Free Dead to Me by Lesley Pearse Page B

something more, and she rarely everknew who was responsible. She found her coat sleeves tied in a knot, her coat pockets filled with rice, a mouldy sandwich in her desk, ink poured over her essay book. And when she went to put on her apron for Domestic Science, she found it was sopping wet. Then there were all the taunts and name calling – not just from Madeline, but other girls too.
    Verity just took it, day after day, assuming that if she didn’t react they would get bored and stop it. But she dreaded going to school, and feared break times even more. She had nightmares in which the girls were encircling her with knives in their hands, their eyes blazing with a terrifying light.
    It didn’t help that when she got home, her mother would launch into her grievance for that day: that the cat from next door was doing his business in their garden, that the bread was stale, that she couldn’t possibly go to the public baths for a bath. And how did Hazel expect her to wash her clothes when all the water had to be heated? She never attempted to get the evening meal ready, even though Hazel wrote down each morning what they were having. So Verity had to do it, while her mother carried on with her catalogue of woes. Cleaning, washing up, it was all left for Verity or Hazel, her mother didn’t even make her own bed.
    Two, then three weeks passed, the weather was getting warmer all the time and the days longer, but this brought new grouses for her mother: that the milk had turned sour on the doorstep, that there were flies in the kitchen, that the windows didn’t open and the River Quaggy, which ran nearby, smelled horrible.
    But if Verity’s home life was miserable, school was even worse.
    Day after day the other girls found new ways to torment her, tripping her up in netball, hiding her gym shoes, pulling a few pages out of her English or Maths book. And once, while in the lavatory out in the playground, someone got into the next cubicle, reached over the dividing wall and pulled the chain, and the vigorous flush soaked her underclothes and her gymslip.
    On the Friday afternoon, at the end of her third week at Lee Manor, Verity leapt to her feet the moment the home-time bell went, glad she’d have respite over the weekend from a stuffy classroom, bullying and insults.
    Stopping only to grab her blazer from her peg, she was just leaving the cloakroom when she felt something wet on her back. Assuming it was merely water, she ignored it. But as she went to put her blazer on, she flicked her plaits forward over her shoulder and found they’d been dipped in ink.
    A glance in the washbasin mirror showed her she had black ink all down the back of her white blouse and her gymslip; as she had moved her plaits, it was now all down her front too.
    Madeline’s desk was right behind Verity’s, so she knew it was Madeline who had dipped them in the inkwell. It was the last straw, and this time she knew she must act or be bullied for evermore.
    She waited by the school door, just hidden from view, too angry to be scared. She could hear Madeline inside crowing with delight at what she’d done. ‘I hope her blonde hair will turn green with it,’ she sniggered. ‘I just wish I’d dripped it on top of her head.’
    As Madeline came through the door, Verity pounced on her. She didn’t care if she got hurt, she just wanted togive this horrible girl a taste of her own medicine. She caught Madeline by her shoulder and spun her round so she was facing her, then punched her straight in the nose with her fist. The girl’s nose seemed to explode, blood spurting out in all directions.
    ‘Not so funny now, is it?’ Verity screamed at her. ‘With luck your nose is broken, and you’ll be ugly as well as nasty.’
    Having expected Madeline to respond with extreme violence, it was a real surprise to see the girl just holding her nose and crying. But just in case this was a tactic intended to disarm, Verity didn’t back away but punched her in