Teach Me to Live

Money and Intelligence

The sun’s golden rays pierced the clouds, shining down on the grey, stone building. Ivy climbed the walls, covering the upper windows almost completely. Seagulls swooped overhead, floating on the light, September breeze. Standing around the fountain were hundreds of families, each one saying goodbye to their daughters- some for the first time, some for the seventh.

Margaret Harris stood in front of her mother and father, dressed in a green uniform several sizes too big for her. Her blonde hair was in braids, hanging over her shoulders, so as to keep it out of her eyes. The uniform itself had cost a week’s wages for her father- it was lucky for them that books would be given to the poorer children. Margaret was blessed with the intelligence her mother had said many of the rich families lacked- and, because of that, she had been admitted to St Anne’s on scholarship.

“Are you sure you still want to be here?” her mother asked, adjusting Margaret’s black beret for the fifth time since arriving.

She didn’t know how to reply: of course she wanted to attend- she had been studying for months. But she had never left her village before- and to move from the Midlands to the Coast, to live away from her parents for months on end…

“Stop fussing, Alice, of course she does!” her father laughed. “She’s a good girl- it’s clear she will go far in life!” Margaret smiled, in reply, though the last thing she felt like was smiling. She stared round at all the others: first-years, like herself, were crying and hugging their mothers, fifth-years were staring, wide-eyed, at exam timetables, and seventh-years were giggling and flirting with groups of boys- older brothers, wishing their sisters good luck.

In what seemed like no time at all, the crowd began to disperse, and Margaret knew by their faces that her parents were thinking the same thing.

“Fred, maybe now we should…” her mother said, quietly, to her husband. He nodded.

“I think you’re right, dear,” he turned to Margaret. “Behave yourself, and pay attention in class. We’ll be back to collect you for the Christmas holidays…” he saw that her lip was trembling. “Don’t worry- time will fly by, you’ll see,” he kissed her hair, and stepped back, allowing Alice to hug her daughter.

She was in tears. “Goodbye, my darling…” she whispered, her arms wrapped tightly around her daughter.

Fred placed a hand on her shoulder. “Alice…”

She nodded, and stepped back. “Yes… I’m sorry…” she stared at Margaret. “Goodbye. Be sure to enjoy yourself…” Fred handed his daughter her suitcase, and led Alice away. Margaret wished she could run after them, to tell them that she would go with them…

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Just one more year…” Ophelia sighed. “One more year, and then I shall be free from this awful place!”

“Ophelia!” her mother snapped. “Your father paid good money to send you here. Some of these girls must rely on the contents of their heads alone- consider yourself lucky that we have an alternative…”

Ophelia tossed her dark, curled hair over her elegant shoulder. “But Mother- I never asked for any of this. If I had my way, I would dance…”

At this moment, her father stepped in. “Dance? Dance! As if any self-respecting girl would wish to prance around the stage while the common men stare at her! You shall complete your studies here, and then you shall attend Cambridge. Somewhere in you is the potential for greatness- you just refuse to allow it to flower.”

He said this, though they all knew there was no truth to it whatsoever. Some girls were born with brains. Some weren’t. Ophelia was a perfect example of a girl who was only able to study at St Anne’s because her father happened to be a High Court Judge.