There was an orphan girl at our school many years ago.
She lived with her grandmother, a frail and deeply religious old woman. Every Sunday, the two of them would walk past our house on their way to St. Marys Church, their figures thin and delicate, both wrapped in snowy white scarves. Rumour had it that her grandmother forbade her from watching television, eating sweets, or laughing with her mouth wide open lest evil spirits find their way in, and insisted she wash her face in icy water every morning.
We teased the girl mercilessly. Shed simply look at us with calm, grown-up grey eyes and say, God forgive them, they know not what they do. No one befriended her. We all thought she was odd. Her name was Alice. Angelina.
Back in my childhood, school lunches were never particularly tasty. But on Fridays, thered be jam tarts with tea, or a sausage roll washed down with cocoa, and sometimes a small square of chocolate. One Friday, as we were bothering Alice yet again, someone shoved her and she crashed into me. I knocked into the lunch tray loaded with glasses of cocoa, and suddenly a sweet, chocolatey river poured straight onto two sixth form boys.
Well, well said the older boys.
Run! I cried, grabbed Alices hand, and we bolted to our classroom.
I imagined bands of wild knights pursuing us, along with a herd of charging bulls. The last two lessons were mathematics. Through the glass door, two tall figures loomed. Sometimes the door would swing open a crack and two heads would peer in, then whisper together. I knew what was coming to quote the classics an investigation, a trial, and a possible execution.
The main thing is to slip out unnoticed, I whispered, I know how to reach the attic, we can hide there until dark, then run home.
No, said Alice. Well walk out just as girls should. Properly, with dignity.
But, Alice, they theyll
What? What will they do? Pour buttermilk on our heads? Shout at us? Hit two girls from Year 5? What?
Well
Even if they hit us, it happens just once. But if we dont go, well have to be afraid every single day.
So we walked out with the rest. Just as proper English girls. Quietly. The two sixth form boys waited against the wall.
Hey, little ones, who dropped this? One of them held my purse the one with Mickey Mouse and ten pounds (for swimming lessons and art club fees).
Here you are, he put it in my hand, and dont run off next time.
On my way home, swinging my satchel, I thought how wonderful life was. How lucky I was that everything worked out. And how fortunate I was to have found a new friend.
Shall I call Mum, she can ring your gran to ask if you can come over to watch cartoons? Or arent you allowed?
Alice rolled her eyes.
Lets just go get some wafer biscuits with condensed milk, Gran baked them today.
We remained friends for many years after. Until life took us to separate corners of the world.
But I always remember that one time.
Its frightening to leap from the top board into the blue, mirrored pool. But youre only scared once.
Trying something new is always daunting. Whats the worst that can happen? Will they call me silly? Theyll only do so once. Otherwise, Ill keep telling myself that every day.
Youre scared for one day. Or youre scared every day.
You conquer your fear just once. Or it lives your life for you, every day.
Theres always a choice.
