O Caledonia

by Elspeth Barker

She crept away to the glory-hole under the stairs and sat howling in an abyss of guilt among the boxes of candles and dusty jars of lentils and syrupy bottled gooseberries and raspberries, until she could howl no more. Then she went to the nursery and lay on the floor and read stories of princesses with broken hearts. She was bad and she knew she was bad and she could see no end to it.

Fergus was puce with rage; he began to rant about Lila’s devotion to her cat and her mushrooms, her failure to make friends of his friends, her refusal even to acknowledge acquaintances. ‘You may pass through life without friends, but you can’t manage without acquaintances.’ Lila could, and did, but this she did not say.

She recognised in herself a distaste for people, which was both physical and intellectual; and yet she nurtured a shameful, secret desire for popularity, or at least for acceptance, neither of which came her way.

We are simply not impressed. Life here is about give and take, caring and contributing. That’s why games are so important; you learn the rules, you obey them and you move in harmony with your team. If you make your own rules you let the whole side down. Contrary to what you clearly believe, you are not superior to the rest of us. In fact you are a rather silly, very conceited little girl and if you don’t make a huge effort now you will never fit in, here or anywhere else.

‘Come on, Janet, whatever are you doing? We’ll be late for tea.’ ‘Mrs Jarvis said I was to watch this horse.’ ‘She meant keep away from it, not stand staring at it, you idiot.’ ‘What did I tell you?’ Cynthia added, to the faces by the door. ‘Gormless. Completely gormless.’