Chapter 14

Sybbie sighed as she pushed open the drapes in Maggie's bedroom, the soft morning light unwelcomingly flooding the area.

From the bed, Maggie threw an arm over her eyes to block out the sun's rays. "Why is it that Marigold may have a tutor, and I must attend the village school?"

Sybbie plopped down unceremoniously into the light pink armchair in the corner by the window. "Because Marigold wouldn't dare get near the village children. She's a snob."

"Maybe I'm a snob."

Sybbie chuckled. "It won't be as bad as you think," she reassured her. "You'll find lots of children your age to talk to, and in a few days, you'll see it's no different than Clarke."

Now Maggie sat up and gave her a look. "I want it to be different than Clarke. I hated it there."

"That's because you picked fights."

"I did not!" Maggie defended. She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "And you talk as if I hit those girls. We only argued."

"And yet your mother got more letters from the headmaster than from you."

Maggie glared at her, then stood, grabbed her clothes from the foot of the bed, and went behind her screen to change.

"Have you spoken to George?" Sybbie asked after a few moments of silence.

Behind the screen, Maggie stopped what she was doing, then resumed after a brief moment. "No," she eventually said in a warning tone, hoping to indicate that she didn't want to talk about it.

Sybbie didn't get the hint. "Maggie, it's been two days."

"And your point is?"

Sybbie sighed in exasperation, and after a beat of silence, she spoke. "Why would you say that to him?"

"You heard what he called me."

"But you hurt him, Maggie," Sybbie protested. "You and George never cared about your blood, and now you've as good as stabbed him. Don't you think you should've apologized by now?"

Maggie didn't answer.

"You must make right with him, Maggie. He leaves tomorrow!"

"That's his choice," Maggie said, coming out from behind the screen fully dressed. "Nothing's happening, at least not with the army. He could probably stay if he wanted to."

"You know he can't," Sybbie said, standing and following Maggie to her vanity. "Maggie, if he goes, and something happens, and you didn't try to make amends, you'll never forgive yourself."

"Yes, I will."

Sybbie reeled back, then scoffed. "You're a child, that's what you are," she said in a spiteful tone in her cousin's ear. "You're cold, and heartless, and you're just like your mother."

Maggie's head snapped up to meet her cousin's gaze. "I am not."

"You most certainly are." Sybbie headed back for the door, then turned and looked back halfway there. "I know George wasn't fair to you in some of the things that he said, but neither were you." She opened the door, then once again stopped. "And just so you know, I was on your side. Now I'm not so sure."

"I've been looking for you."

Mary's voice stopped Tom in his tracks as he headed towards the library. He turned as she descended the stairs and came towards him. She was fully dressed to go out in a long coat and burgundy hat. Gloves were clutched in her left hand.

"I wanted to ask you a favour."

"Oh?"

Mary stopped in front of him. "Would you be willing to walk Margaret down this morning? You needn't go all the way to the school, but I don't want her going to the village on her own." She gestured to the front door. "I was going to, but some friend of Mama's...apparently her son was just killed in the RAF, and Mama wants Edith and I there. She lives in Ripon, so we won't be long. It's not too much trouble, is it?"

Tom shook his head. "Not at all. Do you need me to walk her back this afternoon?"

Mary shook her head. "I don't think so. If I think it necessary I'll send the car."

Tom looked a bit uneasy. "Is that such a good idea?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mary, I doubt the village children will be that keen on her to begin with, considering she grew up here. Won't sending the car just make it worse?"

Mary rolled her eyes as she pulled on her gloves. "Tom, the village children know we have cars. It's not as if we can hide them. And why should it make them dislike her?"

"J-..." Tom shook his head and didn't finish.

"Very well, if it bothers you so much I won't send a car. It'll be lighter out this afternoon anyway..." She strode purposefully to the door, leaving Tom to stand at the edge of the Great Hall. "Oh," she called back, turning around to face him. "When we get back I want to look in on Mr. Mason, just to see how he's doing. And we ought to start looking for a new pig man. I know you want to put it off, but really..."

"Mr. Mason is doing fine on his own," Tom insisted. "He has Andrew, and Daisy, and he's hired help before."

"Maybe, but he's not getting any younger."

"You know I'll be down at the shop when you go there."

Mary hesitated before she answered. "Yes, I know," she responded cooly.

"Don't fire him without me, Mary, please."

"You hired him without me, so I think it's fair game. But of course I won't. You don't think I'm that underhanded, do you Tom?"

"Of course not," Tom was quick to reply. "But if you saw it necessary, you would."

"It is necessary; or at least it will be. Soon. But I wouldn't do it without speaking to you." She resumed her walk to the door, calling over her shoulder. "Margaret should leave in about half an hour if she's to be on time. And I don't want her late on the first day, Tom."

The clack of her heels was the only sound that echoed through the hall, as Tom sighed at his sister-in-law's retreating back.

"I'm sorry your mother couldn't walk you down." Tom's well meant comment went without acknowledgement as Maggie kept her gaze focused on the road ahead of her.

"She would've come if she could," Tom tried again. "She's just very busy."

"I don't need to be walked down. I'm not a child."

"She knows that. But it's your first day, and I think she just wanted to make it special for you."

"If she wanted to make it special, then why didn't she come?"

Tom opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, realizing that he didn't truly have an answer for her. Maggie had the habit (a rude one, at that,) of saying things that one wasn't quite able to respond to. There were the few times it had been helpful, getting her out of social situations that she didn't want to be in. But it grated on Tom's nerves none the less.

For a while the two walked in silence. It was quiet at that time of morning; not quite early, but still not late enough for there to be an abundance of light. A cool breeze blew, ruffling their clothing and the leaves on the surrounding trees.

"You could've stopped at the gate, you know," Maggie eventually said, glancing at him. "I can walk myself. And there's no need for you to make such a long walk, anyway."

"I promised your mother," Tom responded. "And I don't mind."

Well, I do, Maggie snapped in her head. She had to stop herself from saying it outloud. She wasn't mad at Tom, or anyone else really. Or maybe she was. She wasn't sure anymore. The chain of grudges that she had managed to compile in just four days had become far too long for her to even try to comprehend.

Again an awkward silence hovered, creating a tense atmosphere. The pair remained silent, until the village came into view a few minutes later. It was quiet at this time of the morning, but a few people could be seen milling about the streets as they began their day.

Maggie turned to Tom but didn't stop walking, instead quickening her pace. "I all right from here, thanks."

Tom stopped. "Are you sure?"

Maggie nodded. "Quite sure. Bye, Uncle Tom." She turned her back to him and hurried down the road, leaving Tom to stare at her retreating form for a moment before turning back in the direction of the house.

Maggie kept up a quick pace as she headed towards the school house, clutching the small bag that held her lunch tightly in her hands. She kept her head low, not wanting to endure the light chorus of "Good day"s (1) and hat doffs that came when people realized who she was.

She had never particularly liked the village. On the rare appearances she had made there as a child, she experienced nothing but uneasiness and a sense that she was out of place. The gossipy women fawned over her, treating her as if she were an infant. Fraulein Ilsa had kept her clear of the pub men; they were a breed, she said, that Margaret did not want to meet. And the handful of children she had met were some of the most ill-mannered, rude, and in one word, revolting creatures she'd laid eyes on.

Which was why she was now standing frozen at the entrance gate of the school grounds, watching the groups of children within play before the bell was rung. She tentatively grasped the handle and was about to push the gate open, when she was suddenly shoved sideways, and nearly collided with the stone wall that surrounded the building. She looked up into the stern face of a boy who had to be about sixteen, maybe older.

"If you're not goin' in, then get outta the way," he grumbled, pushing open the metal gate so he and a few other boys could pass through. The boys gave her taunting laughs, and one actually reached right over to her and touched her cheek in a "cheer up" sort of way.

Once the group had passed, Maggie scoffed. All right, she thought to herself. My mother might actually be insane.

Collecting herself, she pushed through the gate and into the school yard, just now noticing how many students there actually were. The yard, though small, was packed with at least eighty students. They were scattered; the younger ones chasing each other, and the older ones more stationary, some leaning against walls and seeming as though they were actually talking about something worthwhile.

Maggie stood awkwardly by herself for a few minutes, until Mr. Dawes came outside and rung the bell that signaled the students to enter the building. The action caused a disorganized mob to flood the narrow doorway, and Maggie found herself squeezed in between an older girl and a small boy, both of whom were especially aggressive in their attempts to get in the door.

After tripping once and getting an elbow to the side, Maggie finally managed to slide through the doorway and into the hall, which was another nightmare. Students milled about almost aimlessly; talking, laughing, grumbling. A few stood still directly in the path meant for walking, and Maggie gave more than one dirty look as she manoeuvered by.

Mr. Moseley's classroom was past a left turn at the end of the hall, and tucked away by the stairs at the end of the second hallway. The door was open when Maggie reached it, and she cautiously stepped inside.

The room was a madhouse.

Students were scattered; a few were sitting at the wooden desks, but the majority were either standing, moving, or sitting on the desks themselves. Right by the door stood a rough looking bunch of boys. If Maggie had to guess, they were in all likelihood farm boys. The weathered clothes and fading caps told her enough. They had thick Northern accents: thick to the point that Maggie had to almost strain to understand them. They weren't much older than her, maybe a year or two. But the way they held themselves portrayed them as thought they were much older.

Maggie hurriedly went around them, crossing the front of the room, hoping to find a seat near the window in the back. As she did, a crumpled up piece of paper barely missed her face as it sailed by and bounced off the nearby chalkboard. A few snickers followed.

Maggie ignored the annoyance and continued to a seat four desks back from the front. It was against the wall, just below a window that overlooked the school yard and the adjacent street.

The door squeaked open, and Maggie turned to see a boy about her age with a rather scholarly look enter the room. One of the farm boys at the front corner must've stuck his foot out as the other boy walked by, because suddenly he flew forward, hitting the ground with a loud smack! A chorus of laughs sounded throughout the room.

Maggie only hunched down further in her desk, thinking only one thought.

I'm going to die...

(1) Literally no idea how to punctuate that, but hopefully it doesn't look too bad.

So, please tell me what you thought. I'm so so so sorry for the long delay. I've had so much homework and way too many commitments, and my writing time has dwindled, and I'm sorry about that. I'm also sorry for the roughness of this chapter. I know it's pretty bad in some places, but I didn't want you guys to think I'd disappeared. Anyway, please review!

-downtonabbey15