The CBB :: View topic - CBB Advent Calendar: December 17th

#1: CBB Advent Calendar: December 17th Author: CBB Triumvirate,

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 8:42 am

Primrose Day had hated her name since the time she had first started school. To be accurate, it had really started a few days before the annual Primrose Day had come around. That was when the teasing had really started, though she had endured periodic digs from the beginning. She had done her best to ignore it, but it wasn’t easy at 5 years of age and she had found herself crying more than once. The whole thing was made worse by the fact that the hateful day was her birthday and the reason she had been given the name in the first place. It had died down once the day itself was over and she had breathed a sigh of relief. Only once had she dared to broach the subject with her mother.
“Why did you have to call me Primrose, Mummy?” she had asked. ”Don’t you like it dear?” her mother had replied. “It’s such a pretty name, and it seemed so obvious to call you Primrose when you were born on that day.”
Poor Primrose had dropped the subject then, as it was clear that her parents had no idea of the hurt the name was giving her, and Primrose did not dare to tell them for fear of the consequences. Her parents gave her a birthday party each year, and these she enjoyed as much as was possible, for the girls were careful not to tease her in front of her mother.

Shortly after her 11th birthday she was told that she would be going to a new school the following September.
“It’s a boarding school, darling,” her mother said. “It has a very good reputation, the girls all seem very happy there. They are very strong on languages, and you will be able to learn to speak French and German fluently.”
Naturally Primrose’s first thought was how these new girls would react to her name. Would she get the same sort of teasing at the Chalet School as she had had to put up with at her day school? Only time would tell, but she looked forward to the new school with mixed feelings. She was relieved to be leaving her so-called friends behind her, none of whom she would miss in the slightest, but how would these new girls treat her?

On the first day of term she dressed in her new uniform with hands that were shaking. She liked the effect of the brown uniform that suited her colouring well. She came downstairs looking calm and composed, hiding her nerves well, and climbed into the car for the journey to the station with barely a backward glance. She met the school at the great terminal station in London and realised that there were a great many of them. The big girls in the Sixth looked very grown up and she clung to her mother as a mistress who looked decidedly foreign approached them.
“Good day, Madame,” she said. “I am Mlle de Lachenais and I am acting as escort mistress this morning. May I ask your name please?”
“Good morning Mlle. I am Mrs Day and this is Primrose.”
“But what a pretty name you have, my dear,” exclaimed Jeanne de Lachenais. “Come, I will take you to the carriage where the others of your age are travelling and then you may say farewell to your mother. The train will leave before long.”
She led the way onto the train and open the door to a compartment that already seemed full of people.
“Make room for another please, ma petites. This is Primrose Day and she is new as you are.”

It did not take long for Primrose to realise that no one at the school would tease her about her name. There were a few comments at first, asking politely if that had been the day she was born, and once she had replied in the affirmative the matter ceased. Chalet girls had manners well drilled into them and primrose had nothing to fear on that score.

Only on that score however. She did have other things to fear. There were the goblins that lived under her bed for one thing, if she put a foot out whilst it was dark they would see it and grab her. Then there was the bogyman that lived in the big cupboard where the Sunday coats were kept. Primrose dealt with him by never, never getting her own coat out, she somehow always contrived to ask someone to fetch it along with their own. These had nothing on the imps that lived in her drawer. Every morning she quaked before opening her drawer to take out cream collar and cuffs or flame coloured tie, or even a clean handkerchief, sure that her fingers would be bitten if she was not quick.

It was not just in the dormy either. Primrose was sure that there was a boggart in the art cupboard, which made it a tad difficult when she needed to get her paintbrushes. Then there was a fairy circle in their forms flowerbed, and she knew that if she walked across it she would be whisked away to fairyland, never to return. It was strange though that no one else seemed to be affected by it. By far the worse though was the troll in the boot room. She would never go in there alone, and was glad that the weather so far had stopped them from going off on the hikes that would necessitate spending time in the boot room before and afterwards.

The form had discussed her queer behaviour, but had come to no conclusions. They had tried being kind and generally sheepdogging her, they had made friends and thought that on the whole she could be a jolly girl, “If only she would let herself instead of cringing all the time,” as Lavender Leigh put it.
“She is a coward, scared of everything,” was Joy Bird’s summing up, but most of the other’s took a kinder view.
“She is not happy, I wish Auntie Jo would came up and organise her new girls tea party soon. She might be able to sort Primrose out, she normally understands,” said Bride Bettany, and her sister Peggy agreed.

Thus it was when Joey arrived at the school a few days later she was besieged by Juniors asking when she would have her tea party and whether she had met their new girl yet.
“On Saturday if Miss Annersley agrees and no,” replied a rather breathless Jo once she could get a word in edgeways. “I’m inviting you and Bride too Peggy.”
Peggy Bettany looked rather surprised as this was not normal practice, but her brow cleared as Joey continued, “I want you to choose some photographs of the triplets to send to India, and I thought if you came on Saturday you could send them with your letter next week, I’ll scribble a note for you to send with them.”
“They are growing rather quickly aren’t they,” said Bride with a grin, recalling how her aunt had let down all the hems on the triplets dresses only a few weeks ago.
“They do at this age,” replied Joey, “Now tell about this new girl you’ve picked up so I’m prepared for Saturday.”
With this she led her nieces away from the rest of the form for a few moments and they had a quick chinwag before she went off to see the head.

Primrose set off with the others in fear and trembling. Not only was she to meet a famous authoress, itself a terrible prospect, but the road was strewn with difficulties and all of it unknown. The school grounds and the dangers contained there were becoming familiar now, and she could take precautions. The big tree that shaded the lawn outside the front door that was the home of the wood nymph was a friendly hazard, for wood nymphs rarely bother humankind, she knew. But partway down the drive was a willow tree, and she was afraid of that tree like no other. The way it moved in the wind, with it’s trailing branches thrashing around, was like something out of a nightmare, and she kept expecting it to attack her at any time. And she knew, with a deep down certainty that something unmentionable lived in the old oak that guarded the gate. She had almost seen it as they drove through the gates at the beginning of term. If there were all these dangers in the grounds, what would there be outside them? She was dismally aware of the scorn with which her form regarded her, that they considered her a coward. For her part she wondered how they could be so unaware of the dangers that surrounded them. By the time the procession had reached the Maynard’s home she was white and trembling and could only just manage to remain upright. Jo saw her condition immediately and got her into a chair before she collapsed completely.
“What is the matter my dear,” she asked. She had been warned, but seeing for herself brought the problem home to her in no uncertain terms, and she wondered how on earth she could deal with a child like this.
Primrose glanced around the room quickly, looking through her eyelashes so that anything watching her would not see her looking. A bright fire was burning in the grate and she distinctly saw a fire devil dancing there too. Fire devils were the worst and she knew they could take anyone over without a moments thought. She moaned slightly and squeezed her eyes shut. She had had dealings with a fire devil before and knew what to expect. She had no idea what her hostess had said to her, in fact had hardly registered that she has spoken. Joey shook her slightly to get her attention.
“Primrose, you look scared half to death! Whatever is the matter?”
Now Primrose knew from bitter experience that grown-ups didn’t understand, so she tried to pull herself together sufficiently to answer.
“Nothing, Mrs Maynard,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me child,” replied Jo, gratefully taking the mug on warm milk that Anna brought in at that moment. “Drink this down and it will help you.”
Primrose saw that there was no gainsaying this determined woman, so she obediently drank the milk, knowing all the time that this was the path of entry for the devil. As the last drop drained from the mug she felt the familiar shock, remembered with fear and dread, as her nemesis made contact.
“Come out into the garden and meet my girls,” said Jo when the mug was empty. Primrose rose obediently and followed her out into the garden where the rest of the party were having a wonderful game of tag with Jo’s triplet daughters. Jo managed to persuade Primrose to join in and to her amazement she found herself running around screaming and yelling like all the rest, thoroughly enjoying herself. The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly with no further trouble from the strange child, but Jo was determined to watch her as closely as she could. There was something very strange going on there.
For Primrose the days passed in a blur, for she knew that it was only a question of time and opportunity before the devil struck. She could sense it waiting patiently inside her, but there was nothing to feed it, no open fire in any of the rooms. As Autumn crept on, the leaves on the trees began to fall, and Evan Evans, the school gardener, swept them up and piled them up in a corner of the grounds as he always did. There was an incinerator near the great pile and he used this to burn the leaves, making a good enriching fertiliser for the garden. It was when she was playing hide and seek that Primrose came across this, and she stopped abruptly, looking with horror at the burning rubbish. But it was too late to escape, and she found herself moving forward, picking up a thick stick as she went. When she reached the incinerator she used the stick to tip it over, pushing the burning contents out onto the ground and the rest of the leaves. Then she turned and ran, white and shaken at what she had done.
Retribution fell at prayers that night. When the Catholics had joined the rest of the school, Miss Annersley rose to her feet.
“I would like the girl who tipped over the incinerator today, and nearly caused a major conflagration to stand up,” she said.
There was silence in the room, the girls looking at each other for signs of the culprit. No one moved – Primrose did not dare to stand up in front of all these girls, it was too much to expect.
“Very well, I see that we have a coward in our midst as well as an arsonist. When we dismiss I will expect to see that girl in my study immediately.”
Escaping from the rest of the form Primrose made her way to the Library, white and trembling, but determined to do the right thing. She knocked on the door and entered, dropping the regulation curtsy before advancing into the room. Her eyes were firmly fixed to the floor, as she did not dare meet the Head’s eyes. Eventually she was standing in front of the desk and she stood still, twisting her fingers together.
“Well Primrose, what have you to say to me?” asked the Head, more gently than Primrose had dared to expect.
“It was me, Miss Annersley,” she whispered.
“May I ask why you did it? Did you think it would be funny?” The gently querying voice was almost too much, but Primrose managed to mutter a denial.
“So why? I mean to get to the bottom of this Primrose. You must understand that we give you girls a great deal of trust, and if you abuse it, as you have done today, we deal with the offender.”
Primrose lifted her head a little before muttering, so quietly that the Head had to strain to hear her.
“My devil made me do it.”
“I beg your pardon? Did you say your devil made you do it?”
“Yes Miss Annersley. My fire devil. He got inside me when we visited Mrs Maynard. She had a fire in her Salon you know.” Primrose was feeling a little better now that she had got this out.
The Head touched the bell beside her, saying nothing until the maid answered, and departed to fetch Matey. When that lady had joined them, she told her that it had been Primrose who had started the fire, and that she thought a good night’s sleep in the San would be a good idea. When Matey and Primrose had left the room, the Head lifted the telephone and called Joey Maynard.
When Primrose woke next morning, wondering at first why she was not in her cubicle, she found Joey sitting beside her, darning socks.
“Hello Primrose, Are you feeling better?” she asked her brightly.
“Yes thank you. What are you doing here?”
“The Head thought that I might be able to talk to you,” said Jo, looking at the girl lying in bed. She certainly didn’t look like an arsonist, and equally didn’t look as if she was out of her mind. “Suppose you try and tell me about this fire devil you found at my house. I haven’t come across him before.”
The matter-of-fact approach gave Primrose confidence to believe that she wouldn’t be laughed at, which was the normal response of adults in her experience, and she poured out everything to an astonished Jo. When the tale wound down Jo sat in silence for so long that Primrose began to feel worried. But Jo had been thinking very quickly and she spoke before Primrose could utter another word.
“Primrose my dear, you enjoy reading a great deal, don’t you?” Primrose nodded, wondering where this was going. It seemed to have no bearing on the subject. “You immerse yourself into any book you read I suspect. I do too! But sometimes we can go too deep into a story, and it becomes real. Or real to you at least. Did you read a book where that happened?”
Primrose nodded eagerly. Her favourite book for a number of years had been a fairy story, with all the inhabitants of her nightmares, though she had failed to make the connection. Now she did, and she gasped. Jo nodded, smiling at her. “Let me guess,” she continued. “It was a fairy story of some sort, yes?”
“Yes,” said Primrose. “Does that mean that all those creatures that scared me so much weren’t real?”
“No. They were real to you Primrose. But they came from your imagination, and your story. Now you know, now you have realised for yourself without being told, you will be able to control them. They won’t have the same power over you any more.”
“Do you really think so, Mrs Maynard? Will the fire devil go away now? I’m so scared of what he’ll do.”
“You can control him now Primrose, not the other way around. And it will be the same with all the other creatures that have troubled you. They will fade away now you know what they are.”

#2: Author: Nina, Location: Peterborough, UK

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 10:15 am

Joy Bird
new girls' tea party
"My devil made me do it"

#3: Author: Kate, Location: Ireland

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 11:09 am

Bride Bettany
warm milk
“My devil made me do it.”

#4: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 12:02 pm

Primrose Day
warm milk
“My devil made me do it.”

#5: Author: Emma A, Location: Peterborough

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 12:35 pm

That was a fascinating post - it seemed that Primrose was seeing more than creatures of her imagination. The something horrible in the oak tree was gruesome... thank-you!

#6: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 3:34 pm

Primrose Day
Art cupboard
You must understand that we give you girls a great deal of trust

#7: Author: Helen P, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 3:53 pm

Primrose Day
new uniform
"My devil made me do it"

#8: Author: Ann, Location: Newcastle upon Tyne, England

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 4:44 pm

Primrose Day

Flame-coloured tie

"My devil made me do it"

#9: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 7:11 pm

Mlle de Lachenais
collar and cuffs
"Whatever is the matter?”

#10: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2004 1:12 am

Having checked my guesses I don't seem to be having much success, so here goes another one.

Very scary story for this time of day.

Peggy Bettany
darning socks
'Speak french and German fluently.'

#11: Author: CBB Triumvirate,

Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2004 9:23 am

Well done to Ann and anyone else who got this!

Primrose Day
Flame coloured tie
‘My devil made me do it’

#12: Author: Helen P, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2004 9:45 am

Oooh I was nearly right - 'flame coloured tie' and 'new uniform' being at least more similar than any of my other less-than-inspired guesses!

#13: Author: Vikki, Location: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!!

Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2004 7:22 pm

another great offering! Thank you Triumvirate!!!

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