Chapter 3
"Molly?"
The soft voice of Miss C broke the dazed stare that Molly had been focusing on the unopened envelope that she was holding in her hands and she looked up, blinking, her eyes as they had been for the last two and a bit weeks feeling swollen and hot, as though she might burst into tears at any moment. This was pretty accurate as she had found herself on the edge of tears the majority of the time since that horrible day.
"Hhmm?"
Miss C looked down at her, a small sympathetic smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Would you like some tea? Or some milk? And a biscuit?"
She wasn't hungry, not really, not in her head, even though her stomach might disagree. She hadn't been hungry, not properly since that day. Somehow it seemed wrong to be hungry when Nan wouldn't ever be there to chide her to eat, ever again.
"No, Miss." She tried to summon the ghost of a smile for Miss C, but it came out a bit more tremulous than she had wanted, and Miss C's concerned look melted into sadness as librarian came around to sit down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders to pull her into the comforting warmth of the older woman's side.
"Oh, Molly." Cecilia hugged her charge tighter. "You have to eat, love. You know that your Nan wouldn't want you to waste away. Maybe just one biscuit?"
She was right, Molly knew it. If Nan was still here she would be giving her granddaughter the full glare treatment right now, standing over her to make sure she ate. She nodded glumly.
"Okay. Just one?"
Miss C nodded as well as she got up and came back a few minutes later with a steaming cup of something that smelled far too nice to be tea and a KitKat. "Here. Hot chocolate as well. I don't normally make it, but you need the calories sweetheart."
Molly put down her letter on the table and carefully took the mug from Miss C, wrapping her hands gratefully around the warmth. It smelled delicious and her stomach rumbled her approval, reminding her of the fact that she hadn't had breakfast this morning and tea yesterday had been an apple and a sandwich she had smuggled out of her free lunch at school. It had been worth it to avoid her Dad though.
He was calming down a bit now, mainly because nothing kept his attention for long but the events of two weeks ago had been significant enough to knock even him out of his self-absorption. There had been ranting about why she and "the old bitch" had been in the City in the first place, and then further ranting when it became apparent to him that Nan hadn't left Moll's Mum any money that he could spend.
After the accident the paramedics had taken Molly to the hospital to be checked out. Everyone had been very kind but all she had wanted to do was to curl in a small ball and make the world go away. Her Mum couldn't come and get her because she couldn't get a babysitter for the kids and eventually a nice policeman had taken her home, to where her Mum was waiting, her face tear stained and blotchy and for once she had pulled Molly into a grateful hug, hot tears wetting the top of her oldest daughter's head. That gratitude that Molly was unhurt and the grief at her mother's death had lasted long enough to give Belinda the courage to deflect her husband's attention from what Nan and Molly had been doing in the City that day, and Belinda had encouraged him to go to the pub, knowing that alcohol would dull his curiosity so that he was likely to forget he'd ever cared to ask. Which turned out to the case.
Nan's funeral had been far busier than expected – thankfully she'd had a small Co-operative Bank funeral insurance policy that Belinda knew about so that the expenses of a basic service at the Crematorium and a traditional East end buffet at the local pub (not Daves' pub – Belinda made sure of that) were covered. Dozens of Marge's friends had turned up with the expected over the top floral wreaths and commiserations. Even Dave had put his best foot forward on the day, he and his mother-in-law may have hated each other, but that kind of baggage wasn't aired outside the family and he managed to stay (mostly) sober for the extent of the service and the wake.
Nan had a lot of acquaintances and a solid handful of true friends, who knew exactly how much she had detested her son-in-law, despaired of her daughter and adored her eldest granddaughter and accordingly gravitated towards the small figure hovering around the edge of the crowd in the pub. Molly had been the receipt of a lot of hugs, and good wishes and some lovely comments about how much her Nan had loved her and how proud she'd been of "her Molls", which just made her want to cry even more. But despite all the well-wishing Molly had wanted nothing more than to be able to retreat to the haven of the library and Miss C's calm empathy and as soon as she could politely remove herself from the now raucous gathering in the pub (where more than one Cockney lady of a certain age was now participating in a more than slightly out of tune drunken sing along of her Nan's favourites) she had fled, turning up at Miss C's desk twenty minutes later where the librarian had taken in the state of her with eyes that were suspiciously moist herself, and had planted her in the cosy armchair in the book cluttered staff room, wrapped up in a soft fleecy throw with a glass of milk and a biscuit to hand and a pile of her favourite books to console her.
But that had been last week and by now everyone else seemed to be getting back to normal. Except that Molly couldn't. She felt like she was stuck, stuck in that moment when everything had gone so terribly wrong. She wasn't sleeping, jerking awake in the night as the scream of overstretched tyres and that horrible thud echoed through her dreams. Even though her stomach rumbled her head wasn't hungry and she'd found that she was picking at her food, the idea of eating more than a few bits making her feel sick. And whenever she had a moment to think she kept wanting to burst into tears, not that she allowed herself to do that, as showing that kind of weakness in front of her Dad was like dragging a broken leg in front of a predator, an irresistible invitation to cruel mockery at the very least or a screaming rant and perhaps a casual clout, depending on how drunk he was at the time.
The only thing that pushed the feelings back was work, study at school and then further study at the library under Miss C's concerned care. It was the only thing that gave Molly quiet in her nut and she needed that, craved it more than ever before. She arrived at the library as soon as school was over, and stayed until closing every night when Miss C would walk her home and she would immediately collapse into fitful sleep.
It was as if she was caught in time, unable to move forward and then just today everything had come into sudden focus when she'd arrived at the library and Miss C had handed her the sealed envelope with the stamp of City of London Girls School on it. For a second she'd just stared at it bewildered. She'd almost forgotten that they were waiting for it, but then she turned it over, looking at the strange address headed with her name in confusion.
"Who's address is this?"
"It's mine." Miss C clarified. "My private address." Miss C smiled, just a little. "It was your Nan's idea. She thought it best that anything from the school go to me, not your house. That way your Dad wouldn't get involved."
"Oh." She had turned the letter over and over again, a small ember of something a little like excitement igniting in her heart, almost painful after the emotional wasteland of the last two weeks. Then Miss C had distracted her with the glass of milk and a KitKat. But now she had finished both, the taste of the chocolate still lingering on her tongue and she had picked up the envelope again, feeling its weight in her fingers, so light for something that could matter so much.
"Well….are you going to open it?" For almost the first time in their relationship Molly heard a trace of impatience in Miss C's voice and looked up from her contemplation of the sealed envelope in surprise. The other woman looked back down at her, a smile ticking at the corners of her mouth. "It won't bite you know, Molly."
Her mentee took a deep breath. "But what if I haven't passed?"
Miss C looked down at her and then reached out a hand to run it down the length of her plait affectionately, tugging on the end gently.
"Well then, we'll have to go onto plan B, to get you into one of the better schools here in Newham. We've got the time." She shrugged. "Even if you do end up going to the Comp it will be fine. You and I will just have to make sure that you some extra work on the side, just like we've been doing for ages." She smiled at her again. "So open that envelope before I have to open it for you!"
Despite her worry a small smile crept onto Molly's mouth at Miss C's obvious anticipation. It felt a bit strange, rusty like, because she didn't think she'd smiled since that day, not really. But her attempt was met with a beaming smile from the older woman, and reassured Molly took the slim ruler that Miss C handed her and used it to carefully slit the envelope open, making sure that she didn't tear the slim sheet of folded A4 inside.
She held her breath as she pulled it out and then bit her lip, unable to unfold it. Instead she thrust it at her mentor, eyes pleading. "Can you read it? Please?"
Miss C looked down at her for a beat and then nodded as she reached out to pluck the thin sheet of paper from Molly's unresisting fingertips and unfolded it without any further preamble, eyes skimming rapidly over the contents. Molly watched her anxiously, biting her lip again, as she waited for a minute that seemed to stretch into an age. Then her eyes went huge at the beaming smile that erupted on her mentor's face and the sudden movement as the older woman swooped down to pull Molly into a tremendous hug, laughing as she tightened her arms around her student.
"You did it!" She pulled back to cup Molly's face in her two hands before landing a resounding smack of a kiss on her small forehead. "You did it! You, Molly Dawes, are an absolute star!"
"What?" Molly queried, bewildered. "What? I did it?" She scrabbled to stand up. "I really did it?!"
Miss C laughed again and grabbed Molly's hands and dragged her round the room in an impromptu un-coordinated dance that forced an unexpected giggle out of Molly's mouth. At the sound the two of them froze, Miss C looking down at her with her smile still creasing her mouth, Molly feeling almost ashamed to be laughing so soon after that day.
"Molly," Miss C reassured her gently, "it's okay to be happy you know. Do you not think if your Nan was here she wouldn't be happy for you?"
"Oh no, Miss," Molly acknowledged softly. "She'd be really happy too, swearing that it was all her doing of course, but of course she'd be happy."
"Well then, she'd want you to be happy too. And if she's watching you now you should let that show."
Molly perked up a bit at that. "Do you think she is? Watching me, I mean."
Miss C hesitated for a moment, clearly choosing her words carefully. "I think that's the kind of question much bigger brains than you and I have spent eons trying to get to the bottom of. But what I think – and this is just my opinion, is that no one is ever truly gone while someone remembers them, and if your Nan could watch over you, she would. So maybe she is? Who knows? And if it makes you feel better to think she is, then do. I know I did, when my gran died."
"You did?"
Miss C nodded gravely. "It was a very long time ago now, but sometimes," she smiled just a little. "It feels like she sees me, even now. And I like to think that, so I think that she does," she confirmed, her smile a little sad around the edges.
"But enough about that!" She continued briskly, throwing off the small bout of melancholy Molly's innocent question had sparked. "Don't you want to know how you did?"
"Oh!" She'd been so distracted that she hadn't even considered what her grades were. "Was it okay? Did I do alright?"
Miss C grinned at her. "Well, considering they want you to come in for the scholarship interview I'd say you did very well. Here," she passed her the sheet of paper carefully. "Take a look."
Holding her breath Molly did so. The letter was friendly, but very formal, the most formal thing she thought she'd ever seen addressed to her in her short life, but she could understand it.
Dear Miss Dawes,
Further to your attendance at the City of London Girls entrance exam and scholarship tests session on 10th January we are delighted to inform you that you have passed the required entrance standards in both the English and Mathematics papers.
Accordingly, we would like to invite you to attend the school on a suitable date to be arranged, to undertake an interview with Mrs Sarah Smythe, Headmistress, with regard to considering you for entrance to the school in September 2000 and also for consideration in relation to potential bursaries to be awarded by the school for assistance with our fee packages.
Please contact our Bursar, Mr Charles Evans to arrange an appointment.
Your marks for papers completed are noted below.
Subject Marks out of a potential 100
English 98%
Mathematics 99%
Congratulations and we look forward to meeting you in person very soon.
Kind regards,
(Bursar)
She put a hand over her mouth in amazement, her eyes feeling like they'd split if they got any wider. "Oh!"
Miss C laughed again. "Oh indeed. I say it again; you are a star, Molly Dawes!" She sobered. "Now, whenever in the future you feel down, or you start to listen when idiots tell you that you're stupid I want you to think of this letter. And do you know that they grade on a curve for applicants for bursaries?"
Molly frowned at that as she shook her head. "I don't know what that means, Miss C."
Miss C smirked. "It means that they took all of the girls who sat the exams, and there were about five hundred of them this year, I checked, and then they looked at the marks they all got and adjusted the percentages across the entire group so only the very, very top of the group got the highest percentages like yours. So out of 500 hundred applicants you came in the top 3 or 4 of the entire group."
Molly's mouth hung open. That couldn't be true. But Miss C had never lied to her before, so she had to believe her. "Really?"
The librarian nodded. "Really. Now you go and be proud of that, Miss Dawes!"
For a minute Molly just gasped and then she couldn't help the beaming smile that spread across her face- Nan would have been so proud! Her eyes stung for a moment and then she dried them with a flash of temper. No more crying –she was done.
"What's next then, Miss C?"
"Next is we contact the school to make an appointment for the interview. And we tell your current school how well you did."
"Do they have to know? I don't want a fuss."
"Molly, they already know. I had to give them as a reference when we made the application." She caught the flash of worry across her student's face. "Don't worry – there is no way they won't have given you a stellar recommendation."
"Hhmm. Okay. When will we arrange for the interview?"
"Well, I'm sure your school won't mind if you take an afternoon off so I'll arrange it for during the week. Less chance of your Dad finding out."
"Yeah. That'll be good." She glanced down and them up at her mentor. "Miss C – will you come with me? Nan was going to come, but now…" her voice trailed to a stop and Miss C gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"Of course. I would be honoured. I'll make sure to arrange some time off. Now," she continued more briskly. "You should start thinking about things the Headmistress may wish to talk to you about."
Molly frowned. "Like what?"
"Well, I don't know for certain, but I would expect that she would like to know why you want to go to her school, and what you could bring to the school, how you could help it keep its good reputation and how hard you would work. Or she might ask about your family, and although I know it might be uncomfortable you should be honest about that Molly. Polite, but honest. And she will probably ask you about your ambitions as well. You should think about what you might like to study if you go to university. And what career you might like to have. It doesn't have to be anything definite; I would think that she'll simply want to see the way your mind works."
Molly lifted her chin. "I already know exactly what I want to do."
"You do?" This was a surprise to Cecilia as Molly had never indicated that she was focused on one potential career before. Her student had always enjoyed science and technology but she also loved history and English and Cecilia didn't think that the little girl had any definite inclinations towards any particular career yet.
"Yes." There was a certain set to her small jaw that Cecilia recognised from long experience as Molly at her most stubborn.
"I'm going to be a doctor. I'm going to be a doctor that works in an accident & emergency department." She gave Cecilia a look, slightly worried but determined, waiting to see what the older woman thought. Miss C was the first person she had dared to voice her nascent ambition to, and she was a little worried that Miss C might say that she, Molly was aiming a bit high, but over the last few weeks since the accident she'd known that being a doctor was exactly what she was meant to do.
Miss C didn't say anything for a moment, but just looked at her with those calm grey eyes of hers and then gave her a lopsided smile full of emotion and reached forward to give her a brief hug.
"Oh Molly." She straightened. "It's a very admirable ambition. I'm not going to ask why, because I can guess but the Headmistress might ask you why, so do you want to try to tell me, so it's not so hard when she asks?"
Molly nodded choppily, feeling her eyes moisten again, but refusing to let the tears fall. "I couldn't do anything, Miss C. Nan was lying there, and she was hurt, and I was useless," she growled. "I couldn't help. She was hurting and I just sat there and all I could do was hold her hand and cry."
Miss C reached out a hand to clasp her shoulder reassuringly. "Molly I don't think anyone could have helped your Nan. Her internal injuries were too extensive. Even the paramedics when they arrived couldn't help. I couldn't have helped. So why should you? You are only ten, after all, love."
"I know." Molly tightened her jaw. "But maybe I could help the next person I see like that. And I'm not going to be ten forever, Miss C. And I never want to not know what to do like that again. I'm not going to be helpless ever again." There was so much frustration and self-loathing in that hissed comment that Cecilia's heart hurt for her.
"Oh Molly, don't you dare blame yourself for what happened – do you understand? If your Nan could hear you she would be very upset, because remember what you told me she said? She said that it wasn't your fault. And you have to remember that."
The young girl gulped down the lump of emotion that had formed in her throat. "I know. And I'll try, I will. But sometimes it's hard."
Cecilia gave her another lopsided smile full of sympathy. "I know, but it will get better over time, I promise. Just now it's like a shard of glass that's just broken, all sharp edges in your hand. But time will blunt the edges so it won't hurt as much when you think about it."
"Promise?"
"I promise. Honestly."
Molly took a deep breath, "Good. But yes, that's what I want to do. I want to be an emergency doctor."
Cecilia smiled and hugged her again. "Well, Miss Dawes. That can be our next long term project." She laughed softly. "It'll be a very long term one."
Molly giggled watery in response. "How long, Miss C?"
Her mentor shrugged. "Oh, about two decades, give or take a few years." At Molly's stunned look she laughed again. "Come on, Miss Dawes – you didn't think it was going to be easy, did you?"
"No, but…"
Miss C held up an admonishing finger. "No "but's" allowed, Molly Dawes. Remember what I've taught you – genius is?"
"99% perspiration and 1% inspiration."
"Exactly. And that's how we'll tackle this – 1% at a time. And the first percent is that I call the school up to arrange for your interview tomorrow."
Molly was suddenly so incredibly grateful that she still had Miss C in her life, even if her Nan was gone that she atypically moved forward and wrapped her arms around Miss C's waist in a hug. There was a second of surprise from her mentor and then she wrapped her arms around Molly's shoulders in return and held her tight.
"Don't leave, please," Molly muttered almost inaudibly into Miss C's jumper. But Cecilia heard and felt her heart turn over at the desperate plea in that quiet voice. She tightened her arms around her charge.
"I won't Molly. I promise. Unless you want me to, or the choice is out of my hands – I'll always stay."
"Miss Molly Dawes is here for her interview, Headmistress."
Sarah Smythe looked up with narrow eyed interest at the polite announcement through her intercom from her long term PA, Rebecca. Now this was an applicant that she'd been looking forward to meeting.
It wasn't the quite remarkable set of marks that had piqued her interest, so much as the novelty of a Caucasian native East Londoner from a working class background even applying to the school. While they frequently had applicants from the East End, 99% of them were usually from an ethnic background as unfortunately very few parents of children from the traditional Cockney white working class would ever consider putting their children forward for a place at City. Unlike the vast majority of the parents of her ethnic applicants there was very little respect for education for its own sake amongst white working class East London, and what could often only be described as a poverty of aspiration for their children, which Sarah, a Londoner herself, although one brought up in the leafy suburbs of Richmond which were about as financially, philosophically and physically as distant as you could get from East End and still be in London, thought a great pity.
So to have a child from that background do so well in the initial exams, well that made her a rare flower, and one Sarah had been very curious to meet.
"Send her in, please, Rebecca."
"Of course, Headmistress."
A moment later there was a quiet knock on the door to her office and Sarah rose in automatic politeness and forbore to raise an eyebrow as a petite figure slipped in through the now opened doorway. Molly Dawes was tiny and looked far younger than the ten years that her file said she was. Almost elfin, with huge green eyes, far too thin and dark hair neatly plaited back away from a small heart shaped face.
With the ease of long experience Sarah noted the neat school uniform, but also the slightly clumsy darns in the sweater and the way the cuffs were far too short, all those subtle signs of a house where money was too tight for anything other than the essentials. And her shoes were scuffed, with a crack around the toe, but carefully polished to a soft shine, although the attention could not disguise the shoes' age or how worn out they were.
Careful not to let anything she was thinking show on her face; Sarah smiled warmly and reached out a hand to her interviewee, who took it carefully. They shook and the Headmistress gestured to the chair in front of her desk.
"Miss Dawes, it's nice to meet you. Please, have a seat."
She watched as the little girl sat gingerly down on the chair, bolt upright, with her hands folded neatly in her lap and then sat down herself.
"Would you like a drink, Miss Dawes, water or juice?"
"Oh no, Miss, please don't trouble yourself, I'm fine."
Those huge eyes were fixed on her, more than slightly anxious but otherwise she was admirably composed, far more than a lot of applicants, who often looked terrified.
"Well then. Shall we get started?"
"Yes, Miss."
Those green eyes which seemed far too old for Dawes' delicate, still childlike features looked up at her as she waited. The girl was very pretty in a quiet way and Sarah could see the potential for adult loveliness in the pre-adolescent lines of her face. But unlike so many of the middle and upper class girls that Sarah interacted with, all bounce and confidence, on first impressions Miss Dawes was quiet, almost solemn, but watchful with it. She was almost wary, and Sarah suddenly had a vivid mental image of a small kitten in a room with a large dog carefully examining the potential threat to see if it was safe to come forward. Inwardly Sarah sighed. That kind of silent wariness was not typical in young girls and from her extensive past experience in working with children and adolescents she knew it was often a marker of a less than ideal home life. Which wasn't that surprising but it would have been nice if that wasn't the case. But anyway, she was wool-gathering, so she smiled to put her small guest at ease.
"Before we go any further I just wanted to congratulate you on your remarkable results in the entrance exams. That was very impressive work, Miss Dawes."
Her interviewee blushed and looked down at the hands in her lap. "Thank you, Miss."
"Did you think that you would do so well?"
Molly looked up, surprised at the question. "Oh no, Miss! I actually didn't know if I would pass. But I wanted to try. Just to see if I could do it," she rushed to explain.
"And you could!"
For the first time Sarah saw the small edges of a smile curl that solemn mouth. "Yes, Miss. It was a shock to me too!"
Sarah chuckled, amused by the wide eyed honesty on Dawes' face.
"Why didn't you think you could do it, Molly? Didn't your parents tell you that you could?"
The flicker of a smile disappeared as her guest shook her head. "No, Miss. They didn't know. And if they had, they wouldn't have let me sit the exam." Her expression was cool again, mouth pressed in a firm line as she made her admission, which left Sarah more than slightly surprised.
"They don't know that you sat the exam?"
Dawes nodded decisively and shrugged. "My Dad wouldn't have let me. He says anyway that I've got ideas above my station and that someone as stupid as me might as well not be in school in the first place as there's no point."
It was a bone dry recitation of facts, stated with hardly any emotion as though this horrible statement was something that Miss Dawes was so used to she hardly considered it worth mentioning. But to Sarah it was horrible, emotionally abusive and so awfully undermining she couldn't imagine how a child that heard her father say that about her on a regular basis could maintain any form of healthy self-esteem.
"Does your Dad say that a lot to you, Miss Dawes?"
"It's what he's always said Miss. As long as I can remember."
Sarah sat back in her seat as she took that in. That was appalling. She frowned.
"I see. So how did you find out about the school and why did you decide to take the exam in the first place?" Because someone must have helped her, as even the most mature ten year seldom had the foresight to apply for a scholarship totally by herself.
Miss Dawes brightened. "That was Miss C, Miss," she explained eagerly. "Miss C. She's the librarian at Upton Park Library. She thought I should do it. And my Nan, as well."
The little animation in the girl's face died again, a shadow falling over those great green eyes replacing the sparkle that had been apparent only a few seconds earlier as her gaze shifted back to her interlocked fingers. Her Nan? Ah, yes, her grandmother. Charles had mentioned in his notes when he confirmed the date for the interview that Miss Dawes' grandmother had been killed only a few weeks ago, in a rather horrible traffic accident on the way home from accompanying Miss Dawes to sit her entrance exam here at City. And that Miss Dawes had been present at the scene of the accident. That must be a horrendous thing for such a young girl to witness and as Sarah looked at Dawes and that mask of composure she was suddenly extremely impressed by how well she was outwardly coping.
"I'm sorry about your grandmother, Molly." She offered gently. The little girl looked up and gave her a wan smile.
"Thank you, Miss."
"So she, and your…Miss C, they suggested that you try the entrance exam?"
Her interviewee nodded solemnly. "They thought I could do it, and that I should aim higher than the local comp." Her eyes widened. "Not that there is anything wrong with the local comp, Miss! I'm not a snob!" she reassured the older woman anxiously.
Sarah's lips twitched as she fought to hold back her amusement. A snob! That's the last thing she would think to call this small girl with her brains and the difficult circumstances she was dealing with.
"I'm sure you're not, Molly. Can I call you Molly?"
She received a tentative smile in response to that request. "Of course Miss."
"Well, I can't disagree with your Miss C, and your Nan sounded like she was a very wise woman."
That small smile widened, just a little. "She would have liked to hear you say that, Miss. She always liked it when girls got ahead. She always told me that I shouldn't listen to me Dad, that he didn't know anything about nothing, and that he was wrong when he told me I was stupid." The little girl sat up straight suddenly, chin jutting stubbornly into the air.
"Yes. Well, I only had to look at your exam results to know that he is very, very wrong. You are not stupid at all, Molly. In fact, you are a very clever young woman. So I would like you to remember that."
The little girl blushed again and looked down, clearly embarrassed at the praise so Sarah changed the subject.
"So why would you like to come to City?"
From then on the interview became a little more general in topic, as Sarah carefully drew her small applicant out from her shell. Once she relaxed again Molly Dawes was charming company, bright, alert and infinitely curious, with all of the bubbling enthusiasm of youth and a palatable urge to spread her wings beyond the intellectual trammelling of her rather over extended primary school. However, Sarah had a distinct impression that if it hadn't been for the benevolence of the mysterious Miss C, things would have already have been far worse for Miss Dawes at home and it concerned her, as City could be an academically demanding environment, even with full parental support and she wasn't sure if the little girl would be able to keep up without that bolstering.
"Molly, it's been lovely to talk to you. I just have two more questions."
Dawes looked up at her attentively; little face lively and animated as a result of the enjoyment she'd clearly been getting out of their discussion.
"City can be quite a demanding place to go to school. And from what you've said, your parents are unlikely to be actively supportive of your wish to go here, isn't that correct?"
Molly nodded reluctantly.
"So why do you think I should offer you a place here when I take those circumstances into account?"
The chin came up again and Miss Dawes looked her directly in the face, those green eyes burningly focused. "Because I'll work harder than anyone else, Miss. And because I've got Miss C, she's better than my Mum and Dad has ever been, she'll help." The chin tipped even higher. "And because nobody has ever given me a real chance to show what I can do, and I think if you give me a chance, you'll never regret it," she declared passionately.
It was almost a manifesto, declared with the maturity of someone far older than the little girl's actual years and the strength of her conviction took Sarah by surprise.
"And if I do give you a chance, Molly Dawes? What will you do with that chance?"
That stubborn chin firmed, the small jaw clenched. "I'm going to be a doctor. An accident and emergency doctor. I'm going to help people." It was almost hissed, there was so much conviction in her voice and Sarah sat back, impressed and a little saddened by the necessity that had caused this small soul to grow up so terribly, terribly fast.
"Well, whatever happens as a result of today, I'm sure you'll achieve your aims, Molly Dawes," she reassured, sincerity clear in her voice. She stood to indicate the interview was over and the little girl stood up hastily as well and extended one small hand to shake which Sarah took with a smile.
"Thank you for seeing me, Miss."
Sarah smiled at her. "It was my genuine pleasure, Molly, it was very nice to meet you! Thank you for taking the time to come in and we'll hopefully get back to you with our decision within the next two weeks."
Miss Dawes smiled shyly at her as Sarah escorted her to the door of her office and then with a last exchange of pleasantries she was gone.
Sarah watched the small upright figure make her way down the corridor until she turned the corner out of sight and then returned to her desk with a smile. Molly Dawes. She made a note in her file, tapping her pen against her lips with a smile. An unexpectedly impressive young lady. Almost the archetype of a diamond from the rough. And maybe she was right; perhaps she just needed someone who was willing to take a chance on her to show what she could really do. And wasn't someone like Miss Dawes exactly why the full scholarship program existed at City in the first place? She made another note. It was still a little premature to make any form of decision as there were a handful of candidates still to be interviewed, but Miss Molly Dawes was looking to be a very strong contender for the 100% scholarship indeed.
Upton Park Community Library
Molly was restless, unable to settle. It had been over a week and a half since her scholarship interview and she and Miss C had still not heard anything from City and she was beginning to think that they never would. She tried to comfort herself by the reminder that she had done well, whatever happened and that all of the work she and Miss C had put in had been generally useful, but it didn't help much. And combined with the lingering grief of Nan's death and how she still ached from missing that familiar acerbic presence it meant that she was miserable, although she tried to hide it from Miss C.
Cecilia paused in her administration to frown across the library to where Molly was tucked into her usual seat, a pile of books on the floor beside her as she worked on her homework. Molly was…moping was probably the best word for it. It was atypical behaviour from her student but it was understandable as the previous month had been both horrible and stressful for the little girl. Cecilia had tried her best, but despite her best efforts she wasn't actually family and she couldn't intrude in that sphere in the way that Molly's Nan had been happy to do. And despite how much she wanted to she couldn't just kidnap her mentee and take her home to wrap her up in blankets and feed her decent food and giant cups of hot chocolate until she gained a little bit of weight and lost the peaky look that had been hovering around her face for weeks. So she compromised by trying to tempt Molly with cups of hot chocolate at the library and the occasional bit of suitably calorific home baking which the little girl could always be persuaded to at least try. But apart from that, and providing as much emotional support to the ten year old as she could both of them simply had to wait it out. But Cecilia was determined that if they hadn't heard from City by this time next week she was going to give them a call and demand an accounting.
A few hours later a best loved face popped up at Cecilia's elbow, her little forehead creased in a sadly familiar frown of worry.
"Miss C?"
Cecilia didn't pause from her sorting but indicated with a raised eyebrow for Molly to continue.
"I was just thinkin'," she hesitated, face screwed up contemplatively. "If I do get in, how are we goin' to swing it? I mean, my old man would never let me go, and they'll ave' to agree, won't they?"
Cecilia bit back a smile. Molly's diction always slipped the more emotional she was and her Cockney accent always became more prevalent in times of stress. And while she was desperately proud of the huge strides her pupil had made over the last three and a bit years the increased Cockney edge to Molly's voice always reminded Cecilia of the tiny fairy waif that the older woman had first met. But she shouldn't get distracted, as Molly had asked a serious question and deserved a serious answer. She put down her paperwork and turned in her seat to face her student.
"You are absolutely right; Molly, and normally we would have to get your parents' permission to allow you to attend City. But in this case, your Nan was more far sighted than the both of us."
"Nan?" The little girl was clearly taken aback by that piece of news. "How? What did she do?"
"Well, when I put in your application for the exams the form had to be signed by one of your parents. I was rather concerned that it would be an issue, but your Nan announced that I wasn't to worry, and that she would take of it. But at the same time, she asked me for something else."
"What?"
Cecilia smiled a little sadly. Marge had been a lot sharper than anyone had ever formally given her credit for, and Cecilia had found she had been missing that clear eye and sharp tongue far more than she had expected.
"Well, when she made your Mum sign the application form, she also had her sign this." Cecilia reached into the private drawer of her desk and pulled out the folder containing Molly's application documents, from which she carefully extracted a piece of typed up white A4.
"What is it?" Molly craned to look, standing up on her tiptoes but then settled down as Cecilia gently handed it over.
"Read it yourself."
It read – Certificate of Educational Guardianship – Miss Molly Dawes. Below that was a thick mass of words, some of which she didn't recognise, but which she could tell were technical legal terms. But then at the bottom, under "Appointed Educational Guardian" it read "Ms Cecilia Jones," with Miss C's home address below that, but even more amazing, at "Signature of parent or Guardian", there was her Mum's familiar messy scrawl. And it was dated mid-December last year, just a few weeks before she, Molly, had sat her scholarship exams.
For a minute Molly just stared at the paperwork, bewildered as to what it meant. But then the significance sank it and she raised her eyes to give Miss C a wide look of pure amazement. "This means I can go if City lets me in, doesn't it?"
Cecilia nodded. "Yes. And if City doesn't this will allow us to apply to other places without us needing to get permission from your Mum and Dad."
"Oh." Molly's eyes widened even further. It was like freedom. But then she frowned again as a thought occurred to her. "But my Mum n' Dad, they can always cancel this, can't they?"
"Yes, they can, but it's been lodged with the local education authorities, so they would have to do it formally, and to be honest," Cecilia grimaced, not wanting to bad mouth Molly's parents in front of her, but needing to provide reassurance, "I can't see your Mum and Dad ever being willing to go to that level of effort."
Molly nodded her agreement. "But I won't tell them anything anyway. Best not to tempt fate, or my Dad might decide to be a sod about it anyway." It was such an adult comment, one leavened with a heavy dose of cynicism and Cecilia's heart ached that Molls had had to grow so very, very fast.
"That's probably a good idea," she confirmed. Molly gingerly handed the sheet of paper back to her as if was something infinitely precious, which to Molly, Cecilia reflected, it probably was. It represented opportunity, the chance to do something different, something more challenging with her life than the path her family expected her to take, so no wonder Molly valued it.
Molly looked at her and bit her bottom lip, that little frown still etched between her brows. "I suppose we just have to wait and see, Miss C?"
Cecilia smiled at the unintentional pun but nodded solemnly. "Indeed, Miss Dawes, we do." Then she reached out to ruffle Molly's hair. "Just wait and see and fingers crossed!"
City of London School for Girls
Sarah Smythe tapped her pen against the document on the table in front of her as she considered and then looked up and smiled at her assembled team.
"Well, I think that's us agreed then? Unless anyone would like to make any further recommendations?"
She looked around the table, making eye contact with her Bursar, Charles, then with Janet Lawson, who was her deputy headmistress but also responsible for the administration of the admissions process, then at the various Heads of the years for the senior school. All of the assembled men and women nodded, or smiled, or made some other sign of agreement and with a broad smile of satisfaction Sarah looked down at the list on the desk again and then closed the folder enclosing it with a snap.
"Excellent! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen for a very productive session. I appreciate it that it over ran but I think that you'll all agree it was for a good cause!" She pushed up from the table and with that signal the rest of her staff stood up as well and started to disperse, as Sarah made her way to her office, leaving the folder on Rebecca's desk so her PA could start the process of making the final offers the next day.
It was late morning the next day before Sarah returned to the office as she'd been attending an inter schools discussion at Imperial College down in Kensington first thing. But as she made her way through the ante chamber in front of her office she saw the piles of A4 envelopes ready to go out, stacked up in alphabetical order and she couldn't help but notice the name emblazoned across the top one. She paused and tapped the envelope gently with one long finger remembering a delicate small face with a stubborn chin and that look of blazing determination in those green eyes as her smile widened. Well indeed.
Let's see what you can do, Molly Dawes.
