Authors: Natasha Mac a'Bháird
For a long time Ellen refused to accept that her dad wasn’t coming back. Robert threw tantrums, slammed doors, sulked and cried. Ellen did none of those things. She simply acted as if her dad was going through some minor mid-life crisis and would soon come to his senses.
The fact that he had moved in with his secretary was
irrelevant
as far as Ellen was concerned.
‘He doesn’t belong with that bitch,’ she claimed. ‘He belongs at home, with Mum and Robert and me, and sooner or later he’s going to realise it.’
I said nothing. It seemed pretty clear to me that Mr B had made his choice. Even Mrs B didn’t seem to be making any effort to convince him to come home. For ages she didn’t bother getting out of bed until long after Ellen and Robert had left for school. Ellen made Robert’s sandwiches in the morning as well as her own and nagged him to get dressed and out the door on time.
In school, the teachers were extra nice to Ellen. They didn’t call on her to answer questions, or complain about her staring out the window. Even Fuddy Duddy refrained from comment when Ellen said she hadn’t done her homework.
Some of the kids weren’t as nice though. Girls can be such bitches.
Dear Ellen,
The cafeteria had curried chips today. Your favourite. I thought of you as Nuala dumped a steaming portion on my plate.
Not that I need a reason to think of you.
Most days I eat lunch alone. I sit by the window if I can. I know it’s not something you would ever have taken any notice of, but I like looking out at the school garden. From the kitchen window, Nuala scatters crumbs for the birds. If there aren’t too many first years running around
screaming
, or teachers coming and going in their cars, quite a lot of birds can gather just outside the window. Today I counted
seven of them – one robin, and six little brown ones, which may have been starlings – I’m not sure. The robin was braver, swooping in straight away to get the best of the crumbs. The little brown birds held back a bit, waiting their turn, hopping cautiously forward when it looked like the coast was clear. I imagined them weighing things up – the tastiness of the crumbs, the distance from the safety of the bushes, the
likelihood
of bigger birds suddenly moving in, the whereabouts of the caretaker’s cat.
I didn’t notice how long I’d been watching them until I took a forkful of curried chips and realised they were cold.
Love,
Maggie.
In the long corridor outside the science lab, we waited for Miss Clark to arrive. Some of the girls were sitting on their schoolbags, while others leaned against the corridor wall, chatting. Ellen and I were perched on the windowsill. I was trying to look over my chemistry notes. Ellen was swinging her legs and talking about something she’d watched on TV the night before, not caring that I wasn’t paying attention.
Siobhan Brady was whispering with one of her friends, a rather sly-faced girl who called herself Jacci with two ‘c’s (never Jackie – that would have been far too ordinary).
‘Did you know …’ Siobhan said to Jacci, looking in our direction, ‘that one in three Irish teenagers now comes from
a one-parent family?’
‘Doesn’t surprise me,’ Jacci said flippantly. ‘I mean, you hear about these things all the time, don’t you?’
I glanced at Ellen. She had stopped talking and was staring steadfastly at a poster on the notice board. The faintest tinge of red was creeping into her cheeks.
‘I suppose some of them were probably single mums from the time the babies were born,’ Siobhan mused.
‘And there must be some where the dad has died or
something
,’ chimed in Jacci. She had a nasty glint in her eye and was clearly enjoying Ellen’s growing discomfort.
‘Yes, it must be so sad for kids to lose a dad like that,’ Siobhan said. ‘What I really can’t understand though is how a man could just walk out on his family.’
‘I know. Such a selfish thing to do,’ Jacci said, shaking her head.
‘Girls, don’t,’ said Carrie softly. Some of the other girls had stopped talking to listen, and there were one or two
uncomfortable
glances in Ellen’s direction.
Siobhan took absolutely no notice of Carrie. ‘And to run off with his secretary – a girl half his age? What kind of man would do something like that? Only a sad old loser who couldn’t care less about his kids.’
A flash of bright red hair and navy uniform, and before I had even fully realised that Ellen was no longer sitting beside me, she was across the corridor. Siobhan Brady’s head
snapped back, fistfuls of long blonde hair grasped in Ellen’s hands.
‘You take that back!’ Ellen hissed.
Siobhan was screaming, tears rolling down her cheeks. Jacci was trying to pull Ellen away, but Ellen shoved her away with a sharp elbow.
‘GIRLS!’ Miss Clark surveyed the scene in horror. ‘What on earth is going on?’
Abruptly, Ellen released Siobhan, who staggered,
whimpering
, and held on to Jacci to regain her balance.
‘Miss, she just attacked me!’ Siobhan blurted out.
Ellen said nothing. She simply looked at Siobhan with a sort of cold contempt. Around us, the rest of the class were staring in shocked silence.
‘For like, no reason!’ Siobhan whined.
‘Hardly no reason,’ I snapped.
Miss Clark gave me a sharp look. ‘What do you mean, Maggie?’
I hesitated, looking at Ellen. She seemed determined to remain stonily silent.
Miss Clark looked over and back from one of us to the other. She seemed to make a quick decision. ‘Right. Ellen, Maggie, Siobhan, Jacci. Into the science lab please. The rest of you, wait here until I call you. And not another word out of any of you!’
I picked up my bag and made my way into the lab, Ellen
beside me. Siobhan and Jacci followed, Siobhan still
clutching
her head and wearing a martyr-like expression.
The lab was all set up for our chemistry experiment. Bunsen burners stood in orderly rows on the benches, and the screen was set up behind Miss Clark’s desk for the
presentation
. An unpleasant chemical smell lingered, left over from some earlier class’s work.
Miss Clark lowered her pile of books and papers onto her desk and turned to look at us.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘Would someone like to tell me what this is about?’
I stared at the ground.
Don’t pick me,
I prayed silently.
‘Ellen! Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why you felt it necessary to pull Siobhan’s hair. That’s the type of
behaviour
I’d expect from a two-year-old angry at someone for stealing her crayons.’
Her tone was so scathing I winced for Ellen. Ellen
continued
to say nothing.
Miss Clark waited. The silence grew until it seemed to fill the lab. There was no sound from the rest of the class, waiting outside in the corridor. Either they were scared into silence by Miss Clark’s warning, or (more likely) they were straining to hear what was going on.
‘Siobhan!’ Miss Clark turned to her. ‘Can you throw any light on the subject?’
‘No, miss,’ Siobhan said eagerly. ‘Jacci and I were just
talking
about the chemistry experiment, and Ellen just attacked me for no reason.’
I saw Miss Clark’s eyebrows go up at the first part of
Siobhan
’s sentence. She was no fool. Typical of Siobhan, I thought scornfully, to go too far with her Good Little Schoolgirl act.
I wondered why Ellen didn’t say anything, and whether I should speak up on her behalf.
‘Well, Ellen?’ Miss Clark said. ‘Is this true? Did you
perhaps
have a difference of opinion with Siobhan about how best to conduct the experiment?’
Her sarcasm seemed to have the desired effect on Ellen, who finally spoke, though in a barely audible tone. ‘No, miss.’
‘Then why did you pull her hair?’
Silence again. The ticking of the clock above the
whiteboard
suddenly seemed almost ominously loud.
Miss Clark brought her hand down with a thump on her desk, making us all jump. ‘Come on, girls! I’m going to get to the bottom of this even if it means standing here for the rest of the day.’
She meant it too. I watched the second hand on the clock slowly ticking by. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Siobhan and Jacci grimacing at each other. Any minute now Siobhan would start moaning, ‘It’s not
fair
…’
‘It wasn’t Ellen’s fault, miss!’
I think I was the one who was most surprised to hear me speak. Ellen looked at me, a warning on her face.
‘Siobhan and Jacci were saying things about me … saying my hair was horrible,’ I said, blurting out the first thing that came into my head. ‘Ellen was just sticking up for me.’
The look on Ellen’s face changed to one of gratitude, and she surreptitiously squeezed my hand.
Miss Clark still looked suspicious. ‘Siobhan – Jacci – is this true?’
‘Yes, miss,’ Siobhan muttered – much to my relief. For once in her life she’d had a bit of sense and realised that my lie was better than the truth.
Miss Clark sighed. ‘Really, girls, this is not the type of behaviour I would expect from young ladies of your age!’ She too seemed relieved that the little stand-off was over. She made her ruling. ‘I’ll see you in detention tomorrow evening – Siobhan, Jacci and Ellen that is. Maggie, your part in this has clearly been minimal.’
I thought to myself that detention would have been better than the last ten minutes of tortuous silence. Siobhan and Jacci said nothing, probably glad to have got off relatively lightly. Ellen certainly had. Detention was nothing to her. By the time Miss Clark had called the rest of the class in and we were all in our seats, she had got some of the sparkle back in her eye and was giving a whispered update to the girl on her other side. But Siobhan had clearly touched a nerve.
Dear Ellen,
Will this week ever end? I spent most of maths class looking at the clock. I wondered if it was really possible for the second hand to move around the clock so slowly. Every second was just endless. And then it was time for French, and I started the countdown all over again. Just one more class until break time. Just two more classes until lunch. Just three more classes until I can go home, and start my homework, and count down the hours until bedtime. And then I can start waiting for the next day to begin. Is this my life from now on?
I can’t believe what a different place school is without you. Duller, greyer, lonelier. Not quieter though, like I would have expected. In fact some days I can’t bear the noise. I feel like it’s crowding in on me, and I can’t hear my own thoughts any more.
Love, Maggie.
‘Mum, can we go shopping after school?’ Ellen asked. ‘I need something to wear to the disco on Friday.’
Mrs B was having one of her Good Days and driving all four of us to school. I was stuck in the back between Jamie and Robert while Ellen sat up front with her mum.
‘I don’t think so, Ellen,’ Mrs B said. ‘What about that black top you got at Christmas? And your nice jeans?’
‘Oh Mum, black is so last season! I don’t want people thinking I’m some sort of a Goth!’
‘What’s a Goth?’ Jamie wanted to know.
Mrs B kept her eyes firmly on the road. ‘Well, there’s your blue one with the sparkles.’
‘I wore that the last time! Mum, you don’t understand! I absolutely can’t show my face at school on Monday if I have to wear that same old outfit again!’ she declared, swooning back in her seat and sighing.
‘What’s a Goth?’ repeated Jamie.
‘I think it’s some kind of a monster,’ Robert whispered across me. I resisted the urge to giggle.
‘Come on, Mum, will you get me something new?’ Ellen demanded.
‘A big black one, with huge black eyes?’ Jamie suggested.
‘Yeah, it’s black so that it can hide in the dark. It follows you home at night and hides in your bedroom then pops out to gobble you up,’ Robert said.
Jamie was starting to look a little bit scared. Robert is two years older than him and sometimes I think Jamie believes every word that he says, no matter how ridiculous. Normally I’d have stepped in to reassure Jamie but I was glued to the conversation in the front seat, wanting and not wanting to see what would happen next.
‘Just a new top then,’ Ellen bargained. ‘I can wear the same jeans again if I really have to.’
‘I am NOT discussing this now,’ Mrs B said.
‘But Mum, it’s not like I’m asking for a whole new outfit,
or new boots, or a hundred quid to get my hair coloured or something! I just want a new top, is that really too much to ask?’
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ said Mrs B. Her voice was starting to wobble a bit.
Shut up Ellen
, I thought to myself. Last thing we needed was Mrs B getting all worked up.
Ellen either didn’t notice or didn’t care. ‘But what do you think? Just a top?’
‘Ellen, I am trying to concentrate on the road!’ Mrs B snapped.
‘Well, just answer me, then I’ll stop bugging you!’ said Ellen.
I could feel my face turning red. My mother would go mad if I spoke to her like that. Even Jamie and Robert were starting to squirm a bit, the monster debate forgotten.
‘Come
on
Mum––
All of a sudden there was a screech of brakes as Mrs B stopped the car, right in the middle of the road. The boys and I were all jerked forwards in our seats. Cars behind us started honking their horns, and a cyclist shook his fist at us as he went past. Even Ellen looked a little shocked at what she had done.
Mrs B had gone all red in the face and her eyes were
starting
to water. ‘All right, Ellen, I’ll answer you. The answer is NO! You do NOT need new clothes – I am NOT buying
you something just because you want it. In case you haven’t noticed I am trying to bring up two children on my own since your father ran off with his little tart, and trying to make ends meet on the pittance he gives us every month! There are things we need a lot more urgently than a bloody new top for a girl who has a wardrobe bursting with clothes! Now I am NOT discussing this any further!’