At my secondary school there was a girl an orphan. She lived with her greatgrandmother, a very old and devout woman. Every Sunday they walked hand in hand to StMarys church past our house, both thin as twigs, wrapped in white kerchiefs. Rumour had it that her grandmother forbade her to watch television, eat sweets, or laugh out loud, fearing that demons might slip in, and she made her rinse her face with icy water each morning.
We teased the girl. She stared at us with a grey, adultlike gaze and whispered, Lord, have mercy on them; they do not know what theyre doing. Nobody befriended her; they thought she was odd. They called her Poppy.
In my childhood the school canteen served bland meals, but on Fridays there were hot rolls with tea, or sausage rolls with cocoa and a tiny chocolate bar. One day, while we were ribbing Poppy, a boy gave her a shove. She flew into me, and I hit the tray that held the cocoa glasses; the chocolatey river spilled all over two sixthformers.
Whoa, they muttered.
Run! I shouted, grabbing Poppys hand, and we bolted toward our classroom. It felt as if a troupe of Cumbrian cattle and a herd of runaway ponies were thundering after us. The next two periods were mathematics. Behind the glass door two tall silhouettes loomed. Occasionally the door cracked open and two heads peered in, then disappeared with a soft rustle. I sensed that what awaited us was, to quote the classics, an inquiry, a trial, and perhaps a punishment.
The key is to slip out unnoticed, then I know a way up to the attic. We can hide there until its dark and make our escape home, I whispered.
No, Poppy replied, lets go the proper way, like proper girls, with dignity.
But Poppy, those boys
What? Theyll splash kefir on our heads? Beat us up? What?
Even if they hit us, it would be only once. If you dont go, youll live in fear every day.
We left the classroom with the rest of the class, as any respectable girls wouldquietly. Two sixthformers were leaning against the wall.
Hey, little ones, lost something? one of them asked, holding my leather satchel with a Mickey Mouse keyring and ten pounds, enough for the swimming pool and the art studio.
Here you go, he said, slipping the bag back into my hand, and dont run off again.
I walked home, swinging my schoolbag, thinking how lucky I was that everything had turned out alright and that I now had a new friend.
Shall I call my mum? She can ring your gran, ask her to let you over, and we can watch cartoons together. Or is that a nogo?
Poppy rolled her eyes.
Lets go, and well take the waffles with condensed milk that my gran baked this morning.
We stayed close for many years, until life scattered us across different continents. Yet I always remember that one summer day. Jumping from the diving board into the blue mirror of the pool was terrifying, but the terror lasted only a heartbeat. Trying something new is scary, too. Whats the worst that could happen? Someone might call you foolishjust once. If you let that thought linger, it will haunt you every day.
Fear can be faced once, and it dissolves; or it can be allowed to rule you forever. The choice is yours.
