Story: The New School (Part 2)

The New School
By Tcheser
Part 2

Prior to arriving at St. Glover’s, the girls who were now only to be referred to as Polly, Madge and Clover, had expected to have nice rooms they shared with perhaps one other girl, with an en suite bathroom and cleaning and laundry service, just like they had at their previous schools. Now though, having been welcomed to the school in what they considered the most horrific and demeaning of manners possible, they had understandably low expectations as to what would constitute their accommodations for the possibly indefinite length of their stay. Despite this however, what they found upon reaching their sleeping chamber, was still enough to shock them out of their silence.

“You can’t expect us to stay here!” Polly blurted out.

“It’s like bedlam!” Madge added.

For rather than a cozy room and an en suite bath it appeared that all of the girls who attended St. Glover’s slept in the same room. Row upon row of bunk beds, stacked three high, extended from one end of the long narrow hall to the other. Chamberpots and washbasins were in evidence as were old trunks presumably for the inhabitants meager possessions and upon every window were iron bars. It was positively medieval.

It being nearly time for supper the hall was also rather full of busy girls at the moment. Some were changing their clothes, right out in the open in front of everyone the girls were aghast to see, while others were brushing their hair or darning their well worn uniforms. None of them seemed to take any particular interest in the new trio as they were half marched, half shoved down the central corridor between the beds, they just went about their business hardly giving them a second thought.

Near the far wall of the room they were stopped. “These beds here are yours.” the tall warden who had strapped Polly told them nodding toward three apparently unoccupied beds that looked little better than prison cots and featured only a single thin looking woolen blanket apiece. No sheets or pillows were evident. “Supper is at 6 precisely,” the warden added pointing to a large utilitarian looking clock above the door on the far side of the hall, “If you’re late, you go hungry.”

Left alone again the three girls huddled in the corner and together tried to puzzle out what was going on. Not one of them was a delinquent in any way they could imagine. They were good girls, or women rather, and could find no logical reason why they would be considered wayward. Then Polly recalled Headmistress Raynott’s exact words.

“She said we were here because we angered or disappointed someone in the outside world.” she recounted. Perhaps we’re not here because we’re delinquents, but simply because someone wants us out of the way!”

“But who would want me out of the way?” Madge pondered, “I’ve never done anything to anyone.”

“Didn’t you say that your father had recently remarried?” Polly asked, “A much younger woman wasn’t it?”

“Yes, so what? He has a right to be happy, I don’t begrudge him that.” Madge shot back angrily. It was clearly a sensitive subject.

“Of course he does,” Polly tried to calm Madge, they were all frightened and confused, she saw no reason for them to add fighting amongst themselves to their list of problems, “I’m just saying that maybe your new stepmother might have something to do with it.”

“Evil stepmothers? That’s just something from fairy tales,” Madge replied, but she felt her new friend was probably right, her father certainly wouldn’t have sent away his only child without some serious prompting from someone.

“But the only one who could have done this to me would be my husband, and it couldn’t be him, Ronald loves me!” Clover rambled on the verge of tears.

“Don’t cry, there might be some other explanation,” Polly rubbed the other girl’s shoulder comfortingly, “As for me, I’m afraid it must have been my uncle. I suppose the lure of my estate was just too much for him at last.”

Just then one of the girls from the bunks across the little corridor slid off her bed and ambled over to their corner. Her name was Maggie and wiry and gaunt she had the true look of a delinquent. “You three figured it all out yet?” she asked it a decidedly guttural tone. “’Cuz they don’t give you no time to get used to things around here. They just tell you to do something and you do it...or else.”

“Or else...what?” Clover inquired, clearly torn between wanting and not wanting to know.

“They give you the strap if you’re lucky, if not, well then they get creative.” Maggie told them, “Trust me, you don’t want to know what those wardens and that headmistress can come up with. Between them, they’ve driven girls mad.”

“Is there any way out?” Polly then asked. “We obviously don’t really belong here after all.”

To that Maggie laughed, “Yeah, there’s ways out, but I doubt you will like any of them.”

“Please tell us, I can’t stand another moment in this place,” Madge urged the more seasoned girl to speak and eventually she did. Over a supper of tasteless stew and stale bread she told them everything she knew about St. Glover’s. Though she put up a tough facade, Maggie was as scared as they were. All the girls there were. According to what she had seen and heard, some girls were released back into the care of whomever had put them there in the first place, but only after they were so humbled and broken that they no longer cared what happened to them. Others were trained for service positions and eventually sold to less than discriminating people in far flung parts of the world, never to see home again. Others as she said went mad and were carted off to homes for the mentally insane. Some rumors had it became wardens, but no one seemed able to confirm or deny this.

St. Glover’s wasn’t a house of rehabilitation, it was a dumping ground for unwanted relations. It was a dark well from which no one ever emerged back into the light. They could expect hard work, firm discipline and misery. But if they did as Maggie advised, kept their heads down, did as they were told and lost themselves in their work, they would be largely ignored. That was what the best they could expect.

“Well I’ve done nothing wrong,” Polly finally said as they were lining up to return to the dormitory, “I refuse to let this place break me. I’ll find a way out and return for what is rightfully mine.”

Maggie just shook her head and encouraged the others not to follow Polly’s example, to just keep their heads down and to always do as they were told. After seeing a girl stripped to underthings and beaten by two wardens with straps for having the audacity to say something derogatory about the awful food, Madge and Clover thought this might be best as well, but kept it to themselves. After all, how dangerous a thing could hope be in a place like this?