Phyllis was a twenty-five year old modestly sucessful published author and playwright who was also paid to run a successful theatre that was based around an even more successful amateur dramatics society. She’d modelled her ideas on two sucessful provincial theatres that she was familiar with, The John Peel Theatre in Wigton Cumbria and Wigan Little Theatre in Wigan Greater Manchester. She’d left school in the summer over seven years before and after a brief holiday abroad had managed the theatre from the following new year. Her energy had galvanised the failing amateur dramatics society, and her hard work doing everything herself to start with, spending most of her initially poor remuneration on advertising and the like, catapulted the awareness of the enterprise to the forefront of local attention.

Within two years the ticket receipts had enabled the society to buy the run down theatre building and to pay her a realistic salary. The receipts had also paid for considerable refurbishments as well as a lot of up to date equipment including state of the art lighting and sound equipment, although she was the first to admit that much had been done free by members of the society, members of their families, and locals, friends of the society, who regarded the provision of cheap but quality entertainment in a sparsely populated area devoid of much else had made it all possible. Phyllis lived with Colin, her fiancé of three years, who was her general theatrical technical boffin, it was how they’d met, and they were getting married the following year after he finished his PhD. When asked she explained it was ‘something to do with electricity’. As a result any unusual sound or lighting requirements ended up on Colin’s lap, which he found enjoyably challenging.

That the theatre also served as a cinema helped the finances too, but that was managed by a small group of movie fans who had little involvement with stage productions, though they assisted to manage the audience when there was a performance. Phyllis was particularly fond of Shakespeare, but wasn’t a snob about it and put on mix, probably about fifty fifty, of classics and modern plays, including some written by local playwrights, not least herself. Much of her work concerned the rights individuals should have to privacy, which included the right to engage or to refuse to engage with any or indeed all should they so choose. In an era where many lived their entire lives in the glare of public scrutiny on line, privacy was rapidly becoming an alien concept to an ever increasing proportion of society. As a result her plays had gained her the reputation in the local press of being an avant guard playwright which she considered to be a ridiculous concept, since it would have been more nearly correct to consider her work to revolve around attitudes that were rapidly becoming archaic.

In order to attract younger players and other back stage members she had decided to promote theatre membership to school children and local colleges. That had been a major headache, because of all the regulations concerning children involved in such activities. The theatre was subject to the same regulations that a major film studio would be. Fortunately one of her leading ladies was a solicitor who had researched the matter for the society, and her property master handled the administration, it was what he did for his employer. However, those regulations were why she was attending a weekend course on safe guarding of children and the obligations of those who had a duty of care to the under eighteen. The council via the local education authority had been blunt, ‘Someone has to go on the course, or you can forget even applying for any financial help or grants.’ It had not been said, but it was clear when they’d said someone they meant herself.

Most of the delegates were school teachers, and the talks and discussion groups were given and led, in the main, by the likes of social workers, educators, police officers, and solicitors with the odd magistrate and probation officer thrown in to the mix. All claimed to have special expertise in knowing what was best for children. Phyllis was cynical, perhaps with good reason, and considered the delegates and deliverers of the course to be a typical, left wing bunch with a disproportionate number of non whites, non binaries and generally professed anti establishment pedants, despite most being paid good, upper middle class salaries by the establishment which they were in truth pillars of. ‘Ah well,’ she’d thought, ‘It’s good to know that hypocrisy is still alive and kicking at all levels.’

After dinner on the Saturday night Phyllis was enjoying a solitary drink in the bar of the hotel that was hosting the event. She was quietly reflecting on what she considered to have been the, in the main, bullshit she’d had to listen to all day, and was hoping that she would be left to her thoughts, but it was not to be. A woman with a conference badge pinned over her dominating, if not commanding, bosom that proclaimed her to be Ms Mary James and a conference speaker had just entered the bar area. Ms James was the leader of one of the discussion groups Phyllis had been a member of in the morning and had repeatedly asked Phyllis for her input. She’d been offended and visibly had to control her anger when Phyllis, who had not engaged in any of the issues raised, had repeatedly said when pressed that she had no views on the matters that she was prepared to air to anyone other than herself.

Ms James hadn’t recognised Phyllis, but she’d been, and still was, the assistant head teacher in charge of pastoral matters at the high school Phyllis had attended. Phyllis hadn’t liked her when she was at school, and Ms James had given her no reason to change her view in the last twelve hours. Phyllis saw Ms James working her way through the crowded bar chatting briefly to others on the course as she approached. Phyllis knew she was Ms James’ destination, ‘or perhaps target was a better word’ she pondered, and sighed, knowing that the woman wouldn’t leave her alone and would be impossible to repulse. So, before Ms James reached her, she bought a half bottle of Martell cognac to put in her handbag, so she could plead tiredness and leave in fifteen minutes to enjoy a drink in peace in her room listening to music.

Ms James started off by saying how disappointed she’d been at Phyllis’ lack of contribution. “I really do hope you’ll take a more active rôle in the discussions tomorrow. I’m sure like everyone you must have valid contributions to add.”

Phyllis took a moment to reply, but said quietly, “Possibly, but unlike everyone else I’m not over fond of the sound of my own voice, and I’m certainly not arrogant enough to believe that I know what is best for anyone else, including children, or perhaps I mean especially children.

The woman was taken aback by Phyllis’ firm, quiet words which it was clear were non negotiable to her. However, with the hubris of her type she carried on. “Everyone who has a duty of care, has by law to report even the slightest hint of a suspicion of any kind of abuse or irregularity they may have to their line manager or to Social Services, and that includes you. Should you subsequently be discovered not to have done so, you would be in serious trouble with the law.”

Smiling, Phyllis replied, even more quietly than before, “Indeed, but I deliberately avoid thinking of such things, and I’m not bright enough as to have suspicions about anything. Indeed I left school and went straight into the theatre because I’m good at what I do and I didn’t wish to be a second rater at anything else. It is a matter of public record that at regular intervals Social Services and educators fail to recognise massive, and what turns out to have been obvious, abuse, and as a result a child ends up being tortured to death on their watch. They always maintain lessons have been learnt and that they will ensure it can never happen again, till next time that is. The subsequent whitewash that masquerades as an inquiry allows them to get away with it time after time after time, so I’m sure I’ll be okay. Now, it’s been a long and busy day, and belike tomorrow will be another. I’m tired, and I wish to go to my room, so if you’ll excuse me.”

The woman, who had obviously had the hide of a pachyderm, was stung far more by the tone of Phyllis’ voice than by her words of contempt for the system, yet like a juggernaut she continued. “I’ll just tell you a cautionary tale if I may before you leave.” Having been given the okay to leave shortly, Phyllis nodded her acceptance thinking, ‘If I have to be damned bad mannered to leave so be it.’ “A number of years ago we had a young boy at my school who’d have been sixteen at the time when his parents died in an accident on the motorway. Clearly after such a traumatic event he needed counselling and would have needed it for a considerable length of time. However he refused to engage with counsellors, psychiatrists, psychologists or any one else concerning the death of his parents. As far as I was aware he had never discussed the matter with anyone including his classmates.

“ He was taken to a counselling session during school time where he sat completely silent ignoring everything the educational psychologist said and asked. He was there for an hour and when the class bell went for the next period he stood and left without having said a word. Every week he did the same no matter who he was being helped by. Despite changing the counsellor and the venue numerous times we had to give up after a dozen weeks or so. The system could do nothing about the matter as he was a ward of his older sister who was in her mid twenties and wouldn’t cooperate with us. My heart bled for that poor young man whose future was blighted by his elder sister. I have no idea what happened to him, but I do know that was the end of his education and no one ever heard of him again after he left the sixth form with mediocre results that should probably been much better. That’s what can happen to an unprotected child. All his sister would say was ‘You are asking me to bully my youngest sibling, and I won’t do it. Like all other children my brother,’ I can’t disclose his name to you for obvious reasons, ‘has the right to talk, or not, to any. It’s his choice, not yours. I no more than he believe that you know what is best for any child especially one who will be adult in eighteen months. That is an arrogant fantasy on your part.’ Any number of us tried to reason with her, but she was obdurate, and he ended up dropping of the grid. She would never say where he went, so I suspect he is living on the streets in a city somewhere.”

Before she could say any more, Phyllis said, “That’s an interesting tale, but I fail to see what it has to do with anything under consideration here. Now goodnight.” The woman put her hand on Phyllis’ arm to detain her, and Phyllis coldly said, “Unhand me, Woman. I have a half bottle of brandy to hand, and doubtless it will be far better company than you, and belike a better conversationalist too.” On her way to her room Phyllis thought, ‘I do hope there’s a tooth glass in my room. It’s really unladylike drinking spirits from the bottle, but I’ll do that before risking going back to the bar for a glass, she may still be there. What on Earth gives them all the hubris to think they have a right to get inside someone else’s head is beyond me. Doubtless some need or want help, but not all, and it’s the individual’s not the system’s decision to make. I’ve always been private, but stable too, and I can cope with tragedy. That’s possibly why, unlike some, I am as comfortable directing tragedies as comedies, be they howsoever bleak.’ She smiled as in Shakespearean fashion she thought, ‘Shrink me no shrinks, for I’ve certainly never needed one, and there are ways to avoid them messing with one’s mind, if one is determined enough. That rant made it clear she, and all the other damned do gooders, would really have freaked if they’d discovered that not only had I lost both parent’s, but the rest of it too. Thank God Megan kept them off Phillip’s back till he left school and could go abroad to become Phyllis.’