The Gilded Cage - Finding My Place

The Train

Nicola Montague had decided to behave for me. Not that she was fooling anyone. I reckoned that she intended to just ride out her Charlesfield punishment, which temporarily necessitated my unwelcome presence in her life, from her point of view, until she was given a proper chance to appeal to her parent's better nature. Back home, and finally able to talk with her mother and father in private, who could be relied upon to have calmed down, a lot, after almost three weeks to catch their breath, she thought she could apologise profusely and convince them that she had been punished enough and had learned her lessons. For nineteen days, along with all the other pupils caught up in what we had already humorously dubbed the great escape, she had suffered the strict, unrelenting attentions of me and all of the other grimly determined members of the Blackstone crash team, as we all thought of ourselves, without causing any further problems for anyone at the College. Obviously, her formidable and uncompromising nemesis, Mrs Sheila Blackstone, was not fooled for a single second, and so I was also onto her right from the start as well, but we did not let on at all, because her rather cunning little strategy made our job a lot easier in the short-term, as she did not fight us, and I must also admit, far more enjoyable. I had taken a great delight, as well as a healthy professional interest, in my own opinion, in treating my dear Nicola and many of her equally-guilty friends, as what Mrs Blackstone, the fearsome acting headmistress of Charlesfield Christian Ladies College, called a nursling. It was a term I had not heard before I arrived at the boarding school, but I had quite a lot of fun learning all about the strict, even extreme doctrine of the Church of Christ the Reformer, which apparently owned Charlesfield, and helping Mrs Blackstone apply it to sweet Nicola as the first part of her richly-deserved penance.

Poor Nicola understood what was happening to her, of course. More than I did, originally, as it was all new to me. She actually was a Christian Reformist, of sorts, or at least her horrified parents were, and although the Montague family were described by Mrs Sheila Blackstone as modernists, or liberals, depending on her mood, the chastened teenager was well aware of the traditional Reformist approach to childcare, and what was currently expected of her by the new staff at Charlesfield. However, she blamed Mrs Blackstone for her plight, and believed that as soon as she got back home, her beloved parents would forgive her, and let her return to some sort of normality. Unfortunately for her, I knew different, and the truth was that her nursling training had only just begun, so it was simply hilarious to watch her eagerly humiliating herself when she thought that she was actually winning some sort of devious little game with me. Even at the railway station, on the first leg of her journey back home to London, and to her immediate family, with me as her doting chaperone, as arranged with her still furious parents, I was getting a lot of not-so-innocent pleasure out of unremittingly outmaneuvering her at every turn. I was almost rather sad to leave Charlesfield, but I had a new job to look forward to, a real grown-up job, and that was so exciting for me, a much-needed fresh start for me too. Nicola Montague was, quite unwittingly, a bit of a life saver for me, and for the first time in at least a year, I was looking forward to the future again. It was really thanks to Nicola that I actually had one. I was grateful to her for that, and for the great fun I was having with her. Unwittingly, in the strangest of circumstances, I had found a new lease of life. She was starting her life over, getting what Mrs Blackstone called a reboot, and so was I, in a way.

"Shall we mess them...before the train, Miss Deacon?" I suggested, addressing my colleague as we left the ticket office, and stepped out onto the platform, holding hands with our respective charges. Both girls, Nicola and Roberta Carlisle, were wearing their full Charlesfield uniforms for the very last time, one way or the other. Hooded raincoats, straw boaters, white knee socks and sandals were visible with the kilts, blazers, jumpers, blouses and ties mostly smartly hidden beneath, making the two of them look so young and fresh, even to my eyes. It was impossible to think of them as being only two and a half short years younger than me. "Facilities on board will not be...suitable...for nice little girls like these two...and I really don't think they will last over two hours down to London...do you?"