was so much bunk, and no reprieve from the blame her Mother assigned her.
Rachel was increasingly of the opinion that Geoff was an imaginary friend she created when a child. Her parents never said she had stopped them from losing money so it could be just her overactive imagination. She got more things wrong than right so perhaps what she got right was pure coincidence.
Rachel was forced to at least learn piano, after her Grandma gave her piano to Rachel’s Mother. The upright Steinway had turned the ground floor study into a music room. A slightly frosted glass window had re-glazed the opening into the sunroom shut in order to keep the noise from traveling too easily into the rest of the house. If Grandma didn’t live near Northallerton in the north of England it probably wouldn’t be so bad. She liked the lessons her Grandma gave when her Grandparents visited. Unfortunately, her piano teacher was older than her Grandma and likely the strictest person Rachel knew from either life.
Misses Fowler demanded she practice and have her lessons while wearing dresses. “When young lady you finely learn enough from me to play the piano, you will thank me for not getting the bad habits of playing while wearing the tomboy rags you think acceptable wear. Do you think young lady you can perform wearing t-shirt and trousers?” It had been spoken to her so often that she could still hear it when her teacher wasn’t present. That and the sting in her wrists from being hit from a ruler for letting them sag during lessons. Learning to play the piano with back ram rod straight due to books placed on her head while doing her minor and major scales, wearing bloomin’ lacey dresses, and not allowed to relax her wrists was torture. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so adamant to not learn the flute or violin. She had fond memories of learning the piano as Geoff. They didn’t include dresses or any formal clothes, didn’t start ‘till he was twelve and didn’t include Misses Fowler, books or ruler slapping. No they were a time he shared with Grandma when the piano came to their second house, a three bedroom detached in Northallerton.
If she kept just spending her time with school books she could be placed in Glenda’s next school year and might not survive the bullying. With that thought she decided to get her bike out and get away. She needed a hobby, something to sink her time in so her parents aren’t upset if she isn’t the next genius in the making, something to make her happy, and maybe a friend.
Staying on B roads north of the A27 Rachel headed west on her bike toward Havant. She would normally then head north climbing the gentle slopes of the South Downs to avoid crossing the A3. She realized she should have gone east toward Chichester as she didn’t feel like making the climbs to the north. Hang on she was in Havant and this road went to Hayling Island. There was a footpath bridge that went over the roundabout and tunneled beneath the A27 so she could escape her parents’ imposed prison walls and actually see the sea. Not just a sliver but on this nice day the English Channel, the Solent, the northern coast of the Isle of Wight, Portsmouth and possibly some of the naval ships.
Using sixty-five pence of her pocket money she bought a bag of chips and scraps from a fish and chip store in Havant. Wow a pound eighty for piece of fish wasn’t worth spending her money on. The scraps were the pieces of batter that fell off when frying the fish so it’s virtually like getting fish and chips and a quarter the price. Finishing her lunch Rachel wiped her greasy hands off by rubbing them together then rubbing them on her jeans and then continued the second leg of her journey.
A few of the lights were out in the tunnel beneath the A27. Trash and some graffiti and limited lighting didn’t lend itself to making Rachel feel safe. She mustn’t stay out too long as she wanted to return before it got into the evening. The road on the other side wasn’t too bad and she was quickly rolling toward Hayling Island. She got back on the footpath as the road seemed a bit busy and rather narrow when it became the bridge over to the Island. However, when the foot path ended on the other side she returned to the road now on the Island. The chips and scraps must have been what she needed as she finished the five miles faster than the first three to the chippy.
Before she saw the sea, before she saw the actual beaches sand, other than sand that had been blown onto the streets, Rachel saw a meadow of fabric cutting in front of the hazy sky’s blue backdrop. Seeing what seemed hundreds of triangles of colored cloth some rippling others taut while gliding left or right was attention grabbing. More noticeable than the flocks of seagulls that danced and shrieked to and fro reeling and copying their neighbor, the flotilla of yachts was something Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off.
‘*’ F.N.O.C. Fleet Numerical Meteorology and Oceanography Center provides weather service above and below the water for the US and coalition forces operating in the Pacific Ocean.
Rachel is pushing against the control and barriers to freedom her parents enforce. Those rebellious teen years might arrive earlier than expected.
Locking her bike’s rear wheel to a bike stand on the wide pavement beside the beach Rachel couldn’t stop looking, and had to lock the chain by feel as her eyes had more important things to look at. Except to note the steps to the beach her eyes stayed locked on the yachts. How didn’t they hit each other, and how did they know what the others were going to do, and was it safe to have such tiny boats in the sea? What were they all doing here at the same time? Usually she would see a couple of ferries, perhaps a hovercraft and a naval ship or two. Sometimes there were groups of yachts but never this many so close to each other and so close to her, and so small.
Rachel felt that if she just entered the water a little way and reached out she could touch the sails of the ones that were nearer. More importantly each yacht had one passenger, one female passenger. True the girls were older than her, probably late teens or in their early twenties, but this was obviously something girls did, and it seemed far more boyish than anything her parents ever let her do. Not one of them wore a bloody dress. Nope skin tight wet suits just like male surfers wore. The interest in the numerous tiny yachts had her ignore the pain as the rather more stony than sandy beach poked into her feet through the thin soles of the plimsolls she’d opted to wear today.
Unfortunately, it was the tail end Charlies that had been sailing close to the shore and they having passed between the near buoy and one further out, swung back heading southeast into the Solent where the leaders sailed. Aside glancing to see there were no other yachts heading to the turn just off the coast, just a motor boat with two people in it about twenty feet further off the coast than the further buoy. Rachel returned to watching the front group of yachts while wondering if they would return here again. The front group was now sort of sailing west parallel to the coast, but zigzagging that westerly direction, while the tail end Charlies were still sailing straight southeast likely toward a buoy Rachel couldn’t see.
There was another motor boat sitting close just inside where the yachts were turning. It probably like the one close to the shore was there to ensure the yachts didn’t cut the corner. Rachel strained her eyes looking southwest and figured there was a third motorboat sitting there. Likely the third corner of a triangular track. The only odd thing was there was a fourth motor boat a hundred or so yards ‘west-ish’ of that third boat so maybe that was the turning point? As soon as the straggling yachts made the turn at what Rachel was calling the second buoy they stopped sailing straight and started the odd zigzagging method of creeping toward the west.
Near her a couple each with binoculars were looking at the yachts. “Come on Michelle keep tight on the buoy. No, you let her steal your wind.” The woman said.
“She had to yield, ‘four-three-seven’ had a better line on the buoy and right of way dear.” The ‘husband’? tried to calm the woman. “There’s plenty of race left for her to recover. Oh hello, who do you have in the event?” The man asked Rachel seeing her avidly watching the regatta leading group that had turned to sail back toward them. Hopefully it wasn’t ‘four-three-seven’ that was clearly in the lead sailing straight north east toward them, blocking the view of his daughter’s dinghy that should be still in second place just behind.
“No one. I just have never seen so many tiny yachts. How do they not hit each other?” Rachel asked tearing her eyes off long enough to see both of the couple now looking at her. The yachts had turned after the third motor boat so the fourth likely had nothing to do with the race. However, all four boats looked similar.
“They’re dinghies. In general yachts are at least twenty three feet long. These laser radials are about ten feet too short to be called yachts.” The man informed Rachel, while his ‘wife’? looked around the beach.
“Anyway young lady what is your name and how old are you?” She asked, and after getting it she finally asked in concern. “Are your parents on the beach?”
“No, I rode here on my bike from New Brighton. I just have never seen so many ya… I mean dinghies.”
“Do your parents know you’re here?” The lady continued to hold the interrogation.
“Well no but this is closer than Chichester, and I’m allowed to cycle to there and on the South Downs up to Uppark and between Chichester and the A3. I just mustn’t cycle on or across the A3 or A27, except into Emsworth.” Rachel quickly tried to reassure them. She was actually only allowed to cycle to West Broyle and East Lavant, but as those were on the outskirts of Chichester and less well known it was easier to list Chichester as the boundary point.
“It would appear you violated your parents boundaries as you are south of the A27 to be here.” The man shrewdly stated.
“Oh, I used the pedestrian foot-bridge-tunnel in Havant to not cross the A27.” Rachel quickly defended.
While the woman pursed her lips and looked about to tell Rachel off, the man had a good laugh. “We have a solicitor to be in this one. So you have Misses Young as your teacher at the primary school, yes?”
“I skipped her form I’m in Warblington secondary.”
“She teaches third, if you skipped her class you would be in fourth.” The lady informed.
“From infants I skipped first form into Miss White’s second form. Then I skipped Misses Young’s class and went into Misses Moss’s class. This school year I am in first form at Warblington.
“Well I think I’ve found my new partner, dear.”
“You’ll have retired before she gets her degree.”
“Not if she keeps skipping forms I won’t.” The gentleman had another laugh.
At this point dinghy four-seven-three appeared to be almost aiming to ram into the beach and spectators, the dinghy of course was getting closer to them with the lady sat but leaning her upper part of her body out of the boat toward them as if she was trying to pull the dinghy a bit more toward the coast. Rachel out of the corner of her eye saw the boom of the sail fly towards them and the sailor was leaning away from them. How had she got over there and not been hit by the boom? She wasn’t sat but stood on the other side and stopping the boat from rolling toward them. Rachel could see the sea nearly level with the top edge of the closer side. How did she know the dinghy wouldn’t capsize? The two sails were both nearly low enough to hit the top of the buoy. The sailor seemed to be leaning so far out on the way higher seaboard side to stop the side closer to the beach of the dinghy submerging beneath the surf that the dinghy cut diagonally back against.
Hard on her stern with an opposite attack Rachel watched dinghy six-one-one whose woman was leaning slightly in the opposite direction. The boat tilted about half the angle as the first but seaward so Rachel could see the hull of the dinghy. Suddenly, the lady seemed to step into the boat swing her body down leaning backwards and around allowing the boom to fly in a super fast limbo parody where the limbo bar moved as well as the leaning back limbo dancer twisted. She stepped onto the opposite edge from the one she’d been sitting on before and leaned away from the coast trying to drag her dinghy off its prior near collision course with the rear of boat in front as she took the outside of the far buoy as tightly if not more so than the dinghy before took the inside of the nearer one. Rachel was sure for a moment with cresting surf that the closer side of the dinghy was momentarily below water, but it might be the angle and the boat was further out. The sailor seemed to be leaning over the top of the buoy and she wondered if it was just the boat or both boat and sailor that had to be outside of the buoy on a turn.
“What does your Dad do young lady?” The man returned to questioning Rachel after the next half dozen dinghies that made up the leader group had made the corner near them. There was a large gap to the next group sailing for the coast. The last of the race still hadn’t rounded the third buoy.
“He’s in the Royal Navy.” Rachel proudly said, and was slightly put out on the disappointment or worse registering on his face. In fact he suddenly realized he was forgetting the race and apparently to Rachel’s thinking no longer interested in her as he pulled up his binoculars to try to find what was going on as the lead group attacked the second buoy.
“Dear, our daughter is in the lead!” He exclaimed.
As both returned to looking at the event Rachel decided to shuffle back to her bike. Being reminded of the dinghies though caused her to be caught up once more so she wasn’t making a true swift get away. There was a straggling tail of dinghies yet to make the turn near where they stood and the boom swing as they turned at the buoy was exciting to watch. Especially the way the dinghies tilted.
“Rachel as soon as the race is over we are heading back to Emsworth Yacht Club. We’ll give you a lift because I don’t think your parents will be happy to know you crossed the A27.” The lady said.
“I have my bike, and I really enjoy riding.” Rachel said. The expression had made her realize that she was offering too much information to complete strangers. She quickly made her way back to the bike, hopefully she’d be well gone before the race ended. As she unlocked the chain she glanced back to see both looking at the race once more. She’d ride along the beach so she could watch the race while getting further away, Rachel decided.
Rachel chose to carry on north when she got to Havant, so if asked she could truthfully say she had ridden on the South Downs. Thus instead of heading east with the sun behind her she kept on to Rowlands Castle and then got the welcome shade from trees as she carried on gently climbing toward West Marden.
Seeing it was nearly five she aborted the trip to West Marden and headed South through Forestside and a nearly direct southerly route to Emsworth. The majority of the trip back home was downhill so Rachel made excellent time. She was pulling into the driveway and opening the gate to the back garden at barely gone five-fifty. She was therefore startled to be addressed as if she’d returned late from her Mum who had exited the French windows onto the rear porch.
“And where have you been young lady?”
“It’s only five-fifty. I was on the South Downs.”
“Really, the South Downs, all day?”
“I just came back off the Downs through Forestside, Aldsworth and Westbourne.”
“So you were on the Downs all day?” Mum unfortunately didn’t get distracted by Rachel’s initial attempt to deflect.
“Of course not I only left in the afternoon and went to Havant first. I had some chips and scraps in Havant, and from Havant I went north through Durrants and Rowling castle.”
“So on this epic bike tour where would you be around one to two o’clock.”
“I think about both one and two o’clock I was in Havant.”
“You spent an hour just sitting in Havant?”
“No I said I got chips and scraps from Havant. So I would be eating those around that time and I cycled out of Havant to be away from the busy town center.”
“Can you explain why Misses Young says the Collins saw you on Hayling Island beach around one-thirty then?”
“Misses Young, as in Sally’s teacher?”
“That’s the one. Mister Collins is her brother. He was with his wife watching their daughter sailing in the regatta off Hayling Island Beach.”
“Shi… …ps sailing around Hayling Island?”
Rachel’s Mum looked to let her know she hadn’t gotten away with that one either but was concentrating on what she was most unhappy about first. “Of course there are very few girls in Hampshire that skip two years of primary school.You’re the only child to do it in our primary’s history as a school, so when Mister Collins rang his sister, she easily identified who the girl was and later called me. A girl who admitted to the Collins she isn’t allowed to cross the A27, when she had to have done so in order to be where she was, and has a Father in the Royal Navy.
“Put your bike away in the shed properly and then we will talk young lady. I don’t think you’ve done any piano practice recently. There’ve been only your rough clothes in the laundry.” Rachel’s mum informed her.
Rachel wished she’d remembered the warning to not talk to strangers sooner. She was so grounded. Worse it would appear piano torture was going to be increased.
Rachel starts questioning her current predicament and decides to be more active in ensuring she does what she wants to do. The devil may care attitude is bound to have consequences.
Rachel was in the women’s loo at Warblington train station franticly unbraiding and getting the ribbons out of her hair before school this Monday morning. Hopefully she wouldn’t be late. Glenda would probably rat her out, but hopefully that would make her Mother realize how badly she didn’t want to go to school with a girly hair style. It’s not like her Mother could add any more punishment on her. With luck Mother won’t bother trying with this tomorrow.
She’d already been informed she would be forced into a dress after getting home from school every day and even worse have to wear dresses all of the day during the weekends and none school days for a month. Where previously she could after school change into jeans and tee after removing her uniform she would now be wearing a dress. At least the girls wore the same blue shirt with tie the boys did. In primary the girls’ uniform included a thin blouse and ribbon. It was depressing that her school uniform was now the least girly she could dress in. Especially upsetting as said least girlish outfit included tights and a knee length black skirt. Summer half term started on Friday and for the first time Rachel was not looking forward to the break from school and being able to not wear her school uniform.
She would have undone her hair on the train ride but Dad caught the same train and so was with them this morning. Since he started working at the M.O.D. in Whitehall, Dad spent the week living in the town house he rented in Chelsea, London. Unfortunately, this Monday was one of those rare Mondays that he caught the same train as them and thus the frantic trip to the train station’s loo once off the train and away from her Father. Quickly brushing her hair as best she could she then left to run for school. The hour or so of it being braided caused it to have more volume than she liked.
Rachel was late to her first class, but thankfully the teacher, Misses Paul, was later. “Did you miss the train Rach?” John asked. Uh, she hated the nick name he’d saddled her with. Of course it was quickly twisted by the petty girls to ‘Roach’ and worse too.
“Nope my Mother did some crazy Heidi braiding thing with my hair with flipping ribbons. It took ages to get the bloody thing out.”
“Oh, you should have kept it in Rach, I bet you’d have looked real pretty.” John annoyingly offered.
“Okay class, I was running late but you could have got started. You know we are working on King Lear.” Misses Paul arrived to stop Rachel from telling John to sod off. The teacher was obviously not happy at the noise the class made while everyone discussed their weekends rather than working on English lit.
It had been odd arriving at secondary and finding she had two classes of English right away. She’d thought it wasn’t until third year in her last life that English got doubled with ‘lang’ and ‘lit’ classes and two teachers.
“Let’s see, I gave you an assignment to read over the weekend. Mister Harris what did Goneril say when asked by King Lear how much she loved him?”
The class began and the initial interest Rachel gave was slowly sapped due to hearing her classmates stumble over one of the easier Shakespeare tragedies. She didn’t mean to be condescending, but really it’s not rocket science. It’s a pretty simple tale of spoilt king having a fatal flaw of pride and arrogance giving everything to his two serpent tongued sycophant daughters that stroked his ego while casting out his previously favorite good daughter that refused to play ball, but actually loved him.
“Are we boring you Miss Stillman?” Rachel was suddenly brought back to the class by the teacher’s question and stifled titters.
“I’m sorry Misses Paul?”
“What do you think?”
“The play is a lesson on how you can’t describe or buy love. If you give everything for flattery you will then find what the person really thinks of you when you have nothing left to give. Most likely you will find out things you don’t want to know. Someone who truly loves you is more likely to be honest and not pander to pumping up your pride and enabling your arrogance. Arrogance is King Lear’s fatal flaw, and blinds him to his third daughter’s true love. It’s a tragedy as the lesson is learnt at the cost of his own life after madness and grief, caused by being imprisoned and his good daughter being murdered. Well actually all his daughters die but no one really cares for the two evil daughters, it’s more to emphasize that he left nothing of himself, even the evil daughters are gone when he dies.” Rachel replied.
“Well, Miss Stillman seems to have completed the whole play verses the first half that was assigned for mid-terms. Though she provides a succinct and correct summary of the entire play to the class she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, it would be nicer if she had answered the question I asked. Miss Stillman, I had asked you about salt’s relevance as a comparison based on its use and availability at the time the play is written.”
Thankfully the end of class bell rang allowing Rachel’s escape from being caught daydreaming. “I am sure you can expect a question about the salt among other things on your midterm, which I believe is first thing Wednesday. So either read the play to be ready for the exam, or annoy Miss Stillman for the answers.” Was Misses Paul’s method of punishing Rachel even though the class was over.
“Watch it pancakes!” The words and the backs of two second form girls swiftly leaving were all Rachel got looking up from the hall floor she’d been tripped onto. She quickly grabbed her books that had spilled out and held in a sigh of frustration. Why did kids have to be so …childish! Straightening her skirt she carried onto Maths.
Rachel didn’t have any friends in this class. Well though she treated John as a friend it was obvious he was playing the long game of hoping to get a girlfriend as opposed to a friend that was a girl, but she didn’t really have the choice to be picky. She ignored the group of girls obviously nattering on about her fall earlier by thinking how empty their lives must be to find interest in her bullying. Was oblivion better than re-living secondary school?
It wasn’t this bad last time was it? She thought it was boys that got bullied and it wasn’t the physical that was the worst of it. So perhaps girls actually had it worse suffering both physical and emotional abuse. Even now there was the constant whispering, and sudden silences and jeers that as a girl she now suffered. With Maths over she headed onto history.
“It probably deliberately fell over to look up Maria’s skirt.” The muffled giggles wafted to her from the following four girls. “Well it is a lesbo.” “Pancakes probably jealous of her boobs.” The comments deliberately made loud enough for her to hear were followed by false shushing as they brushed past her into the class.
A sudden epiphany had Rachel realize that it wasn’t just because she was younger and due to a prior life, or whatever the weird memories were, smarter that caused jealousy to fuel the bullying, but last life or dream she was a boy acting as a boy. Now she was a girl avoiding the female stereotypes, and it caused the bullying to try to force her to conform. To act like the girl she now was. Society enabled bullies to vent on those that tried to not conform. What was the Japanese saying again? That was it, something like, ‘a nail that stood up must be pounded flat’. Well she was getting fed up of the pounding.
Mister Black had a tenuous control of his class and it showed as they were far behind the syllabus that needed covering in the first form. They hadn’t even started on the Romans which they should have already finished to allow beginning to teach about the Anglo Saxons and Vikings after half term. As her classmates turned to discuss the latest tv drama or new song and Mister Black droned on about typical village life during the Iron Age, Rachel read the text book. He had barely covered a third of the material. Heck he hadn’t even given the timeline overview how the Bronze age slipped into this new age around 800 BC and to hint how the Iron Age was considered over with the Roman invasion of 43 AD to help the students grasp the big picture. Mid-terms started tomorrow afternoon and if the exam in December was any indication to the one before summer half term. Then the questions would be on several topics not covered. December’s exam had been on the Stone and Bronze Ages, but he hadn’t started teaching about the Bronze Age until February.
“Any question on last weekend’s reading assignment and homework?” When no one replied Mister Black tried again. “Class I have asked multiple times every Monday, and no one has raised an issue with the reading. So I take it you’re all comfortable with everything assigned.” Though a few fools adamantly ignored the teacher, most had woken to the concern that something critical was about to or had been said.
“Leave your home on my desk as you leave, and as I don’t have you this week ‘till your History mid-term on Thursday before lunch this is our last lesson before the break. The questions in the exam will be from class, the homework and reading assignments that you had no questions on.” Mister Black just confirmed Rachel’s guess. As the fools started to leave as soon as he said ‘…as you leave’ it was questionable how many heard him or realized the exam would be heavily on material not taught. He’d used the same excuse in the fall term exam when the class complained about the questions. Well she wasn’t going to sit around and wait for the bell. It meant a bully free trip to her next class too, she slowly got packed up, and placed her homework on the pile after everyone else had left and thus ensured it wasn’t removed from the pile.
Rachel and the several students still with her from History class stood outside the Geography class waiting for the bell to ring and the current class to leave. She and another stood alone while the rest bunched in a girl and two smaller boy groups. Glancing at the other alone figure she stopped herself from trying to talk to him realizing it was a worthless idea. She’d actually tried to talk to him before. However, Mike definitely believed that he should use anything offered to spring board himself into the cool kids group. Unfortunately, for both that meant he rudely shot her down on her prior overtures of friendship. She wasn’t going to invite being called an ugly loser, or a baby toddler again. It took weeks for the other girls to drop using those names all the time.
She was thus surprised when Amanda L. addressed her. “So what is going to be on the exam that Black hasn’t taught us?”
“The exam’s scope is the history from about 2500BC to 700AD. The Roman Invasion, about three hundred years of initial Anglo Saxon civilization and everything else about the Iron Age are what hasn’t been taught. You don’t have to worry about the Vikings as that starts around 800 AD.”
“Would you be interested in coming to my house any evening to help me with studying?”
“I can’t. I just got grounded for a month.”
“But half term starts…
Michelle cut Amanda off. “What did you do?”
“Come on this is ‘Little Miss Genius’. You really think she has ever got grounded for a week, and we’re supposed to think she gets grounded for a month? You can tell she’s never got punished, as she states such obvious lies.” Sarah opined.
“I cycled beyond a known boundary I had previously agreed upon, and initially lied by obfuscation when questioned last weekend.” Rachel decided to nip the comments before they became more hostile. She had been about to make a friend maybe. Well it was more likely she was about to be used but it could have started a friendship.
“What the hell is obfuscation?” Sarah asked.
“It’s like muddying the water. I twisted the question in my reply so I could be truthful in what I said while not actually answering it. The idea is to tell the truth and still avoid getting in trouble. The other person thinks you said ‘A’. If they find out later it is actually ‘B’ and challenge you for lying you repeat what you actually said and show you actually never said ‘A’, they inferred that.
“Well with a month’s grounding, I think I’ll stick with plain old lying and a spanked backside.” Sarah’s comment caused a few laughs until the end of period bell rang. After the class emptied they were allowed in.
Rachel was extremely surprised when Sarah stopped Cathy and Maria from knocking her lunch tray from her. “It’s so pathetic when the only thing stupid thirteen year olds can do to a ten year old that is smarter than them is act like dumb beasts.”
“The girl that was held back a year calls us dumb…
“Yeah, just think how dumb you must be if even stupid me thinks you lack a brain between the both of you.” Sarah riposte and cut them off. Rachel was still trying to work out what happened as Sarah led her to her usual table. “Ally scoot down Rachel’s sitting here.”
Lunch and her two afternoon classes she shared with Sarah were surreal. She wanted to hope she had a friend but really Sarah Parker was likely the last person she ever thought could become her friend so she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sarah was actually in seven of her eight classes so was actually a good candidate for a friend if she wasn’t being set up.
She did note that Sarah leaned heavily on her knowledge in the General Science class after lunch, which though not Rachel’s strength, having memories, or dreams of memories covering over twenty years working for a medical company that dealt heavily in microbiology and organic chemistry made only the physics parts be a weak spot for Rachel in the General Science class. Rachel had to be leery of the information as it not only was wrong at times but had got her a demerit with report sent to her parents when she once leaned on it exclusively.
That class over meant there was only the last class prior to exams and half term. Just when she thought the friendship from Sarah might be for using her prior to the mid-terms she found in their last lesson that Sarah was fluent in French and actually liked helping her with a prior tough subject. She decided to be careful. The last thing she wanted was to find herself relaxed in a believed friendship when the other shoe finally fell. Hopefully she would be invited to sit with Sarah for lunch tomorrow, and hopefully her paranoia was for once undeserved, and she was finally getting the chance at friendship?
Rachel has become fed up on how she is treated and is preparing to stand up for herself. As she concludes that the latest punishment, by being too much actually has empowered her, her Mother is feeling weaker especially with Dad away in London for the week, and worried her child is going to succeed in disrupting her tenuous grip of power. The dichotomy of beliefs in their powers is setting for a storm to rage through the family.
Sarah’s train to Havant pulled out from the opposite platform leaving Rachel with Glenda and the students travelling east. “What will you give me to fix your hair and not tell Mum you pulled the braids out before school?” Glenda interrupted, Rachel’s thinking with her mercenary ones to profit off Rachel.
“Nothing, Mother will see when I come home like this. There’s nothing more she can do. Mother has lost.” Rachel calmly declared, while shuffling feet waiting for their train. An express rattled through on its way to Brighton, but not stopping at the little station halts, like Warblington and Emsworth were. Then finally nearly fifteen minutes later a slow train arrived. It took only a few minutes and they were at the next stop east in Emsworth debarking the train where their Mother was waiting having picked Sally up from the primary school already.
They had barely left the station and Mother was after Rachel like an attack dog. “Did you lose the ribbons?”
“Nope took them out before school, there in my book bag.”
“What is this? Are you not going to lie this time? Not going to say you wore them to school, because you realized that someone might tell me the truth.”
“I didn’t lie on Saturday, and I told you this morning that I wasn’t going to school with that hairstyle.”
“And I told you, young lady, this morning that you wouldn’t like what happens if you didn’t wear them to school.”
“What are you going to do Mother? Ruin my half-term, Ground me for a month? Oh, too late, you already did that. Yes, there’s nothing more you can do. Are you going to ground me ‘till I’m sixteen and I can leave your miserable presence? There’s no punishment left because you went crazy punishing me when I hadn’t lied. I have no respect for you, because you can’t admit when you are wrong. Mother, you, have, lost!” Rachel gleefully stressed each word enjoying how her wide grin was driving her Mother mad.
“Just you wait ‘till you get home young lady. I can do so much more to you and you’ll be sorry you were so rude and disrespectful to your Mum. You think you can misbehave just because your Dad’s not here well you will be sorry.”
“You’re not my Mum, Mother!” Rachel yelled, sullenly walking home quickly hoping to get this over with. She knew her Mother couldn’t spank her as her Mother had hurt her own hand to her daughter’s laughing face last time she’d tried that punishment. Now Dad could spank but he was away for the week. So she just had to break her Mother and hopefully she would finally see that her daughter was right.
Rachel was mildly concerned when she realized her Mother was going to take her slipper to her bare bum. However, she wasn’t going to let her Mother see fear. The first smack stung like a dozen hornets, and she laughed while digging her nails into her hands at her sides. Thwack after thwack fell upon her rear. She just kept holding her body rigid to not let out any pain show, and kept laughing, hoping her Mother wouldn’t notice it was forced.
Rachel was thankful when she heard her Mother start to pant. “When are you going to actually hit me?” She taunted. Glenda looked at her incredulously and her Mother went wild. It had to be a last effort so Rachel laughed through the pain figuring it would be over soon. “I didn’t lie.” Thwack “You can’t accept being wrong.” Thwack “So you try to attack me.” Thwack “You’re a useless housewife.” Thwack “Can’t do anything without her man.” Thwack “I won’t be a pretty trophy for some Neanderthal pig.”
Rachel was surprised she hadn’t got two more hits during the last taunt but her Mother was heaving she was so out of energy. However, she looked rather wild and crazy. She threw the slipper. It nearly accidently hit Sally, who was peering into the Master bedroom with tears in her eyes. “What’s next Mother, or can you finally admit you are wrong?”
Next was apparently a belt from her Dad’s closet. Hopefully, she didn’t have enough energy left to do too much damage. Well Rachel figured she had to not break now, or all she had endured so far would have been a wasted effort. But, Gods the belt really stung! “I am right!” she found the chant soothing and all she could handle between lashes. Finally a weeping Sally was able to beg Mum to stop. Rachel’s bottom was on fire. Her chant was and had been for the last few lashes internal because she’d had to grit her teeth to not let a sob out, but she made sure she kept telling herself that she was in the right.
“You can go to bed without tea. You will be sick tomorrow from school.”
“I have three exams tomorrow… that I am going to take, in school, tomorrow. If you think I am staying in this house, alone, with you; you really are dumb.” Rachel forced out with pure loathing. She had never hated her Mother before today. Forcing to not show pain she slowly walked to her bedroom. She didn’t care her bum was uncovered. She didn’t think she could take the pain of covering it. To hell with cleaning her teeth, she needed her bedroom.
Rachel found herself laughing and crying after she had closed her bedroom door and was finely able to relax her rigid holding in of her emotions. What she had found sort of funny was she realized that by being sent to bed early meant she didn’t have to wear a dress. She couldn’t stop herself from the hysterics that took over with that thought, and hearing the near mad laugh actually caused it to come out even more. She pulled the blanket and sheet back from her bed and hung her shirt up in the cupboard. Hopefully someone would hang her skirt up but she had a second in her closet if they didn’t. She wasn’t going to leave her room to get it or her underclothes.
She put on her pajama top after removing her camisole vest. She couldn’t handle the bottoms but she wasn’t wearing a nighty, and by just wearing the top she so wasn’t wearing anything like one. Collapsing onto her belly with her head turned to look at the door she went to sleep. Hopefully the house wouldn’t be too cold tonight, because she couldn’t pull the covers over herself. Just the thought of covering her bum gave her pain.
Knock. “Rachel?” Another knock. “Rachel, can I come in?” Glenda asked.
“No.” Rachel groaned annoyed to have been woken from a sleep that had allowed her to escape.
“I’ve brought you some tea to eat.”
“I’m not allowed it, and not eating it. Go away I was asleep.”
“Mum let me bring it. She’s crying downstairs.”
“Good.”
“I’m coming in anyway.” Glenda opened the door.
“I said go away. I won’t eat it.” Rachel opened her eyes and glared at her older sister, and hoping to intimidate her into leaving.
“Well I’ll just leave it here. Mum is really sorry. Why did you act so badly? I’ve never seen you so misbehave. Mum’s actually shaking and crying. I’m scared.”
“I didn’t misbehave, nor act badly. I stood up for my rights. I haven’t done anything wrong, but Mother has, and she won’t accept she is in the wrong. I am happy to hear she is crying. She should be after what she did. She is wrong. I am right.”
“Please Rachel. She’s Mum. Mum isn’t wrong.”
“She was and is and keeps on doing more wrong because she refuses to accept she was wrong in the first place.”
“I’m scared Rachel. Oh, my God your bottom looks bad!”
“I’m going to sleep. Take the food away Glenda.” Rachel rolled her head to face away from her sister she didn’t want her to see her tears. “Go Glenda, and take the food away!” Being informed of how bad her bottom looked made her aware of the pain that had ebbed into a nice numb oblivion before her sister came. She hoped she could sit tomorrow for her exams.
When Rachel next woke and found her clock showed it to be nearly four in the morning. The plate of food was still beside the clock. Pulling back from the initial idea to throw it in the dustbin she realized it could be breakfast and she could leave for the ten to five train her Dad often catches. That way her Mother couldn’t stop her going to school, as she’d have already gone.
The first thing she found while dressing was she couldn’t take the elastic of her knickers on her backside. Thankfully her tights rode up higher on her body and didn’t have the elastic band that irritated her sore skin pushing in over some of the higher welts. She felt naughty leaving the house before her Mother had awoken and also for not having knickers on, but blamed her Mother for having to do so. She’d tried them over the tights but she’d rather not wear them than take the pain. Rachel had left a note. She nearly didn’t, but recalling Glenda saying several times that she was scared, and Sally begging her Mother to stop she wrote the note to her sisters. She’d gone upstairs to the attic and was wondering whose room to put it in. Thankfully she didn’t have to worry as she found Sally clinging to Glenda so left it beside the bed both were in. Of course in her rush to find a pen to write the note she'd only found her Dad's green* pens.
{Highlight if needed to read letter}
Dear Sally and Glenda I am sorry if Mother scared you last night. She is wrong and when someone is wrong the person in the right must stand up to them. This has happened throughout history and martyrs have been stoned to death by bitter empowered bullies that believe just because it was done this way in the past it should still be done so even when wrong. Women that dared to learn and stand up to men were tied to stools and dunked into rivers for being witches with no trial, or a mockery of one. After some time they were pulled back up out of the water and if still alive they were obviously witches, and thus burnt to death. Even though my backside is sore I will take my exams because they are more important to me than anything Mother says, like wearing dresses and having hair in a style I dislike. I loved taking piano lessons with Grandma in my jeans and tee-shirt. Mother and Misses Fowler have ruined the piano for me with their crazy beliefs of what a woman must wear to play the piano. A woman can wear whatever she likes. Soon schools will allow them to wear trousers if they want. I will go straight to bed tomorrow to avoid wearing clothes I despise, and to skip my piano lesson that comes with a woman that is nasty, petty and vindictive. Piano can go hang. I blame Misses Fowler for turning Mother against me; I never thought I could hate my own mother before yesterday. My bum is sore; don’t tell Mother, she mustn’t know she caused me to be sore. It is actually so sore I can’t wear knickers. I hope I’m not found out at school especially as with how badly my bum looks, Mother could go to jail. She belongs in jail, but you two would get hurt if I tattled on the stupid cow, so as long as she ignores me I’ll ignore her until I’m sixteen and can leave this hell behind. I also hope I can sit to take the exams. I’ve not managed to sit yet. Just let Mother know I caught the train Dad normally catches so I can get to school and take my exams. See you at lunch Glenda, and after school Sally. Hopefully, Mother will admit being wrong but even if not, don’t be scared or worried. I will stand for what is right and even if my bum is sore, Mother can never hurt me.
Your Sister, Rachel.
Rachel was fairly sure her sisters would share the letter with Mum. It should scare their Mother into inaction. There was the risk it would cause her Mother to go crazy, and that might be the death of Rachel, but she hoped she was right in thinking it would cause her Mother to be too scared to do anything more to hurt her. She was fairly sure she wouldn’t get kicked out of home especially while her rear had the markings of having been hit repeatedly by belt and slipper.
The night was cold even though it was late May, and the breeze went right up Rachel’s skirt and actually soothed her bum while freezing her body.The predawn sky was in twilight dark blues and purples of just before the sun rises. She’d left her book bag as she only needed a few pencils and pens that easily fit in her handbag. Not wanting to miss the train she briskly walked along the footpath to the station pulling her blazer close, as if that helped stop where the wind was stealing her heat from. She was initially glad when she got onto the platform that had a nice spattering of daily commuters.
Rachel had been going on bravado and posturing so having a moment to calm down and with several men that all smiled at her, she suddenly thought about the fact she had on no knickers. It was odd she’d hated having to wear them as they were so thin and flimsy compared to boy’s boxers or ‘y’ fronts that they appeared to be no barrier. However, somehow not having them felt a thousand times worse. How could flimsy knickers be a barrier offering protection? Must be some kind of brain washing, Rachel’s thoughts questioned?
-*- Green ink in the Royal Navy is allowed for XO rank officer, normally this is the rank of Commander, unless on a submarine where the XO is often a Lieutenant Commander. Red ink is for CO rank and higher thus Captain and Admirals (or Commander on subs), blue ink is for CMC rank (E9) and black ink for other ranks
Rachel's first day of Summer Midterms looks like she could be making a friend at last. Well as long as one of her relatives doesn't mess everything up at least.
The school was a bit scary with no sign of life. She decided to wait in the shadows of the bike shelters. She felt safer being in the darkest corner able to look out and see if something approached verses imagining something was in those shadows about to jump out at her. Her bum wouldn’t let her sit on the concrete steps or lean it against the rail of the bike racks. Squatting also likely due to it pulling her skin taut was not something she was going to attempt again anytime soon. She alternated from standing and leaning herself forward at the waist against the bar of the bike rack. Unfortunately as timed ticked by and her legs grew tied she found herself increasingly cat napping by draping her upper body along the bike rack to take weight off her feet.
Rachel had chosen to wait in the darkest area so there wasn’t a darker area she could be scared of. Unfortunately she’d forgotten Miss Thompson rides into the school. She’d been fitfully dozing when she heard a noise and saw Miss Thompson locking up her bike a few aisles over beneath the pool one of the lights threw toward the bike racks. She stretched in anticipation of getting into the school and caused Miss Thompson to panic and shriek.
“Who’s there! Mister Browne is right behind me.”
“It’s Rachel Stillman, Miss.” Rachel quickly called out while walking toward the light from the school building verses heading directly toward an obviously startled young teacher, who had backed to place the racks between herself and the noise.
“Why, are you here so early and what were you doing in the dark? Is someone else in there?”
“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t rushed before midterms and hadn’t realized the school would be locked up still. Finding it a bit scary when I arrived alone, I felt safer in the dark so nothing could startle me coming out of it.
“Well let’s both get into the school building I have the keys to unlock it.” Miss Thompson made several looks at the dark area Rachel had come out of, to ensure she heard nothing else and mentally noted to request getting a few extra outside lights installed.
“You know you might have sounded more truthful if you said Mister Johnston was right behind you. He actually is known to arrive in the early mornings and would likely be a more intimidating opponent.” Rachel said after they entered the school.
“What’s wrong with Mister Browne?” Miss Thompson asked and the bite in the question and her slight flush as if ready to get angry warned Rachel to tread carefully. Perhaps Miss Thompson was interested in Mister Browne.
“The main problem is as he doesn’t have any class scheduled before ten thirty he is not known to get to the school ever before ten.” She held back that at barely five and half feet and likely not even nine stone soaking wet, he wasn’t exactly a physical he-man. Aside Miss Young at barely five feet and a good bit under seven stone most of the female staff were more of a he-man that Mister Browne. In fact Miss Thompson herself was likely heavier, she had a couple of inches on his height even if she didn't out muscle him.
“Doesn’t your Dad have a BS in Physics?”
“He actually has got his Masters in Physics. Got it three years ago.”
“From Cambridge, like Mister Browne’s Bachelors? He went to Cavendish Laboratory when he studied at Cambridge.” Yes, Rachel thought, it seems Miss Thompson has a candle lit or at the least has an infatuation over Mister Browne.
“Nope he studied his Masters at University in California.” Rachel carefully explained in a way to avoid the current anti military attitude that had been driven home by the Collins on the weekend. She wanted to avoid stating it was the Monterey Naval Post Graduate School. Three years ago it was good to boast but with the targeting of military personnel and their families with car bombs when off duty it had led to an anti-military sentiment recently causing her to shy away from mentioning it again. Her Mother had reminded her last weekend that she was far too loose lipped to a complete stranger with private information. She could still recall her Mother going to the trite saying, ‘…loose lips sink ships.’ Well she was not going to get in more trouble for not being close lipped.
“U.C. Berkeley?” It seemed Miss Thompson wasn’t letting go.
“That’s where I plan to study Organic Chemistry. The University of California, Berkeley here I come.” Rachel figured it was the best way to muddy the water and change the subject.
“You want to go into the oil or plastic industries?”
“It is also increasingly useful in the medical field a large number of pharmaceutical companies and medical device companies need organic chemists.”
“Well I’ll leave you to study in your first exam’s class room.” Miss Thompson said before taking off for the staff room.
Rachel set to studying for the Maths exam. Her memories of Geoff’s life into his forties removed this previous Achilles heel, making French her now least favorite subject. Even though this time through she was more skilled at Maths, it wasn't plain sailing. Out of it, Art and Geography that made today’s schedule of exams, Maths was the one that needed studying. Not just because it was the first exam today, it was still the weakest of those three, and could trip her up if she wasn’t being careful.
Last life or the memories she had of a last life had her unable to study in sixth form for her A-levels as she failed Maths. At the time she thought it unfair that though you only needed five O-levels to carry on in school, there were three required subjects. Namely, English Language, Maths and a Science. She’d got nine O-levels, six with a grade of ‘A’ and both Biology and General Science covered the Science requirement twice over. However, failing French, Chemistry, Physics and more specifically Maths barred him from the sixth form college she was all set to study Drama, History and English Literature at. None of her chosen subjects needing any Mathematics, but access to them denied due to some stupid rule.
Her parents wanted him to go back to secondary school for ‘5R’, the repeat of fifth form and retake the four O-levels he failed. It was the first time in that life she had problems with his parents. Prior to that, mainly as she did what they told him to do; she had no issues with them. It was the beginning of the end of having a relationship with her family last time. Geoffrey had refused to return to secondary school saying he would learn more coming out to California with his parents. If he had only known his parents’ plan.
So while his sister, Glenda, prepared for her second year at University, Geoffrey had got acceptance from his parents on other plans. Namely he would travel with his parents to California. There he was planning to get a job to pay for trying his hand at surfing the Californian beaches in summer, and skiing the Sierra Nevada’s in the winter. He hadn’t realized that his parents kept one fact secret about living in the US of A.
His parents hadn’t informed him that unlike compulsory education ending at sixteen in the UK, in the US, parents were empowered with making high schools compulsory ‘til eighteen. They lied and let him think he would be working and learning to surf and ski, when they had submitted the paperwork to force him into a high school in the US. Something he could chose to ignore if he’d stayed behind in the UK.
Further, being the US system, it wasn’t set up for him to work on his four failed O’ levels but forced him into restudying subjects he had already passed at high school level. In addition, only two of the failed subjects were even offered. He was given two years of a completely new language, Spanish to replace the failed French. His parents refusal to see it as his time being wasted, was the final nail that had him find ways to stay in the US when his parents left. Getting an international student grant while still having seven years of the NATO dependent visa, that counted him a Californian resident helped pay for his Berkeley degree and provided for living expenses. He would not need his parents any more.
Perhaps initially his parents use of the new countries laws allowed them to regain control of their rebellious son that dared to not follow the plan they decided he should follow. However, he was looking for ways to get out from being controlled. He wasn't returning to resit O' levels in the U.K. and then spend two more years in sixth form college, and then finally three at University. All dependent on his parents. As for missing his relatives back home well likely his sister, Uncles and Aunts were aware of the age delta, and none thought they should warn Geoffrey of what his parents had planned when he followed them state side.
“Hey Rachel, I’m glad you’re here early for a change. Can we study for Maths together?” Sarah sat down beside Rachel and got her Maths book out. Rachel had wanted to ask her how come she was here so early but as she didn’t want to explain why she was, decided to dive into studying Maths for the exam in forty minutes.
Rachel’s Art class and her second exam was next door to Sarah’s music class so they were walking to their respective second exams discussing the Maths exam that both of them seemed to have done fairly well on. Not only was Rachel not getting jostled, but there was no overly loud whispered insults and giggling going on to make fun of Rachel. “See you after the exam, Rachel. Do you think we can spend some of lunch studying for tomorrows English lit and General Science exams?”
“Sure, sounds good, Sarah and best of luck with your clarinet exam.” Rachel replied as they split between their two classrooms.
Rachel got to work sketching the still life of a partially opened lantern with previously lit and half burned candle inside. In front and partially blocking the open lantern door was a wicker basket bowl of fruit. Trying to capture the differing shades of the previously burned wick and dripped wax of the candle top, along with the cooled runs of wax down the outside of the candle Rachel lost herself to her drawing. Capturing the shadows between the fruits and from the lantern to the desk that both were resting on she calmly rubbed her 6B, 2B, F and 4H pencils to her growing picture of the posed scene.
“Fifteen minutes.” Miss Wheel warned the students of the time left ‘till the end of the exam. Some frantically tried to increase speed. Those that had a more measured approach to the exam continued at the same pace, not wanting to mess up by rushing the sketch. Rachel was primarily working on the shading with the 2B and 6B softer pencils. The fine details of exact lines had all been done with the two harder pencils. She glanced around and noticed that she had sized the still life correctly to fill the sheet of A2 paper unlike several others, without making it too large, such that part of the assembled items couldn’t be completely drawn on the page. She could only see one that had been drawn too large. Well more like poor placement on the page.The intricate detail of the top of the lantern was lost as the top of the page cut off the lantern lid. However, there were quite a few classmates that had made the image too small. The most extreme one drawn as if they’d been given standard A4 paper to draw upon, not the four times larger A2.
Rachel put the 2B pencil down and carefully looked at the still life and her drawing of it, back and fro. She found she did this part of the drawing best without a pencil in her hand itching to be stroked against the page. This point where she knows she is ninety five percent or more completed is dangerous for her to damage her own picture thus the doing it without pencil in hand to ensure she doesn’t accidentally add shading where it isn’t really needed, or use the wrong lead. Only after triple checking that something really is missing does she pick up the needed pencil to add the missing detail.
“Five minutes.”
Rachel had spent the prior couple of minutes making no change. Just looking back and forth between the two in each area and ensuring she didn’t feel anything was missing. She kept this up until the exam was called and she popped her pencils into her handbag. As she had already put her name on her sketch she didn’t need to add one when the teacher reminded the students of the need. She waited to be the last to leave as she didn’t trust her classmates to not damage her work.
“Rachel, you not ready.” Sarah called into the classroom. Obviously seeing her sitting without doing anything.
“Just waiting for everyone to leave.”
“Well can’t you come out now?” Sarah asked.
“Nope, Darlene, Paula and Louise haven’t left the room yet.” Rachel said.
“Hey are you saying we would sabotage your work…
“Paula, if the shoe fits wear it.” Rachel informed, knowing Paula and Darlene had damaged an exam of hers last fall, and Louise was their friend.
“All four of you can leave together while I watch all your pictures to ensure we don’t have the problems we had in the fall.” Miss Wheel quickly diverted the three girls from trying to head over toward Rachel’s drawing. Seeing Darlene about to speak up, Miss Wheel continued. “Leave with your mouth closed Darlene, or I will give you zero, the more you and your friends try to state your innocence the less I believe you. Stop while ahead and know I am watching you three like a hawk.”
As we went to lunch Sarah glared at the other three and they chose to not accuse me of getting them in trouble and hurried off ahead. “What was that about?” Sarah asked.
“Fall's final exam I returned to get a book I’d left in the art class to find Darlene and Paula each holding half my picture. They dropped the two halves on the floor and Paula stood on part of one. That actually enabled me to prove she did it as the foot print matched her shoe. Plus her shoe still had paint on the edge.”
“You should take music with me.”
“I’m good and like art, and I ha…,” Rachel, not wanting to alienate her possible ‘friend?’ quickly changed what she was saying. “… am not as good at music.” Rachel offered and then they both joined the line for lunch.
Lunch was spent discussing tomorrow morning’s exams of English Literature and General Science, with a tiny helping of this afternoon’s Geography. Oh, and some time on actually eating too. Several girls chimed in on the impromptu study session and Rachel enjoyed belonging to a group. Sure some of these girls, including Sarah had said some nasty things about and to her before, but now thanks to Sarah seeming to change her attitude on how she thought of her, Rachel found herself accepted as she never thought she would be.
“Rachel?”
Rachel looked up to see her big sister staring at her from across the table. She rose an eyebrow and around her the girl’s stopped talking to see what was about to happen. Glenda had done some wicked cruel things to Rachel earlier this year.
“Mum was frantic crying, and worried this morning when she couldn’t find you.”
“I left you and Sally a note so you could let her know I’d caught the earlier train into school.”
“Ten to five is ‘not’ the earlier train to school. Mum demanded we give her your letter. She rang Grandma and read it verbatim to her on the phone. Why would you say you could send Mum to prison?”
“Because she is wrong and what she did last night means I can.”
“Mum is not wrong, she is Mum.”
“Glenda, what Mother did is against... She is wrong. A Mum isn’t right just because she’s Mum, and Mother is not my Mum. A Mum loves and cares for their child. Mother does not care and love me, and I hate her. Anyway this conversation is over, unless you have something different to talk about.” The dynamic between the two sisters had changed. Glenda was the one who’s slumped unsure posture appeared while standing, smaller than the sitting younger girl she towered over.
The children in the cafeteria were all staring at the two sisters and a new wave of rumors began flying around the school. Well Rachel wondered if she was about to be the social pariah once more. It had been nice having almost friends for a while.
A tale of egg cups or the lack thereof - well that is likely completely incidental to the story
Rachel thought she had done well on the Geography exam. However, she found her worries about what she was traveling back to; at home, swallow her thoughts on the exam and the questions as soon as she left the class room. Sarah was peppering her with possible questions and answers for the English literature and General Science exams tomorrow morning and her numb worry meant she was replying in automatic while paying as minimal amount of concentration on their conversation as possible.
“Miss Stillman, into the office please.” Misses Thatcher interrupted the two girls that were walking aside the front offices prior to exiting the school. “Miss Parker, I believe you have a Havant train to catch.” She continued to split the girls apart.
“Take a seat Rachel.” Misses Thatcher told her as she continued round her desk. Rachel gingerly sat down. “How did your exams go today?”
“Fine.” Rachel said not offering anything to further that conversation, while hoping to get out of the Student Support and Wellbeing Manager’s office. When she had thought that having Glenda air their home troubles in the cafeteria she had only thought on how the other students would behave toward her. Misses Thatcher hadn’t before been interested in how Rachel was surviving the bullying. Of course now there was muck to stir she was in the thick of it. ‘Bloomin problem loving busybody’ Rachel thought while trying not to glare at the waste of air.
“Which of your three exams did you do best on and what problems did you have with the one that was most difficult?”
“I’m happy with how I did in Art, Geography and Maths. None gave me any major problems.” Rachel sweetly offered as close to nothing as she could.
“Well of course with how talented you are, having been promoted twice into a higher year. You likely don’t have problems with school. It is my job to help students with problems though, and if I can’t help you with school problems. Can I help with problems outside of school?”
“I’m fine Misses Thatcher. Not a single problem I need your help with. I really do need to catch…”
“Well Miss Stillman, I have a problem if you don’t have a problem…”
Rachel figured if Misses bossy boots can interrupt her, she could interrupt too. “Sorry to hear that and hope you can work it out for yourself. I doubt I could be any help to you.” Lacing her words sugary sweet she hoped Misses Thatcher picked up on how useless she’d been in regards to curbing the bullying this school year.
“Oh we will work it out. Now I know your ‘Mum’. No, sorry, she is your ‘Mother’. Well it was heard by all… you telling everyone that she did something that is against the law…
“Misses Thatcher, hearsay and rumors are inadmissible. I did not say my Mother broke the law. It would appear typical school rumors have as usual provided you with false information.”
“Miss Stillman lets cut to the chase. I know your Mother did something illegal, and you can either tell me, so I can solve the problem, or I will be issuing you three demerits for being on school property outside of school hours, and another demerit for causing a disturbance in the cafeteria at lunch time.
Pushing back to her feet Rachel began working for the exit. Misses Thatcher obviously didn’t like that and called after her. “I’m talking to you!”
“I have said nothing that provides you with any right to inquire into my life. Give me any demerits you can prove I’ve earned…” Rachel said, wanting to add how useful she believed she was to the students, but wisely holding back, as she left the office. She was surprised to see Sarah had been waiting. “Come on, your Havant train leaves before mine.”
“Rachel, the door was left open and I was just outside the door.” Sarah offered, whether as an apology for hearing or an attempt to get Rachel to talk she was rather unsure. She had to jog as Rachel’s only response was to speed up even more toward the school’s exit. Thinking over the overheard conversation and how her aborted apology was ignored she tried to work out what she could do to help. The pregnant silence was smothering, and she knew though it might not be successful she had to try to find some way to help. She felt terrible at all the things she’d done and wondered if Rachel had even acknowledged her as a bully. It was weird to think that where she thought she had been a hotshot making fun of a girl three years her junior, she hadn’t even been acknowledged as a threat.
“Rachel, are you worried about home?” Sarah suddenly asked as they finally had slowed down to a fast walk along the footpath to the train station, having left the school property behind a while ago.
“Not really, there isn’t anything more my Mother can do. I bet if I go straight to bed, she’ll likely ignore me.”
“How about you spend the next two nights at my place you can help me study for Lit and G.S., and I’ll help you with French, our afternoon exam? We could tell Glenda that your exams are too important to be messed up and taking two nights away will give both you and your Mum time to calm down.”
Well Glenda took it as well as a person accepts the notification of less than three months left to live from a Doctor, but she couldn’t stop Rachel from catching the earlier train to Havant. Further, for all Sarah had surgested 'we' she'd quickly chivied Rachel to go to the other platform and let her take care of it. Rachel watched her older sister wringing her hands on the far platform through the train window. Rachel tried to not feel guilty about it as Glenda was left small and seemingly alone on the other platform than the one the Southampton bound train pulled away from.
Sarah glanced at hopefully her new friend looking out of the window and decided that a change of subject was best to get them learning about each other. Obviously, home, her mother and likely her sister were not good choices. Perhaps risking her greatest fear was best. “This is my last chance to recover my lost year.”
“Soz! Lost year? What’s that?” Rachel swung around trying to work out what Sarah was talking about. It made absolutely no sense.
“You know I repeated my last year of Primary, Rachel.” Sarah replied, not asking it as a question. At Rachel’s nod she continued. “Well I’ve talked with the school shrink and co. and if I don’t do well on these and the end of the year finals, I will not be allowed per my request to get back up into my form year.”
“What, so this year is the last chance to get promoted? No one’s ever told me that.”
“Well your sister and possibly you are the only exceptions to that rule from the rumors I’ve heard, but as O’ levels are based on the fourth- and fifth-year school work they like to have a solid buffer third year prior to the two years of material being taught.”
Rachel was wondering about the rumors about Glenda and herself but was able to work out Sarah was trying to skip second form of her Secondary education to get back with her age group. Obviously according to her words, they didn’t allow third form to be skipped and obviously skipping half the material the University’s exams would be based upon was not advisable.
“What’s Glenda got to do with school promotions?”
“Your sister complained that she refused to be in third form with you next year, so they mustn’t promote you again. She was told to buckle down and do well this year as if they felt you deserved another promotion, they would be giving it to you. So, unless she did well enough to be promoted into fourth form, she could have the last three years of Secondary School with you in the same form as her.”
“Sarah how do you know that, the staff aren’t going to blab those details?”
“The staff, no, but your sister when she’s pissed talking to her gossiping friends and the whole school will know fairly quickly. Further, they said that even if you didn’t do well enough for a promotion this year, they would still consider allowing you to skip your third year, thus except for possibly you and your sister apparently could be awarded, the ability to skip third form is not on the table for the rest of us.”
As the train pulled into Havant station the two of them checked they had their belongings and went toward the closest door to get off. They were joined by a fair number of Warblington Secondary kids coming the other direction toward their intended exit. Behind the jostling kids were a few adults that also were getting off the train here. With Sarah blocking, Rachel got the new experience of being the first kid to exit from a train doorway, when many kids are wanting to do so. Both flashed their student rail pass as they exited the platform.
Rachel seeing Peacocks after they left the station quickly checked her handbag and was glad she had enough emergency funds, and that she had made a point of maintaining said emergency funds to have them if something like this happened. “I need to grab a change of clothes, do you mind if I hit Peacocks?”
“They carry discount clothes they will be unlikely to have many second hand uniforms and doubtful in your size.”
“Can I quickly look?” Rachel replied not wanting to confess to her desire for underwear before their absence is found out. The store actually had several Warblington girl’s uniforms, but none anywhere near small enough to not drown Rachel, but they did have what she most needed so a few minutes later and a more relaxed Rachel exited the store with Sarah. The changing room had a mirror and Rachel had seen, what she had felt, her bum was nearly completely recovered.
“I’ve got to pick up my little brother from his friend’s house. Oh, and you can help me make tea. Mum and Dad don’t get home till gone six.”
“How old’s your brother?”
“Too young for you!”
“What no! I have zero interest in boys.” Rachel exclaimed working out what Sarah was teasing her about.
“Should I worry about my virtue, Miss Stillman?” Sarah, asked. Cackling at seeing her friend blush. “Come on, this way.” She took off running down a side street. With starting to run first and knowing where they needed to go, Sarah won their race. It also helped it was slightly downhill and only a few dozen yards. Any further and she would have been a wheezing mess.
However, for all Rachel’s legs were shorter it was likely only due to those helpful details that she won the race, and was not left in the dust. Sarah panted holding onto the gate catching her breath back while noticing Rachel was breathing completely normally. Unlike her labored rattling wheeze Rachel breathed as if they had not undertaken any physical activity. She wondered if the crazy practice of cycling on the South Downs was what enabled her to be more fit. Breath re-caught she opened the gate and led the way up the footpath to the front door.
“Who’s this?” Frank more demanded than asked of his big sister when he joined the two of them to head home.
“Rachel, meet my eight-year-old monster, Frank.”
“Hey there monster Frank.” Rachel said trying to ignore the fact that he was taller than she was. Gulp these Parkers obviously got the genes to grow tall.
“You eight too?”
“No, I’m in the same class as your sister.” Rachel didn’t want to say she was only ten, even if by saying what she had, emphasized her lack of height. Frank lost interest and turned away. Sarah smirked at how she’d avoided discussing age, but thankfully didn’t tease her. In order to avoid thoughts about age and height Rachel thought about getting to stay over at a friend’s house.
This life aside when they visited Kim and Anne in the next-door bungalow in Fareham, this would be her first time going to another, none relatives’, house. Both her sisters had made and visited friends. Maybe, if she had actually made a friend, she would be able to do this more often.
“Okay Frank, you can either watch TV or play in your bedroom. I’ll call you once we’ve made tea.”
“Can I have egg ‘n’ sol’jers?”
“Let me check we’ve enough eggs and bread.” Sarah replied. “This way to the kitchen. Oh, you can leave your handbag and blazer in the hall closet next to mine.” The TV blaring out the end of the ‘Magic Round About’ theme tune, and the narrator introducing Florence stumbling over a sleeping Dylan’s legs, blasted loudly through the open living room door. “Turn the volume knob below the marker, Frank. You know you can’t have it louder than Dad marked on the dial!” The volume dropped to reasonable level before Dylan responded to Florence’s question that Rachel had missed behind Sarah’s yell.
The kitchen was small and having the laundry basket sat in front of the washing machine didn’t do the room any favors. “Ah Mum wants me to do the laundry of course. She complains I get kicked back a year but gives me chores during exam time. Go figure.”
“If you’ve got an old shirt I can slum in tonight, I’m fine doing the laundry. I’d actually like to wash my uniform so I can have it clean for tomorrow.”
“You know how to do laundry?”
“I’ve done it before. It’s not exactly rocket science.” Rachel didn’t mention the before was memories of another life.
“Thought I was the only one that had to do it.” Sarah looked over at her friend diving into sorting their laundry basket and in order to not get humiliated stopped with her pity party. “I’ll grab you one of my old night shirts. You good with a boiled egg too? Oh, do you prefer the shirt to have an image of a girl with frilly dress and bonnet but also some huge gangster machine gun or a Smurfette style?”
“Egg will be perfect thanks and I think I can handle a few frills if I get a huge gun, but you’re going to have to explain what the heck the shirt is about.” Sarah nodded and left upstairs. Rachel started placing the coloureds into the washing machine. She’d add her skirt once she had her borrowed night shirt.
Said shirt went to her ankles and was a camel brown with pink rectangular frame at the front. Within the frame a girl wearing a puffy bonnet with a light brown fringe escaping and hiding her face stood sideways on, with a bulky gun at her hip, held in two dainty hands. The gun had the large circular magazine of the 1920’s Tommy gun style. In addition to sprigs of flowers and tufts of grass around the girl’s shod in unlaced bovver booted feet, were the words in flowing lilac font, ‘Precious Moments’. Rachel figured the gun covered for the otherwise way too sugary sweetness. Adding her skirt to the machine she started the wash. Her blouse could go with the whites in the next wash.
“So what’s the deal with ‘my precious’ here.” Rachel offered in Gollum’s voice.
“No idea about your weird voice but it has to do with Bonny and Clyde. I have a few figurines too in my room. But you do realize that your clothes will be wet tomorrow…
“I’ll hang them tonight over there, if that’s okay.” After getting Sarah’s tentative nod.“Then tomorrow morning I’ll run an iron over them. I’ve done it before.They’ll be fine.” Rachel suddenly thought that Gollum’s voice like the running an iron over a not quite dry shirt were of course from Geoff’s life and might not be true or a popular meme yet. Heck, memes weren’t referred as memes yet, if they ever would be, but worse was she right in recalling the iron trick working?
“If you say so. Any way can you make soldiers for Frank’s boiled egg?” Sarah asked as twisting so the Smurfette night shirt she’d changed into was noticed by Rachel.
“Just lightly toast and cut it into strips thin enough for dunking into the egg opening?” Rachel confirmed and got Sarah’s nod. “Where do you keep your egg cups*?”
“Third top cupboard. Yes, that one. They should be toward the back right of the middle shelf.” Sarah stated while adding three eggs to the boiling water and flipping the egg timer, and noting Rachel dropping the two slices of bread into the toaster and turning the dial to light. “Can you open the leaf on the kitchen table?”
“So, you knew exactly which night shirt would be available?” Rachel asked indicating the two shirts. “Oh, you want to share a slice or have soldiers like you brother?”
Sarah laughed then replied. “Give over we can have half each but only Frank needs his half cut into smaller strips. As to the night shirts, I knew I should have both as I have two of the one your wearing and three smurfettes. I’ve got a Bagpuss one if you prefer.” Rachel grinned cutting both slices in half as they popped up toasted and then making thin strip soldiers of one of the halves for the resident monster.
“This shirt is fine, and thanks for it. The timer is almost done.”
Sara grabbed a serving spoon with drainage holes and as soon as the three minutes of sand completed running into the bottom of the egg timer turned off the gas and scooped the three eggs into their respective cups. A quick bash on the top of all three to stop the eggs cooking and they were set. “Frank, your egg and soldiers are ready! Bring a stool with you.” The two girls arranged the three servings around the table, and they each pulled one of the two stools tucked beneath, out from under it.
*egg cup is a cup sized for an egg so if you want to eat a soft-boiled egg you don’t make a mess or burn your hands. For reasons I will go into later every restaurant in the USA that serves boiled eggs will provide them in a bowl that even though little, is way too big and the egg rolls around in it. You then have to decide whether you want to burn your hands to eat the egg while hot, or wait for it to be cold before trying to eat the thing. And good luck not making a mess from the runny egg you requested from the bamboozled server rather than accepting them in the standard hard boiled way it otherwise always arrives.
My leg pull and likely the reason for the lack of egg cups is that when the UK hands down does something so much better than the US, to the point where it appears the US didn’t even show up for the event; like egg cups, cats eyes, the Concord, and the Harrier jump jet, then these items are marginalized as best they can to not be found out by the general population. Heck Boeing even dropped parts of its own planes that never are defective to ensure they could ground and bankrupt the French/UK joint venture. This paragraph had something to do with egg cups, but the English American got lost in ranting – go figure.
Rachel's visit to the Parker's continues allowing both girls to study for their upcoming exams. How will Sarah's parents react? How will Rachel's Mother?
Sarah had got Frank to bed, while Rachel emptied the washer of the white wash. She placed the basket with damp clothes in the utility room, that was off the kitchen and had the rear door to the garden as its other exit. Both girls would hang it out in the morning before leaving for school if the weather looked good. If not, Sarah’s Mum would possibly put it out before she headed to work, and both would have to get it in and ironed after returning from school tomorrow.
Sarah glanced at the phone. It hadn’t rung. Did that mean Glenda hadn’t passed on her note and the hurried discussion to Rachel’s Mum or something else. She’d stopped the older sister preventing her plan from getting implemented by telling Rachel to get to the other platform while she spoke to her sister. Initially of course Rachel looked to be getting ready to refuse. Then either she’d run out energy to fight or trusted Sarah or a combination and had left for the footbridge. If a combination it was likely far more of the former though Sarah hoped it was weighted in the latter.
Needing to get to the other platform for her train she’d had to talk fast. She had handed over the paper with her home phone number and stated plan for Rachel to stay the next two nights so the pair could study. She’d wrote the note while waiting outside the councilor’s office earlier. Having got Glenda to jot her number on a slip of paper torn her from one of her note books, she had then made for her platform as quickly as she dared while breathing carefully.
The phone not ringing was frustrating. She wanted to give the girls’ mother a piece of her mind. It would also enable her to provide a better reason for this spur of the moment sleepover to her folks when they got home this evening. She could ring the number Glenda had provided but she was both worried and anxious for talking to Rachel's Mother. Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang.
After a calming breath, Sarah answered, ready to battle. “Hello, how can I help you?”
“Evening Sarah, are your parents home?” Sarah heard Jenny, the lady that took care of Frank after school.
Having been girded for a verbal battle, Sarah had to pause a moment before letting Jenny know they weren’t home yet. She then happily agreed to tell them and Frank of the delay in the usual picking Frank up from school, so the school could be informed from the Parkers too. Phone call over and now less desirous in her opinion of getting Rachel’s number to enable calling her house she decided to get back to what she had said they would do, studying. If Rachel's Mother called she would give her a talking to, but if she didn't then she would avoid that battle.
They were being a bit silly singing ‘Alouette, gentile alouette’ while trying to trump each other on the French words for items in the room, having exhausted body parts, when they were startled by the knock on the bedroom door, just prior to its opening.
“Sarah, and who is this?” Sarah’s Dad inquired. He’d heard the two girls’ dulcet tones and giggles from the bottom of the stairs and thus hurried the entry as Sarah knew she couldn’t have friends over when alone without prior parent approval. Some of her friends could over excite Sarah, and were not allowed to be with her without parental supervision. They were so scared of losing their daughter.
“This is Rachel, from my class we have been studying for tomorrow’s exams.”
“Nice to meet you Rachel. I assume the uniform drying on the utility room radiators is yours?” Rachel nodded, while worrying if they were in trouble. Sarah’s Dad looked really angry. “Are your parents bringing dry clothes when they come to pick you up?”
“Dad, Rachel is staying the night…
“Just a moment. Rachel your parents are aware, and have accepted this?” Michael interrupted his daughter and having got a guilty half nod that was so tentative it was obviously covering a lie, smiled. The smile was one that scared Rachel even more, something was truly wrong with that smile. “If you could just excuse us for a moment Rachel, I need to talk to my daughter downstairs. Sarah come with me.” He opened the door and ushered his daughter out in front of him.
Rachel was left in the now empty bedroom staring at the closed door worried, and wondering what she should do. Had she got Sarah in trouble? Was she about to be smacked with shoe and belt? Was he like her Mother? Should she run? Where?
“What’s going on Sarah?” Michael asked his daughter after turning the TV on.
“You said I could have a sleepover if I wanted, and she is really smart, and we are studying for exams…
“Sarah, I know Rachel is not in your class. How old is she? Is there a problem at her home?”
“Dad she is in my class. She is a genius and already got bumped up two years ahead. This is my last chance to get back into my form and she will likely be promoted again next year and is my best chance to get back into my form… Also, you’ve seen her Warrington school uniform drying on the radiators.” Sarah couldn’t believe her dad thought she was lying.
“Sarah, yes, both Mum and I have said you could have sleepovers. That is after we have met your friends and their parents. I’ve never heard mention of… Actually, I recall a few weekends ago when you had Allison and that Lewis girl over. The three of you were being nasty about some childish baby you had to share class with?” Michael’s tone let Sarah know he was asking while fairly sure he knew the answer.
“We were being bitches and jealous. Do you enjoy hearing me say I was in the wrong…
Michael pulled his daughter into a hug and ruffled her hair. “I would never enjoy that, but I am proud when my daughter owns up to making a mistake and being cruel, as it tells me she is trying to grow up into a great young lady. Now I note that you have avoided a couple of things still, like your Mum and I knowing the friend and her parents prior to a sleepover, which wouldn’t be on a school night too.”
Well here goes nothing Sarah thought. She’d known this had to come up. Perhaps a little more easing while pointing out how she would benefit. “She is helping me with all my subjects except music and French. While I am helping her in French. She’s in all my classes except music, Rachel does art, and is really good at it.” Sarah quickly barreled on when she saw her Dad about to complain again. “… and even though it is a school night the exams are tomorrow, and we are studying not playing, and I made friends with her today, and when Misses Thatcher was attacking her, and I saw the opportunity, so I took it, and there wouldn’t be time for you to meet her before it was too late….
“Woah hold up a second. What did Misses Thatcher do?” Michael interrupted her.
Sarah refrained from smiling, her Dad zeroed in on her ‘accidently’ mentioning of an attack by the counselor. “I met Rachel this morning when you dropped me in to school early. She was already there, and we studied, and I am sure I did much better in my Math and Geography exams because of that studying.”
“Sarah, that is all well and good, but I asked you a question.”Michael brought his daughter back to the ‘attack’ that he was more concerned to learn more about.”
“I am getting to that Dad. At lunch while we were studying for Geography her older sister Glenda yelled some stuff about how she was in trouble for leaving home extremely early in the morning. Also, that Rachel had threatened their Mother with jail.” Sarah, waved her hands. “Misses Thatcher was attacking Rachel, when she refused to talk about it. The counselor was angry that Rachel refused to provide any fire for the smoke and threatened her with punishment if she didn’t talk.”
“Rachel is being abused at home?”
Sarah quickly increased the TV volume and ensured the door was closed. “I don’t know. I thought it best to get her away, to let both sides calm down. Misses Thatcher was trying to make the situation worse, causing Rachel to be more protective and defensive of her home life.”
“Am I likely to have the police arrive on a concern of kidnapping?”
“I told Glenda what Misses Thatcher tried and how Rachel took punishment to protect their Mum. I also gave her our phone number and told her to tell her Mum what I had said and that I thought some evenings apart is best for both sides to calm down. The phone never rang.”
Michael took a breath in. “How old is this older sister?”
“Glenda is in Tanya’s form.” Sarah told her Dad, while wishing she hadn’t lost that friendship. It had been resting on shaky ground heading from fall into winter of the year before last. That was when Tanya had noticed boys slightly earlier than most of the other ten year old girls. Sarah was stuck between doing well enough at school to keep her parents happy and spending enough time looking through teen girl magazines and practicing make-up to keep Tanya a friend.
Then in February, Sarah caught a bad flu that hospitalized her. It caused secondary illnesses of whooping cough, pneumonia, and laryngitis. It seemed as if she was just improving from one when the next illness attacked. She was extremely weak after being sick for over three months. The doctors recommended at minimum keeping Sarah out of school through nearly the end of the school year to ensure she didn’t catch anything off the other children there. Both the doctors and school advised writing off the whole year rather than just returning for the end of the year exams. The upshot of that was with poor results on December’s exams her only showing for the year, the school recommended holding Sarah back a year to recover from the lost time in school.
Sarah in the fall returned to repeat her last year at Saint Albans Primary and Tanya made new friends at Warblington Secondary. If Sarah hadn’t wasted so much time appeasing Tanya’s interest on boys and make-up she would have done better on the exams and not lost her best friend by being held back in the old school. Then she finally gets to Warblington and Tanya behaves as if she’d never known her and a little kid over three years younger than her is easily top student in her new class.
It was easy to join in with the bullying of Rachel. Rachel’s own sister seemed determined to make her life hell, and her year mates including Tanya were more than willing to join in. Initially Sarah wanted to get her friend back, but even when that failed she didn’t stop bullying. Sarah had found herself the head girl in first form and made friends before realizing it. She was able to sway them slightly from becoming gossiping, make-up plastering, and boy crazies. Most aside the one they all bullied were not as much believers that boys were the root of all things evil though.
“Sarah.” Her Dad startled her out of her memories. “Sorry Dad.” Her Dad just looked at her in exasperation before repeating. “I asked if you got their phone number.”
“Yeah, let me get it. I have it in my school bag.” Sarah ran upstairs to get the number Glenda had given her. Two thirds up the stairs she slowed down to catch her wind. She glanced and saw her Dad’s worrying stare. He’d followed her into the hall. Damn she had kept her parents from hearing her wheezing, only to forget and over exert herself.
Carefully breathing in deeply and trying to stay calm “I’m fine Dad. I shouldn’t run on the stairs.” Sarah offered.
Not waiting to give him time to think she resumed her climb at a more moderate pace while concentrating on deep breathing. She was sure the barely there rattle couldn’t travel to where he stood. Hopefully, he wouldn’t schedule a doctor’s visit, especially during her exams.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel by way of greeting met her when she entered the room.
Sarah startled replied. “I shouldn’t run on the stairs, I’m not wheezing!” The brittle rattle was barely present, how had she heard… Sarah then saw Rachel’s concerned face morph to confused. Oh, yes she’d been worried about something else. “Don’t worry. My Dad just needs something. I’ll be back soon to test you on your French so study ‘till I get back, ‘k’.”
Having confused Rachel she got the slip of paper from the book bag’s pocket. “Learning from a book, works better when you open it.” Sarah offered to distract Rachel as she left for downstairs.
What happened on Warblington station platform after Rachel left her sister Glenda there.
Glenda tried not to shake as she stared across the tracks to the train Rachel would be sitting in. With the early afternoon sun falling on the carriages’ windows she couldn’t see through them to see if her sister was sitting on the other side of one of those panes of glass. What was she supposed to tell their Mum? She glanced at the note clenched in her hand afraid it would burn her. Would she get beat tonight for not stopping Rachel from running away?
When had the bottom fallen out of her life? To think her biggest worry had been her little sister getting promoted into the same class as her. No, she couldn’t lie to herself. Her biggest worry was her little sister getting promoted forms ahead of her, and leaving her dumb sister behind in the dust, as she had left Sally years ago. How petty, no how pathetic to worry about something so trivial and small. If she was beaten she deserved it for all the cruel things she had done to Rachel. If Rachel could laugh at her Mum as she was punished then she could too.
As she watched the far train pull away, stealing her sister from her, she made a promise to herself. She would be a better sister. She would take the punishment the way Rachel showed her to take it. She would not show fear. Glenda hugged herself as she started shaking, and tears began to slide from the corner of her eyes toward her cheeks. She couldn’t fix her Mum or Misses Fowler and Miss Fowler who would find no target to attack but her, as Rachel had run away.
Her sister took their three pronged attack every Tuesday and Friday and she had gleefully enjoyed the torment they leveled on Rachel. She deserved the attack as she had never defended her little sister. Worse, she had felt it was deserved for being wrong, evil, odd…
The announcement that, “The next train arriving was for Chichester, stopping at Emsworth, Southbourne, Nutbourne, Bosham, Fishbourne and Chichester only. Change at Chichester…” Broke into her meltdown enough so Glenda could woodenly alight the train and sink into the first empty seat she found. She stared off the lad that was thinking of taking the empty seat beyond hers against the window. Thankfully the streaks of running tears and the pain in her eyes, was able to communicate to him to not try to force his way against her legs, or ask her to scoot over from the aisle seat.
It would be so easy to just stay on the train Glenda thought. Which stop should she take? Should she sit to Chichester? There would be a conductor checking the tickets. Could she hide in the loo? Could she get to Nutbourne before her student pass was checked? If the conductor just glanced at her pass…
Was she really going to run away and leave Sally to get beat? She was the eldest and it was high time she protected her younger sisters. She had just promised herself that, and yet here she was thinking on how to avoid a little pain. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too painful. Rachel took it, and she was three years older.
She was scared. Unable to tough it out she curled into herself on the seat and allowed herself to cry. “Hey, we need to get off at this station? We’re at Emsworth. Glenda, where’s Rachel?” Glenda lifted her head and saw Misses Wilson in the aisle next to her seat. Beyond her Mum’s aerobics friend the Emsworth station sign on the platform could be seen through the train window. Glenda quickly grabbed her bag she’d nearly missed her station. “Why’re you here?” Glenda asked in worry.
“Where’s Rachel, Glenda?” Lauren asked worried Rachel had done something stupid. She’d wanted to catch the earlier train after shopping in Portsmouth, but had managed to miss it. She had ended up on the train the girls would get onto at Warblington station instead of being on Warblington station platform when they arrived to catch this train. Knowing she couldn’t hope to pick out two girls in a sea of school children all dressed alike, she’d sat at one end of the train. Then as the train left Warblington station she began her trek up the train and found Glenda sat in the last carriage. Ensuring the two of them at least got off the train at the right place she began to think what she needed to do.
Obviously Rachel wasn’t on the train and likely this problem was why Glenda was so distressed. It would seem her friend was right to think she had messed up something fierce with Rachel. She’d begged her to get her daughters home so she didn’t have another public row at this station. Now she needed to get answers from Glenda to know what to do.
Guiding the distraught girl to a bench she placed her shopping bags down and encouraged the girl to sit and be hugged. Unfortunately she needed to know about Rachel and couldn’t give the girl the time and love she needed to be given. “Glenda, I need to know where Rachel is.”
Glenda became aware she was sat on one of the Emsworth platform benches being hugged by Misses Wilson that wanted to know about how she had messed up and lost Rachel. She’d been all set on what to say to Mum and to hand her the note. The note! Glancing at her hands she saw the crumpled note was still tightly held in her hand, and just handed it to Misses Wilson.
Lauren opened the crumpled paper and read Sarah’s note. Relief flooded in. Well as soon as she got Glenda home she would call Sarah’s parents and everything would be remedied. Luckily it seemed that Rachel and Belinda could have some time apart to cool down, and it hadn’t got as far out of hand as Belinda had been worried it had. Popping the note in her hand bag and hugging Glenda to her she stroked the young girl’s back. “What say we get you home for a nice cup of chocolate milk? We can get some from Spar on the way home in case your Mum doesn’t have any.”
Glenda was laughing and joking with Misses Wilson as they walked home when Misses Wilson suddenly stopped, and pulled Glenda close. “Glenda, I need you to not mention the note. Rachel is at her friend's, Sarah’s house to study together for the half term exams. This was planned by your Mum and Sarah’s parents to allow Rachel time with her friend. Nothing bad happened last night. If they say, or you hear Sally said something about last night, say Sally got upset because Rachel and your Mum had an argument, and Rachel was sent to bed without tea after a couple of spanks for being naughty.”
“What, no Mum used a belt and a shoe and she wouldn’t stop, and Rachel laughed at her saying she was weak…
“Glenda do you love your Mum?” Glenda took a moment to think if she said yes would she get hit like Rachel was, but she had agreed she deserved it and she let it happen to Rachel. “This is important Glenda. If you don’t say what I said then you will be taken from your Dad, from your sisters. You do want to stay as a family with Rachel and Sally?”
“Yes, Misses Wilson, I will protect Rachel and Sally. They are my little sisters even if Rachel is smarter than me and seems older…
“Then please Glenda for me, and your Mum, and Sally, and Rachel. Last night Rachel and your Mum had an argument, but her only punishment was going to bed without tea and a couple of smacks. Sally got distraught over it, as Rachel laughed at the punishment, and Sally got scared thinking Mum might get angry and had nightmares about the punishment, and came to sleep in your bed because she was scared.” Lauren waited holding her breath, letting it go when she saw understanding cross Glenda’s eyes and the girl nod her head while firming her resolve.
“Yes, Rachel is studying with her bestfriend Sarah. Sally had a nightmare. Rachel was only sent to bed without tea after a couple of smacks. What Sally said there was a shoe? No, she had a nightmare, but I held her and helped her go back to sleep.”
“I wished I had gone to my friend’s house. I have exams tomorrow too. I’ve not eaten tea or dinner. You keep asking me the same bloody questions. No my Mum and Dad have never abused me or my younger sisters. The only abuse I’ve ever had my entire life is this evening from you bastards. I had to get naked so you could look at my body, and I’ve had to listen to your lies and threats. I WANT TO GO HOME!”
“Glenda, we need to ensure your home is a safe place first. Sally has said things that completely disagree with everything you’ve said…
“Everything! There is a lie from you too, now. Sally had a nightmare last night. I know because she came to my bedroom and told me about her fears…
“What did Sally say exactly?”
“I was asleep when she came. It was the middle of the bloody night. I think she was worried that as Rachel was laughing when punished… Which is usual, Rachel always acts strong and like she can never be hurt… I think Sally had a nightmare of the punishment being worse...
“A nightmare caused because your Mum lost it and attacked Rachel violently due to Rachel taunting her?” One of the two women in the room with Rachel pounced.
“No, Mum just sent Rachel to bed without tea, but I think Sally’s nightmare might have been different. I just calmed her down and said soothing things until Sally fell asleep. I hugged her. Is that allowed or can a sister not hug her younger sister who had a nightmare?”
“Glenda we can’t help you if you keep lying.”
“That’s rich. I catch you two bloody lying and you accuse me of lying. Well I haven’t lied, and I won’t lie to tell you what you want to hear. I just bloody well want to go home with my sister and my perfect Mother who is so much better than you lying bitches, it is no comparison. You want to know if I’ve been abused. Then yes, this bloody evening for the first time ever by all the fucking staff in this joke of an office, and I will say that to the bloody judge when I finally get to meet him.”
Margaret sighed, for all she was sure Glenda was lying, she hadn’t said anything that could be used to prove she was. After Misses Stillman’s friend arrived even that source of information dried up as she regained confidence. Even apparently forgetting that the daughter she allegedly beat was going over to a best friend’s house when Sally had said before her sister was friendless and Misses Stillman hadn’t corrected her. It was convenient that contact information for the Parkers was at the Stillman’s home.
Misses Thatcher from Warblington High School had called in the concern for child abuse, and Margaret was sure abuse had happened. Unfortunately, Glenda and Misses Wilson had been strong sources of denial. How Misses Wilson was able to coach Glenda in the trip from station to home… No, she’d been shopping at Portsmouth if she was on the train… What if she was at Warblington station and bundled Rachel off with Sarah so they couldn’t examine the girl. Then she would have the time at the station and train journey to Emsworth too, to coach the girl.
So they had one child’s tale that would come across as a nightmare, as the girl had a nightmare of the event. A good solicitor would be able to do exactly what Glenda had done making it seem a nightmare only. Not a nightmare caused due to a traumatic event that actually happened. Misses Wilson must have coached Mother and daughter, and during the initial raid without her friend Misses Stillman nearly confessed, unfortunately Misses Wilson arrived with a perfectly coached daughter and a perfect excuse to stop them examining the abused girl.
They would have to let the woman leave with her friend and daughters. She’d try to get her supervisor to allow pulling Rachel from school tomorrow. Hopefully they could find some proof of abuse.