7. witch·craft (n)
1. the practice of magic, especially for evil purposes; the use of spells.
Top Floor
We had a little more freedom on Top Floor, and left to my own devices, I finally found a way to channel my slightly self-destructive tendencies. I was actually good at athletics and horse riding, so I was spending a lot of time at the stables or the oval.
The girls in my form used their time at the stables as a chance to meet boys. I had absolutely no interest in boys at all. I was a sulky little tomboy and while all the girls had pictures of Duran Duran or Depeche Mode on their walls, I had a picture of Boy George wearing a fantastic shade of Pacific Prawn lipstick.
The only boys I was interested in were trying to look like girls. I decided to have a chat to Sister Bissett.
I caught up with her just as she was opening Stickies door. “Good morning Catherine, what can I do for you this fine morning?” she said.
“Sister Bissett, I think I’m gay.”
Sister Bissett continued sifting through her medicine drawer without turning around.
“That’s nice dear.”
When the penny finally dropped, she gave me two paracetamol, shoved a thermometer in my mouth and quarantined me in sickbay until the school could get an appointment with the local psychiatrist.
Dr. Handley had absolutely no idea what to do with me, so we just sat there staring at each other awkwardly for an hour. Then she sent the school a £100 bill which Miss Barbara charged to my school fees under the heading ‘miscellaneous expenses.’
I was allowed back into the school environment under strict supervision while we waited till the psych report came back. Bronwyn, one of the prefects, was assigned to surveil me around the school grounds. She wasn’t very good at it. Every time I turned around she tried to hide behind the nearest post, pillar or tree, but her girth gave her away.
I wasn’t going to make it easy for her, so I decided to go for a long walk to the castle which was out of bounds. I climbed through the castle railings and started up the stairs to the second floor. I was going to give Bronwyn a cheeky wave from the window, but as I reached the top stair, my feet started slipping and sliding on something dark and damp on the landing.
What the hell...
I poked my head slowly around the corner. There were feathers blowing around from ceiling to floor. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could just make out large clumps of wet, black feathers all over the floor.
There were at least ten dead crows lying in the middle of the room in a makeshift circle.
Unusual…
It was mid-January, so my first thought was that maybe they had frozen to death. That was until I noticed that all of their heads had been arranged in a neat little pile in the corner of the room.
For the love of Beelzebub!
One thing that scared me more than bible bashers was devil worshippers. In my haste to leave the castle with all of my limbs intact, I made a slight error in judgement as I pole vaulted the railings. My kilt got caught and I found myself impaled upside down.
Please God, don’t let Damien find me like this…
I started screaming for help. No-one came. I desperately struggled with the buttons on my kilt until I fell to the ground in a heap in just my underwear. I unhooked my kilt from the railings and started running like Roger Bannister.
I didn’t stop running and I didn’t look back until I reached the house. When I opened the front door, sweating and gasping for breath, I was surprised to see Sister Bissett and Bronwyn both standing there.
“Ok Catherine, upstairs to sick bay with you,” Sister Bissett said. She grabbed one arm, Bronwyn grabbed the other and they frog marched me through the lower hall and up three flights of stairs, in just my school underwear.
Oh the indignity…
The following day Miss Barbara called my dad to inform him that I was involved in witchcraft.
“Well, Mr. Williams, Catherine chopped the heads off a dozen crows and was seen to dance around half naked at the castle, which as you know, is out of bounds.”
My dad still goes on about that now, “Catherine, what were you thinking killing all those crows?”
“I nev…”
Click…
I was released from solitary confinement a few days later.
That evening, Miss Barbara was holding her once yearly cheese and wine ‘do’ for all the gentry, so we were all banished to Top Floor, not to be seen or heard.
The following morning, on our way down to breakfast, George and I took a peek into the Upper Hall out of curiosity. It was immaculate, apart from the bar at the far end. We didn’t need to say a word. We both started grabbing bottles of Cherry B, Baby Sham and Pale Ale as if we were on Supermarket Sweep.
We hid most of it in our form room and then sneaked into breakfast thinking our absence hadn’t been noted.
About 10.00am, I was in my computer lesson when one of the prefects knocked on the door. “Miss Barbara wants the whole school to assemble in the Broughton Room straight away,” she said. My heart skipped a beat.
The last time Miss Barbara had cause to summons the whole school was after a school trip to London. She had been informed that Her Majesty’s Theatre was most definitely not amused that we had liberated them of almost 140 pairs of opera glasses.
“I will not rest until every single pair of glasses are recovered and returned to Her Majesty’s Theatre!”
We all willingly emptied our knicker draws and handed the glasses back in. This was different though. This was just me and George, no one else.
As I headed out into the hallway I caught George’s eye. She gave me a knowing look, smiled and shrugged her shoulders. That was typical of George. Nothing seemed to phase her. Not even the possibility of being expelled a third time. I was sure that she would walk to the hangman’s noose with the same laissez faire attitude. A quiet, resolved dignity.
We filed into the Broughton room and were surprised to see Miss Barbara already standing on the dais. She was watching every single girl as they came in and she looked furious. All the members of staff were standing at the back of the room. No-one spoke. The atmosphere hadn’t been this tense since someone set light to the stable block. Fortunately, I had an alibi for that one.
We all stood in front of our seats until every girl was present. When each form teacher nodded that all her girls were there, Miss Barbara gave us permission to sit. “This is a very dark day for the school,” she started off. “A very dark day indeed.” I found myself becoming more religious with her every word.
Dear God…
“The school’s reputation has been tarnished by the actions of one or two girls,” she continued.
As she looked around the room, she fixed her eyes firmly on George and me.
Please Jesus…
“The Black Bull have contacted the police regarding the theft of alcohol from the Upper Hall overnight. I want every single bottle back by 11.00am. That is all.”
Hail Mary, full of grace…
She fixed George and me with another steely stare as she left the dais.
George and I went and collected all the bottles and placed them on the ‘amnesty’ table, then handed ourselves in. We were duly interrogated by Cheshire Police who tore a strip off the pair of us.
Shortly after, all the girls were assembled again and Miss Barbara wasted no time in verbally destroying us both in front of the whole school. I stood belligerently, arms crossed staring straight ahead. I had completely zoned myself out for the public humiliation. She completely annihilated us.
I had forgotten how many words started with dis. “Disrepute, disgraceful, dishonourable, dishonest, disgusted, disappointed, disbelief.”
When Miss Barbara finished she just stepped off the dais and left the room.
STRIKE THREE! and you're OUT!
Miss Barbara suspended both of us the next morning. One week later, my psychiatrist report came back. Dr. Handley recommended that I be placed in either a secure juvenile unit or a coeducational school, where I could mix with boys, thereby curing me of my unnatural attraction to other girls.
A Master’s degree in psychology, and all she could come up with was to place me in a mixed school full of post pubescent, hairy-lipped, teenage boys that spent most of the time either scratching their bollocks or talking about them.
Yep, that’ll fix me…
I immediately opted for electric shock therapy instead but that apparently went out in the sixties. Despite me offering to plug myself into the mains, it fell on deaf ears.
My last report card read something like:
“Catherine is still very much involved in County Athletics and equestrian sports. She has also taken up a wee bit of lesbianism in her free time and is an active member of the local coven.”
You couldn’t make it up.
So, on the 1st February 1984, I was expelled for an accumulation of things, including the false allegation of witchcraft.
Unbelievable.
I had been expelled from a boarding school that was a haven for all the other expellees in the country. How bad did that make me?
You’re going to hell…
I came to the conclusion that life was pretty shit.
“I don’t mean to sound bitter, cold, or cruel, but I am, so that’s how it comes out.” Bill Hicks