Paula Hillman, author

Here’s a short scene from early in the story, when Jill is waiting to take the bus to her new house on Walney. Most of that part of the story didn’t make it into the novel- there was no need- but there are some funny moments, none-the-less. I’m sure everyone who has ever stayed for school lunch will recognise this one…

          When the French words had finally been read, chewed over and digested, Jill made her way to the canteen. Susie always brought sandwiches, but free-meals kids had to queue for a hot dinner and show the embarrassing meal-pass. Bonnie enjoyed the cooked school lunches and she always managed to appear at the front of the queue.

           Friends in high places, Jill thought.

           Today, a brown casserole with a scone on the top was the only choice, though meat made her gag. She accepted a hefty bowl of raspberry sponge and pink sauce, and glanced around the dining hall for any recognisable face. The tray trembled in her hands; there was no one. Every person in the room was occupied, faces close, laughing into their food. Teachers sat together on a long table in the middle of the room, heads bowed over their plates. Jill could see three spaces on a table with Jocelyn Turner.

           Better the devil you know, she thought. It was something her mum said. She had a lot of sayings and liked to use them liberally. Something to do with being an East Ender, she said. Jill was one too. Born within the sound of the Bow Bells. She put down her tray and began to unload it.

           Jocelyn nodded. ‘All right?’

Jill raised her chin, but clamped her mouth shut.

           ‘Fucking scaredy-cat. Why do you never speak?’ She slammed her fist down on the table. ‘Speak, I said.’

           ‘Yeah. Fine.’ Jill’s heart pulsed in her throat. But she wasn’t fine. A quiet rage was building in her stomach. She blinked as Jocelyn turned away and snarled at someone else, but there was humour in it too. Was it only her who brought out the worst in people? The brown stew sat in front of her, lumpy and gelatinous. She ate a few mouthfuls of the crusty scone then pushed it away in favour of dessert. Suddenly, a smash and a shriek hit the air, then the room fell silent, all eyes staring across to where some poor girl had dropped her tray. Next to Jill, Jocelyn began a slow hand-clap. Others joined in.

           ‘Enough. Jocelyn Turner. EEE-NOUGH.’ Mr. Hill jumped up from his table and strode towards them, blond fringe flapping. His presence made the girls become meek as sheep. A young male teacher of biology, and with a beard; how would they contain themselves? Jill thought his lessons were dull. Miss Webber was much more fun, with her white lab coat and kitten heels. And they shared the same name. Almost. Gillian Webber of the pert bob and bright pink lipstick. She didn’t blush when biology words needed saying, she just said them.

            Jocelyn’s head drooped and her chin disappeared into her scrawny neck. Jill sniggered.

           Silly cow, she thought.

           Lifting her plate and bowl, she snuck away before anything else could be said. In her opinion, it was sometimes better to just leave a situation. Exit. Then try and forget about it. Bury it deep. Bonnie liked to stay in situations, waiting for the action. She’d be here somewhere, clapping along with everyone else.

           Outside, Jill saw the rain had stopped. The tarmac of the playground had been washed clean.  She loved the smell. Sharp. Earthy. But one glance at the layered grey sky told her that another downpour could happen at any time. She wandered towards the back entrance of the school, in search of Susie and diversion. Catching sight of the school clock caused her lips to turn up, just for a moment. Only two hours until she could wander up the back path and catch a different bus to a different place. How could she wait for two whole hours to pass? At least it was double chemistry and that meant fun. Could anyone fail to adore the mixing of potions and the burning of sparking metal? Another jangling bell told her to make her way to the locker room and get her lab coat. Susie was doing the same when she arrived.

           ‘Hiya,’ her friend said, tucking her blonde pony-tail into her collar. ‘I looked for you. What was the dinner like?’

          Jill grinned. ‘Foul. Brown mush and pink stodge.’

         ‘The usual then.’ They snickered and smoothed the creases from their navy overalls. Jill longed for the day when she would be allowed to wear a white one, like a proper scientist. Not until A-levels, they told her.

           Sniffing the air, they walked together into the chemistry lab; burnt wood and bromine, the scent of alchemy, Mrs Battersby called it. Whatever it was, it sent a frisson of excitement along Jill’s spine. The burners were already lit. Batty insisted on hair tucked and glasses on, though her long ginger-and-grey locks hung loosely down her own back. Jill was fascinated by the way the ends curled slightly.

           Time zipped by in a flurry of tongs and spatulas, swirling and bubbling, and soon they were carefully carrying their glassware to the huge sink where Batty’s lab technician moaned and clinked. She was a small woman, her chocolate-button eyes following their every move, especially Lena Clarke’s wiggly sway. But everyone watched Lena Clarke. Thick strawberry blonde hair and the figure of a fully grown woman, every grammar-school boy wanted to be with her. Jill didn’t like the way her lip gloss smudged outwards across her face, like she’d been dribbling, but she too was captivated by whatever Lena exuded.

           The navy lab coats had to be folded a certain way, according to Batty, and a huge fuss was made at the end of each lesson to check this had been done. Every girl knew the exercise was a time filler, but unless their folding passed some secret test, they couldn’t leave the room. Jill was eager to get away today and hers was folded to perfection. She beamed at Batty when her coat passed first time, and she could finally run for the bus and start her new life.

           She raised a hand to Susie.

           ‘See you tomorrow.’