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Autumn Term 1980
Stour High School.
Patsy had settled in well at Stour High School, a non-selective school in Canterbury and had forged some new friendships. In some cases, it was a renewal of relationships with girls whom she had known at primary school. Having left those girls to attend what they regarded as a “posh” school, Patsy had worried that they might treat her with a certain aloofness. However, those fears failed to be substantiated, and once word got around about the stabbing incident with the compass, it gained her respect. Despite this, Patsy knew only too well that she was far from the toughest girl in the school and would need to watch her step.
Many of the lessons were much easier than they had been at Stourford School for Girls and the amount of homework much reduced. On occasion, she had to refrain from answering in class as she didn’t want to appear too clever in front of her peers. Besides, it didn’t really matter how well she performed for the teachers, her future depended on her exam papers, and they would only be seen by the external examiners. A good set of O level results would entitle her to study whatever she wanted at sixth form college and subsequently enable her to go to university.
Patsy had relaxed her well-spoken voice which she had cultivated in order to fit in at her previous school and had now reverted to a somewhat stronger local south-east accent to ease her acceptance at Stour High School. However, when she met up with Susan, she spoke as she would have done previously, enunciating her words more carefully, avoiding the glottal stop and using less slang.
‘See ya tomorrow!’ she called to her friends as she stumbled down the stairs on the bus.
‘Sees ya!’ they shouted back.
This evening she planned to pamper herself by taking a long bath and washing and conditioning her hair. Thankfully, the atmosphere at home had improved slightly over the summer holiday, although relationships were still somewhat strained. She was aware that the investigation into her and Eugenia’s behaviour was still ongoing at her previous school and her mother had been asked to attend a meeting the following week.
Her father seemed to have washed his hands of her and had turned his attention to her brother Andrew, who was the apple of his eye and in turn delighted in the increased attention showered upon him. He had recently started to accompany his father on fishing trips and helped him in the garden at the weekends, taking on the heavier tasks such as digging and pruning trees.
Patsy kept out of her father’s way as much as possible, devoting herself to assisting her mother who appeared to have aged considerably. Thus the household was divided along gender lines, and at times Patsy recoiled at the fact that her efforts at providing domestic help were reinforcing traditional stereotypes. However, her mother was clearly in need of support as her hair was now noticeably grey and she lacked energy and sparkle.
Despite avoiding her father as much as possible, her loathing for him had increased considerably. She felt certain he was physically abusing her mother. One day, her mother had come down to breakfast with a noticeable mark on her cheek which she blamed on a collision with the bathroom door during the night. It was a familiar, lame excuse which didn’t fool Patsy. Additionally, the parental double bed had been taken away one day and replaced by twin beds, on account of her father’s restless sleep, or so her mother explained.
Stour High School was a less convenient journey from the Locke house, meaning that Patsy had to take two buses to school and unless she wanted to take a particularly circuitous route, the short distance between bus routes meant she needed to skirt the grounds of her old school. It didn’t concern her too much though, as she looked completely different in her new uniform and her hair sported a different style as well as colour, courtesy of a semi-permanent colouring she had used in the school holidays. Patsy felt that the deeper autumn tone quite suited her and brought out the chestnut colour of her eyes.
As she walked along, her mind wandered to her evening of relaxation. Perhaps she might be able to paint her mother’s nails or style her hair. It was a few months since her mother had paid to have her hair permed, so there was an opportunity to coax her voluminous hair into something other than a frizzy mass. It would be a poor substitute for a pampering session at a salon, which her mother surely deserved, but such luxuries were expensive, and Patsy couldn’t feasibly save up enough from her allowance to pay for one. Footsteps punctuated her musings, so she automatically stepped to one side to allow them to pass. As she turned to observe her fellow pedestrians, she saw three faces she recognised, and her heart missed a beat.
‘Well, if it isn’t our old friend Cornish!’ cried Eugenia. ‘My, you do look smart in a common sort of way!’
‘Fuck off!’ said Patsy, continuing to walk on undeterred.
‘Oh, we are the hard streetwise girl now, aren’t we? Fancy your chances do you?’ She grabbed Patsy’s hair and thrust her own face into her old enemy’s.
Patsy spat at her, then kicked her on the shins, but it was an unequal contest.
Harriet held Patsy’s arms behind her back as she writhed and kicked.
‘Down here!’ shouted Eugenia.
They dragged Patsy who was screaming and kicking into an alleyway and fastened a tie in her mouth as a gag.
‘Don’t think that just because you are at a new school, I won’t be able to find you from time to time!’ shouted Eugenia.
Patsy managed to wrest one arm from Harriet and pulled at the tie so that it sat on her chin rather than in her mouth.
‘Help!’ she cried.
‘Shut up!’ shouted Eugenia and slapped Patsy hard across the face making her head recoil against the concrete floor.
‘Make the gag tighter!’ she shouted at Sophie. ‘Hold her still, Harriet!’ Eugenia had taken control and barked the orders at her two disciples who looked around guardedly.
‘I didn’t get to go on my adventure holiday this summer because of you!’ shouted Eugenia. ‘My parents have sold my pony as well!’
Patsy continued to writhe on the floor, her shouts muffled by the tightened gag.
‘It’s all your fault! Mrs Stott spoke to my Dad, and he is blaming me. I’m going to teach you a lesson!’ Eugenia kicked at Patsy’s ribs.
Patsy’s face constricted in agony as the blow made contact. Eugenia could see its effect and landed another for good measure.
‘Stop it!’ cried Harriet. ‘That’s enough. Let’s go now!’
Harriet was looking towards the end of the alleyway, seriously afraid they would be spotted.
‘I’ve not finished yet.’
‘I’m going,’ said Harriet, ‘come on Sophie, it’s too much now. This is nothing to do with us.’
‘OK,’ replied Sophie and they ran off down the alleyway, visibly shocked at what was unfolding.
‘Go on then!’ shouted Eugenia, ‘wimps!’
Patsy tried to scramble to her feet but Eugenia pushed her back down, and she fell ungracefully backwards, her legs rising up in the air. Her right hand reached out automatically to steady herself against the ground, and Eugenia jumped on her fingers, crushing them and producing a high pitched scream from Patsy.
‘Hey! What are you doing?’ shouted a middle-aged man with a dog who had entered the alleyway and was about fifty yards away. Eugenia realised the game was up and sprinted off in the direction her friends had taken.
‘Shit,’ he cursed. ‘I’ve got you, love. Let me undo this.’ He struggled with the knot on the tie and managed to free it.
‘Shit, what have they done to you?’
Patsy vomited on to the ground due to the pain which was spreading up her whole arm, she was sure her fingers were broken. She clasped her injured hand and rocked forward, cradling it in her lap.
‘Can you stand up?’ asked the passer-by.
‘Yes, I think so,’ replied Patsy, in a whisper.
‘Be quiet, Tig!’ he shouted at his Jack Russell terrier which was becoming impatient. ‘Sit!’ he bellowed, and the little dog obeyed.
‘You need to get that seen to at the hospital. Where do you live?’
‘Princes Avenue,’ gasped Patsy. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, and she felt a complete mess, dirty, dishevelled and broken.
‘Look, I only live around the corner, my wife is at home. Why don’t you come along with me and we can phone your parents?’
‘OK,’ replied Patsy, reluctantly. She would only go into the man’s house if she was sure his wife was there.
‘Come on, this way. I’ll carry your bag,’ he said. He slung the bag across his body and tugged his little dog along, walking slowly beside Patsy, ready to offer a supporting arm if she needed it.
‘Was that girl from your school?’ he asked.
Patsy shook her head.
‘Well, it’s coming to something when girls behave like that,’ he tutted. ‘I don’t know what to say. I hope you report her.’
Patsy remained silent. How foolish she had been to think that a change of school would signal brighter days ahead. Would she ever be free from Eugenia? Just at that moment, it appeared that the spectre of Eugenia would be ever present.
Part 3
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September 2018
