Thank you for all your lovely comments.
Sometimes I wonder why you're still there after all this time. Tomorrow,
St Patrick's Day, will be the fourth anniversary of my very first post
on ND in 2005. 
So why have I only
moved the story on 8 months?  The length of this post might give
you a clue. 
......Vivien also saw the bone-deep, aching loneliness,
the vast need for Nell’s presence at moments such as these.
Oh, Hilda, you need no one to give you courage.
It is part of who you are. How I wish they could all see what Gwynneth and
I see – and what Nell saw. Then they might set aside their prejudices and
begin to understand the girls, see with your insight.
Unaware of her friends’ admiration and silent support, Hilda
allowed the silence to linger awhile. She felt not a jot of guilt at the
strained atmosphere. It wasn’t often she spoke to her staff as the stern
Headmistress but she did so hate injustice of any kind. They had condemned
Mireille before giving her even half a chance. Why did some of them have
to close their mind quite so firmly?
She picked her cup up and
drained it, then set it back down, leaned forward and broke into their
uncomfortable ruminations. “I told you Mireille had made the breakthrough
with the culprit, for which I will be eternally grateful to her, but I
haven’t actually told you the girl’s name, have I? That’s mainly because I
haven’t had a moment today to speak to you all together today. Please
forgive me for that. It was Meg Lyall.”
Exclamations and comments
flew round the room on the instant.
“Why doesn’t that surprise
me?”
“The poor girl!”
“Poor? What about
Ellie?”
“Expelling’s too good for her.”
Hilda picked up on
the word that had brought her here and held up her hand. Heads turned her
way. “Let me make myself clear. I am expelling no one,” she stated, her
tone unequivocal.
“But Hilda….”
“After such a
crime!”
“I agree, Dorothy. Both the bullying and the theft were repellent offences – but I’m still
not going to apply the ultimate sanction.”
Some bit their lips,
looking worried. Others swelled up like ruffled turkey cocks, determined
to have their way. Not with Hilda, you don’t, Matey told them silently,
preparing to wade into the fray if necessary. Vivien just prayed, and
hoped that Mother Abbess was doing the same.
“You didn’t expel
Diane Skelton, either,” mused Ruth Derwent.
Jeanne spoke up. “
Mais, ma chère Hilda, what then will you do with her?”
“First of
all, Jeanne, I will do my best to help her with her sadness and
loneliness.”
“But surely it’s Ellie’s who’s upset,” interrupted
Rosalind Moore. “What has been done to her, a new girl among us, is
unthinkable.”
“Yes, Rosalind, she has been extremely upset and unhappy. But I meant
what I said. Meg needs our help. I had to give her some very bad news this
morning – and she is heart-broken.”
Choosing her words carefully,
she gave the mistresses a glimpse of Meg’s home life, then related the
death of the girl’s Nanny, the one person who had really cared for her.
“The poor child,” repeated Rosalind Yolland.
“Indeed,”
agreed Hilda. “Thank you for that pity, Rosalind.”
“That doesn’t
excuse all she did to Ellie, though,” said Joan. She was frowning, puzzled
by Hilda’s seeming inconsistency. Surely, punishment followed
crime.
“When she returned to school, Joan, she felt deserted by the
one person she thought had loved her. The woman had disappeared when she
went home for Christmas and her parents simply told her she was too old to
need a Nanny now and there was no reason to be in touch with her. That
loss seemed even worse to her than the constant rejection by her parents.
When we are rejected and hurt as often as Meg has been, we lash out in an
attempt to relieve our feelings. But we can’t lash out at the one who did
the awful things to us, so we pick on someone vulnerable. And Ellie was
extremely vulnerable. She was new to the school; she was in the throes of
grieving for her father – and she was my ward. That last was enough to
inflame Meg into the bullying. Then, during the concert, she began to see
just how talented Ellie is. So the photos went missing.”
“Isn’t
that unpleasant enough to cause you expel her? How can you allow her to
stay?”
“Weren’t you listening, Joan?” A hint of impatience overlaid
the gentleness of the soft voice. “I have just given her the news that her
beloved Nanny is dead. That revealed to her the fact that her parents had
withheld the news from her for several months. So she’s not only grieving,
she feels betrayed. Her Nanny was her mother, in all but name. I lost my
own mother when I was thirteen. I know the great emptiness it leaves
behind. But I still had a father who cared, even if he didn’t really
understand my grief. Believe me, Meg now has no one. I don’t often run
down parents in your hearing, but my conversation with Mrs Lyall this
morning opened my eyes to Meg’s upbringing and dispelled any illusions I
might have had of her finding comfort at home. We’re the only ones left
who can to offer her that comfort – but how can we do so if we have
expelled her? Where would she go? More to the point, what would be her
state of mind?”
Some of them nodded to themselves, others looke
uncomfortable. Clearly, having to step into another’s shoes didn’t come
easily to all. Sharlie stirred.
“How will Ellie react if you let
Meg stay, Hilda? And what about the other girls?”
“Only the two
Sixths and you will ever know, and you must give your word to keep the
secret, just as they have done. I’m not even going to discuss it with St
Mildred’s. The fewer who know the better. That’s why I didn’t invite
Kathie to this meeting. All I’ve done is tell her the name of the culprit,
and allowed her to inform Nancy. They will know nothing more. It’s not
their business. As for Ellie – yes, she was very angry, but she has calmed
down and has talked her form into helping Meg, rather than
cold-shouldering her. Because of her own past she understands Meg in a way
most of us couldn’t. She may find it harder to find forgiveness, but she
no longer wants her expelled.”
Rosalind Moore took a deep breath,
then asked in a quiet voice, “We all know how compassionate you are,
Hilda. But, despite all you’ve told us, does this girl deserve your
compassion – and forgiveness?”
Hilda’s eyes moved slowly from face
to face, seeing pity and sympathy in some, pain in others – and stubborn
implacability in a few. Her next words were a softly-spoken
suggestion.
“Be merciful, even as
your Father in Heaven is merciful. (Luke 6:36).”
They sat
up as if stung. Her voice was rich and low and very calm when she
continued, but there was urgency there, too. “We’re all sinners, even the
best of us. We all have our weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Can you
honestly tell me you have never done anything as bad as Meg’s deed? I
don’t think so. We’re human, and to be human is to fail and to fall. I
myself have often been in desperate need of God’s abundant love and mercy.
What would I have done if He had found me unforgivable? What if He had
told me He could never love me or trust me again? Yet whenever I turn to
Him, I find only wide-open and loving arms. He never spurns me. How can I
do any less for Meg? How can any of us?”
She watched them a moment
or two, then looked at Rosalind. “Does Meg deserve my compassion? Probably
no more than any one of us deserves compassion. It takes a generous
someone who is willing to read our hearts. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we
could all see beneath the behaviour of others, as God does, see why they
do what they do? Meg’s anger and jealousy, her sullenness, were all cries
for help. She built up a wall around herself and hid behind it. And none
of us read her aright. We just dismissed her as a sulky teenager. Poor
Meg! Even if we had tried to help it wouldn’t have worked, because to let
go of her anger and hatred would have meant having to deal with the pain,
and that was just too hard. Now, her Nanny’s death has blown away the
walls – and she is in agony. I won’t let her face it alone.”
She
fell silent and sat back, hoping and praying her words were having an
impact. All at once, she felt a hand pat her knee under the table.
Rosalie, offering her support. She glanced across the table and saw two
pairs of eyes, blue and brown, smiling at her. More support. She looked
down and twisted Nell’s ring round and round. Was she there, listening and
watching?
She licked her lips, murmured, “Will you give Meg a
chance?”
They all remained quiet, each waiting for someone else to
speak. Ruth, their deputy head, voiced their concerns. “Will she give us a
chance, Hilda? Is she sorry for what she did? Can she change?”
“She
already has, Ruth. I’m seeing a different girl - one who does care, one who is sorry for the hurt
she has inflicted, one who only wanted to be loved, as her fellow pupils
were loved. She didn’t think that was too much to ask. Neither do
I!”
She twisted Nell’s ring again. “Will it last? I have no more
idea with her than I did with Diane Skelton, but I have to trust and and I
have to hope. It will take all the love we can give her, all our helping
hands. Your form have already pledged to build a bridge of friendship,
Ruth. I’m hoping we can do no less.”
“Will she at least be
punished, if she is not to be expelled?” asked Linda, her voice
soft.
“She has already been punished, Linda. Indeed, she has been
punished all her life, but most particularly now she has lost her Nanny.
That’s punishment enough for anyone. But the kindness of Ellie and
Mireille and the others has also punished her. It has rocked her
foundations and brought home to her just what her own behaviour has been
like. It’s not easy for any of us to face our true selves in the mirror
and see what we really are.”
She swallowed, her throat suddenly
tight. She had faced herself in the mirror after the death of Nell and
found a person she didn’t recognise. Strong and generous people had put
her broken self back together again, albeit in a different pattern, and
she could do no less for Meg.
She cleared her throat. “Will she be
punished by me? Assuredly, though that will have to wait till her grief
has softened, and perhaps it will not be in a way that will satisfy some
of you. It certainly won’t be a Head’s Report. I will dock her skiing, but
she wouldn’t want it anyway. It would hurt her to enjoy herself, knowing
her Nanny is dead. Even if my punishment may not be what you have in mind,
will you trust me to deal with her faithfully?”
“We all trust you,
Hilda,” said Ruth. “She has a true advocate in you, and I for one will do
my best for her, as her form mistress. I should have taken more care of
her.”
“Moi, aussi, I have much pity for this sad child,” stated
Jeanne de Lachennais. “I will discuss it with my girls, Hilda, and we will
see between us what we can do.”
One by one, most of the others
murmured their agreement. Linda and Deb, both looking ashamed of
themselves, also pledged their support.
“I will also be having
strong words with my form about their behaviour, Hilda,” added Linda. “I
might even have that chat with Tonia that you wished I had had. I let both
her, and you, down badly. I’m sorry.”
A warm smile of gratitude lit
up Hilda’s wan features. She then looked across at Joan, her eyebrows
raised. Joan gazed back with narrowed eyes, but her jaw dropped when she
heard the words Hilda began to speak, her mellow voice rich as
velvet:
The quality of mercy is
not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the
place beneath: it is twice blessed;
It blesseth him that gives and him
that takes….
It is an attribute to God Himself,
And earthly
power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons
justice.
Therefore,
Though justice be thy plea, consider
this,
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation:
we do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to
render
The deeds of mercy.
(Shakespeare)
A rising tide
of red flooded Joan’s face and neck, but her ashamed eyes remained fixed
on Hilda as she made her impassioned plea for mercy for Meg. Not a muscle
moved anywhere in the room as the beautiful voice ceased speaking. Joan
knew the next move had to be hers. She pulled herself together and nodded.
“You have my word, Hilda,” she murmured. “I’ll give Meg her
chance.”
“Thank you, Joan,” whispered Hilda, elation and gratitude
singing within. She had succeeded where she had feared she might fail. Meg
would have her chance.
Hilda’s glowing eyes swept the room, her
mellow voice shook as she tried to express what all this meant to her.
“Meg herself expected no mercy from me. She has made no excuses for her
behaviour and has been very honest in how she felt towards Ellie. What
hurt me most was that she didn’t believe she was worth loving. Even worse,
her mother doesn’t seem to believe her daughter is worth loving. How could
I not forgive Meg everything after that?” |
What was it I said last time about
just summarizing the next year and a half? 
But I do sympathise with you
about characters having a life of their own.
Certainly not! We are all sitting
with the Sixth and Hilda in the Salon waiting to see who breaks the
silence first. 
I suppose you'll class
this also as a snippet, compared to some of pieces I've posted recently.
because you typed a figure 8
followed by a closing bracket ). If you go back to edit the post and put a
space between - so 8 ) it should correct itself - that's one of the
reasons I use square brackets so often on here 
Or Hilda did! I
do have trouble with that woman! 
But I have caught up
now. 
:
