Strandpiel 15: Volwassenheid- growing to adulthood
How dual nationality works out for one proud user.
Currently embuggered by loads of ideas and very little time to commit to record because of the demands of a new job. LOTS of ideas for continuing old stories ("Many worlds", et c) and barely enough time to sketch them out for retrieval later. Building skeletons, basically. Still, taking sick leave has some advantages… pain and discomfort are a bugger but at least I can do this.
A series of episodes and glimpses into the later life of a new character. Readers do appear to want to find out more about her. Trying to keep everything in roughly chronological and sequential order with lots of call-backs and flashbacks to related tales.
Might need expanding and working on but this sets the scene for the next big shift. Tidying in progress.
Johanna was having a drink with Annaliese. This was one of those interviews with a trusted and valued employee who'd been part of the family for a long time. An employee, yes, but by now a family friend. The sort of situation that required careful and sensitive handling.
Annaliese had arrived, only just sixteen, shortly after Bekki's birth, to be nanny, nurse, surrogate mother, and a sort of general help to a working mother. She'd grown with the family and her working remit had expanded to take in first Famke and then Ruth. In the general flexible manner of these things, she had also cheerfully taken charge of three children belonging to the neighbours on either side, when called for. Sylvie de Roquefort-St Agur, the governess employed by Emmanuelle de Lapoignard for her two sons, had also been involved in collective child-care for all six. Sylvie and Annaliese had become friends. It had all worked out.
Now it was all coming to a natural end. Both were aware Johanna was conducting what amounted to an exit interview. Both were sombre about it.
"Bekki's fourteen," Johanna said. "And in the next year or two, she's leaving home. Well. Off to Lancre, anyway. At least it's a Rail Ways journey away these days. Or else, she can fly. Not too far from home. She can be back here whenever she wants to, if she wants a night in her bedroom here."
Annaliese considered this.
"They grow up so quickly, Mistress Johanna." she said. "So very quickly."
"You're telling me." sighed Johanna. She refilled both glasses.
"Famke's almost ready for Big School. And Ruth's nearly seven. She's pretty much settled in at Sek's. There's less and less for you to actually do here, Annaliese. You know I won't be having any more children."
I hope, Johanna thought.
Annaliese nodded. She looked one step away from tears.
"And your life involves children and working with children. Not to mention the young man in Howondaland I know you write to."
Johanna patted her nanny's hand.
"Listen, Annaliese. I have an idea. You leave my employment. That's inevitable. But I know somebody who's soon to have a child. She has a complicated working life that means she has to spend part of her week here and part in Howondaland. She is also very busy. She wants to return to work as soon as she can. She and her husband really need a nanny for their child. What if I introduce you? We can see how it works out. And for part of the week, you would still be near my family and my girls, so you can still see each other. The downside is that while the child needs to speak Vondalaans, or nearest thing to, the mother speaks another language. It may be advantageous for you to take lessons. Shall we make arrangements?"
Johanna sighed. She'd have to sell the idea to Olga and Eddie. But she suspected they'd accept a flexible nanny who was willing to travel, especially if Johanna were paying a large part of her wages. It seemed best all round. Anyway, she owed something to Annaliese, after so long. Including lessons in conversational Far Überwaldean. The sort that omitted most of the swearing.
"So Annaliese is moving on." Ponder Stibbons said. "She'll still be back here now and again. So Ruth doesn't miss her. But she'll be working for Eddie and Olga. And we're still paying her wages."
"For the first year, yes." Johanna admitted. "Or most of her pay. A Naming gift for Olga and Eddie and their child. We owe her, and them, something. She's been part of the family for fourteen years."
Ponder sighed, then smiled at her.
"You know, Johanna, for somebody who's really careful with money, you can do some really generous things with it. Like that thing with the O'Hennigans."
Johanna had the grace to look a little shifty.
"Ag. Well. It's not as if we can't afford it justnow. The investments are paying off. And it won't be forever. We pay for the first year. Just to help them out. Olga's getting something from her family now. Some sort of trust fund. Gods know how Sybil Ramkin got that out of her father. But she did."
"Lady Sybil. She knows everything about every noble family on the Disc. Or appears to." Ponder mused. "I suppose she knows where all the bodies are buried."
"And if she doesn't know, Sam Vimes will." Johanna said. She smiled slightly. "I'm just betting Sybil danced once or twice with a very young Grand Duke. And kept the dance card in her memorabilia box. So to speak. Just to bring out when she needs to, and use to remind him."
"And the Cable Street Particulars keep their own dance cards." Ponder remarked. "And Olga is Watch. For part of the week."
"So she gets a trust fund." Johanna agreed. "Sybil was helpful too. On the other thing. She persuaded Mr Vimes that a large family, living in a slum house that's too small for them, with no proven criminality, was an ideal fit for one of his new housing estates. You know, the New Deal ones. He pointed out that he'd need somebody to stand guarantee for the rent and put up a damage deposit. Just in case."
Johanna sighed.
"Look, Ponder, I do like Shauna. She's a good girl. Total privy mouth, speaks before she thinks, far too candid, often too loud, but a good girl. Her brothers are amusing and pleasant, but I made it clear that as they are at present, I would not trust any of them any further than I could hit them with a throwing knife.(1) They got the idea and they have behaved, if they have cause to visit this house, or indeed to visit this street. And Shauna now at least has a bedroom she only needs to share with one of her sisters. That's an advance on sharing a bed with three."
"Do you think we were meddling?" Ponder asked.
His wife shrugged.
"Perhaps. But I hope we interfered for the better. Things were difficult for Shauna's family. And I do like her mother. She has lived a hard life. Ag, she's fun to have a drink with! We agreed a pleasure of having teenage daughters is the opportunity it offers to mortally embarrass them, and have them shriek things like "Mum, you're showing me up!" Never discount that as a source of harmless pleasure, Ponder."
Ponder winced. A group of SHS mothers had got together for a social evening. It had ended at about three in the morning with Shauna's mother and Johanna in helpless drunken shrieking laughter in the living room at Spa Lane. Their daughters had indeed been appropriately mortified. And having bonded, Johanna had been able to steer the conversation, on a more sober occasion later, to questions about how it must be hard, with twelve people living in and around so small a house? She had listened attentively to the replies. And made a few observations. Not even suggestions. Things, perhaps, to consider.
The O'Hennigans had soon moved, with happy and sweary optimism, to a larger and a newer place in New Ankh on the other side of the city wall from Dimwell. Not too far away. Their neighbours kept a wary eye out, but generally accepted a phenomenon of life lived in their midst. In the everyday bustle and give-and-take of establishing a whole new community of fairly respectable working people (2) setting up a whole new community from the ground up, they were, in the main, accepted. One part of that phenomenon stayed over at Johanna's two or three times a week. This too was accepted.
"Lady Sybil says if you've been fortunate in life, you have to pay some of it back, Ponder." Johanna said. "I agree with her. We have been fortunate."
And life carried on.
Bekki felt consternated. And worried. She was sitting in Mother Superior's office, never a comfortable place for a schoolgirl to be. Being called to the Head Teacher's office was, ninety per cent of the time, not a positive thing. The other girls in the class had given her knowing smirks on the way out, sure she was in trouble for something or other. Bekki had put up with this. It got you a Reputation. Getting a Reputation had its positive side.
Her parents were there. And Godsmother Irena. And a long angular very sharp-looking woman Bekki had never met before, but whose manner from some angles said Teacher and from other angles said Witch. She combined both in a disconcerting way.
Bekki reflected that being seen to be escorted from Mother's office in the company of a Watch sergeant in full uniform would add to the Reputation. Which was for the good. She listened to the obligatory drone as attentively as she could.
Very capable pupil. Incredibly intelligent. It must come from her parents both being academics. Absurdly ahead of the other girls in most subjects. Frighteningly well read.
She watched the unspeaking stranger in the room assessing her. She was respectably but slightly shabbily dressed. Teacher. But mainly in serviceable black. Witch? Her hat had seen better days and looked crumpled. But was that a hint of pointiness there, in the crown? Witch. But not overtly.
"…though we'd be very, very, sorry to lose her, if she can take the usual end-of-school exams pretty much now, there really would be no point in her staying on, and it frees up Rebecka to do other things, and go on to accelerated full-time vocational training." Mother Superior said, benignly.
The teacher-stroke-witch nodded silent approval and scrutinised Beki for her reaction. She had a not-unfriendly half smile on her face.
Bekki's head jerked up in alarm.
"But what if I don't want to leave here?" she said, in alarm. "I like it here. My friends are here!"
"You have a career in front of you, Rebecka." Mother said, gently. "A career which more and more these days is being seen as a respectable profession. Indeed, it attracts a great deal of respect. You've already been training for it, informally, since you were eleven. What's being proposed is a way for you to study for that career, full-time. Your parents are broadly in agreement. Your godsmother believes you're fit, and you've learnt as much as she and her colleagues can teach you here. So it's time to move on. And have I introduced you to Miss Perspicacia Tick yet?"
"Hello, Rebecka." said Miss Tick. "Nice for you to meet me. You can think of me as your careers advisor."
Bekki had met a Witch-Finder. A witch who was also a Teachers' Guild member, who toured the Disc scouting for talent. Every girls' school on the Disc got to know her. And who was now advising Bekki to finish her formal education here at least eighteen months' ahead of schedule, and to move to the Training Coven and the Circuit in Lancre and the Chalk.
"Good for you." Miss Tick said. "You've been learning how to be a City witch. Under guidance. Irena thinks you've done marvellously."
"I wouldn't go that far." Irena remarked. "Above-average, perhaps. Better than expectations."
"But it's high time you learn about being a witch in the country." Miss Tick said. "And you're only a train ride away from the City. You'll still get time to go home for little breaks. We're not unreasonable."
Bekki looked to her parents. Appealingly. Her mother was stone. Unreachable. Dad shook his head slightly.
"You're a magic-user, Bekki." Dad said. "We've both known that, practically since you were born. You must go to a place where there are people who can teach you how to use it. And to use it well and appropriately. I've tried to teach you about being a wizard. Which is all I know. But I can't teach you how to be a witch."
Mother Superior smiled her benign smile.
"And these things become rather intense after puberty." She said. "It can get disruptive in a school setting. Which is a consideration. I know you're well-adjusted, Rebecka. But what if you got angry in class and decided to settle your ongoing disagreement with Miss Lonsdale-Rust via magic? I prefer my staff to be in human shape. Not, say, in the shape of a small iguana or a basilisk sitting on the desk flicking its tongue out at the class. Disruptive, and bad for discipline. As well as for staff retention."
Bekki realised Mother Superior had probably been here before. More than once. It felt like a practiced drill.
"You know, for a religion that preaches witches are an abomination in the eyes of the God with no right to live, you're being very understanding." Irena remarked.
Mother Superior smiled her nun smile.
"Oh, I know what the scriptures say." she said, dismissively. "I just happen to think that bit is complete tosh. We're a practical Order. If we can work with witches and learn from them, we do. For all I know, you people in the pointy hats might even learn a bit from us. We're the ones in the wimples, which are rather non-pointy hats. But I like to think our aims and our goals point in the same broadly similar direction. Toilers in the same vineyard tending to the same crop, so to speak. We deal with people. We go where we're needed. We look after them and provide, insofar as we can, what they need. Which is hardly ever the same thing as what they think they want. No conflict there. And there's nothing in the Scripture about Wizards being abominations in the sight of Sek, who should be deprived of life and breathing privileges. We're enjoined to respect and accept them, as men of wisdom and ability."
She nodded at Ponder.
"Which to my mind is inconsistent, and, what's the new-fangled word, just a bit sexist. I take the point of view that in the original text, the word "wizard" is an ungendered noun applicable to magic-users of both sexes. Therefore we either respect them all, or we burn them all. And burning you all would be a waste of good firewood. And a waste of effort. As well as a shocking thing to try and do to some interesting, talented and often quite likeable people. Which only leaves one option."
She smiled.
We're doing School-end exams for the fifth form in four months time. Better get yourself prepared, Rebecka. And I'm just sure you'll take them seriously, and strive to pass. And not to make any futile grand gesture such as deliberately failing everything. I do not read you as being silly and immature in that respect. And there are always resits. Multiple resits, if needs be."
Bekki, feeling numbed, returned to her classroom. Mum had said this was like switching school. And going to a sort of boarding school. To set her up for the future. Lots of girls switched schools aged around fourteen. It happened. She tried to think of advantages to it. And failed.
"You'll still get to see Shauna and Janey and Davvie and the rest." Mum had said. "Just… not so often."
She returned to her seat, aware the general unspoken opinion around her was that she must have done something really dreadful and been caught, or she wouldn't be looking like that, would she?
Bekki stayed in her usual classes and streams, but was given a lot of separate work to do. Even Miss Lonsdale-Rust saw the advantages of getting a disruptive liability off her hands – their own battle over the War of Independence had been as bitter as the original – and was, unusually, even quite helpful. She was also given a lot of past Exam Papers to familiarise herself with and work from.
Her friends were suitably indignant when they heard. The general consensus of opinion was that Shauna's Gang would have lost something vital. Somebody important. There were lots of tears. Not all of them were Bekki's.
And in the meantime, she was dealing with the other thing. Her sister Ruth, now bereft of Annaliese, fled to Bekki's room for reassurance and comfort when IT started happening again. Bekki heaved a deep sigh and put her Science book down. SHS prided itself on being forward-looking. Science, a new-fangled topic area, was taught. Dad had been really helpful with concepts like basic Quantum. Strictly speaking it was too advanced for the syllabus, but Bekki had worked Quantum into some of her essays, just to make a point. She put aside more basic concepts in Physical Science like force equals mass times acceleration, and hugged her frightened sister to herself.
She heard noise drift up from downstairs.
..because I'm your mother, that's why!
Bekki winced. It had gone up to Defcon(3) Three, then. It tended to.
…I don't care! Who are you to boss me around?
She knew how this would end. She braced herself.
"It's alright, Ruthie." she said, reassuringly. "Just Mum and Famke being difficult to each other - again."
She heard the dopplering cry of "I hate you!" as it stomped up the stairs. Accompanied by slamming doors. And sighed.
" I hate it when they argue, Bekki." her little sister said. She trembled and cuddled.
Bekki sighed.
"So do I, sweetie."
Bekki counted to ten. Then there was a perfunctory knock on her door. Famke came in, looking like an almost-eleven-year-old walking horror. A pre-teenage strop, in fact. She had been crying.
"Come here, you." Bekki said.
Famke sat down on Bekki's other side, She accepted a sisterly hug.
"Does that really get you anywhere?" Bekki asked, gently. "With somebody like Mum?"
Famke sniffled.
"I know. And I do love her, Beccs. But she just winds me up so badly!"
"And this'll end like it always does." Bekki said. "You shout and you scream at each other. You storm upstairs for a cry. Mum has a cry downstairs. You don't think she doesn't? Then an hour or so later you go downstairs, you both say you're sorry, you promise never to have a row again, you hug each other, you both have a little cry. Then a day or two later…"
She paused.
"You're not the only people in this house. Don't you think it wears on everybody? Look what it does to Ruthie. It gets to Dad. There's Claude and the servants. How do you think they feel?"
"I know, Beccs." Famke said. "I'm so sorry! How do you do it? You get on with her. You never have a cross word. You like each other. You never have rows."
Bekki considered.
"You know, up until a month or two ago, Annaliese was here. She's moved on to her new job now. With Olga's little twins. She used to be, well, you know, the go-to person for lots of things. Now she isn't here any more, the balance has changed, Mum has got to do a lot of things Annaliese used to do. Seeing more of you. Doing the things Annaliese used to do, but in a different way. You're not adjusting. You're having rows."
Bekki paused. "Also, I suspect it's because you're so bloody alike inside. I've never asked. But Uncle Danie once let it slip Mum used to have this sort of row with Ouma Agnetha when she was growing up."
Bekki paused. An idea had occurred to her. Mum had been…
Famke looked up.
"You mean… mum's turning into Ouma Agnetha as she's getting older?"
Bekki winced. The second thoughts of the Witch were screaming at her.
"Kay. I really mean this. Right now it would possibly be the worst thing ever if you were to say that to Mum's face. Worst. Thing. Ever. To tell her she's turning into Ouma Agnetha. Don't ask me why. I just know. Now here's what we're going to do. I'm going to go and talk to Mum. You are going to stay here and cuddle Ruthie. She's really quite upset. Be her big sister. In half an hour, you will come downstairs and humbly apologise to Mum. Leave it to me."
Bekki went downstairs to fid her mother. She was being comforted by Dad and had also been weeping. Bekki quietly asked if she could talk to her for a while. Mum nodded.
Bekki took a deep breath, wondering how she could approach this.
"It's only going to get worse, mum." she said. "As Famke gets older. Slap me if I'm speaking out of turn here, but I think the problem is that you're both too alike. Neither of you knows when to back down, and the moment a fight starts, you're in for the kill."
Mum nodded and looked at Bekki.
"Look. Famke's going to come downstairs and apologise. You'll both hug and you'll kiss and say you're sorry. And it's all going to be quiet for a few days. But now Annaliese's gone and she isn't standing there in between you, and I miss her too, the two of you are going to run at each other again, and there'll be another fight. And another. And another."
Bekki took her mother's hand.
"Mum. Did you ever have this sort of fight with Ouma Agnetha when you were growing up? I'm betting you did. You were saying they packed you off to a boarding school when you were eleven or twelve. And when you never had to share a house with Ouma again, which I don't think you ever did after that, you started to get on. To appreciate each other more. Well then. There's your answer."
Mum considered this for a few moments. Then she reached over to hug her oldest daughter.
"Bekki. You're wise for your age. Maybe that's going to make you a good witch."
Famke came downstairs. She looked sheepish and woebegone, all the fight drained out of her. Mum looked at her for a few moments. Then they went through the post-row ritual of hugging and kissing and saying sorry.
Then Johanna Smith-Rhodes smiled slightly at her middle daughter.
"You start at the Guild School in September." she said, pleasantly. "Well, slight change of plan. I'm not sending you as a day pupil now. You will be boarding. Raven House. I'll make the arrangements."
Famke's mouth opened in horror. She'd asked to be a day pupil. So as to go to school and live at home. Now it was no longer an option.
"There is no way around it, Famke Cornelia. I think we've demonstrated we cannot live under the same roof as things are, without wanting to inhume each other. The fact one of us would be sorrowful and full of regret afterwards with an inhumation weapon in her hand would be no consolation. So you board. Even though you live within daily walking distance of the School. At the School you will of course address me as Doctor Smith-Rhodes, and you will see me as a teacher. Not as your mother. I consider there must be a little necessary distance between us for a while."
Johanna shook her head.
"You will be allowed to visit here on some evenings and at weekends. I'm not unreasonable, you are my daughter, and I do love you." she said. "But this is becoming necessary."
She reached out to hug both daughters.
"One goes to Lancre, one goes to the School." she sighed. "So it goes."
Later on, Johanna remembered the Blessings placed on Bekki at her Naming. About her being a peacemaker. and about it beginning here, in this house... she tried to recall the rest. Her daughter now had wings and could fly. She searched her memory for the rest. And winced. But that was in the future... wasn't it...
In September, Famke went to her destination as a boarder at Raven House, a fledgling Assassin. Bekki, now no longer officially a schoolgirl, took the train to Lancre, to learn more about being a Witch. The family had a leaving party for both. They left on the same day. It felt oddly symbolic of something.
Johanna cried when she got home, two daughters less. Ponder and Ruth hugged her for a long time.
To be continued…
(1) Usually the phrase is "I wouldn't trust them further than I could spit on them/throw them". Not with career Assassins. Davey and Donal had got the idea quickly – Spa Lane might be affluent and good territory for theft, but an powerful lot of Assassins lived there. They'd just accepted the hospitality offered by Johanna and Ponder, made sure to be very polite indeed, and walked their sister back home to Dimwell. The sister who needed a male escort home had also threatened to break a few bones if they tried taking the piss, as those people have been great to me and they play fair. You got that, you pair of shiftless feckers?
(2) Fairly respectable by Ankh-Morporkian standards. Everybody had jobs to go to and nobody was too criminally inclined.
(3) A loan-word from Dwarvish, meaning "Right, so you don't think this here mattock is more than ornamental. How hard's your skull, mister?"
Notes Dump:
Somewhere in a sea roughly halfway between two continents, the one of the tale being currently written and the semi-glimpsed one of future tales yet to be committed to paper, where isolated ideas are given lifebelts and a signal rocket against being spotted and rescued.
EDIT: I gave Olga twins (one of each) as it felt interesting and it fulfils the not-quite-a-curse that Irena put on her. Witches' words have power. And when a witch speaks about your children, even your unborn ones...