Stranger at St Bride's by Debbie Young

Author:Debbie Young
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: boarding school, English humour, feel-good, upbeat, happy ever after, school, teachers, traditional, village, rural, countryside, Cotswolds, friendship, secrets
Publisher: Hawkesbury Press
Published: 2020-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

21

Tissue of Lies

AS WE STROLLED DOWN the corridor to the staffroom, we caught a distant chorus of ‘Hark the Herald’.

“Hadn’t you wondered why whenever I accept one of Felicity’s baked goods, she gives me a number?”

“I had noticed, but assumed it was a running joke between you, as if she was putting a limit on the number of items you were allowed to take.”

Judith grinned as we entered the staffroom.

“No, she’s telling me how many grams of carbs are in each piece. Every time I eat something, I need to know its carbohydrate content so I can give myself enough insulin for my body to process it.”

She lifted the hem of her blouse to show me a small black device about the size of a packet of cigarettes clipped to the waistband of her skirt.

“My insulin pump. I wear it all the time. There’s a tube attached to a cannula on my tummy, sending the insulin straight into my system.”

I filled a cup for her from Old Faithful.

“Oh dear, and I took Felicity’s number as licence for us to eat eight gingerbread stars each.”

Judith laughed.

“Don’t worry. Mavis took far more than eight, and there were still plenty to go round.”

A knock on the staffroom door spared me from further admonition. Judith went to answer it while I poured a cup of coffee for myself.

“Aren’t you meant to be somewhere else?” I heard Judith say. Then her voice softened. “Hang on, let me get you a tissue.”

Through the open door, I could hear heartfelt sobbing. As Judith collected the box of tissues from the coffee table, she whispered, “I think she’s one of yours, Gemma. Abigail Swann from Year 7.”

I nodded and took the box of tissues from her.

My instinct was to draw Abigail into the seclusion of the staffroom, but an unwritten rule forbade girls entering for the sake of the teachers’ privacy. Knowing the library would be empty, I put my arm round Abigail’s shoulders, pressed a tissue into her hand and guided her gently in that direction. Its calm environment would be just right to soothe a sobbing girl.

I sat her down in one of the pair of fireside armchairs and perched beside her on its arm.

“So, Abigail, what has happened to upset you so much? Has one of your friends been mean to you?”

She shook her head and sniffed but said nothing.

“Which activity group have you been in this afternoon?”

Had she forgotten her lines in the nativity play? Fluffed a solo in the choir? Fallen out with her flute duet partner?

“Drama, miss. I’m being a lamb.”

“That’s a very important thing to be!”

She smiled weakly at my joke.

“Is your role not going well?”

Perhaps she was miffed at not having a speaking part.

She waved a handful of tissue, dismissively.

“Oh no, miss, drama’s fine. I’ve got the best costume out of everybody. It’s – it’s something else.”

I took the soggy tissue from her hand, threw it in the wastepaper basket and offered her the box for a fresh one.

“If you tell me what is bothering you, I expect I can help.

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