Stacie
The CBB -> Starting again at Sarres...
#1: Stacie Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 12:08 pm

I had had a disastrous start to my time at the Chalet School. My parents had died within months of each other, leaving me to the care of my Aunt Margery. I had lived in Oxford, and been educated at home, so I had had no experience of other children, or their conventions. My parents views on child-rearing were somewhat different to other parents, as I came to realise very quickly. I saw nothing wrong in telling my Aunt when my cousins played tricks on me, or did something they knew was wrong, but they saw it as sneaking - something that took me a very long time to understand. The result was a house in uproar, and my Aunt and Uncle, naturally putting their own children first, decided that I must go to boarding school. An acquaintance of theirs, a Mrs Cochrane, suggested the school that her step-daughter had attended, and I found myself on the way to Austria soon after Christmas. I still hadn’t begun to understand the way that my cousins family functioned, and here I was, pitchforked into another new life, without any preparation, or explanation of schoolgirl behaviour. On the journey out I quickly discovered that I was ‘different’, that the way the girls behaved was similar to the way my cousins had. All I could do was fall back on what I knew and understood, the way my parents had brought me up. I was still grieving for them, and was bewildered and confused by all that had happened to me in a few short months, and so I arrived at school, already seen as strange and difficult.

Thing s went from bad to worse. I fell foul of one of the Prefects, Jo Bettany, and found myself banned from the only place that could give me solace - the library. Jo seemed to be able to rub me up the wrong way without even trying, and before long we were at daggers drawn. An accident to one of the mistresses at half-term, which resulted in a broken bone in her foot, sealed my fate as far as the school was concerned, for they blamed me for it, and for the fact that we were trapped on a mountainside all night, with the Robin fretting in the village below. The things that I endured would now be called bullying, but no one saw anything wrong with the way they treated me - I was ignored, shunned, treated as if I did not exist, and I decided to run away home to Oxford, and tell everyone about the treatment I had received.

Fate took a hand however, I due to a thaw and heavy rain, I was trapped on a mountain ledge by floods. I strained my back very badly, and was confined to a wheelchair for the best part of a year. The first few weeks were sheer agony, every time I moved, and the doctors seemed to be able to do very little to help me. When the pain began to recede, and I could begin to think of something other than just enduring, I started to look back on the term, and on everything that had happened since I had lost my parents. It was the first time that I had really been able to do so, for I had been so totally bewildered and lost when I went to live with my Aunt, and was only starting to feel my way there when I was sent away to school, that my mind had been in a whirl. Now I had the peace and quiet to think, and my loss was no so immediate, I could see a little more clearly, and I didn’t like what I saw. I could see my behaviour now so differently - I had felt above the others, as I believed that the education I had received at home put me at an advantage, but in truth it had alienated me. I was unable to cope with family and school life because I knew nothing of them, and now that I could see that I needed to change I was very much afraid that it was too late; that I had cut myself off from the other girls in the school. I was also very sure that I wanted no more of the treatment I had been given. Never had I been so miserably unhappy as I had been at the Chalet School, and part of me resented the fact that the staff had known what my upbringing had been and had done nothing to help me. I could easily have become bitter, but Dr Jem warned me that my attitude to my situation could do a great deal to help my recovery. I would need to keep as cheerful as possible, and that stubborn streak, which had prevented me from accepting that perhaps my parents had not been completely right in the way they had raised me, kicked in. If changing would make my relationships with others easier, then I would change. The first step was to accept the shortening of my name, and in a funny way that helped me to become someone different. Stacie was a much friendlier name than Eustacia, and suggested a different personality. I was very grateful that I was up at the Sonnalpe, for this gave me a breathing space, away from the school, and the people who had known Eustacia, to learn to be Stacie. Mrs Russell was a dear, and saw what I was trying to do, though she said nothing, just gave me support and encouragement. I was able to make things up with Jo, too, though our relationship remained fragile for a while. As time went on it got easier, and I began to like the new me, and feel comfortable and finally natural, as Stacie.
Over the Easter holidays Jo and I became more friendly. Jo was to be Head Girl when the new term started, and she was not very keen on the idea. I think perhaps she found it easier to come to terms with something unpalatable when she could see another person also having a similar problem. At the end of the first week of school I was delighted to be presented with an invalid chair, brought especially from Vienna for me. It meant that I could come downstairs for p[art of the day, as thee was a lift installed at Die Rosen, Madame’s chalet. Some of the girls were to come up to the Sonnalpe the next day, and that morning I was lifted into it, and brought downstairs to greet everyone when they arrived. When they saw me they were full of excited questions, which I answered as well as I could. It was a pleasant change to be treated the same way as everyone else, and gave me the encouragement I needed to persevere. A shadow hung over me though; a shadow that touched everyone at the Sonnalpe, and would soon touch Jo, who had greeted me so cheerfully. Robin’s health was giving cause for concern. I was becoming sensitive to emotions, now that I had nothing to do but talk to others, and I could see that the Doctors and Madame were concerned. They said little to me, certainly expressed no vestige of blame for her condition, but I knew that Jo would be different. Her nature was more volatile, and she loved Robin dearly.
I knew exactly when the subject came up, for when Jo came downstairs after tidying herself for Kaffee she was subdued. What’s more, she refused to speak or even look at me, and I knew that she was blaming me for Robin’s condition. More than ever I regretted losing my temper on the mountain at half term, for if I had not we may have got down earlier. It now made my relationship with Jo far more fragile, and I watched her wistfully. Jo stopped the younger girls brining Robin into a boisterous game by offering to tell then a story, and insisted on putting the child to bed herself. When she came downstairs again, she buried herself in a book for the rest of the evening. When I went up to bed, and said “Goodnight”, but she barely lifted her head.
“Oh, going, are you,” she said carelessly. “Goodnight then.”
I lay awake for a while, trying to come to terms with Jo’s attitude to me, but it was hard, for I knew that I had not caused the accident, only perhaps made it worse than it might have been, and I still felt it unfair that I was given so much of the blame. The next day I relapsed into one of my old silences, and read for most of the day, though I remembered virtually nothing of what I had read. Herr Schiedmann, a famous doctor from Vienna, was to come at the beginning of the week to examine Robin thoroughly, and I prayed very hard that he would find nothing wrong, and that her fragility was due solely to the growth spurt she was having. I consoled myself with the thought that her appetite was good, and that she had no cough, but I was as eager as anyone else to hear his verdict.

Poor Robin was closeted with the doctor for most of the week, being tested in every possible way. She was upset at this, for she had no idea why the examination was being made. Madame and Doctor Jem refused to tell her for fear of upsetting her, for her mother had died of tuberculosis, the disease they were so afraid she had inherited. However, all was well, and the doctor declared that there was nothing to fear, Robin was growing fast, but that was all. When Jo came back up to the Sonnalpe on Saturday morning and heard the news she forgot her dignity and reverted to being a wild Middle, until it got to the stage when I stated openly that I wished she had not come up that weekend. Finally she was ordered to bed to rest and when she returned she was much more rested. She spent the rest of the time telling us about the events in the school during the previous week, and had everyone in stitches at the picture of the girls trapped with their heads between the bars of their chairs. Towards the end of Sunday evening, Jo finally spoke about Robin.
”I am more thankful than I can say,” she said. “It’s been a nightmare this past week. I couldn’t give my mind to anything.”
Only Jo Frieda and myself were there, and I looked up at her, flushing slightly.

It’s been bad for you, Jo,” I said. “But I think I have suffered quite as much. If anything - had - gone wrong, I should always have felt that it was my fault, you see.” It was true in a way, for it was how most other people saw it, and I would have felt that for the rest of my life.
Jo got up and came across to me. “Never say that again,” she said gently. “Jem told me that though it might have hastened things a little, yet if it had come to the worst, it could only have meant that - nothing could have been done, nothing.”
Those words were something I never forgot, and I felt a very deep gratitude to Jo for saying them. It took a weight off my mind, and removed the last vestiges of any guilt that I felt over my share of the accident.

I was very bored at first, for I had to lie flat, and couldn’t even read for long, which was a great trial. However, when I was able to be raised a little, Mrs Russell fixed up a support for me and I could bury myself in my books again. My back slowly improved, and although I was not well enough to go on the school’s outing to Oberammergau, and was almost sitting upright by the time they went. By the end of term I was so much better that I was able to carry one or other of the children on my lap. I was told that I would be able to go to the Annexe for part of each day when the new term started. However, I was still confined to my chair, and I was beginning to worry about having any strength to walk when the time came. Dr Jem arranged for me to have massage on my legs, which I enjoyed, but I could tell that I had lost a great deal of strength.

The heat of summer was hard, and put me back a little, but my Aunt and Uncle came out for some of the time, and took me out in my chair, which lifted the boredom. I found that I got on with my cousins much better than I had done when I first went to live with them. I had a better understanding of other children of course, which helped. Living with a lively family like the Russell’s opened my eyes to the home life that other children took for granted. I knew that the boys were sorry for me, and pitied me, and although I disliked pity intensely, it meant that they made allowances for me, which they hadn’t done before. I was learning to take the rough with the smooth, and make the best of things.
When the cold weather came I was able to attend the new school Annexe for at least part of the day, a couple of hours in the morning, and an hour in the afternoon was more than enough at first. Jo brought piles of articles and stories for the Chaletian up to the Sonnalpe, and we went through them together, laughing at some, it must be admitted before discarding them. By now I was fretting to be on my feet. I had had no twinges from my back for some time – even the problems of the summer had been more to do with the heat than with my back. At last I managed to collar Dr Jem by himself – something I had trying to do without success for some time.
“When may I try walking?” I asked, looking up at him pleadingly. “I have felt nothing in my back for ages.”

He smiled down at me reassuringly. “We think we could try tomorrow morning,” he said. “If you don’t mind missing school for once.” The beam on my face was answer enough! “You will have very little strength at first,” he warned. “You have been sitting so long. So you will only try standing up at first. I think you will be surprised just how tiring you will find it.”
The following morning, after breakfast had been cleared, Dr Jem and Dr Jack appeared with the sort of frame I had seen old people using. It had four metal legs, with the front two having wheels to aid walking. I looked at it disdainfully.
“That’s for old people!” I said. “I’m not old!”
“No Stacie, but you haven’t walked for some months, and I think you will find you will need it. I want you to slide forward in your chair a little, and try to stand up. Push up with your hands, and when you are standing hold onto the frame to support yourself.”
Smiling confidently, and shaking with nerves inside, I did as I was told.

I pulled myself to my feet and grabbed for the support of the frame. My legs felt like jelly, and partially set jelly at that, and I flopped back into my seat before I could stop myself.
“What’s the matter, Dr Jem? Why can’t I stand? Am I going to be stuck in a chair all my life?”
Dr Jem laughed gently, though sympathetically. “It’s perfectly all right Stacie,” he said. ”You haven’t been using your legs for some time, and they have lost their strength. That’s all. It will take some time for it to come back, I’m afraid. You will have to be patient, and content to do a little every day. Now, how is your back? We don’t want to put any strain on it.”
“My back’s fine, I can’t feel a thing. Please may I try again?”
“If you are not too tired, my dear. But we won’t let you tire yourself out on the first day.”
I got myself back on my feet through sheer effort of will, for my legs were shaking badly, and aching more than a little. This time I was able to stand for just a few seconds, and to more or less control myself as I sat down. I leant back in my chair breathing deeply, and Dr Jem lifted my wrist to check my pulse. He was smiling when he released my wrist.

“Your rate is up a little, but no more than I would have expected. You have taken more exercise today than have since your accident, so you would expect it to be up a little. However, I think you have done enough for this morning, though if you are not too tired you may try again this afternoon.”
I was eager to keep practising, but I knew that I had used up my reserves of strength for the time being, and was content to wait till the afternoon. Madame brought me a glass of fruit drink, and I confess that almost as soon as I had drunk the last drop I was asleep in my chair. I was vaguely aware I someone lowering the back so that I would be more comfortable, and I knew no more for over an hour.

After Mittagessen I went into school at the Annexe for an hour, for no one had any intention of allowing my work to get too far behind, but as soon as I returned to the house, I insisted on practising standing again. To my delight I found it a little easier to get to my feet, though I was still unable to stand for more than a couple of seconds. One try was all I was allowed, much to my disappointment, though I did understand their concern, for I certainly did not want my recovery put back because I tried to go too fast .

It was slow work, and sometimes my back did ache a little, though not as much as my legs. I was amazed at just how long it took to get enough strength to try to take a first step. I felt like a baby, just learning to walk, and said as much to Dr Jem one evening after Abendessen.
“That is exactly what you are, Stacie,” he replied. “You have to teach your muscles to move, and regain their strength, just as a baby does when it is learning to walk. I warned you that it would be a long haul, didn’t I? Now perhaps you will believe me!” He smiled to soften the words, but I knew he meant what he said.

“I know you did,” I said. “I just didn’t expect it to be quite so long or so much hard work. I feel as tired as if I had walked up here from Briesau!”
Everyone chuckled at that, though with a good deal of sympathy. They all knew how hard I was finding it to regain my strength. It did return, however, and I was able to walk around the Annexe between classes like everyone else, though I was taken there in my chair when the weather was good, or by car if it was raining. When the snow came I pleaded to be allowed to board again, and to my joy was told that I could live at the Annexe. What’s more, the doctors were considering allowing me back to the main school before too long.

A year after the accident I was able to return to the school proper, though of course I still had to be careful, and by then most people had accepted me as I was now. I was a little nervous returning to the place where I had been so unhappy, but I needn’t have worried. The staff and girls welcomed me warmly though Kitty Burnett always looked at me a little oddly, and I think she never really forgot the time I slapped her face, or really forgave me for it. Louise Redmond was Head Girl by then, for Jo had left school, and I found myself in the Seniors.

I found it tiring at first, not only because I was in school all day, but also because there was so much more walking involved in the bigger school. I wasn’t allowed to do games yet, or do the long hikes that the other girls did. Instead I went for a walk with a mistress – there was no chance that I would be allowed to miss the fresh air and exercise. In other ways it was good being part of the community – really for the first time, as I certainly had not been part of it during my first term. Jo had been visiting the school at the start of term, and suddenly found herself stuck there by measles at the Sonnalpe. She was starting to write her first book, and went at it in the whole-hearted fashion that was normal to Jo. Of course, she was well on the way to making herself ill before Matey stepped in and made her take a break. We had all noticed that she had shut herself away, and wanted very little to do with us; it seemed so out of character for her.

A few weeks into the term a new girl arrived – Polly Heriot. At least, that’s what she called herself! Her real name was a little more unusual than that being Hildegard Mariana Sophonisba, poor girl. I certainly didn’t blame her for using Polly, which was a much more relaxed and friendly sort of name. Names can make a lot of difference to the way you are perceived, as I had found out. Polly became a member of the Chalet School and joined VA for most of her lessons, though she had extra coaching from a number of people, including Jo. It was due to an accidental damaging of one of Herr Laubach’s books that the art master became involved with the Hobbies Club. We had only seen the irritable side of him before this, for he had great difficulty in keeping his temper with those girls who had no talent in art. Now we saw how kind he could be, and how much interest he took in our activities.
Polly was a member of my own dormitory, so I got to know her quite well. She was a nice girl, but had read too many school stories for her own good. She had some very strange ideas of boarding school, most of them totally wrong. I had some sympathy for her in that respect, for I too had had no knowledge of school. The trouble with Polly was that she thought she did know things, based on her reading, and that was to prove her downfall. I
didn’t know it at the time, but she had seen the big alarm bell hanging in the tower on St Therese, and asked about it. Now most of the girls knew that this was designed to wake the whole valley, but for some reason no one told Polly, and she was wild to try it. However, her room – and mine – were in St Clare’s which posed a problem for her. Until that is, the ceiling of our room fell down. We all heard the dull thump it made it happened during prep, and once Alixe von Elsen had told us all the news there was a lot of speculation about our fate, since there was no chance of sleeping in our own room that night. I was feeling very tired that night, for my stupid back had been aching for most of the day, and I had been looking forward to getting to bed. Miss Stewart came to call us out of prep, and we went upstairs to find Matron, Miss Wilson and Miss Nalder all busy in Wheatsheaf, collecting the things we would need for the night.
“Here are your things, Stacie,” said Miss Wilson, bringing them out. “Put them in your case, and trot off to Ste Therese’s. Wait a moment. Has your back been troubling you?”

She had seen how tired I was, for which I was very grateful. I admitted that I was a little tired, ans she immediately sent me straight across to Matron, and told Polly to take my things as well as her own. Matron very quickly got me settled down on a narrow sofa, and when Polly arrived with my things, she was informing me that I would probably have to spend the next day flat on my back. I groaned to myself at that, for I was so tired of being an invalid, but said nothing. I knew what Matey would have to say if I did. Polly was sent off to Green Dormitory for the night, and I thought no more about her.

After a rest I was sent to Green Dormitory where I would spend the night, but went straight to bed, for I was tired out with the ache in my back. Matey hoped I would sleep, but I found that hard to come by and was still very wide awake when the rest came upstairs to bed. Suzanne commented that Polly was very quiet, but Polly just said that she was thinking.
“It must be something very heavy!” I said. “You might tell us, Polly.”
“I beg your pardon, but it is private - at present,” said Polly.
“Oh - sorry! I couldn’t know, of course” I apologised quickly. I was still very sensitive to anything that seemed to put me down - over-sensitive at times I think, but when my back was playing me up it was so much harder to carry on as normal, and everything seemed to conspire against me. I had found that on good days I could keep far more level-headed than on days when I was in pain. Then the whole world seemed to be against me. That night the hours of rest in the dark helped a little, and by the time the staff had all retired to bed I was sound asleep - the best cure of all. It was not to last, unfortunately. For just after midnight the whole school, indeed the whole of Briesau, was awakened by the ringing of the alarm bell. I was heavily asleep, and woke with a jerk that jarred my back. Green Dormitory was very close to the bell, and the sound was deafening. I climbed out of bed with the others, and wrapped up as warmly as I could before we were all marched out of the school. It was a clear, moonlit night, and the sights to be seen were quite funny. Mademoiselle Lachenais had her hair in a sleep
net, and her face slathered with cold cream, and Matey had put her apron on over her dressing gown. However, very few of us were inclined to laugh, especially as it soon became clear that there was no emergency at all. We were herded back into the house as quickly as possible, and the Matrons all insisted on everyone drinking mugs of hot milk, and followed that with doses of quinine and cinnamon as a precaution against cold.
Very soon most people were asleep, but my back was aching worse than ever, and keeping me awake. Mademoiselle looked into the bedroom, and had a few words with me, telling me to sleep if I could. Polly was awake too, for I heard her talking a few minutes later. Matey came in to see me three or four times during the night, to do what she could to help me. I knew that I would definitely have to spend at least the following day in bed now, after the alarms of the night, but by now I was thankful for it.

I slept a little during the remainder of the night, but I was still feeling pretty washed-out the next morning. I heard Matron come in a take a look at Polly a couple of times, and at around 11.30 she roused up, and I could hear them talking. By the time Polly had cleared her breakfast tray and got up. I had drifted off the sleep, and never heard her leave the room and go downstairs. When I woke up again it was nearly time for Mittagessen. I confessed to Matey that my back had been aching a little for a few days, and got scant sympathy, though I knew that there was a good deal of care behind what she said to me.
“Well, Stacie, I think you have been exceedingly foolish. I know that Dr Jem told you that you must be careful for a long time to come; and to go on with an aching back was certainly not being careful. Now you have to stay where you are for the rest of the week, whereas, if you had only told Matron Venables when it began, a few hours of lying down might have made all the difference.”
“It was only that I didn’t want to be a nuisance,” I began. I had had more than enough of being seen as a nuisance during my first term to want any more of that. Matey put me straight in her own inimitable way.
“I dare say; but you’re much more of a nuisance now! Now don’t begin to cry, for that will only upset you, and it won’t improve matters. I’ll shake up your pillows, and move you - there! - and you must try to sleep again. But the next time your back aches, just have the sense to go straight to Matron and tell her. What do you think she’s there for, if not to look after you people?”
Matey tucked me in gently and left me to sleep. She had seen the tears that had filled my eyes, but her bracing words had stopped them falling, for I had always hated self pity, and would have detested giving in to it.

Polly may have heard a god deal more about her exploit except for what happened next; Mademoiselle fell ill. The first any of us knew about it was when Miss Annersley took Fruhstuck, and then Prayers. This was unheard of, and everyone was wondering what had happened. At the end of Prayers, Miss Annersley told us that Mademoiselle had been ill in the night, and would be away from school for a day or two. In fact she was ill for the rest of the week, and when Mss Stewart went down with laryngitis the following Monday the staff faced a crisis. Jo agreed to help with the teaching, as she was still stuck at school. Even when Mademoiselle recovered, she was not allowed to teach.

When half-term came a group of us stayed in school. The weather was much colder, and we knew that it wouldn’t be long before it snowed. Polly wouldn’t believe us when we described the snow, for of course, she only knew English winters, and the wet slushy snow that they get. Alpine snow is so different that it’s hard for anyone who has never seen them to believe what they are told. When the snow arrived over half term, she was horrified at the way it came down as if it never intended to stop. We had a sheets and pillowcases party. We had to manufacture costumes out of a pair of sheets and a pillow case, and had to sew it together. My sewing was non-existent – it still is to a great extent – and I had to go to Jo for help, like the Juniors. She helped turn me into an Arab chieftain, which had the advantage of freedom of movement. Corney Flower was a ghost, and had used hockey sticks to make her costume, which made dancing a little difficult.
Robin was angel, with a lovely silver halo, but Jo had only painted it that day, and the paint stuck to poor Robin’s hair. She had to have the halo cut off in the end, for nothing else would move it.
I could go on listing the happenings at school for my last couple of years, but they are chronicled elsewhere, and it would be tiresome to repeat it all. I was never a leading character, just a bit player once I had returned tot he school. Holidays were of course spent at my Aunt’s home in Taverton, and I became friendly with my cousins - far more so than I would eve have thought possible at one time. I began to understand them more, and that would be a help when I went to university. I was happy and contented, secure in my place at home and at school, though to be honest, I often felt more at home at school than in Taverton, however welcoming my cousins were, for I knew the people at the school so much better.
I was aware that we had been a good deal sheltered at school, and that the staff felt that this was a ‘good thing’. We were also cut off from the happenings in Europe, with the rise of Nazism, which seems very strange, since we were in the middle so to speak, but without the information available to those living in England, I think it was easy for everyone to ignore what was happening just over the border.

was to go up to Oxford the Autumn after I left school, to read Classics of course. I was rather nervous, for this was stepping into the real world with a vengeance. My house had been let to a family, and in any case would be far too big for me on my own, so I was to live in. I hoped that the life would be similar to school, but with more independence, but my main worry was whether or not I would fit in. It was likely that I would be one of only a very few girls reading Classics, and I already knew what it was like to be different. But that fear would not stop me from studying the subject that I loved.

Last edited by Pat on Tue Apr 25, 2006 4:22 pm; edited 11 times in total

 

#2:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 12:11 pm

Having got off on the wrong foot at school and learnt my lesson the hard way, I was very nervous as I set off for Oxford for the new term. This was another new world, and I was well aware that I would be unlikely to get a second chance this time. My trunk had gone ahead, and I was carrying only an over-night case when I arrived in Oxford and hailed a taxi to take me to Magdalen College, where I was to spend the next few years. As the taxi wove it’s way through the streets of the town I realised just how little I remembered of my life here. Oh, I could remember my parents, and the ideals that they practiced in bringing me up; the details of our day-to-day life and the people we came into contact with. But of Oxford itself I remembered virtually nothing. I had been given a room in Longwall Quad, as it was felt that female students should be housed within the college complex itself, and the accommodation along the High Street reserved for male students. Also it provided a degree of segregation, something that the Authorities regarded as being a ‘good idea’.
When we finally arrived at Magdalen and I had paid of the taxi, I stood for a moment gazing at the tall tower that guarded the entrance, and the old buildings grouped around the open square. I was quaking inside, but I was very used to putting a brave face on things, and the Chalet School prided itself on turning out women who were anything but spineless jellyfish, so I squared my shoulders, picked up my small case, and marched into the college as if I owned it. There was a large sign inside directing Freshers towards the correct area, and I obediently followed the sign and found myself in a large entrance hall, filled with people of my own age, both boys and girls - or rather men and women, as we had all left our schooldays behind us. I worked my way further into the hall and found that we had to report our arrival at a table set at the far side of the large room. A harassed-looking woman was sitting behind it, desperately flicking through lists of names, and she looked up at me as I came to a halt.
“Name?” she asked briskly.
“Eustacia Benson,” I said, knowing that in the chaos of arrivals it was easier to give my ful name, since that was the one that appeared on her list.
“Oh yes, here we are. You have a room in Longwall, so if you wait over there, someone will come and show you the way.” Her eyes moved on to someone standing behind me, so I obediently moved away to the area she had indicated, dropped my case at my feet, and looked around properly. The building was clearly of some age, built of stone, with a low vaulted roof which seemed to bounce the noise off into every direction. I could see now that what had seemed a seething mass of people was actually divided into groups such as the one I found myself in, waiting to be taken to their rooms. I was brought to myself by a girl’s voice shouting above the hubbub.
“Those with rooms on Longwall please follow me.”
Picking up my case again I joined the crowd that formed around her, and we set off out into the quad, and across to an old building with a central entrance. When we had all arrived, the girl spoke again.

“I’m Mavis Trenchard, and I’m looking after Freshers who live in this building,” she said. I have a list of your rooms here, and I should warn you now that you will find that the rooms here are segregated. That is that although this is a mixed house, women are housed at one end and men at the other, and visiting between the two is not allowed.” She grinned around at us and continued. “That doesn’t mean that is doesn’t happen, just that we have to be very careful! Now, we’ll start with the women’s side, so if you men will just wait here, I won’t be long.”
Before long I found myself in a room with the usual bedroom furniture plus a good size study table, a bookcase and a wash basin tucked into a corner. The other facilities were just down the corridor. I set my case down on the bed and looked around. My trunk stood under the window waiting to be unpacked, and the familiar stickers from it’s travels to and from the Tyrol brought a lump to my throat.
‘None of that silliness,’ I told myself. ‘Just get on with it. You’ll soon make friends.’
I had nearly finished unpacking when there was a knock on the door, which opened almost immediately to reveal a head topped by a curly mop of red hair.
“Hello. You don’t mind do you? I’m next door and I thought we ought to get to know each other. My name’s Hilda Faulkner. You don’t really get called Eustacia do you?”
The owner of the head came into the room properly, and proved to be a girl of my own age, neatly dressed in a skirt and pastel green twin-set.
“Hello,” I said. “I’m Stacie. I saw they’d put the whole thing on the door, and groaned to myself. It does sound rather priggish doesn’t it?”
Hilda plumped herself down on the bed, and grinned. “It does a bit. Where are you from? I’m from Yorkshire, though I spent more time away at school in Kent.”

“Devon now, though I was born here in Oxford. I live with my Aunt and her family, but like you spent most of my time at school. Only mine was in Austria.”
“You lucky thing! Where? I wish I could have gone!”
“It was on the Tiernsee in the Tyrol and very beautiful.” I breathed a mental sigh of relief that the fact that I’d been to school in such an exotic location hadn’t made Hilda turn against me, as I liked what I had seen so far.
“Are you finished here?” she continued. “If so we could go for a wander round and get our bearings. I think it’s going to be very easy to get lost here.”
I agreed happily, and we left the room and headed downstairs and out into the October sunshine.

 

#3:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 12:22 pm

We were electrified to discover that the college kept a herd of deer, and on special occasions served up venison at meal times. This was to prove a boon in the years to come when meat was in short supply, though even then it was eaten rarely in the interest of keeping the herd numbers viable. It was a bit too far to walk to where the herd was kept, but we wandered down to the river instead. The Thames was busy with pleasure boats and barges, and there were even some rowing boats, early in the term as it was.
“Are you going in for rowing?” asked Hilda. “I am. We did a bit at my school, and I want to carry on.”
“We did at mine too, though ours were clumsy things, not like these at all. Unfortunately I did my back in rather badly a few years ago, and sports are out for me as a result. I can swim a little, but have to be careful how much I do.”
We sat by the river watching the bustle until it was time to go and change for the evening. I was beginning to feel that I might fit in here, and was very relieved to have found someone so prepared to be friendly.
Before I had really found my way around and settled in it was time to start lectures. I had a timetable, so I was able to get to the lecture hall in plenty of time. As I had expected, it was full of men, and they all stared at me as I went in.
“Are you sure you’re in the right place?” drawled one of them who was lounging near the front. “This is a Classics lecture. We wouldn’t want you to feel out of place.”
There was a general chuckle at this opening sally, but I had been warned by Ned, and given good advice on how to deal with this sort of thing.
“I’m glad we agree on something,” I said confidently (there was no way I would let them see how nervous I was). “My timetable says Classics too.”
Then I made my way to a seat about a third of the way back and settled down. I enjoyed the lecture, and felt happy that I could hold my own, and manage the work that was piled on us. This was what I had been working towards, and I was able to ignore the pseudo-concerned enquiries about my understanding of the lecture. My main concern had been my reception by the academic staff, but I need not have worried on that score. He treated me exactly the same as any other student. As I was making my way out of the lecture hall and quiet voice murmured behind me.
“Don’t take any notice of those oafs, Miss Benson. They’re scared of being shown up by a woman.” I turned around and saw a young man smiling encouragingly at me. He was taller than me, and had a thatch of wavy brown hair that refused to bow down to any sort of hair cut. “I’m Matt Henderson. Were you thinking of going to get some refreshment? If so, we could go together.”
I smiled back at him, thanking my lucky star that my cousins were all boys, and that I could therefore talk with someone of the opposite sex without getting tongue-tied.
“That would be lovely, Mr Henderson.”
The formality didn’t last beyond the first sips of coffee, which suited me very well. Matt was nothing like any of my cousins, and they were the only boys I knew, but I liked what I saw very much. He was relaxed and confident enough not to be intimidated by an educated woman, which was clearly not the case with everyone. I guessed that public schools anywhere did little to prepare their students for the mixed environment of university life. I thought back to the girls I had known at school, and realised that many of them would be feeling very unsure – more than I was, and I was hiding a good deal of nerves. How someone like Jo would cope, who had only known her brother, and Dr Jem, I had no idea. Girls like Jo led a very sheltered life, and however friendly and out-going they were, I think they would have struggled to cope at Oxford.

I was very relieved to find how much easier it was to settle at Oxford than I had feared. I found that by calmly ignoring the comments from some of the other people on my course, that most of them gave up after a time, especially when they found that I could more than hold my own with them. Only one still held out, Jeff Brierley, the one who had ‘welcomed’ me on the first day. He had joined the University Air Squadron and seemed to think that that put him head and shoulders above everybody else, simply because he was learning to fly. He talked of little else as far as I could see, and if he was to be believed he was destined to be an ace pilot. He was holding forth as we left a Tutorial one day, and Matt chuckled as soon as we were out of hearing.
“You’d think he was God’s gift to the RAF, wouldn’t you?” he said.
“And he isn’t?”
“Heavens no. I’m a member of the Squadron too, and he’s having problems. Fighter pilots need navigation skills as well as being able to fly, you know. He can’t get his head around that at all. He can fly all right – he’s right there – but if he ever goes into the RAF he’ll end up on bombers, where he’ll have a navigator behind him.”
“You have never said you were a member,” I said somewhat accusingly.
“Well no. I’ve only just joined you see, and I’m not one to blow my own trumpet. Only it seems to me as if we’ll have to go to war with Hitler at some point, and I believe in being ready for all eventualities. The navigation bit is pretty hard for me too. Like everyone else, I ‘d love to be in a fighter squadron though.”
Our friendship was getting stronger as the term went on, and I looked forward to our time together more and more. I spent a good deal of the rest of my free time with Hilda and some of the other girls on the same corridor, and whether it was because we were all new together, or because there was no past history to our relationship, I found that these friendships were far stronger than the ones I had made at school, except possibly for Jo.
We corresponded regularly, especially now she had returned from her jaunt to India. She said little about the growing tensions over Germany, indeed she seemed totally oblivious to anything that was going on on her own doorstep. I said little in return, though I felt that I had far more knowledge of world events, and wondered if perhaps she was a little sheltered, both from living on the Sonnalpe and from Dr Jem keeping things from her. I knew from the year I had spent living in his home that he believed in keeping things from his womenfolk that might upset them. I disagreed strongly, but felt that it wasn’t my business to go against his wishes. Living in Oxford I could see how cut-off the school was from everyday life, and I began to worry that events would overtake the people there and catch them unprepared.

 

#4:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 12:24 pm

Oxford terms are far shorter than school terms, and it seemed no time at all before I was on my way back to Devon for Christmas. We had had a wonderful Christmas dinner on the last night, very formal, with the ladies in evening dresses and the men in black tie and tails. Instead of the traditional turkey we had venison from the college herd, which tasted wonderful. We processed into the dining hall, following the dons, and took the seats assigned to us rather than sitting where we chose. Most of us came away a little tipsy from the wine that had circulated, which made getting up the next day in time for our trains a little difficult! It was wonderful to be home, helping Aunt Margery with Christmas preparations, but I found myself missing Matt far more than I had expected. In fact, there was a gaping hole which his presence normally filled, and the letters we wrote each other almost daily failed to fill it adequately.

It seemed that Matt had missed me too when we went back up after Christmas. He didn’t say much, and neither did I, but there was something new in our relationship that hadn’t been there before. He never stepped over the boundary of good behaviour of course, but there was a warmth and an intimacy now, that I found myself basking in. I had said little to Aunt Margery, but she guessed, mainly from the number of letters that arrived for me over Christmas, and I knew she was pleased that I had someone special. I said nothing in any of my letters to my friends, as there was really little to say. Jo was half the world away in India, and my life and my friends seemed to me to be inconsequential to the life she was leading in that exotic location. She was having the time of her life out there, as was Robin, who had gone with her. I had been a bir surprised at the decision to let Robin go, for she had been so frail and so hedged about with precautionary measures to stop her getting TB that I would have thought that Dr Jem would have preferred to keep her under his eye. But no, she had gone to India too, and from Jo’s letters was benefiting from the change in climate and regime. I hoped she was also finding some relief from the unthinking obedience that was expected of her at home. She jumped to obey the slightest word and I had felt this to be very bad for her. She had been given no training in making her own decisions, and looking back I could see that there was a danger here that no one had thought of. They were so focused on her health that they failed to see that everyone needs the freedom to make their own mistakes and to learn from them. My own experience was rather an extreme case, but the mistakes I had made when I first went tot he Chalet School had given me the strength to make my own way in the world.
As our second term went on even Jeff Brierley got tired of trying get a rise out of me, if you will excuse the slang! Or perhaps he was getting tired of the other men saying he was jealous of the mark I was getting for my work. Whatever the cause I was grateful for the respite. Hilda and the rest of our group knew that my friendship with Matt was deepening, and they themselves had men friends that they saw as well as the times that we met as a group. We were all leaving our schooldays behind us very fast as we adapted to the freer life at university. The independence gained from living away from home and the restrictions of school was immense and invaluable, though how important this would be to us in the future we did not know.
Just before Easter Matt gained his Pilot’s License and with it the ability to fly solo. The celebrations for this achievement must have given him the courage to speak, or perhaps it was more the achievement itself. Whatever the case, he stopped us as we were walking back to my room, turning to look at me in the light of the moon, which was full that night.
“Stacie…” he hesitated a little, as if unsure of what he was going to say, then took a deep breath and continued a little faster, as if he wanted to get something off his chest before he ran out of courage. “Stacie, we’ve become good friends, haven’t we?”
I nodded, a little bemused, though hoping that this was leading where it seemed to be going.
“I don’t really know how to say this, I’ve never done it before. Stacie, I would like us to be more than just friends. I feel more than friendship for you, and I think - hope - that you feel more than that for me. It seems to me as if you do. Will you think about it?”
I could feel myself flushing as something blossomed inside me, a wonderful happy explosion of joy that filled me up and made me want to dance and fling my arms around him at the same time.
“I don’t need to think, Matt,” I said. “I would like nothing better.”
He looked at me for a moment, and then slowly and gently bent his head and gave me the first kiss I had ever been given by a man. It was only brief, for we were in a public place, and we had both been brought up to behave with propriety. But when we walked on, we were holding hands, and we both had silly smiles of pure happiness on our faces.

I spent part of the Easter vacation at Matt’s home, meeting his family for the first time. I was so very relieved when we all got on very well indeed, for it was by no means certain that we would. However, both his parents were very welcoming and friendly. None of us spoke of the clouds looming over the continent, though I knew that they were as worried as I was.
Jo and Robin came back from India, and settled down on the Sonnalpe. Robin went back to the Annexe, and Jo settled down to helping Madge look after the children and to her writing. I did wonder how she felt about that after her adventures in India. It would seem very tame to me, and Jo was always so full of life. The Sonnalpe was very cut off form everything but the San and the school, even though the school was down on the lakeside. The doctor who had been pursuing her before she went to India had left whilst she was away, and from her letters she was extremely relieved.

As the year moved on my relationship with Matt deepened and matured. I knew that this was what I needed to make me fulfilled as a person, and I was sure that he felt the same way. I felt so sure and strong that I don’t think I ever mentioned how I felt about Matt to Jo . My Aunt and Uncle knew of course, and approved, so long as neither of us let our studies suffer. Matt’s flying continued of course. He was off the basic trainers and onto faster aircraft now, learning tactics and aerobatics - learning to fight. Summer came and went, and we started our second year at Oxford. I watched as Germany flexed her muscles, building up her forces, and training them in Spain, fighting for the Fascists. It was clear to many people that Hitler was flouting the Versailles peace agreement, but no one was willing to do anything about it. They ignored his declared aim of providing lebensraum for the German people, choosing to close their eyes to the expansionist implications. I knew that Jo was sublimely unaware of anything happening beyond the confines of the Sonnaple, and suspected that she was being shielded by Dr Jem. I thought it foolish, for when things became difficult I was sure that the shock would be so much more hard to handle than if she had been prepared. She seemed to have very little idea of what the Nazis stood for - looking back we were all naïve about that, but living in a University town I was probably more aware than many. However, things carried on much as before until after Christmas. By then I could see that Germany wanted to annexe all German speaking regions of Europe, and I was getting very worried about the school. The ideals of the Chalet School were in direct opposition to virtually everything the Nazis stood for, and if they should take over Austria I was afraid that the school would not survive for very long.

 

#5:  Author: Kate, Location: Ireland PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 12:47 pm

Thanks Pat! I hadn't read any of this, so I'm glad to get this repost!

 

#6:  Author: Mia, Location: London PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 12:51 pm

Thanks Pat - It's good to catch up

 

#7:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 1:27 pm

By the time my second year started I was sure of the way I wanted the future to be. Matt felt the same way as I did, and at Christmas we became engaged. I think we both wanted to make the most of our time together at Oxford, like many other couples all around Britain, though naturally we never overstepped the line of good behaviour. We had so many interests in common that we were friends as well as an engaged couple – I will not say ‘lovers’ in case it gives the wrong impression, though we were as close to that as it was possible to be.

We could see the situation in Europe getting worse and worse. Horrible stories were coming out of Germany by this time, including whispers of camps that were the last place you would wish anyone to be. Then in March the inevitable happened, and Germany marched into Austria. Communication with the Sonnalpe effectively stopped from that moment, though letters did get through. Guarded letters, which said nothing at all about what was happening. It was obvious that everyone was being very careful. I did hear about the school moving up to the Sonnalpe, and thought that was a good move. It would have been better if Madame had closed the school at that point and returned to England, but hindsight is 20/20 vision, and no one could foresee what would happen over the next couple of months. I had hints that a lot of pupils were leaving the school, though there was no mention of names or nationalities. German and Austrian girls in the main I guessed, as the authorities would want them to go to the type of school that they approved of.
Then news came that Madame was leaving, and the school closing. She was going to Guernsey, and hoped to restart it there, where it was safe. I breathed a sigh of relief when that letter came, for it looked as though everyone was going to be safe. However, it had been badly held up in the post – in fact it looked as if it had been tampered with at some point in it’s journey – and the news it gave was behind the times. Miss Wilson, Jo, Robin and a few others had had to run for their lives from the Nazis, and the school had been closed by the authorities, as had the San.

I found it hard to concentrate on my studies, and even Matt found me distracted, while I waited to hear that everyone was safe. Eventually a letter arrived from Madame, posted in Guernsey, that gave me all the news. I was horrified to learn what had happened, though I suspected that Madame had glossed over the worst of it all. She only said that it had become impossible to continue to run the school in Austria, and very little else. There was a brief description of the trouble in Spartz, and she also warned me that Miss Wilson’s hair had turned white overnight. But it was some years before I found out more, and that only in dribs and drabs. I think that Jo’s next book gave me more information, as she based quite a lot of it on her experiences at that time. Jack and Jo were then still in Switzerland, and Madame had only just heard that they were safe.

I think I went a little mad from the relief – Matt certainly seemed to think so – for I became almost like the life and soul of the party, which was so very alien to my normal nature, but I was so happy that my friends were safe. Somewhere inside I knew that others were not so lucky. The German and Austrian girls who had been sent to other schools, or were forced to work for the Nazi government, but for the moment I was able to forget them. Jo and Jack came back from Switzerland straight to Guernsey, so I had to wait to see them again. In fact Jo collapsed from the strain, and was ill for a time. It didn’t surprise me, for I knew how highly strung she was, though once she had turned the corner she was very quickly her normal self.
The next excitement was Jo’s wedding. It took place after the end of term, so I was able to go across to Guernsey for it; I was on my own, as I had not had a chance to tell them about Matt, so he had not received and invitation. She was married in the church at Torteval, with it’s strange round tower, so very different from the churches of the Tyrol. I could see Dr Jack standing at the front of the church, looking very smart, and also very nervous. Then the organ started playing a rousing march, and we all turned to look up the aisle to where Jo was moving forwards on Dr Jem’s arm. Her brother Dick was in India, and so unable to give her away. I felt a little weepy, thinking that soon it might be me walking down the aisle like that. Jo looked wonderful. Her white dress was simple, which enhanced the beautiful lace veil that she wore. I discovered later that it had been sent by Luigia and Bianca di Ferrara from Italy. After the simple service the close family left for a Catholic blessing while most of the guests made their way back to Madame’s home, where a marquee had been erected in the large garden, and a catering company employed to provide the wedding breakfast. I enjoyed meeting old friends again, and talking about people we all knew, though that did bring a sombre note to the proceedings. So many could not come to the wedding.
I found my final year at university meant a lot more work, but I enjoyed it immensely. Jo now knew about Matt, and was delighted for me. She was so happy in her own marriage that I think she wanted all her friends to find the same happiness. Madame had another daughter in November, and I realised that she must have known about the baby before they left Austria. That must have made the whole experience so much worse, so much harder to do all the things needed. It didn’t take someone with medical knowledge to realise that she could have lost Josette at that time.
I spent Christmas with Matt’s family, which was wonderful. I had heard so many stories about mother-in-laws who couldn’t let their sons go, or who felt that no girl could be good enough, that I was delighted that Matt’s mother was not like that at all. We got on with each other extremely well, and I was made to feel like one of the family. The men of the household helped with Christmas preparations and did all the washing-up after Christmas dinner - unusual for those times, but very welcome. None of us mentioned the threat of war, for we all knew that Matt would be in danger from the first. He already knew that he would join the RAF almost as soon as he finished at university, and would have finished Officer Training by the end of the summer, when he would join a squadron. As a pilot he would be in the thick of any fighting, and we all wanted to forget about the prospect for as long as possible. However, I prayed daily that war would not come, as I’m sure did everyone else in the country, with always that thought in the back of my mind that my prayers would not be answered in the way that I wanted. Evil has to be fought against, and if that means war, then that was what would have to be. I think it was that threat that made that Christmas so special. Everyone I saw was trying to have a good time, sometimes trying too hard, so that the excitement was almost frenetic.
The shops were full of good things to buy, and all the big department stores had Father Christmas for the children to visit. The big Oxford Street stores especially had more than a simple Grotto. To see Santa, you had to go on a journey, sometimes a sleigh ride, or even a trip to the moon. It made Christmas magical for the children, and no one wanted to spoil things for them. We may have been promised ‘Peace in our time’, but I don’t think that many people believed that it would happen.
The rest of the university year seemed to flash past after that. Before I knew it the year was over. I had graduated with a First, as had Matt, and we had a family celebration at his home before he packed again and set off for Cranwell. I returned home to Devon, wanting a time to myself before looking for work. I was still there when Germany invaded Poland, and everything changed.

 

#8:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 1:29 pm

We all knew that the government had sent a message to Hitler, and that there would be a broadcast to the nation on Sunday morning. We went to church as usual for the 11.00 service, and I don’t think I have ever seen the church so full before. All the churches and chapels had increased congregations that morning, as everyone wanted to pray for the right thing to happen. Attitudes had changed since the Munich crisis; reports had been coming out of Germany and the occupied countries of ghastly atrocities, and there was a general disinclination to trust Hitler’s word. The country now felt that he had to be stopped before he tried anything else, but that didn’t mean that we wanted war, just that none of us could see any alternative.
We had just sat down after the Gospel reading when there was a noise at the back of the church. The doors were flung open with a bang, and a man came running down the aisle to the altar. The priest went to meet him and they had a low-voiced conversation, then the man stood to one side, and the priest turned to us.
“I have just been informed that there has been no response to the government’s ultimatum to Germany. Mr Chamberlain has therefore announced that this country is at war with Germany. Before we disperse to our homes, I think we should have a short time of prayer. I fear that we shall need all the help that we can get in the times to come.”
It was a very sober congregation that filed out of the church, and no one stood around talking outside as we usually did. Mr Chamberlain’s broadcast would be repeated at 12.00, and we all wanted to hear what he had to say. We hurried home and turned on the wireless, and it seemed to take forever to warm up. Aunt Margery went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for a cup of tea, and I went to help set out the cups and saucers, but we didn’t talk. We were all too stunned by the news even though we knew it was coming, and I was worried about Matt. He was due to join a squadron soon, and I was afraid that he would go sooner now.
When 12.00 came we were all sitting down with cups of tea, trying not to catch each other’s eye. I thought of Ned, by eldest cousin, who was at university. He would be called up almost certainly, and would be in the same danger as Matt. Then Mr Chamberlain’s voice came on, and we all concentrated on what he had to say. Then we listened to a broadcast by the King. Both of them were very serious, and made it quite clear that it was no easy task we had set ourselves, but they also managed to convey the certainty that we had right on our side, and that right would prevail, however long it took, and whatever sacrifices had to be made.
The following evening I had a call from Matt. As I feared, he was graduating from Cranwell early, and joining a squadron. The squadron would be one of the first to go to France as part of the British Expeditionary Force. I remained brave while I was speaking to him, but as soon as I replaced the receiver the tears came - the silent sort that are so much worse than noisy sobbing, and so much harder to control. Aunt Margery found me sitting on the stairs and sat down beside me, putting her arm round me. There was nothing she could say.

His parents phoned later, and we tried to give each other courage, but we didn’t really succeed. All we could do was pray. However, there were other things that had to be done immediately, so the following morning Aunt Margery and I went into town shopping. We carried with us the measurements of all the windows in the house, which were luckily to hand, for my Aunt had only recently bought new curtains. We found a queue at the shop where she usually purchased her curtain material, for everyone was trying to get the same thing - blackout material to make the heavy duty curtains that would keep all light from showing at night and directing German bombers to their targets. Aunt Margery shrugged ruefully.
“We should have guessed Stacie. Never mind, I’ll stay here and queue. You go and see if you can get any masking tape. We need as many rolls as you can get, remember. Enough for at least the downstairs windows.”
I nodded and hurried away. Sure enough there was another queue at the ironmongers, but I joined the end, smiling at the lady in front of me. There was a sort of grim purpose about everyone that day. A lot of fear, but also determination to deal with whatever was coming, and triumph in the end. When I finally reached the front of the queue I found that were rationed to five reels of tape each for the time being, so that stocks would go round as many people as possible. I had no idea how far that would go on my Aunt’s house, for her windows were very tall, but took what I could get. Aunt Margery had had the same trouble. Everyone was after the limited supplies, and we had enough for curtains downstairs only.
“I’ll hang the old curtains over the new upstairs for the time being,” she said. “We’ll have to pin one end to the wall to stop the light creeping round. If we only use the table lamps up there rather than the main light I think we can manage for the time being. We’ll do what we can, and check tonight to see if we are showing any light.”
For the rest of the day, but by evening we had proper curtains for the lounge windows, and the old curtains hanging from the same runners as the new, and pinned to the walls with tacks.
“They will leave awful marks Aunt,” I said before we started. “The paper will never be the same again.”
“I can’t help that. It’s more important to keep the lights from showing. Once we’ve beaten Hitler we can think about redecorating!”
When it became dark We went outside to view the results of our labours. Not one light showed from downstairs, and we smiled happily at each other. One of the boys went upstairs and put the main bedroom lights on as a test. The result was a dim soft glow, and we shook our heads. Not good enough. Then that light went out, and we assumed that he had put on the bedside light, but we could see nothing. Up and down the street we could see people doing the same thing, and comparing notes and ideas, as we did with our own neighbours. If nothing else this war was bringing people together in a way that nothing else could.
I heard from Jo that Jack had been called up as expected. He had gone into the Army Medical Corps, and was going to France very soon. I could understand her worry very well, the more so because she was expecting a child before Christmas. Our letters gave each other support, and I wished that we lived closer to each other, for I had no real friends in Taverton. I consoled myself with the realisation that as an unmarried woman I would probably have to make a contribution to the war effort, which would take me anywhere in the country. Joining one of the women’s Forces was not an option with my medical history, so I decided that I would have to take a teaching post somewhere. I was well qualified to teach Classics in any school, and I suspected that even the exclusive boys Public Schools would be willing to engage a woman before much longer.

 

#9:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 1:31 pm

I scanned the papers daily in search of prospective jobs, and applied for any that I though I could tackle. However, I was only called for one interview, and that to a school in Cornwall. Truro School was a boys boarding school, situated on the hill overlooking Truro Cathedral, though it was actually a Methodist school. I was able to catch a train from Plymouth and reached Truro only and hour later, though it had taken a second engine to cope with the hills we passed through. The taxi took me up the hill to the Victorian buildings, and deposited me at the main door. Feeling very nervous, I walked up the steps and found a door marked Secretary immediately on my right. The pleasant lady occupying the room took me to the library where the candidates were waiting, and I found that I was not the only woman. There were two others there, and an elderly man who was looking rather sour at the sight of another woman arriving, clearly being of the same school as the men in my group at University. I took off my coat and settled down to wait my turn in some trepidation, wondering whether they would give the post to the elderly man however suitable he was, simply because he was a man.

I needn’t have worried, for the interview made it perfectly clear that the school was more interested in employing the right person for the job regardless of any other consideration. I knew that I had performed well from the reaction of the panellists, for I had learnt to understand other people from my experiences. Before the interview we were each shown over the school, including the boarding facilities, and I was careful to ask informed questions, knowing that I was essentially being interviewed the whole time. It was strange seeing round another school, one for boys. There was so much the same but there were also differences. They didn’t have cubicles for a start, though the rooms were as neat and tidy as ours had been at the Chalet School. We looked at one or two empty classrooms and at the staff room. There was also a comfortable staff lounge with a big radio where we could spend our evenings. The staff quarters were nice, consisting of a bed-sittingroom, with shared facilities. The formal interview wasn’t as daunting as I had expected, and I left with the feeling that I had acquitted my self well.
It was only a few days later that I was informed that I had been successful, and the post was mine. They wanted me to start as soon as possible, for the master whose place I would be taking had already been called up, and the school was struggling to cover his classes. So I packed my things and left for Truro almost immediately, ready to start teaching on the following Monday. I had had a few letters from Matt, chatty and cheerful – too cheerful sometimes I thought, but giving little concrete information about what he was doing. There were a few black lines drawn through some of his news and I realised that his letter had been censored. It gave me a queer feeling to know that someone else, a stranger, was reading our correspondence but I supposed that it was necessary in wartime. Not a very nice feeling though.
Once I had settled into my room the Head took me down to the Staff Room. I had been dreading this a little, as I knew very well that I was entering a traditional male preserve, and there would be some there who would be distinctly unwelcoming. I glanced round the room quickly as I entered, trying to get a first impression of which of the masters would be the most difficult. The expressions on their faces as I was introduced ranged from a welcoming smile, through doubt and disbelief to concealed hostility. I sighed to myself at the thought of battling male notions of the role of women all over again, but I could see that it was inevitable. At least some of the men looked friendly. I was the only woman there, and it was clear that the Matron and any other woman on the staff was not welcome there. However, I was a teacher on the same footing as the there were, and I was determined not to be pushed out of my rightful place. I had always been stubborn, which had sometimes worked against me, but this time I believed it would be a decided asset.
I found that I was lucky enough to have a table with a view out of the window. The Classics master had been kind enough to leave a detailed inventory of the work each form was doing, and I settled down to read through these and plan the next few lessons. I knew I would have to jump right in, so the sooner this was sorted the better. I had the uneasy feeling that I was going to be only one lesson ahead of each class for the time being, for there certainly wasn’t time for anything more. By working steadily I managed to have something planned for most of the lessons the following week, and as I had decided not to give written prep for that period I hoped to be able to use the time normally spent marking to get a little further ahead. I did take the time to attend the Sunday service, wanting to go for my own sake, and also needing the break. Robert Pengelly, the School Chaplain took the service in the little chapel, and I found it a very strange experience. I had been brought up in the Anglican Church with a vicar in a robe, and the Eucharist taken every Sunday. I was most surprised to find the Chaplain walk in from the side of the chapel on his own - no procession down the aisle, as I was used to. Not only that but he was simply dressed in his normal suit and dog collar. He climbed into the pulpit straight away too. Of course, the lay-out of the Chapel was very simple, and I knew that Methodist Churches were much plainer than Anglican ones, but I had never known a service to be conducted from the pulpit before. When the service started I found out why I had only been given a hymn book too. Methodists didn’t seem to follow any sort of formal service. We had a hymn, followed by prayers that the Chaplain had clearly written himself - it was nice after I got used to it, friendly and welcoming. The boys sang with gusto too, which was lovely to hear. The sermon was short and simple, aimed at the young congregation, and it was nice to see that most of the boys were paying some attention.
Reverend Pengelly stood at the door of the Chapel after the service, shaking the boys hands and chatting with some of them. When it was my turn, he smiled at me.
“You must be Miss Benson,” he said. “Welcome to the school. I do hope you enjoyed the service.”
“Very much, thank you,” I replied. “It was something of a culture shock at first though. I’m Church of England you see.”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yes, we do things a little differently in the Methodist Church,” he said. “It’s all one to God, and I’m sure He doesn’t mind our little foibles.”
“I’m sure He doesn’t.”
I could feel a queue building up behind me, so I moved on and walked slowly back to the school, looking forward to a cup of tea in the staff room.

 

#10:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 1:33 pm

I went to my first class the next morning feeling very nervous. It was a Middles class – Lower Fourth – and I had a pretty good idea that the boys would try something on the new mistress. The Head Master had introduced me at morning assembly, so they had had time to be prepared. There was nothing wrong with their manners as they stood at my entrance, nor with the chorused ‘Good mornings’ that greeted me. I placed my books on the staff desk and looked round at them with a smile.
“You all know who I am after this morning’s assembly,” I said. “I will do my best to get to know all of you as soon as possible. Now, I have seen where you have got to in your work, so let us get on shall we?”
At first everything went smoothly enough. They tried to make me believe that they were further behind than the class notes had told me, but I nipped that particular attempt in the bud very quickly. It was when I set them some exercises to do that the trouble started. I had seated myself at the desk, and looked as though I was buried in some work, but I was keeping a close eye on them all, reflecting that I had not thought that I would ever use the sixth sense I had developed as a Prefect again, and how wrong I was. So I caught the small ball of paper that was flipped across the room almost before it started, and noted who had sent it and who received it.
“Sit up boys,” I said, rising to my feet. “I want to see the note that was just passed to the boy in the back row.”
The boy in question looked stunned, but tried to hide it, as did his little friend. Neither moved, so I walked towards him and held out my hand.
“Give.” His eyes dropped and he handed over the note reluctantly. I opened it and scanned the contents. Nothing very exciting, just a question about his impressions of me, but I smiled.
“What is your name?”
“Henderson Miss Benson.”
“Stand out at the front Henderson.” I walked round till I was beside his friend. “And yours?”
“Martin”
“You may join your friend.”
The two boys stood in front of the class looking remarkably silly.
“I presume this school has the same ideas of honesty as my own school did? We were always taught that passing notes was underhand.” The boys flushed bright red, and hung their heads, hating to be made an example of in this way. “I may not have taught in a school before, but that does not mean that you can expect to get away with things that you wouldn’t get away with in other classes. I will let this go this time, but if I catch anyone passing notes again in one of my classes there will be trouble. Do I make myself clear? Now go back to your seats and get on with your work.”
When I returned to the staff room, one of the older masters, George Wainright, looked up as I dumped my books on my desk.
“Any trouble?” he asked. “We should have warned you about that class I suppose. It’s the worst in the school.”
I smiled at him cheerfully. “Nothing I couldn’t deal with,” I said, knowing full well that he had expected me to be out of my depth (and had hoped for just that). “I’ve dealt with that age group before, and believe me, boys are no more inventive than girls of that age are!”
George grunted and retired back into his marking with a frown.
I found myself settling into the staff room and the routine far quicker than I had expected. The boys were no more difficult to deal with than the girls at the Chalet School had been. I heard from Jo on a regular basis. The school had re-opened - much reduced in size - at the beginning of term, and things seemed to be going well. I had my doubts as to the wisdom of remaining on Guernsey now that war had broken out, but didn’t say anything. They would find out soon enough that parents would be unwilling to risk the U-boats in the channel, but what they would do about it I had no idea. Suitable properties on the mainland would be hard to find. Matt wrote regularly, telling me what he could of his life, and I wrote back telling him about mine. He seemed to find the mundane details of my life an anchor to hold him in the real world, to take him away from the horrors of war. There didn’t seem to be much going on at the moment. We were into what came to be known as the Phoney War, with everyone expecting all sorts of dreadful things to happen - bombing raid, gas attacks, all the horrible things that imagination could produce. We were all issued with gas masks, and had to carry them with us all the time. They were a nuisance that we became accustomed to after a time, and it became automatic to pick up the box at the same time as my handbag.
I laughed out loud, bringing curious stares from the men in the staff room when I received the letter from Jo telling me about the birth of the triplets. How like Jo! She was never one to do anything by halves, and I could well imagine that she had set the whole of Guernsey talking about her achievement! Christmas came and went. I went home to Taverton, but Matt didn’t get leave and had to stay with his squadron in France. I heard from Jack that had been ill and was home on sick leave, and that Frieda had arrived with Friedel von Gluck and Bruno von Ahlen. What a releif to find them safe and sound, when we had given them up for dead in a Nazi concentration camp. Herr Marani had been killed though and I wondered how many of the German and Austrian girls would survive this war that was being waged on the ideals front as well as the actual fighting. The older ones would be in danger if they held to the ideals of their school, and the younger ones would have those same ideal trained out of them by the Nazi regime. We had to win this war, but I knew that that would probably mean that many people that we knew and loved would have to die first.

The New Year arrived and I went back to Truro, having seen nothing of Matt. He was still in France, though nothing much seemed to be happening there, and there was still that uneasy feeling that the war was only a bad dream. Alongside that was the awful waiting for something to start happening. The tension was beginning to show in some people – tempers were fraying and patience running thin. Nevertheless we all had to keep going. The Nazi regime was busy occupying Poland and setting up it’s own government there, and in the meantime England waited. The RAF were busy dropping thousands of propaganda leaflets into Germany, and it seemed very strange that we could do that – risk pilots lives – to drop paper, when we could be dropping bombs.
The phoney War came to an abrupt halt in May. The Germans attacked Holland, and the country fell in six days, surrendering on May 16th. The shock was enormous, and the British forces were forced backwards in retreat until they reached the sandy beaches around Dunkirk. I was very worried about Matt as I had heard nothing from him for some days before the German attack. I knew that he was flying a Defiant, and from everything I had heard it was no match for the German aircraft. One evening I was called to the phone and found that it was Matt’s mother on the other end.
“Stacie, my dear,” she said. “We have some news of Matt. His aircraft was attacked and badly damaged. Don’t worry – he only suffered a broken leg when he bailed out. He’d managed to get the plane back to England, but it was too damaged to land. Other than his leg he’s fine, but he wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

I couldn’t get away till the weekend, but managed to catch a train to the hospital where Matt was on the following Saturday. I was relieved that it wasn’t a bad break. He would be back on duty far quicker than I would have wanted, but at least he was out of the fighting for the time being. The Germans had hemmed the British forces in on the beaches at Dunkirk and it looked as if they would all be captured or killed. The school had left Guernsey just in time, leaving during the Easter holidays for Plas Howell in Armishire. Now all the people I cared for were safe. Matt himself was quite cheerful, happy to be away from the fighting for a while though also worrying about his friends on the squadron. I couldn’t stay long and had to leave almost as soon as I arrived, but at least I’d seen him.
The British Army was rescued in a quite miraculous way by a huge fleet of small boats that could get close into the snady beach and pick the men up, carrying them out to bigger ships lying in deep water or taking them straight back to England. Thousands of men were rescued, though all their equipment had to be left behind. The rescue was haled as a victory for the Allies, and so it was. Equipment could be replaced, men could not. After Dunkirk the Germans over-ran most of northern France very quickly indeed, imposing their own will over the French people. Simone and her family were all in England by then, as was her fiance, having managed to escape with the British forces.

 

#11:  Author: Rosy, Location: Gloucestershire-London-Aberystwyth PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 2:00 pm

Wow. Thankyou for putting that up Pat! I do like your Stacie!

 

#12:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 2:02 pm

Stacie is now up to date again, and I am trying to write a little more. It seemed to be best to repost the lot rahter than just start where it got hacked.

 

#13:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 2:57 pm

Once the summer holidays came I was able to visit Matt more often, especially after he was discharged from the hospital. He had changed from the carefree young man he had been when he joined up. He had developed a ‘live for today’ mentality, which I came to understand covered fear with a veneer of gaiety and frivolity. He said very little about his time in France and I knew that while he was grateful for the break, he also chafed at being away from the fighting. The south coast airfields were now being attacked by the Luftwaffe, in what became known as The Battle of Britain, and I knew that as soon as he could persuade the doctors to discharge him he would be back with his squadron, which had been deployed to the Midlands to recover and recoup after fighting in France. The bad news was kept as quiet as possible, but it was clear that the airfields were taking a pounding, and everyone feared that this was the build-up to an invasion. Plans were made to prepare for this, and although nothing was said officially it became ‘known’ that the government was afraid that if invasion came the south-west would be cut off from the rest of the country. Emergency rations were stored, and people identified to distribute them if they were needed. It was a frightening time, especially considering how hard it was becoming to repair the airfields. I went back to Truro at much the same time as Matt finally was allowed back to his squadron, but I consoled myself with the thought that he would be less involved in the fighting, at least for the time being.

Then Hitler changed tactics and started bombing cities rather than the airforce bases. I discovered later that if he kept on for just a few days more he could have beaten the RAF, but he didn’t. Truro wasn’t a target thankfully, but Plymouth was bombed badly because of its naval dockyard. Matt’s squadron was moved south for the defence of London, so that the squadrons who had been heavily involved in the fighting could rest and recoup. The raids were taking place at night, which made defence a lot harder, but Matt was now an experienced pilot and I prayed that he would be all right.

 

#14:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 3:12 pm

Oh dear, poor Stacie, she must have been out of her mind with worry for Matt.

Thanks Pat.

 

#15:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Tue Apr 04, 2006 4:48 pm

*desperately hoping Matt is safe*

Thanks, Pat

 

#16:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Thu Apr 06, 2006 1:41 pm

My prayers seemed to be answered, for Matt led a charmed life. The squadron lost pilots and aircraft, but Matt came back from every sortie, even those where his Hurricane didn’t, and he had to bail out. It didn’t stop me worrying but did help me to grow accustomed to the constant niggle. The Blitz extended to other cities, some of them major targets like Plymouth and Coventry. Coventry was hit badly at the beginning of November. It was a bright moonlit night, and the Germans dropped parachute flares to light the target further. These were followed by incendiaries, aimed not only at the factories but at the city centre too, with the express purpose of starting a firestorm. The air-raid sirens had gone off at 7.00pm, and it was not until 6.15 am that the all-clear sounded. By then over 4,000 homes had been destroyed, and more than 500 people had been killed. The medieval centre of the city had been wiped out.
In March it was the turn of Plymouth, and by the end to two nights of bombing the centre of this city too had vanished. Aunt Margery told me later that it was possible to read the headlines of a newspaper by the light of the fires, and Taverton lies many miles away from Plymouth.

Matt would have preferred to wait until after the War to marry, but I persuaded him to change his mind. As I pointed out, if anything happened to either of us, we would have had some time together at least. We set the date for the summer half term, when Matt was due some leave, and the invitations went out. I refused to have a proper wedding dress, declaring it to be a waste of coupons, and because of travel restrictions only immediate family could be there. I looked forward to the day with nervous excitement, knowing that this would make a huge change in my life.

 

#17:  Author: Eilidh, Location: Macclesfield PostPosted: Thu Apr 06, 2006 1:44 pm

I am wibbling more than ever now. Does this fit into the series or is it an alternate universe?

Thanks Pat.

 

#18:  Author: Ruth B, Location: Oxford, UK PostPosted: Thu Apr 06, 2006 1:46 pm

I'm hoping it's an Alternative universe...

 

#19:  Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire PostPosted: Thu Apr 06, 2006 2:22 pm

I see Stacie is being true to form in refusing to have a wedding dress. Laughing

Thanks, Pat - despite the worrying.....

 

#20:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Thu Apr 06, 2006 11:14 pm

Oh Pat, this is lovely, but worrying....
Thank you.

 

#21:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 6:41 am

*desperately hoping they can get married*

Thanks, Pat

 

#22:  Author: JustJen, Location: sitting on the steps PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 5:18 pm

Hopes this is an AU so Stacie can get married

 

#23:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 7:45 pm

*hoping hard*

Stacie seems so happy it would be a shame to spoil it, wouldn't it?

 

#24:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 9:22 pm

Two weeks before the wedding I picked up my post as usual from my pigeonhole in the staff room, quickly flicking through to see it I could see who they were from. A couple of bills, one from Aunt Margery, and one in a writing I was unfamiliar with. I left the bills and settled down to a good read about home, which lasted till the end of break. I stuffed the letters into my pocket and went off to take my next class. As it happened I was time-tabled for the rest of the morning, and then went straight into lunch, so it was not until I was settled in the staff room with a cup of tea that I opened the other letter. It was quite a fat one, and I found out why when a second envelope came out with a letter wrapped around it. Leaving the letter for the time being I opened the single sheet that had accompanied it. The first sentence brought a shocked cry from me, and the letter dropped unheeded from my fingers.

 

#25:  Author: JustJen, Location: sitting on the steps PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 9:39 pm

Noooooo!

 

#26:  Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 9:48 pm

Echoes JustJen!

thanks Pat, I was sadly behind on this and actually began to wonder if I would miss the cliff I was almost certain was coming - but I managed to hit it head on!

Poor Stacie! (that is if the letter says what I think it says, of course - there's always the chance you will relent and take this into an AU.)

 

#27:  Author: Chelsea, Location: Your Imagination PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 9:53 pm

Dear Stacie,
I am very happy to inform you that your fiance is perfectly fine and has been given a special magical power and he will not be hurt at all for the rest of the war.

No? Shocked Well... Sad

Lovely (though very sad) story.

 

#28:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Fri Apr 07, 2006 10:35 pm

That's very ominous. Nice cliff though.

Thanks Pat.

 

#29:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Sat Apr 08, 2006 6:51 am

Nooooo!

Crying or Very sad

 

#30:  Author: Rosy, Location: Gloucestershire-London-Aberystwyth PostPosted: Sat Apr 08, 2006 7:09 am

Argh. *hides behind her hands* Make it better Pat please!

 

#31:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Sat Apr 08, 2006 7:47 pm

Two weeks before the wedding I picked up my post as usual from my pigeonhole in the staff room, quickly flicking through to see it I could see who they were from. A couple of bills, one from Aunt Margery, and one in a writing I was unfamiliar with. I left the bills and settled down to a good read about home, which lasted till the end of break. I stuffed the letters into my pocket and went off to take my next class. As it happened I was time-tabled for the rest of the morning, and then went straight into lunch, so it was not until I was settled in the staff room with a cup of tea that I opened the other letter. It was quite a fat one, and I found out why when a second envelope came out with a letter wrapped around it. Leaving the letter for the time being I opened the single sheet that had accompanied it. The first sentence brought a shocked cry from me, and the letter dropped unheeded from my fingers.

The Chaplain was in the staff room and he came across at once.
“Stacie, my dear. What has happened?”
I passed the note across to him, and he read it quickly.

Dear Miss Benson

I am sorry to inform you that Matt went out on a mission today and has unfortunately failed to return. His aircraft was seen going down in flames, and I am afraid that no parachute was seen, and we have had no report that he has been picked up. As many pilots do, he left a letter for me to forward to you should this happen, and I enclose it here. May I please express my condolences at your loss. Matt was a very fine pilot and a wonderful human being, and he will be sorely missed by everyone on the squadron.
I picked up the other letter, and turning it over saw that it was addressed to me in Matt’s writing. Hardly knowing what I was doing I started to open it.
“You will want privacy to read that Stacie,” said Robert Pengelly quietly. “Come into my office, my dear. No one will disturb you there.”
I got up and followed him, feeling a peculiar numbness that seemed to insulate me from the curious stares of the rest of the staff. He settled me into a chair, and placed my forgotten tea beside me on a little table.
“Would you like me to leave?” he asked. “I can come back later if you wish.”
I nodded, unable to speak, and presently the door closed quietly and I was alone. I picked up Matt’s letter in shaking hands and slit it open. The letter wasn’t very long, and must have been very hard for Matt to write I realised much later, when I could think again.

 

#32:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sat Apr 08, 2006 8:22 pm

Oh no! Yes it was to be expected really, but so sad.

Pleased the Chaplain was there for Stacie... Crying or Very sad

Thank you Pat.

 

#33:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Sun Apr 09, 2006 3:46 pm

Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad

Poor Stacie

Is it worth hoping for a miracle?

 

#34:  Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire PostPosted: Sun Apr 09, 2006 4:22 pm

So sad. Crying or Very sad Crying or Very sad

Thank you, Pat.

 

#35:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Sun Apr 09, 2006 7:18 pm

My darling Stacie
If you are reading this letter it means that I am not coming back to you. We both knew that this was possible, but I know that that will not make it any easier for you now. We have something very special, my darling, and the fact that we will have to wait a little longer to be together won’t make any difference to that. I know that we shall be together one day Stacie, and I know you do too. Hold onto that, and to the knowledge that when the time comes that we meet again, I will be waiting there to greet you with open arms. In the meantime, please try not to grieve too much. You have the rest of your life in front of you, and I am so very much afraid that you will retreat into the classical world and hide yourself away. If you do that, then you will have to answer to me one day! Go out and live my darling, live for us both. And if you should meet someone else, don’t hide away from love. I want you to be happy and I am very certain that I will approve of anyone to whom you can give your affections.

So goodbye for the present my darling. All my love, now and forever.

Matt

 

#36:  Author: Vikki, Location: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!! PostPosted: Sun Apr 09, 2006 9:00 pm

*sniffle*

That letter was beautiful Pat! Sad

 

#37:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Sun Apr 09, 2006 9:01 pm

Oh how sad. Crying or Very sad Poor Stacie.

Thanks Pat

 

#38:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Sun Apr 09, 2006 11:20 pm

Oh how poignant. Poor Stacie.

 

#39:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 7:15 am

What a beautiful letter - I'm sure she'll treasure that

Thanks, Pat

 

#40:  Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 8:54 am

So much joy to remember - once the great sadness and grief are just an ache in the heart.

Thanks, Pat.

 

#41:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Coventry PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 9:43 am

Thanks, Pat. Poor Stacie. I hope she can get through this.

 

#42:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 11:03 am

Thanks, Pat. I am really sorry about what has happened to Matt. I feel sorry for Stacey as well. Crying or Very sad

 

#43:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 1:05 pm

The pain inside me seemed to rise up like a huge wave, bursting over me and taking me with it whether I liked it or not. A sob broke from me, and then another, but before I could give way altogether the comforting arms of Robert Pengelly were around me.
“Don’t fight it Stacie,” he said gently. “Let the tears come. You are allowed to cry.”
I couldn’t have stopped them if I’d wanted to, and I’m afraid that Robert’s jacket was very damp before they came under control again.
I managed to choke out some sort of thanks, but he waved it away.
“You are to go straight up to bed Stacie. Take some aspirin for the headache I’m sure you have and try and sleep.”
“My classes!”
“I have been to the Head Master and explained. Some will cover your classes for you, and if you want to go home, then he is happy to give you compassionate leave.”
I slept well into the afternoon, and woke feeling a little more refreshed. At first I wondered why I had an aching hole in my life, but then it all came flooding back, and I cried again. This time the tears were gentler than the racking sobs I had given way to in Robert’s office, and didn’t exhaust me in the same way. I got up and dressed myself, knowing that I had to face the rest of the staff and dreading it. Being such a private person I hated airing my troubles in public. However, when I entered the Staff Room there was no open mention of my bereavement, just a few nods of sympathy, and I was able to maintain my ‘public face’. It was nearly time for High Tea and I knew that I would have to go and see the Head immediately afterwards. I needed time to myself to come to terms with losing Matt.

The following day I travelled back to Taverton, having phoned Aunt Margery. Just telling her brought another wave of grief, which told me that I was right to go home. She met me at Taverton station after I had changed trains at Plymouth travelling through the city I was appalled at the destruction I saw. It brought home to me what other people had been going through, and that helped me in the days to come. People all over the country were suffering as I was, and managing to carry on. How could I do less? We remained silent on the walk from the station to my Aunt’s home though, she had greeted me with a fierce hug. I was grateful, as I didn’t want to test my self control in public just yet. But as I went into the house I felt myself relax for the first time that day, and the wave of grief swept over me again. My Aunt swept me upstairs to my room and helped me unpack with silent sympathy that I found supportive. The days passed quietly after that until I reached the one I had been dreading – what would have been my wedding day. That day I just endured and was grateful when it was over and done with. I would return to school on the following Wednesday, and by that time I was ready to get back into harness. Work would at least give me less time to brood.

 

#44:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 1:27 pm

Thanks, Pat. It's good that the chaplain is being so supportive.

 

#45:  Author: Nell, Location: London, England PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 1:40 pm

Thank you Pat. I'm glad Stacie has the necessary support - but how sad and how true.

 

#46:  Author: RroseSelavy, Location: Oxford, UK PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 2:44 pm

Poor Stacie. This is beautifully written, Pat.

 

#47:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 6:18 pm

So pleased that everyone is being supportive - but oh I ache for Stacie, such a poignant thought about her not being alone, that so many were having to face this.

Excellent writing Pat.

 

#48:  Author: Becky, Location: Newport, South Wales, UK PostPosted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 6:52 pm

Thanks Pat - very moving

 

#49:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 7:36 am

Thanks, Pat

 

#50:  Author: Rosy, Location: Gloucestershire-London-Aberystwyth PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 7:38 am

Thankyou Pat. It's so terribly sad.

 

#51:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 12:47 pm

I think the worst day of all though, was the day of the funeral. I travelled the day before and spent the night with Matt’s parents and we all went to the church together. It was terrible following the coffin into the church and taking our places at the front. It was a lovely service, and the priest clearly knew Matt very well, for he spoke of him on a personal level, brought in little humorous anecdotes, and even had as all chuckling! But then the time came to move to the grave, and I still don’t know how we got there. The coffin was carried out of church on the shoulders of his friends from the squadron and taken down to the churchyard. The rest of it was a blur until the blank shots were fired over the grave, and I jumped. I felt numb, as if it was happening somewhere apart from me, like a dream – or nightmare. It was only the shots that brought me to myself, and made me realise properly that this was goodbye. A funeral was supposed to help with the grieving process, but it didn’t happen like that for me. It simply emphasised the gaping hole in my life that I had to fill somehow. Never again would we laugh at the same silly things, or comment on a radio programme or film. Now there was just me for the rest of my life.

 

#52:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 2:58 pm

Crying or Very sad

Poor Stacie.

 

#53:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 3:25 pm

Oh Stacie....

We all knew it was going to happen but Pat! How can you be so cruel? Crying or Very sad

 

#54:  Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 3:45 pm

Unfortunately, during war, no one is immune. Crying or Very sad

Thanks, Pat.

 

#55:  Author: Amanda M, Location: Wakefield PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 4:38 pm

Poor Stacie Crying or Very sad
Thank you Pat - this is so well written and poignant.

 

#56:  Author: Tiffany, Location: madthesispanicargh PostPosted: Tue Apr 11, 2006 4:43 pm

Poor Stacie! This is beautifully written, Pat. Thankyou.
Quote:
Now there was just me for the rest of my life.
Crying or Very sad

 

#57:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 12:33 pm

I was happy to be back at work, teaching the boys and being with the friends I had made in the Staff Room. Robert was kind and supportive without being too overt about it, and I enjoyed the meals I took at his home. His wife was a good cook, blessed with the ability to make the most of wartime rations, and home cooking made a wonderful change from school meals. They were childless, much to their disappointment, and I think that I became a substitute child for them during the rest of the time I taught at the school. As the months passed, the pain of loss grew less, though a day never passed when I did not miss Matt and mourn him. But the waves of grief grew gentler, with an increasing gap between them, and it was only when I realised that a month had gone by without one that I realised that they had stopped. That was a year later, however, after all the first anniversaries had passed. My work kept me among people, having to interact with adults and children, and this effectively prevented the retreat into myself that would almost certainly have happened otherwise. The old Stacie – Eustacia – was hiding, waiting to take her chance at re-establishing herself, as Matt had realised, and I never wanted to see her again.

By the time VE Day arrived I was able to celebrate along with everyone else, even though I deeply regretted that I couldn’t celebrate with Matt. I was lucky that he was my only loss, though we had worried about my cousin Nick at one time. People went a little crazy with the relief, and it was hard to remember sometimes that there was still fighting going on in the Pacific. This time also marked the beginning of the end for my job. The master I was replacing had survived the war, and would be coming back as soon as he had been demobbed, so I had to begin to think about my future. That it would involve the Classics was beyond doubt, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to continue teaching in a school. As it happened, the decision was made for me when I was approached by my old college.

 

#58:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 12:59 pm

I am glad Stacie was able to grieve and that she had people caring for her throughout all that.

Looking forward to seeing what is happening for her next.

Thanks, Pat

 

#59:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 9:12 pm

Thanks, Pat. I'm glad that Stacie got on well with Robert and his wife. I wonder where Stacie will teach now.

 

#60:  Author: Rosy, Location: Gloucestershire-London-Aberystwyth PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 9:32 pm

Am glad to see Stacie's future developing. Thankyou Pat.

 

#61:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 11:08 pm

This was very sad, but at least she could recognise and avoid the danger that she might retreat into her own private world.

Thanks Pat

 

#62:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Thu Apr 13, 2006 2:51 pm

Oxford hadn’t changed a bit since I’d left. The students were younger of course, and there wasn’t quite the same prejudice against women who taught. I made a niche for myself, and mindful of my instructions from Matt, I didn’t hide myself away. I joined the local church and involved myself with their activities, even joined the WI, which I had thought I would never do, but it gave me an outside interest. I had a group of friends that I saw regularly, though most of them were single women – there were very few spare men around after the war, and those that were, were snatched up pretty quickly. I enjoyed my work, and gradually built a reputation for myself. I had a comfortable life, though because I remained single I’m sure Jo Maynard thought I was lonely! I wasn’t, though equally there was nothing excitging happening either. Even the threat from Russia became familiar. There had been the scare when the Russians had tried to cut off Berlin, but the other Occupying Powers had flown supplies into the city and broken it. The airlift lasted for more than a year from June 1948 to September 1949, bringing thousands of tons of supplies to feed the inhabitants. I think that it was an attempt by the Russians to drive the Western Powers out of the city, as Russia controlled the countryside around it. However, the enterprise failed, and people began to recover from the fright

I kept track of happening at the Chalet School, mainly through letters to Jo, and through attending the annual sale most years. They moved to an island off the coast of Wales when they had a problem with the drains. Jo and Madame went to Canada for a time, and I envied them the experience. Then I heard that a new branch of the school was going to open in Switzerland. I was a bit surprised at that , for I thought that they would go back to Austria when that country regained its independence, but it seemed that they didn’t want to wait that long. A Finishing Branch led the way, and then the San followed with the School proper, settling somewhere near Interlaken. Jo and Jack went out too, as Jack was heading the new San, and I realised that I might be able to visit them for a holiday at some point. Jo made it clear that I was always welcome there. There was more excitement in her life than in mine at that time, and though I certainly wasn’t lonely I was becoming bored. Nothing seemed to happen to me any more. The passing years helped to dull the pain of losing Matt. Even so I had no thought of romance – I rarely met any single men anyway, and those that I did meet were unexciting. Looking back I think that I tempted fate by believing that love was over for me, but at that time I didn’t really see any alternative.

 

#63:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Thu Apr 13, 2006 4:51 pm

Thanks, Pat. I'm glad that Stacie realised that she was welcome to visit Joey and Jack.

 

#64:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:55 pm

Glad Stacie was able to lead a full life - wonder if Joey started to matchmake for her when she went to live in Switzerland?

Thanks Pat.

 

#65:  Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire PostPosted: Fri Apr 14, 2006 9:47 am

Never tempt fate. Stacie - or at least cross your fingers and toes while doing so! Laughing

Thanks, Pat.

 

#66:  Author: Rosy, Location: Gloucestershire-London-Aberystwyth PostPosted: Fri Apr 14, 2006 11:06 am

I like to hear how Stacie spent her time. Thankyou!

 

#67:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 9:04 pm

I'm glad Stacie has made a life for herself in Oxford, and I'm glad she's still in touch with Jo too.

But then your Jo here is lovely and not pushy (yet!). I hope that won't change when Stacie visits Switzerland.

Thanks Pat

 

#68:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 4:27 pm

When I received the invitation to spend Easter on the Platz with as many of the Tyrol people as Jo could get together I was a bit dubious. My time at school had not been the happiest days of my life, and although I was friendly with a good many folk, it was mostly a Christmas card friendship. However, I had nothing else in my diary, since I had got my Doctoral thesis off to the publishers, and felt I deserved a break. It would make a change from the humdrum life I led, and I knew that I was getting into a rut. So I sent my acceptance and began to plan what I would need to take. As I packed I smiled to myself, for I was pretty sure that I would surprise some of the people there. Having only myself to worry about, I had been delighted when clothing rationing came to an end, and had embraced the New Look with joy. Not for me the dowdy Oxford Don image! I had grown my hair, but refused to wear it in an ageing bun, preferring the elegance of a French Pleat. I had bought myself some smart slacks for walking in, as well as new walking boots, for I was pretty sure that there would be expeditions planned. I only hoped that my back would not let me down. I still had to be careful, for whenever I overdid things it was my back that took the brunt of it. I was flying out to Berne and taking the train to Interlaken, where I was promised that I would be met, probably by Jack. Even as I boarded the flight I still had some doubts as to the wisdom of the trip, but as I settled into my seat I almost heard a well-remembered voice telling me not to be an idiot. “Go and enjoy it darling!” I sank into my seat feeling a little shocked, but also more at ease about the venture.

I made my connection at Berne with time to spare, and Jack met me at Interlaken. It was the first time I had returned to the Alps since I left school, and I’d forgotten how wonderfully clear and fresh the air felt. It was invigorating and I felt ready for anything. The road up to the Platz was pretty hair-raising in it’s twists and turns, but the view from the car was stupendous. The snow-capped triple peaks of the Eiger, Jungfrau and Monch towered over us as we climbed out of the valley, though lower down the snow had all melted. The weather was fine, and I felt more alive than I had done for years.

 

#69:  Author: Eilidh, Location: Macclesfield PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 4:37 pm

Thank you Pat - I've just caught up on all I missed while on holiday and am crying buckets over Matt's letter. It's just as well the SLOC isn't home yet!

I hope Stacie enjoys the reunion.

 

#70:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 4:43 pm

Good to see her glad to be back in the Alps.

Thanks, Pat

 

#71:  Author: ibarhis, Location: London PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 5:00 pm

I keep finding great new stories... Fab...

 

#72:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 6:12 pm

So much time has passed, glad Stacie was able to keep up a good image and that she still feels matt is close to her.

Thanks Pat.

 

#73:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 6:17 pm

Thanks, Pat. I hope that Stacie will enjoy herself.

 

#74:  Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 7:25 pm

Pat wrote:
I still had some doubts as to the wisdom of the trip, but as I settled into my seat I almost heard a well-remembered voice telling me not to be an idiot. “Go and enjoy it darling!”


Of course he would want you to enjoy life, Stacie. Never forget how close he still is to you.

Thanks, Pat.

 

#75:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 9:14 pm

Oooh do we get to see Stacie's perspective on the Reunion?

It's wonderful to see her as a 'modern' woman rather than a fusty academic.

Thanks Pat

 

#76:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 3:54 am

Isn't Stacie just brilliant!!

 

#77:  Author: Identity Hunt, Location: UK PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 7:03 am

oh, well done Stacie !!

(Fingers crossed for a a happy holiday!)

 

#78:  Author: leahbelle, Location: Coventry PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 7:46 am

Stacie must be so happy to be back in the alps. A lot has happened to her - here's hoping she can be happy in the future!

 

#79:  Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 6:52 pm

Just caught up on rather a lot of this Pat and enjoyed it very much

Although I did cry too at the letter Crying or Very sad

 

#80:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 7:17 pm

Dawn wrote:
Although I did cry too at the letter Crying or Very sad


So did I! Crying or Very sad

 

#81:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 7:27 pm

*pouts*

Thought that was an update!

 

#82:  Author: Tiffany, Location: madthesispanicargh PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 7:30 pm

Good for Stacie! I hope Joey's nice to her... and that she doesn't feel threatened or saddened by all the married-with-children people.

 

#83:  Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster PostPosted: Tue Apr 25, 2006 4:21 pm

Joey was waiting at the door to welcome me – or so it seemed, by the speed with which it was opened. She pulled me up the path to the house, leaving Jack to bring in my case, and I had little time to take in the appearance of her home except to see that it was very big. I found out later that it had been a small hotel though it still retained the typical Swiss chalet appearance, with the ground floor built of stone and the upper floors of wood. The corner posts were painted with the typical decorations of the area, and the balconies were gay with flowers. Jo took me straight up to my room, which had a wonderful view over the alps. Below I could see a hedge dividing Freudesheim from the next door property, which looked substantial form the size of the gardens and the fact that I could see no sign of any building.
“Have a wash and so on, and come downstairs when you’re ready. The bathroom’s just next door. We’ll be in the salon at the back of the house, though I’m sure that they’ll be someone to show you the way if you’re lost. “ said Jo as she disappeared out of the door. I took off my coat and hat and laid them on my bed. Some fluffy white towels hung over a towel rail near the window and I picked up the smaller one and made my way to the bathroom. There was soap already there and before long I was feeling very much fresher and ready to meet the others. Jack had left my case for me while I was washing, and I changed into a skirt and jumper and re-did my hair. Then, unable to put it off any longer, I made my way downstairs.

I could hear voices as I reached the hall, and turned towards the back of the house. A door stood invitingly open and I headed in that direction. As I entered the salon I took in the fact that it was a large room with a cheerful fire burning in the hearth, but they were eclipsed by what seemed to be a sea of eyes staring at me. I moved forward slowly, wondering if I would recognise any of them, but Jo has seen me and jumped to her feet.
“Stacie! Come along in my dear. You know everyone here, though some of them may have changed a bit. Sit here and let me give you a cup of tea – I’m sure you’re dying a thirst.”
Felling a bit breathless from Jo’s energy I sank into a chair and looked around properly. I did know everyone there I realised. Grizel Cochrane looked older and tired and drawn, as if she had to make an effort to be sociable. I wondered what she felt about this house party of Jo’s as she looked to me as if she really needed some weeks of quiet rather than the sort of gadding about that Jo was likely to have organised. Evadne Lannis and Cornelia Flower were older versions of the girls I remembered, but just the same in many ways for all their maturity. Accepting the cup of tea offered by Jo, I began to think that I had done the right thing by coming out here. Time had blurred the differences I had encountered as a schoolgirl, and I knew that I could join the group on an equal footing, and even deepen existing friendships.

 

#84:  Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England PostPosted: Tue Apr 25, 2006 4:29 pm

So pleased she's glad she went and doesn't feel out of place among them. And isn't she lovely and sensitive to Grizel's condition.

Thanks, Pat

 

#85:  Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent PostPosted: Tue Apr 25, 2006 4:33 pm

Very telling that she would pick upon Grizel's unhappiness and tiredness - I expect her own unhappiness when she first started at the school has made her more sensitive to it in others. Wonder if she'll be able to help Grizel?

Thanks Pat.

Last edited by Lesley on Tue Apr 25, 2006 5:59 pm; edited 1 time in total

 

#86:  Author: francesn, Location: away with the faeries PostPosted: Tue Apr 25, 2006 5:50 pm

*echoes Lesley*

Exactly what I was thinking!

Thanks Pat

 

#87:  Author: Chair, Location: Rochester, Kent PostPosted: Tue Apr 25, 2006 7:21 pm

Thanks, Pat. It was interesting to read what Stacie thought of everyone who was there.

 

#88:  Author: Cath V-P, Location: Newcastle NSW PostPosted: Tue Apr 25, 2006 11:32 pm

Clearly Stacie is able to observe others accurately - and how interesting that she discerns Grizel's unhappiness.

Thans Pat.

 

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