Regenesis

Joanna - back at home

Joanna smiled as she glanced up at the studious face of her boyfriend, concentrating as he propelled the punt along the water. Behind him she could see the last of the college buildings and the riverbank took over, holding back the acres of farmland and meadows spreading out to the horizon on either side. One hand drooped lazily in the passing water, and she used the other to adjust the wide-brimmed straw hat she had chosen for this outing. She looked down at the wicker hamper containing the remnants of the wonderful picnic he had prepared. Her white dress, festooned with tiny yellow flowers lay around her, the picture of Bronteesque femininity, with its high waisted skirt nipping just below her bust, the white petticoat peeking nonchalantly from its hem. As the pole was raised through his hands, droplets of water began to pool at his feet, glistening in the afternoon sunshine. She closed her eyes against the sunshine, not believing her luck....... The siren broke through that idyllic calm and the boat rocked viciously....... her alarm clock cutting through Joanna's dream, bringing her back to the here and now, and the realization that the longed-for lie-in, even of just thirty minutes, was just as much a distant dream. Joanna looked across to see if her room-mate, Abigail, had been wakened. Abigail had been very quiet during supper the previous evening. She had only arrived at Miss Minsk's house a few weeks ago and Joanna, as the senior girl, had taken her under her wing once she had got over the loss of privacy necessitated by Abigail moving into her room. Once they were dismissed after cleaning up the dishes and laying everything for breakfast the next morning, Joanna took Abigail by the hand and led her up to their shared room, to find out the cause of her silence. Once the door was closed, Joanna sat her on the bed and took both hands in hers, before looking deep into her eyes and asked her what the matter was. They had become quite close in the short time they had known each other, having shared a very similar journey at Iuvenham, and were able to compare notes about their recent history. Joanna had only just started at her job as receptionist at the solicitor's when Abigail first arrived, and was of course forbidden from divulging even the merest hint at what was waiting for Abigail, and the many girls who followed her through Ms Beckwith's office. She herself had been through the formal process of signing her life away in the very austere legal office where she now worked, before being led away by Nanny Green to begin a course of re-education, months long, until she had shed any pretense of adulthood and was judged ready to be handed over to a guardian. After months in primary school, and the next stage of her training, Joanna's guardian put her forward to be considered as receptionist for Ms Beckwith. She had spent the last few months learning the ropes of being a legal secretary, with many slips and corrections along the way, and had begun to enjoy the responsibilities of her role. She had watched as a steady stream of unsuspecting young ladies came through the door of Beckwith and Partners (although she was yet to meet a partner). They came from a variety of backgrounds: some were brash and entitled girls, mostly from privileged families, who had ended up in Iuvenham as an alternative to a custodial sentence. Others were enticed by the prospect of a huge inheritance once they had graduated satisfactorily. They all had one thing in common: once they had signed the contract in Ms Beckwith's office, their lives would never be the same again.

Abigail trusted Joanna implicitly, and so she felt comfortable explaining what had happened that afternoon, the written test she had been put through, and the punishments she had witnessed. Although Joanna had never visited the Institute herself, she had heard about it, and seen some of the candidates, as they were referred to, around town in their distinctive uniforms. They were always in pairs and always chaperoned by a tutor, as she had learned they were called. These tutors were alumnae of the Institute who were selected for their ability to train others and instill the standards and values that they themselves had been taught. Being promoted to "tutor" status was seen as a huge accolade and something of a pinnacle of a girl's training.

Joanna felt a little jealous of Abigail, as she had been passed over for Institute training, but at the same time she thanked her lucky stars that she had landed a job without a perm, with some responsibility and perks.

"So, what should I do, Joanna?" Abigail asked a little tearfully, her mind whirring with indecision.

"Gosh, Abigail. I don't think you will have any say in the decision. From what I gather, you either get accepted onto the course, or you will be appointed to some menial role around the town, and you know what that means......"

Abigail gulped and subconsciously twirled some strands of hair round her index finger.

"Either way you won't be staying here much longer........"

The door opened and in strode Miss Minsk. Joanna released Abigail's hands from her lap and both girls immediately stood, turned and curtsied, slightly flustered.

"Good evening, Miss Minsk" they both intoned as they had been trained.

"Good evening, girls." Miss Minsk slowly walked around the room, checking surfaces for dust, opening cupboard doors and drawers and looking inside. Everything had to be perfectly folded, hung or shined. Both girls stood watching her every movement, hoping that she would not notice whatever they might have neglected to perfect.

Miss Minsk turned and faced both girls.

"Abigail, you will bathe first tonight." She turned to her room-mate and her tone changed.

"Joanna, I will see you in my study in five minutes. Make sure you are presentable and bring your conduct book."

And with that she was gone.

No one said anything. Joanna was ashen-faced. Abigail turned to her and took her hands in hers, looking into Joanna's eyes which were welling up.

"Did something happen today, Joanna?"

Joanna nodded slowly, feeling very much the naughty girl in the family.