Chapter 4: Lessons: Biology
Plant, and by extension ecosystem responses to stress with regard to maintaining stability fall into two main categories: Resistance and Resilience, from which a third outcome is generally recorded: Adaptation.
Resistance or tolerance: A component of stability, being the ability to remain stable in the face of disturbance, able to tolerate environmental conditions or physiological stress. May be inborn or acquired. The ability of an organism to exclude or overcome, completely or in some degree, the effect of damaging factor. For plants and animals, the ability to withstand poor environmental conditions or attacks.
Resilience: A component of stability, being the ability to recover after disturbance. The ability of a natural system to recover from the stresses being placed upon it. A resilient ecosystem can withstand shocks and rebuild itself when necessary.
Adaptation: a hereditary characteristic allowing an organism to develop in other than its usual niche
~X~
Resistance
The Gang had mostly let them alone after their re-organisation, pushing them into walls when passing but that was about it. It had become accepted that they were a pair and Tilda was included in the ring of untouchability surrounding 'that blasted Tonker kid'. Weeks passed and as Matilda learnt the routines and small casual cruelties of everyday life in the Grey House she became more and more grateful for what the girl had done that first day. And though Magda never called her by name, in fact hardly ever spoke to her, she seemed not to mind her tagging along.
Not long after she arrived the Grey House received a group of new inmates. Matilda, now in her mind at least one of the old lags watched them curiously as The Woman pushed them before her into the refectory. Unconsciously her hand went to her head where the soft fuzz of hair brought reminders of the little nicks and cuts she could see on the scalps of those now cringing before the collected gaze of the whole school. That night she felt the thud of a something heavy at the end of her cot and opened startled eyes to see Magda casually folding her legs beneath her, seemingly settling in for the night.
"Go back to sleep." The whisper was loud enough to reach the cots on either side, but neither occupant responded, instead huddling deeper into the covers in a pretence that there wasn't a girl sat cross-legged on the end of Matilda Tewt's bed in flagrant disregard of the rules.
"What's going on? " Tilda half sat up, but was halted by a shake of the head and a stern glance from the interloper.
Merely repeating her order to go back to sleep, Magda took a handful of pebbles from somewhere within her nightgown and began to play jacks on the space of mattress in front of her. Tilda, curled up at the other end of the thin cot, lay obediently silent but did not close her eyes and search for sleep as she had been ordered. People did not invade people's cots to play jacks after lights out without some sort of ulterior motive. Long minutes passed. Silence reigned through the dormitories and Tilda was just starting to wonder if perhaps Magda had got her information wrong when she heard it. The drama started as whispers, a creak of a door, rustling and the sound of bare feet on floorboards as a group of something gathered in the next part of the dormitory. No one sat up; there would have been no point as the half wall between the two rooms hid any action from view. But it didn't prevent sound travelling freely and every lump in every bed tensed as the first blows were struck and the first whimpers were heard. Tilda's eyes shot to the girl at the foot of her bed. Meeting her gaze fully Magda said not a word but the calm lack of surprise on her face answered all of Matilda's unspoken questions.
The show didn't last long, the perpetrators fully aware of the time they had to act freely between the passing patrols of Sisters on the watch for 'degenerate behaviour'. Hyped up on the sport however, they didn't leave the way they had come, choosing instead to rampage up and down the ordered beds occasionally pouncing on this huddle under the blankets, or that tightly curled figure. Invading Tilda's dorm they caught sight of the upright figure calmly sitting at the end of the cot, engrossed in her game. There was a quick, disconcerted whispering conversation and then the group turned and left, hunting easier pickings elsewhere. Tilda heard the noise fade into the distance and sat up to place a hand on the callused one reaching for the collection of pebbles. Her whispered words of thanks were pushed aside and Magda withdrew her hand abruptly from the contact. The girl merely reiterated her earlier words (the only phrase she had spoken all night) and with a wave of her hand indicated she should lie down and make good use of the rest of the night. Tilda obeyed reluctantly, but the lateness of the hour overcame her once she was huddled in the warmth of the rough blankets and she fell asleep even as she considered how to force Magda to return to her own cot now the excitement was over.
Surfacing drowsily in the early hours of the morning in a confused attempt to work out why her feet kept hitting an obstruction she dimly saw a figure curled up asleep in an awkward hunched position against the foot-rail of her cot. Matilda's confused intention was to do something about this state of affairs but she was betrayed by her exhaustion, sleep rising up to claim her again. In the morning Magda woke her as usual, saying nothing about the goings-on of the night before and Matilda, ever a follower of etiquette, took her lead in the matter. To be sure, the Gang looked at them askance over breakfast, certain members sending deep scowls in their direction but as Magda was ignoring them completely Matilda found she could as well.
~X~
After the events of that night she had stopped referring to her as "the girl". In truth, she had found that within the confines of her mind she didn't need a name for the memories and emotions connected to that one specific image. Out loud she found she wasn't calling her anything, stuttering when she tried to say "Magda" and completely unable to bring herself to say "Tonker" like the others did. It didn't seem to matter, the girl was generally close enough for her to tug at a sleeve should she wish to ask anything and they weren't really known for their long conversations anyway.
She realised soon enough that the girl was keeping an eye on her. There were times when she'd come running and shove her into a dark corner and with a hissed "and keep quiet" before scurrying on about her way. Matilda never knew who amongst the people passing Magda was hiding her from, but she did her best to help the girl in her task, keeping her head down and shutting up. With Magda's help, Matilda even learnt to be quiet. It was difficult for her to swallow back the protests she was prone to expressing, but a nudge or occasional kick on the shins kept her out of trouble. In reward for her control, Magda always let her rattle on when there was no one around to hear, though the girl never responded to her torrent of words. Matilda sometimes wondered if she was even listening.
Girls came and went. Those of the Senior School - the Big Girls - were Sent Out, occasionally fulfilling the positions they were hired for so well that they were Kept On (with ensuing celebrations amongst the general population). Some who were Sent Out never came back for other reasons that were never discussed, never alluded to. Matilda wanted to ask, curiosity burning within her, but the look Magda got whenever the news of another filtered through to them warned her against broaching the subject. Most of them were back within the week, the tasks they were needed for completed satisfactorily for the present. Sometimes, in the quiet moments she managed to steal away, Matilda wondered what tasks she would be fit for when she was one of the Big Girls. She didn't think the population would need a girl who could recite the works of Hyel, or describe the more detailed campaigns of Tacticus himself. As yet she hadn't let anyone but Magda know that she knew her numbers and could do all kinds geometry given a sharp enough stick and some dust to draw in.
~X~
All in all they were rubbing along fine through the day to day grinding boredom and petty abuses of life in the Grey House. And then one day Magda slipped late into the refectory and found the seat next to her empty. The kid wasn't there. Casting a quick eye around the tables she couldn't see the kid anywhere. Fear flashed across her mind but she pushed it away. There was no need to start thinking stupidly yet. There were any number of reasons why the kid might have skipped a meal. The food for one, she thought, spooning the mush into her mouth as she kept her head down, her eyes flickering around the room. She caught a smidgeon of humorous conversation from the table currently occupied by The Gang. Magda made no comment but just finished as quickly as she could so she could get out and search before jumping to conclusions.
Half an hour later she knew something was up. She'd looked everywhere, including the machinery shed the kid didn't know she knew about, where Tilda went to hide out in when she wanted to be alone. The kid wasn't anywhere. Now the churning of fear in her stomach couldn't be denied. There were so many things that could happen to a kid in this place and as she hurried back toward the mill they flickered across her mind in an endless list.
She needed to find out what had happened and she did. There was always someone who knew what was going on and people didn't tend to refuse Tonker what she asked for when she decided she really wanted to know. Catching the latest tale bearing rat as she passed her in the corridor, she slammed the brat into a dark corner and quickly got the information she needed. It was the Gang of course. They'd set the kid up, leading her into a situation where she'd be caught up by the Sisters and there'd not been anyone there to prevent it. Magda hadn't been there to prevent it. She felt the black rage ignite deep inside her soul.
This. Should. Not. Be.
The fury was growing, rising up, threatening to boil over. She would go and fight, kick them, hit them, do anything to break down the cellar door and get the kid out of that place. She would not allow them to do this. She would…
No.
She forced the anger down, taking one calming breath after another. It had taken her a while and a number of hard lessons but she had come to learn that fury did not impart strength over them. Long hours in The Hole had finally taught her to control her temper. She looked down at the small girl still under her hands, taking in the tremors of fear shaking through her, the trepidation in her eyes. This little blasted spy was here, fragile in her grasp, she could break her if she wanted, take out some of the sick clenched anger on her scrawny form, put aside her despair for precious moments of white hot rage. But she wouldn't.
Instead Magda said nothing, did nothing, just turned and quietly walked away. She kept walking, out of the house and over the cobbled courtyard to the stables. As she mucked out the stalls, changed the water buckets and replenished the hay racks she felt the rage she had banked down trying to escape. The space it had created when it first exploded in her chest was filled with a sickening weight, chill and heavy in her stomach. Her earlier fear had drained away the minute she had heard what had happened and the disappointment that had taken its place was an old familiar sensation, oozing through the tendrils of her thoughts in mind numbing chilly fog. This hadn't been meant to happen. But it had. That was the Grey House for you. It had a way of finding out your hopes and trampling them in any number of delightful ways.
Rule One of the Grey House: Some things just were. There was nothing you could do about it. That was just the way things turned out.
When her jobs were all done she went and sat on the stairs by the door and waited. She didn't sit there fretting, she didn't rage against those that would take a kid and lock her up like this, she didn't let the acid burn in her belly against The Gang who had tricked Matilda into getting into this kind of trouble. She just sat quietly and waited for the kid to come out.
Matilda didn't come out that day.
~X~
Resilience
Three days after they took Matilda away Magda took her usual perch on the stairs, pulling the rough cotton of her dress down over her knees. She settled in for the afternoon, her jobs were done for the moment and she had no expectation that anyone would be out looking for her today. She was idly picking at the scab on her elbow when the clack of the door latch broke into her reverie and glancing over she saw behind the Sister the small bedraggled form she been waiting for. The kid's chin stuck out so stubbornly even now.
Magda said not a word but as soon as the Sister had left she stood and led the way upstairs, Matilda, obediently following behind without question. In silence she led the way along echoing corridors, occasionally putting a hand out to stop the kid as she peered round corners and checked the coast was clear. The kid said nothing merely halting at her touch and moving on at her urging, stumbling after her like a sleepwalker awake.
They climbed all the way up through the Grey House to the attics and someone must have been smiling on them because they didn't see a single soul on any of the many flights of stairs. At the very top instead of turning left into their dormitory as Matilda expected, Magda turned right, into the kid's dormitory, the attic next to their own. It was empty and quiet at this hour, the smallest inhabitants of the Grey House all at their lessons, learning by rote the detailed Laws of Nuggan. Walking quickly to the very end of the room Magda slid between the last bed and the wall and ran her hands lightly over the panelling. Finding what she was looking for she tapped the wall and a small section popped out just enough for leverage. Slipping her fingernails around the edge she clawed it open to reveal an opening behind, a forgotten space between the eaves. As she crawled into the gloom Magda felt the kid hesitate behind her and turned back to reassure her.
"Don't worry about the dust" she whispered and held out a hand.
Wiggling through the tight spaces under the eaves they heard the tweeting of birds drifting through the dust, up here they could have no idea in whose roof they nested. Hand in hand, sometimes crawling, sometimes crouching, the two girls made their way through the forgotten detritus of decades, Magda leading the way. As they skirted the last piece of broken furniture she heard the intake of breath behind her and the sanctuary opened out before them. Beside the gable end wall someone had cleared a small space down to the floorboards. Shielded by the clutter it was a private den hidden away from any inquisitive or hurting eyes.
Squatting on her heels before a wooden hatch in the wall, Magda flicked the catch holding the doors closed and pulled wide the shutters. Daylight rushed in carrying with it faint sounds drifting up from the world below. Below them the bustling girls in the laundry courtyard were a reminder of the world they were tied to. But ignoring that and looking straight out it was possible to forget the walls for a precious moment as all the valley opened out before them, tree dotted fields and woods above, spreading away to the high tops that reached up to a cloud painted sky.
Magda drank in the view in silence on a long breath. Up here it was possible to put aside the reality and believe, just for a few minutes, that this was all that existed in the world. That the fields and high woods were within her grasp, that she could walk through whenever she wanted. That this was the true reality. All too soon the moment passed and she sat back on the dusty floorboards leaning sideways against the large trunk in her usual spot, the one that gave her the view she liked best, out over a bend in the river to where the wood reached down in green fingers to the water meadows. Remembering her companion she looked around and found Matilda, silent beside her, the tight hold the kid was holding over her emotions visible in every tense muscle.
"You c'n cry iff'n yer want" she said awkwardly. "Can't no one hear you up here but me, an' maybe they birds."
The kid was sat half turned away from her, scrunched up and hugging her knees, looking straight ahead and rocking gently. As Magda watched, concerned, the water welled up in the kid's eyes and tears began to dribble slowly down her cheeks. She wondered if she should say something more, the normally chatty kid still hadn't spoken. Before her eyes the tears increased from the dribble to a steady flow as the kid's shoulders heaved on a sob. Magda was uncomfortable, unsure of what to do next. She usually walked away from the crying ones, not wanting to get involved. It had never been her problem before. She had made it not her problem, the sight and sound of tears doing things to her insides she wasn't comfortable with. But this time it was different. This time it was the kid. She forced herself to put a cautious arm around the shaking shoulders despite her instincts screaming at her to retreat, to flee from any contact. A small quiet voice rising from the closed depths spoke calmly but with emphasis that this was needed and should be done.
As soon as she touched the thin back the kid turned into her, grabbed the front of her dress tightly with both hands and burst into a cascade of sobs. From this position Magda found was simpler to put both arms around the girl and so she did, uneasily stroking the back under her hand.
"Shh Tilly. It's alright, you're out now."
She didn't notice she had used the girl's name for the first time. Things like that didn't matter. She sat on, cradling the girl, waiting for the sobs to ease. The kid's grip loosened as she relaxed into her hold, cocooned in the murmuring words poured out over the dark head. Up till now Magda had always accepted that she would never be good with words, but somehow today those she had were enough. She'd never brought anyone up here before. As far as she knew no one but her had discovered the old spaces in the eaves. It had been her sanctuary, her freedom. Sitting there with the kid snuffling in her arms she felt something change, deep down in the darkness, as some part of her wound up tight and locked away for years woke up and dared to stick out a tentative tendril.
~X~
Adaptation
Magda shook the shoulder under her hand carefully.
"Tilda? Wake up kid. Time to be up and doing."
The kid murmured and nestled further into her shoulder. She had dropped into a quiet doze after crying herself out and Magda had sat immobile watching the birds flirt around outside and the shadows of distant trees marching across the fields. From the lengthening shapes she reckoned it was coming to the end of the time they could safely steal away.
"C'mon kid, we can't stay here for ever."
They would have to get out before anyone was likely to be in the dormitories on the other side of the door. She nudged the kid again and Matilda sat up rubbing tired eyes. She looked around, confused for a moment to see the gloom of the attic stretching away into the darkness and then her eyes cleared as memory returned.
"Thank you."
"T'wern't nuttin."
"Thank you anyway." The hand rested on her arm for a moment and was then withdrawn, Tilda fully understanding her need for space.
They retraced their steps through the dust, crawling out into the dormitory to brush the worst of it from their clothes. Tilda looked around her at the quiet order as Magda replaced the wall, carefully examining it to ensure they had left no trace of their presence. It seemed so strange that mere feet from this example of their incarceration was a space of such freedom. When she eventually turned to thank the girl again for sharing something that was obviously extremely precious to her she found her leaning against the door-jam looking back impatiently.
"You're wool gatherin' again. C'mon, I got chores to be doin'."
She led off and Tilda followed, grateful for the still empty corridors as the evidence of her tears still stood large in her reddened eyes. When they reached the stables Magda jerked a thumb at the water trough, indicating she should make use of it to cool her hot tired eyes. Splashing the water over her face, Matilda allowed the soothing sensation to centre her, rubbing wet hands over her short hair to dry them and get the last of the cellar dust from off her skin. Whilst she washed, Magda had made quick work of her chores, skimping over the less important ones, and reappeared at her shoulder to guide her into tea.
They were only just not late, slipping in at the last minute to scrabble over the last of the bread and dripping. In her hunger Matilda didn't even pay attention to where the Gang were sitting, looking over in their direction from time to time. But Magda caught the curious stares and the daggers she sent back in her gaze said more for the future of relations between the two of them than any words could. The meal over, the two girls went to slip away with the rest of the crowd, Matilda still wary of company, her jagged edges not yet ready to face the world. But there was another dragon to be faced yet this evening.
"Matilda Tewt?"
"Yes Sister?" Matilda felt a hand squeeze her arm and at the strengthening touch the panic that had rushed through her faded away again. It was only Sister Perseverance, she wasn't in trouble this time.
"Hannah is to be Sent Out and it has been ordained that you are to take over her duties as parlour-maid. Do you understand this task?"
"Yes Sister." Magda was pleased to see the kid kept her eyes lowered, her gaze on the Sister's shoes.
"You are to keep the rooms clean and the fires lit, I expect the grates cleared and the fires re-laid before the Sisters come down into the room in the morning. You will have to rise and see to it before prayers."
"Yes Sister." Matilda didn't mention how that wouldn't be that onerous a task considering she rose early with Magda anyway to help in the stables (a task which purely incidentally kept them both out of the way of anyone interested in starting trouble in the morning confusion).
"Very well. That will be all. Carry on."
"Yes Sister. Thank you Sister. God Bless You Sister." They both ducked their heads in respect and were gone.
~X~
Magda got her up extra early, dragging her from room to room, making sure she knew where the kindling was, where the coal was kept, where Hannah had stored her cleaning clothes and brushes. That first week Matilda stumbled from room to room in a daze, Magda laying the fires for her and sweeping out the hearths. But she was a quick learner and by the second week she managed to do the whole floor, Magda walking beside her to check for any slips. It wasn't that hard to get the fires lit, a simple application of physics and the flames were soon licking over the scraps of wood. She found she could even do it faster than Magda and crowed for a while, until Magda reminded her that she still took too long blacking the grates and wasted too much of the blacking by spreading it all over her pinafores.
It wasn't hard work and once she'd got into the routine of it Magda left her to get on with it, returning to the stables to catch up on her own chores she'd let slide in that early training period. She always made sure that she got Matilda up extra early though and the younger girl grumbled at times, staggering from room to room with the heavy scuttle, her eyes struggling to stay open. But one day Matilda realised why she had made the effort. It was only her second week doing the rounds alone and she was later than usual (she'd only sat down for a moment – but woken up long minutes later) when she was interrupted by one of the Brothers as she was laying the last fire. He had startled her and as she spun round she saw something kindle in his eyes. Fear crawled down the back of her neck in chill fingers and she castigated herself over and over for not paying more attention to the things Magda had left unsaid. As the weeks had passed she had come to understand that just because the girl didn't speak words aloud didn't mean she wasn't saying things all the time with her eyes and her body posture and the way she hid Matilda from certain people and prevented her from walking certain corridors.
As Matilda stood there, not listening to the soft words dropping from his fleshy lips, desperately searching for a way out of the room she realised she should have listened more carefully. She really should.
As her mind spun in a frantic attempt to come up with a plan, any plan, she caught a shadow moving into sight in the doorway and inhaled on a gasp of relief as Magda halted on the threshold, her quick eyes scanning the scene. Comprehension dawning the other girl vanished but before Matilda could lose heart a kerfuffle sprung up somewhere nearby, shouts echoing down the corridor.
"What do you think your doing?! You clumsy oaf, try paying some attention to where you're going!"
The Father turned away, his attention distracted by the noise and Magda re-appeared at the opposite doorway, whispered "Run!" and grabbed her by the hand. As she was dragged urgently through the connecting door into the next room and then through that to the corridor beyond, Matilda blessed the spirits that were watching out for her, the girl who's hand was held so strongly in hers and fate in general for getting her out of that room. She also promised faithfully to never do such a thing again, both to the fates and to Magda who had pushed her up against the nearest available solid wall and given her the longest telling off in a ferocious whisper that she'd ever received.
~X~
Matilda was better prepared after that. She got up without complaining when Magda shook her in the morning and she always ensured that at least two exiting doors were opened in any room she worked in. Being as the authorities at the Grey House liked their comfort as well as anyone else and preferred to lie abed until morning prayers rather than rise and wander the chill corridors it was rare indeed that she saw anyone as she went about her allotted tasks. Her chores done in the morning meant she had time to spare in the evenings to help Magda with hers. This was time she cherished, working side by side without talking, the beasts warm beside them. Despite the location of their captivity, the animals housed within the walls of the Grey House were not that different from those outside and interaction with such simple beings who responded in kind to caresses from tiny hands did much to reduce the heartache that never completely left her.
Being the smaller it was often her lot to scramble up into the hayloft, pushing the sweet smelling grasses down through the trapdoors into the mangers below. It was a task she was capable of carrying out with skill and grace.
However, some days that was not quite how it worked out in practice.
She didn't know if it was the scents rising from the hay that made her so giddy, or some other as yet undiscovered reason of great scientific import but there was one day, despite all the effort of the Grey House to the contrary, she had ended up laughing so much she'd had to lie down, her head dangling through the trapdoor in order to fully appreciate the catastrophe below.
Magda had leant into the manger to call up to her that she was ready to receive the hay and not realising the girl below was still perched precariously over the rail, Matilda had left fly with a considerable armful. The descending weight had knocked the lower girl into the manger, at the same time burying her in the delicious fodder. Struggling to get her head above water as it were, Magda had looked up to see the dark head, gasping for breath as Matilda succumbed to hysterical giggles, framed for eternity by the trap door.
Below her, surrounded by hay, she saw Magda reach up and fluff her fingers through her hair, causing a vast quantity of grass seeds to fall out onto her shoulders. Brushing them off in an attempt to maintain decorum (despite sitting waist deep in a manger of hay) she was caught unexpectedly in a violent sneeze, which in turn brought forth another paroxysm of giggles from above.
It wasn't a special saint's day, marked off in calendars, celebrated by processions or needing specific liturgy. It was a simple Thursday unremarkable apart from one thing:
Magda Halter smiled.