Cora Ravenwing (8 page)

“Oh, I can see that now. Honestly I can. I shan’t try again.”

“Well,
I
think that’s good enough,” said Barbara. “What about you?” She looked at Susan and Hermione.

Susan sniffed in a determined and final way and stuffed her hanky up the little fluffy sleeve of her bolero. She sighed. “All right,” she said. “Let’s forget it. It’s been a super party apart from this bit. And I do want you to be our friend at school. But no more Cora. Please, no more …”

“There won’t be. I promise,” I interrupted.

Hermione was silent. We all waited for her to speak, but she was still staring dumbly down at the carpet when the door opened and Cora slipped in. She made for the nearest corner and slid to the floor. There she sat, hugging her knees, head lowered, until the first parents arrived. That’s how we were, silent and visibly shaken, when Mother and Father walked in with the Spensers. Susan rushed out for her coat and was buttoned into it in seconds. There was just time enough for her parents to notice the abject Cora. Then they turned and made for the front door with Susan before Father could so much as suggest sherry. The Phillipses and Fosters came and went in much the same way. Then Mr. Ravenwing arrived for Cora. I opened the door but didn’t ask him in and Mother and Father didn’t appear at all. He was all muffled up in a coat and scarf, and I could hardly make out his words as he asked for Cora. She looked surprised to see him but she scuttled out without a word. That was the end of my party.

I stood in the hall for a moment before daring to go into the kitchen. I couldn’t imagine what would be going on in there but I could hear Mrs. Briggs, only partially calmed, by the sound of it, talking on and on and on … At last I opened the door and went in. Jo and Dory were playing on the floor with their cars; they were subdued but not unduly upset. Mother and Father and Mrs. Briggs were in a tight group around the table, leaning over their cups and talking keenly.

Mother was saying: “It’s an
awful
tale, Mrs. Briggs! I wish I’d known before. I’d never have had the child in the house.”

“Mental, she is,” muttered Mrs. Briggs. “Or worse …”

“Now, now, Mrs. Briggs …” said Father.

“You mark my words, a child of the devil.”

“I can’t accept that …”

“Well … but, Edwin …” began Mother.

“Well but nothing,” said Father. “Disturbed she may be. The child’s had a very disturbing life. But ‘child of the devil’—no—that I won’t have. I’m not saying include her in everything, or even anything, come to that. But I won’t be party to malicious slander.”

“After what she nearly did to your own son?” gasped Mrs. Briggs. “Damn near suffocated him …”

“What
did
Cora do?” I asked in a small, shocked voice.

They all turned on me. They hadn’t heard me open the door. Mother stretched out an arm. “Oh, Becky, sweetheart. What an awful end to your party and after it had all gone so beautifully too.”

I went and stood beside her at the table and she put her arm round my waist. “What did Cora do?” I asked again.

“Not very much when it comes down to brass tacks,” said Father eyeing Mrs. Briggs sharply and standing up. “She hid in the airing-cupboard when you were playing hide-and-seek. She took Dory in with her and closed the door. Mrs. Briggs went up for clean tea-towels, opened the door, and there they were, huddled up asleep like two dormice. Too hot, you see …”

“She could have killed him,” said Mrs. Briggs. “That’s what she nearly …”

“In that case she’d have killed herself too,” said Father briskly. “Now we can’t have any more of this. It was your mistake, Mrs. Briggs … and an understandable one in view of the things you’ve told us. But …”

“Surely Cora didn’t want to kill Dory!” I said.

“Of course not,” said Mother gently. “The airing-
cupboard’s
not airtight anyway. And if she’d wanted to do
anything
cruel she wouldn’t have got in there beside him. She
was just hiding. But Mrs. Briggs got an awful fright when she opened the door and they were both squashed up in there with their eyes shut. For a second she thought they were dead.”

Mrs. Briggs was mumbling under her breath throughout this explanation and at the end of it she said to me: “She’s a bad child, that Cora. I’ve told you that before. None of the other children have anything to do with her. None of the other parents will have her to their homes. You shouldn’t have asked her to your party. You know she’s bad, don’t you?” Her bulging eyes leered at me. I wondered if she knew I’d been told the local tales about Cora or if she was guessing.

Mother said quickly: “Oh, Becky couldn’t know
anything
about what you’ve told us, Mrs. Briggs, and I think it best that she doesn’t.”

“Quite,” said Father. “Come on, Becky, you come with me and we’ll start a spot of tidying up.”

But Mrs. Briggs kept on glaring at me and I found it hard to break away from her basilisk stare. She knew I knew.

Mother had been hoping that Mrs. Briggs would stay to help with the washing up, but in view of her shocked state Father offered to drive her home instead, and it wasn’t long before she’d wrapped herself up again in her damp rain-cape and departed. While they were away Mother spoke to me again about the incident. “Becky, that was a shocking outburst of Mrs. Briggs’s and I know it absolutely ruined the end of your party, but I’m sure the girls will remember the nice bits too when they get home.”

“I expect so,” I said meekly. I knew that Mother herself must be disappointed that none of the parents had stayed at the end for a chat.

“Now, the thing is,” Mother said, “that Cora really is a
bit of a problem child—there’ve been all sorts of ongoings we knew nothing about. And Mrs. Briggs has been very closely involved. We mustn’t hold this incident against her … And—well—I really think it’d be better if you didn’t see Cora any more.” She broke off abruptly and looked at me. I said nothing. “Do you think that’s terribly unfair?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” I said.

“Becky, look, we’re new here. Don’t let’s be awkward customers straight away. See how the Spensers and the Phillipses and the Fosters couldn’t wait to get out of the house when they saw Cora was here. How are we ever going to fit in if we keep having her round? We’ll just be stuck with Cora and her father for company. How’re you going to like that? I thought you liked the other girls. There’ll be no more going round to Hermione’s, you know, if you have Cora tagging on like a little shadow all the time.”

I knew she was right and I knew that I didn’t want to lose Hermione and the others. Furthermore, I had promised them faithfully that I’d cut Cora off at once. But that was when I thought she’d really done something wicked to Dory. It was all Mrs. Briggs’s fault; if she hadn’t leapt to hysterical conclusions and lost her head none of this would have happened. “All right, Mummy,” I said. “I’ll give Cora up. I’m not that keen on her anyway. But I do think it’s unfair to her.” It was true that in a way I found it difficult to be fond of Cora; her lapdog attitude to me was too irritating. There had been moments when she’d seemed less dependent on my approval and goodwill but so far these hadn’t lasted. All the same, I was bothered by the total injustice of what everyone was demanding—that I should cut her off completely.

“It is a bit unfair,” said Mother. “I’m not that happy about it myself, but I can’t see any alternative. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe later … if it all dies down … But at the moment you’ve got a new school to settle into and we’ve all got new friends to make. We must make an effort to fit in—there are the boys to consider as well.”

On my way up to bed I saw Cora’s little present lying unopened on the hall window-ledge. I must have shoved it there absent-mindedly when she arrived. I unwrapped it as I went upstairs. It contained two postcard-sized pieces of cardboard, and carefully sandwiched between them was a piece of paper which had obviously been carefully cut from a notebook. I turned it over and there was the most
delicately
painted forget-me-not that I had ever seen. The colours and details of petal and leaf were just right; it was exquisite. In the bottom corner was a clear signature—“Myra Ravenwing”. Cora had included a little note: “Dear Becky, I wanted to give you some of Mum’s roses on your birthday but you weren’t happy about that so I hope you’ll be happy with this instead. With love from your friend Cora.” I stared at the little painting and felt strangely excited. Cora had actually taken scissors to one of her mother’s diaries so that I could have it. What would her father say if he found out? What had she risked for my sake?

I lay for a long time after I’d got into bed just gazing at the flower propped up on my bedside table. When I heard Mother coming up to kiss me goodnight I instinctively seized it and hid it between the pages of the poetry book that Hermione had given me. Afterwards that seemed symbolic; that was what I’d have to do with Cora.
She’d
have to be secret. I would be openly friendly with Hermione
and Susan and Barbara but secretly there would always be Cora.

When I lay down something dug into my wrist and I sat up again sharply and turned my bedside light on. Mrs. Briggs’s hobgoblin glinted up from my arm in triumph—he’d done for my party all right! In rage I tore the bracelet off, opened my window and flung it out into the dark night. It wasn’t found for weeks and by then it was so tarnished and rusty that I never had to wear it again, though Mother made me keep it to save Mrs. Briggs’s feelings.

T
HE NEXT DAY WAS SUNDAY AND THE NEW SCHOOL TERM
was due to start on Tuesday, so there wasn’t a lot of time to do what I finally decided would have to be done.

In the morning Mother was gratified to receive phone calls from the Phillipses, Fosters and Spensers saying how much the girls had enjoyed the party and how rude it must have seemed that none of them had stayed long enough to introduce themselves properly. Mrs. Phillips phoned first and Mother and Father agreed over lunch that it looked as if the others must have selected her as spokeswoman, for she was on the phone for a considerable length of time and took it upon herself to apprise Mother of some of the aspects of Cora’s life which had led to her being, by now, totally ostracized by the community. Whatever Mother really thought she reacted to the news in the way she knew Mrs. Phillips would want her to. I sat out of sight at the top of the stairs and listened to her end of the conversation. “… Yes, quite, Sylvia … If I’d known … Mrs. Briggs
did tell us afterwards … No, Becky doesn’t know … we’ve decided it’s best … yes … The others don’t discuss it? … Quite … No … I thought not … No, she’s no idea … No, she’s not going to see her again. She can see the others are upset by her—and she’s very fond of
Hermione
, of course … Oh, she does? That’s nice. Yes, they enjoy it, don’t they?”

So Hermione hadn’t told her mother she’d told me all about Cora! She must have decided to forgive me after all. I’d been worrying about her continuing silence after the other two had expressed their willingness to overlook the blunder of inviting Cora to the party. Only Hermione had sat remote, white and silent, undecided as to whether such crassness on my part must rule me out as a suitable friend. Now it seemed all was well. She’d concealed the full extent of my knowledge from her parents and might even, from the sound of it, have said she liked me, enjoyed our poetry discussions … In the midst of my pleasure at seeing the way clear again to being one of a foursome with the others I did not overlook the fact that in order to tell her parents the truth she’d have had to confess to gossiping to me about Cora, a thing they’d expressly forbidden. But her motives didn’t bother me greatly. What I was overjoyed by was the prospect of the new school term with her as my best friend. It was more than I deserved after the tactlessness of subjecting all three of them to an afternoon of Cora.

In the back of my mind, of course, nagging away so persistently that it eventually worked its way to the fore, was my feeling of guilt for what I had subjected Cora to. And it was after I’d accepted this and recognized her
complete
blamelessness from the start of the party to its catastrophic conclusion that I decided to do my best to make things up to her. On Sunday afternoon, while Mother
and Father were gardening and thinking I was indoors listening to the wireless, I sneaked out of the house and went looking for her.

I was pretty sure that I knew where to find her and I was right. As I picked my way nervously round the side of the church, there she was, spreadeagled in the sunshine beside her mother’s grave. She was staring up at the sky and didn’t see me at first but continued singing some
folk-song
I didn’t know in lark-like tones:

She sensed my presence, stopped abruptly, and sat up,
rubbing
her eyes and focusing on me. “Becky!”

“Hello, Cora! I thought you’d be here.”

“Mmmm.”

“Cora, I’m sorry about that mess-up at the end of the party. And thank you so much for the painting.”

“What d’you think of it?”

“Beautiful.”

“I chose her forget-me-not on purpose, you know.”

“I guessed you might have.”

“Yes. I don’t want you to forget we’re friends, whatever happens when school starts again.”

“It’s going to be hard, Cora. I promised the others I wouldn’t speak to you again.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Well, I thought you’d done something bad to Dory. For a moment I believed all the stories about you. The others were so upset and hated me for asking you to the party at all.”

“Oh, I thought they were almost putting up with me.”

“I think they were at one stage, but then when Mrs. Briggs kicked up that hullaballoo …”

“Your Dad was very nice to me, you know.”

“Yes, I’m not surprised. He stuck up for you after too. But it’s no good. Mummy says I’ve got to get rid of you. She says she doesn’t want us losing everybody’s friendship on your account.”

Cora shrugged. I thought this was a good place to be breaking all this bad news to her; she always had a special strength here. “Is that it, then?”

“Well, no. Perhaps it needn’t be. But we can’t be normal friends. I thought perhaps we could still be secret friends.”

The idea seemed to appeal to her. She smiled
mischievously
. “You’ll get yourself tied in awful knots, Becky,” she said, “and if the others find out they’ll hate you like
anything
!”

“Oh, I know,” I said anxiously. “Are you trying to put me off? Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s all that marvellous,” she said bluntly. “Who’d want to be tucked in on the sly? I’d much rather you chose me rather than them. That would really be one in the eye …”

“I can’t do that, Cora,” I said. “Firstly I like them and secondly I’ve promised Mummy not to make things
awkward
…”

“O.K.,” she said. “I’ll take whatever’s offered. I might as well. It’s better than nothing. Now, tell me what Mrs. Briggs said after I’d gone.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Mummy and Daddy didn’t want me to hear. They’re quite fair really, you know. Mummy’s only wanting to fit in here; it isn’t that she believes you’re bad.”

“Mmmm.”

“I think Mrs. Briggs got quite hysterical and told them you were … pretty bad …”

“A Devil Child. I bet that’s what she said.”

“Well—yes—something like that. I think it’s dreadful, Cora. And I think you’re very brave not to be terribly upset by her.”

“I am,” said Cora. “Upset, I mean.”

“Oh, Cora. I am sorry. You’ve had such a rotten time,” I said. “What does your father say?”

“Not much. He ignores people. Says he doesn’t need them any more than they need him.”

“Oh dear … By the way, why
did
you take Dory in the airing-cupboard?”

“We were hiding. He saw me go in and kept pulling at the door. I thought he’d give me away, so I just took him in beside me. He’s so sweet—I love babies. We’d never have dozed off if you’d found us quicker.”

“Mrs. Briggs thought you were trying to suffocate him.”

“I know. Your father told me. He said it was a silly place to hide but not really dangerous. I knew that—there are ventilation holes in the door. I know all about oxygen and that—Actually he said I shouldn’t be too upset because it was really all your fault.”

“
My
fault!”

“Yes. He said he hadn’t given you permission to start a game of hide-and-seek over the whole house and he never would have done. He just pretended to smack me on the bottom and sent me down to play with you lot.”

“Well, he wouldn’t realize the state the others were in. Susan was crying and Hermione went all white and trembly.”

“She would! Oh, I knew that that would be the end of it.
Blast Mrs. Briggs! She’s always going to wreck things for me, isn’t she? She’s a right witch herself—don’t you think so?”

“I know what you mean. I hate her. But half the village seems to think she’s someone special. Mummy quite likes her …”

“She’s just a gossipy, malicious, old bag.”

“Cora!”

“—And she’s got it in for me. She hates me. She thinks I make people die. Everything I do, she twists it round to look as if I’ve meant harm. And people always believe her.”

“I don’t think they do really. Not deep down. But you can see how everything fits in … and she’s terribly
convincing
.”

I couldn’t stay long. I didn’t want Mother and Father to know I’d slipped away at all. We agreed not to acknowledge one another publicly, not to be friendly at school. Cora said it wouldn’t be any different from usual for her, nobody at school ever was friendly except for one or two of the teachers. I said I’d talk to her whenever it was possible, whenever nobody was watching. That sounded so grudging and mean that I promised to try and come to some sort of
arrangement
whereby we might meet privately in the evenings or something. I left her humming to herself and stroking the grass idly with the back of her hand. I stopped to wave as I went round the side of the church and she waved back as if nothing were amiss. I felt unkind and unfair—I had offered her a crumb of friendship and she’d accepted it as better than nothing. But she deserved far more than that.

On Tuesday school started. I dressed up in my brand-new uniform—Mother had even bought me new underwear—and was so excited that I couldn’t manage much breakfast. The uniform was beige and blue; beige blouse, blue
gymslip
, beige and blue striped tie, and a blue cardigan with
beige stripes round the cuffs. There was a blue tweed coat and a blue velours hat for wearing outside. The whole lot had been rather expensive and Mother had bought
everything
on the big side to allow for growth, but I still felt very smart. Mother said she’d take me, as it was the first day, but we met Hermione as we passed the bottom of her drive and I sent Mother home as I felt I didn’t need her. She looked a bit abashed and I realized then that she’d really wanted to take me. Anyway, she said goodbye, and Hermione and I went on to school together, talking and smiling and becoming best friends. There was a moment of awkwardness as we passed the end of the road that led up to St. Matthew’s Church and the common. Cora was
running
down the hill, coat flapping. She could easily have joined us, but we both deliberately ignored her and carried on talking to each other. Hermione was undoubtedly
relieved
at my reaction, but neither of us said anything. Cora eventually overtook us and ran on ahead to school. She didn’t turn to look at me once.

Hermione showed me where to hang my coat and then we went to our form-room. There were seventeen in the class and most of them seemed to have arrived already. There was much banging of desks and noisy argument between any who wanted the same one. Barbara had arrived early and claimed a block of four beside one of the windows towards the front of the class. She and Susan were to have the front two and the two behind were reserved for
Hermione
and me. The desks were of dark brown wood and had inkwells and heavy lids with initials scratched and carved into them. Miss Dingwall called me to the front after a while and welcomed me. Then to my embarrassment she hushed the class to introduce me officially.

“This is Rebecca Stokes,” she said. “She’s joining us this
term and I hope we’re all going to help her settle in very quickly.”

I blushed and looked round the roomful of blank faces. Only Barbara and Hermione were smiling helpfully. Susan was giggling at my discomfort and Cora, in the least popular desk right under the teacher’s nose, was staring at me unblinking with her sharp, black eyes. It was the first time she had looked at me; I suppose she thought it would be safe to as everyone else would be.

“You can sit down now, Rebecca,” said Miss Dingwall. “I imagine they’ve all taken you in.”

The rest of the morning was occupied with assignment of cloakroom peg numbers, pens, nibs, pencils, checks on name-tapes and dictation of the time-table. There were breaks for milk at eleven and lunch at a quarter to one. We started lessons in the afternoon with English, taught by Miss Dingwall, and Scripture, taught by Miss Todd, the headmistress. At the end of the lesson she called me to the front as the others packed up for the day and started to leave. She said a lot of polite things about being pleased to have me at the school and hoping I’d soon feel at home, and I smiled politely too, and said: “Thank you.”

That was it! The first day over. Hermione and the others had lingered behind for me and we went along and put on our coats together. I was looking forward to the walk home. I wondered if Barbara or Susan would ask me in for a bit before tea as I hadn’t been to their houses yet and I knew they both lived in the village. But Mother was waiting at the school gate. I felt terribly angry with her. I didn’t want to see her at all. Of course the others all smiled and said, “Hello, Mrs. Stokes. Goodbye, Becky, see you
tomorrow
,” and hurried off together. I was left with Mother.

“You didn’t need to meet me.”

“I thought on the first day …”

“Look, they’ve all gone off now. I wanted to be with them.”

“I’m sorry, dear. You’ll see them tomorrow. How did it go?”

I couldn’t be bothered telling her a thing. Trust her to come fussing round!

There was the sound of pattering feet overtaking from behind. “Hello, Mrs. Stokes.” It was Cora, not stopping or hanging on, just passing the time of day in a friendly fashion.

Mother jumped. “Oh, hello, Cora, dear. Did you enjoy your first day back?” she said, trying to be friendly but not actually stopping.

“Yes, thank you,” said Cora. She trotted on past us.

“I hope she hasn’t been hanging round you all day,” whispered Mother.

“No, she hasn’t. I haven’t spoken to her at all if you want to know.”

Suddenly Mother lost her temper. “You can really be a selfish little brat, Becky. You nasty, mean girl to treat me to this temper when I’ve been thinking about you all day and hoping things were going well.”

“I didn’t need to be met. You’ve just got in the way.”

“Well, I certainly shan’t again! It’s a lot of bother
parking
the boys somewhere for half an hour—and I’d much rather have their company than yours when you’re like this!” I think she’d have stormed off and left me, but she looked round first, not wanting our row to be observed, and Miss Todd was approaching with the deputy head. They stopped to exchange greetings and welcomes and Mother and I had to stop glaring at each other and simper. After they had gone, I apologized for being mean and gave Mother
a detailed account of the day, including the lunch menu. She was particularly interested in that.