We used to go to school in a little town just outside Birmingham, and there was a girl in our class who was an orphan. She lived with her granny, a very old and devout woman. Every Sunday the two of them would walk past my house to the old parish church, both tiny and frail, wrapped in white kerchiefs. Folks whispered that her grandmother forbade her from watching telly, eating sweets, or even laughing out loud shed say it let the devils in and she made her rinse her face with icecold water every morning.
Wed tease the girl all the time. Shed stare back at us with those grey, almost adult eyes and mutter, Lord, have mercy on them, they dont know what theyre doing. Nobody hung out with her; they thought she was a bit cracked. They called her Ethel. Some called her Angelica.
Back in my childhood, the school canteen never served anything tasty. On Fridays, though, we got a little treat a sausage roll with a mug of hot chocolate and a tiny chocolate bar. One day, while we were ribbing Ethel, someone shoved her and she collided with me. I knocked over the tray, sending the cups of chocolate spilling all over two older pupils.
Whoa, they said, looking drenched.
Lets get out of here, I whispered, grabbing Ethels hand and dashing for our classroom.
In my head it felt like a herd of buffalo and a band of Cossacks were chasing us, shouting. The last two lessons were maths, and behind the glass door two hulking figures loomed. The door would crack open now and then, two heads peeking in, then murmuring to each other. I realised what was coming a proper investigation, a judgment, maybe even a punishment.
Just slip out of the class unnoticed, then I know a way up to the attic. Well hide there until it gets dark and make a run for home, I said.
No, Ethel replied, well do it the proper way, like girls do. Quiet and proper.
But Ethel, those guys theyll?
What? What will they do? Pour yoghurt on our heads? Beat us up? What?
Um.
Even if they hit us, itll be just once. If we dont go, well live in fear every day.
We slipped out of the classroom with the rest of the class, just as girls are supposed to quietly. Two senior boys were propped against the wall.
Hey, kiddies, lost something? One of them held out my Mickey Mouse wallet with ten pounds inside the money Id saved for swimming lessons and art classes.
Here you go, he said, slipping the wallet into my hand, and dont run off again.
I walked home, swinging my schoolbag, thinking how good life felt now that Id got a new friend. What if I call my mum? She could phone your granny, get you a break and we could watch cartoons at my place. You okay with that?
Ethel rolled her eyes. Sure, well grab the wafers with condensed milk Grandma baked today.
We stayed close for many years, until life scattered us across different continents. I still remember that one time. Leaping off the diving board into the blue mirror of the pool was terrifying but it only scared you once. Trying something new is always scary. Whats the worst that could happen? People might call you foolish, just once. If you keep telling yourself that every day, the fear sticks around. Its scary once, or it can linger every day. You conquer fear in a single moment, or it lives over you for the rest of your life. The choice is yours.
