now?’
‘She fell out of a tree.’
‘No, a tree fell on her.’
‘She is being X-rayed.’
X-rayed – the girls did not like the sound of that.
When Kizzy opened her eyes to find that, once more, she was in bed but with her head singing and throbbing, two tears had squeezed themselves out from under her lids; only two.
‘Cry Kiz,’ said Miss Brooke. ‘It will do you good.’
‘Won’t cry for . . . them,’ quavered Kizzy.
‘She has a tough little nut,’ said Doctor Harwell. ‘Fortunately for her – and for them. She’ll be all right. Little brutes. I should like to give them all a good
tanning.’
‘So would I,’ said Miss Brooke. ‘It would do them good, but it wouldn’t help Kizzy.’
‘But these are nice children,’ Mr Fraser had said in bewilderment. ‘Most of them are very nice.’
‘Until they gang up,’ said Miss Brooke.
‘Yes,’ Mr Fraser sighed. ‘One can’t understand but one sees it again and again. They gang up on a particular child – probably he or she is nice too. If one clamps
down as Mrs Blount did, it goes underground and it’s worse for the victim. How can it be dealt with?’
‘I think it’s dealt with already,’ said Miss Brooke. ‘For a moment they thought they had killed Kizzy They won’t forget that, and Kizzy, too, isn’t quite
innocent. She has hit and bitten and scratched and spat. Besides . . .’
‘Besides?’
‘It’s a children’s war. Let the children settle it.’
‘But . . . if it happens again.’
‘It won’t,’ said Miss Brooke. Elizabeth Oliver, Clem’s sister, had told Clem and Clem had come straight round to the cottage. ‘It won’t. The boys
know.’
‘Ah!’ said Mr Fraser.
‘Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?’ said Clem. ‘Rotten little stinkers. Dirty cowards.’ From their side of the playground, the boys
yelled, ‘Scaredy cats. Have to get fourteen of you afore you tackle one,’ and,
‘Cowardy-cowardy-custard
Can’t eat bread and mustard,’ the boys sang.
Kizzy’s empty place was like a sore mark in the classroom. ‘I wish Mr Fraser would send for us and tell us off.’ Mary Jo spoke for them all. ‘It would be even
then.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Prudence loftily. ‘I’m glad. I don’t care a pin for Kizzy Lovell.’
‘You’ll soon care,’ said Clem, ‘if I catch you after her again.’
Prue started to chalk ‘Clem Oliver loves Kizzy Lovell’ on the wall, but Clem came and rubbed it out with a look of unutterable disdain. ‘Kick her,’ said one of the
boys.
‘I don’t kick girls,’ said Clem, ‘but I can give them barley sugar.’ Barley sugar was twisting an arm behind the victim’s back. He only gave Prue’s arm
one twist and let her go. ‘That’s a taste of what you’ll get,’ said Clem. Prudence hissed like an angry little cat but Clem simply walked away.
‘I’m not coming back to school,’ Kizzy would have told Clem if she told anyone, but she knew how to keep secrets, which is by not telling anyone at all.
‘I can’t go to the orchard,’ she said to herself in that time in bed. ‘They can’t have me at the House so, soon as I’m up, I’ll get Joe and Joe and me will
go away.’ She could not say ‘run’ away because Joe could only plod. She began gathering scraps of food in a carrier bag Miss Brooke said she could have. She had kept every penny
of the pocket money Miss Brooke gave her, ‘to buy sweets or any little thing you want,’ but Kizzy bought nothing. ‘Don’t you like sweets?’ Kizzy did like the few that
had come her way but buying them meant going to the village shop, ‘where they ask questions.’
There was one question she herself asked Miss Brooke as soon as her head was better. ‘Can I go to the House on Saturday?’
‘I expect so – if you keep quiet.’
‘I’m always quiet with Joe.’
‘Doctor Harwell thinks you can go back to school on Monday.’
To Miss Brooke’s surprise Kizzy only nodded, as
‘She fell out of a tree.’
‘No, a tree fell on her.’
‘She is being X-rayed.’
X-rayed – the girls did not like the sound of that.
When Kizzy opened her eyes to find that, once more, she was in bed but with her head singing and throbbing, two tears had squeezed themselves out from under her lids; only two.
‘Cry Kiz,’ said Miss Brooke. ‘It will do you good.’
‘Won’t cry for . . . them,’ quavered Kizzy.
‘She has a tough little nut,’ said Doctor Harwell. ‘Fortunately for her – and for them. She’ll be all right. Little brutes. I should like to give them all a good
tanning.’
‘So would I,’ said Miss Brooke. ‘It would do them good, but it wouldn’t help Kizzy.’
‘But these are nice children,’ Mr Fraser had said in bewilderment. ‘Most of them are very nice.’
‘Until they gang up,’ said Miss Brooke.
‘Yes,’ Mr Fraser sighed. ‘One can’t understand but one sees it again and again. They gang up on a particular child – probably he or she is nice too. If one clamps
down as Mrs Blount did, it goes underground and it’s worse for the victim. How can it be dealt with?’
‘I think it’s dealt with already,’ said Miss Brooke. ‘For a moment they thought they had killed Kizzy They won’t forget that, and Kizzy, too, isn’t quite
innocent. She has hit and bitten and scratched and spat. Besides . . .’
‘Besides?’
‘It’s a children’s war. Let the children settle it.’
‘But . . . if it happens again.’
‘It won’t,’ said Miss Brooke. Elizabeth Oliver, Clem’s sister, had told Clem and Clem had come straight round to the cottage. ‘It won’t. The boys
know.’
‘Ah!’ said Mr Fraser.
‘Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?’ said Clem. ‘Rotten little stinkers. Dirty cowards.’ From their side of the playground, the boys
yelled, ‘Scaredy cats. Have to get fourteen of you afore you tackle one,’ and,
‘Cowardy-cowardy-custard
Can’t eat bread and mustard,’ the boys sang.
Kizzy’s empty place was like a sore mark in the classroom. ‘I wish Mr Fraser would send for us and tell us off.’ Mary Jo spoke for them all. ‘It would be even
then.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Prudence loftily. ‘I’m glad. I don’t care a pin for Kizzy Lovell.’
‘You’ll soon care,’ said Clem, ‘if I catch you after her again.’
Prue started to chalk ‘Clem Oliver loves Kizzy Lovell’ on the wall, but Clem came and rubbed it out with a look of unutterable disdain. ‘Kick her,’ said one of the
boys.
‘I don’t kick girls,’ said Clem, ‘but I can give them barley sugar.’ Barley sugar was twisting an arm behind the victim’s back. He only gave Prue’s arm
one twist and let her go. ‘That’s a taste of what you’ll get,’ said Clem. Prudence hissed like an angry little cat but Clem simply walked away.
‘I’m not coming back to school,’ Kizzy would have told Clem if she told anyone, but she knew how to keep secrets, which is by not telling anyone at all.
‘I can’t go to the orchard,’ she said to herself in that time in bed. ‘They can’t have me at the House so, soon as I’m up, I’ll get Joe and Joe and me will
go away.’ She could not say ‘run’ away because Joe could only plod. She began gathering scraps of food in a carrier bag Miss Brooke said she could have. She had kept every penny
of the pocket money Miss Brooke gave her, ‘to buy sweets or any little thing you want,’ but Kizzy bought nothing. ‘Don’t you like sweets?’ Kizzy did like the few that
had come her way but buying them meant going to the village shop, ‘where they ask questions.’
There was one question she herself asked Miss Brooke as soon as her head was better. ‘Can I go to the House on Saturday?’
‘I expect so – if you keep quiet.’
‘I’m always quiet with Joe.’
‘Doctor Harwell thinks you can go back to school on Monday.’
To Miss Brooke’s surprise Kizzy only nodded, as
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