Читать книгу The Other Wife: A sweeping historical romantic drama tinged with obsession and suspense - Juliet Bell, Juliet Bell - Страница 22

Jane

Waking up on my first morning at Our Lady School, I found myself surrounded by girls my own age. They stood beside my bed, looking down at the person who had magically appeared in the middle of the night.

‘You’re the new girl.’

‘Yes. I’m Jane.’ I sat up in bed, pushing back the thin sheet and scratchy blanket, conscious of their eyes on me. Back when I lived with my mother, there were always lots of people around, and lots of kids to play with. It would be good to live like that again.

‘Why didn’t you come on the first day of school like we did?’ The girl asking the questions was very pretty. She had long, shiny brown hair tied in two plaits, with pink ribbons. She was wearing pink pyjamas too.

‘I don’t know. I was at school in Sydney. Then Mrs Reed said I was coming here.’

‘Who is Mrs Reed? Is she your mother?’

‘My aunt. I just lived with her.’

‘Why don’t you live with your mum and dad?’

They were all staring at me, waiting for the answer.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Maybe she’s an orphan,’ a red-haired girl suggested. ‘Are your mum and dad dead?’

‘No!’ My answer was automatic, but the question lodged somewhere deep inside me. Why hadn’t Mum come to take me home from the Reed house? As for a dad… I wasn’t sure. I’d never called any of Mum’s friends ‘dad’.

‘I bet they are. I bet they’re dead,’ a blonde girl said. ‘Or maybe they just don’t love you and they gave you away.’

Something snapped when she said that. My mum had loved me. I was sure she had. Before Mrs Reed, before this school, I’d been happy.

‘Don’t say that.’ I jumped out of bed. ‘You take that back.’

‘I bet you’re right,’ another voice chimed in.

‘Nah.’ That was the first girl again. ‘I think she’s an orphan. I think they’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.’

The first girl started the chant, but the others picked it up quickly.

‘Stop it!’ I screamed. The shouting was ringing in my ears. Another school. Another set of kids who seemed to hate me. For a second I was back in the sports shed with the jeering and the fear. ‘Stop it…’ I pushed the dark-haired girl. She staggered backwards and fell over right at the feet of the nun who had at that moment entered the dormitory.

‘What’s going on here?’ The nun was tall and thin, and dressed all in black.

‘She pushed me, Sister.’ The dark-haired girl immediately began sobbing.

‘We don’t allow pushing here.’ The nun looked me up and down. ‘And nor do we allow girls to sleep in their clothes.’

I tugged at my nightie. It wasn’t really a nightie, it was just a big t-shirt that was a hand-me down from Emma, but it was all I had.

‘Now apologise to Miranda.’

The girl still sitting on the floor turned towards me with a really nasty smile.

‘No. I won’t. She said a horrible thing about me.’

‘I didn’t, Sister, honestly.’ Miranda turned her doll-like face to the nun.

The nun took me by the shoulder. ‘You will apologise. Now. And then you will write out one hundred times, “I must not tell lies”. Do you understand?’ When I didn’t answer, she shook my shoulder hard. ‘Do you understand, Jane Eyre?’

All around me the other girls were smiling and giggling. The nun shook me again, gripping my shoulder so hard it hurt.

It wasn’t fair! I had thought being at a school with no boys to bully me would be better. I was wrong.