Chapter 1
My mother was not a happy person. I’m not saying that she was angry all the time, perhaps more like sad. As I grew up I found a new word which described her, morose.
She lived a normal life, looking after me and my dad. I sometimes caught her smiling at him but she never really smiled at me. She looked like she was smiling, sometimes, but the smile never reached her sad eyes.
My pre-school days were normal enough, I was a normal boy toddler, so I have been told. At school, I got the nickname of Ollie, naturally enough as I had been christened Oliver Thomas Taylor. My mum, however, always called me Liv. I first thought that it was because of her accent and that she was really calling me ‘love.’ It wasn’t until my father was taking me to enrol at High School that I found out the real story behind her nickname for me.
We were walking along the road to the school when I asked him. “Dad, you call me Ollie, all my friends call me Ollie, yet Mum always calls me Love. Why doesn’t she call me Ollie like everyone else?”
He stopped and looked at me. “Ollie, my boy, your mother isn’t calling you Love, even if that’s what it sounds like. She calls you Liv. There is a reason why she’s not a very happy woman. When you were born, you were one of a pair of twins. You were called Oliver and your sister was called Olivia. We were so happy then, but your sister died in her cot when she was three months old. It devastated your mother and she’s never truly let it go. We have photos of the two of you from your double christening that she keeps hidden away in a drawer. Calling you Liv is a way for her to keep a hold on her daughter.”
“Wow, that’s so sad! Were we identical twins?”
“It was far too early to tell for sure but I don’t think so. She was blonde while you had darker hair. It would have been difficult for her to be identical now, seeing how tall you’re growing.”
“Do you miss her, too?”
“Yes, Ollie, I miss her as well but I have you, my only son, to keep me happy. Mind you, if you keep up the distance running, I’ll have to get a car to catch you up!”
With that, we continued to the school where we went through the process of signing me on and setting my class preferences. The school was not, I have to say, the best place for higher education, but my future had already been discussed. I was growing to be a strong lad, with my distance running and swimming. Saint Peters’ Boys School already had me listed to be training for the swimming and running teams. When I left I would be starting an apprenticeship in the auto repair shop where Dad was a partner.
Over the next few years I tried to be extra nice to my mother, and wondered how she could stay so sad for so long. When I spoke to the girlfriends I had about it, they always looked at me as if I was stupid and was told that I had no feelings.
In my last year at school, it was clear that I was no genius. I had needed to repeat a year, just to get the modest results I expected. The looming apprenticeship was considered to be a happy result for me. It wasn’t that I was stupid. I had good maths and science results, handy for a budding mechanic. I was, by that time, over six feet tall, well built and fit. I had been School Champion in both freestyle and backstroke in the pool, and held the record for the yearly ten mile run. I had been working in the garage every Saturday and school holidays for a couple of years so was well ahead of my training.
My latest girlfriend had been with me for most of the year. Angela was curvy in all the right places and sometimes allowed me to explore those curves. She went to Saint Monicas’ School for Girls, a place far better for learning than the boys’ school. They enforced a strict uniform code for the girls, white blouse, and pleated dark blue skirt with a blazer in the same dark blue. I often told her that she looked like an angel, especially when she rolled her skirt at the waist to show her knees.
Angela and I had experimented together. I had tasted her sex, more than once, and she had swallowed mine. We hadn’t got to the actual intercourse part yet but I was sure that it would happen early in summer, once we had both finished school. She, of course, would be going on to University so I’d better make sure we coupled before she left town. A surprising number of Saint Monicas’ girls went on to University. Angela was one of a select group, so she told me, who had been fast-tracked to get their entry level to go to University, even though we were the same age. Very few, from Saint Monicas’, however, became swimming or running champions and none, from what I had been told, became apprentices unless it was in a beauty parlour.
It was a gloriously sunny day, just at the beginning of summer, and I had been into the school to get my results. They were, as expected, satisfactory but unremarkable. Enough to get me signed on as a motor mechanic but not enough to let me design the next mode of transport, no matter how vivid my imagination. I knew that it was likely that Angela would not stay my girlfriend if I went into the garage as an apprentice mechanic. She was bright and deserved a partner who had prospects, not a stupid loser. No, I thought, probably more lazy than stupid.
I had arranged to meet Angela at a café, on the High Street, once I had my results. She had already received hers so didn’t have to be at her school until later that day, for her final assembly when the school awards were to be handed out.
I was taking a short cut towards the High Street. This took me along one of the rear alleys behind the shops and then along the access laneway that ran beside the café. It wasn’t the nicest area but I wasn’t afraid, being big enough to look after myself. I did, however, take this route at a jog, rather than a stroll, wondering what went wrong with me as I jogged. As far as I was concerned, my life was now set to be unremarkable and boring, never rising above being a guy with oil on his hands.
When I turned onto the laneway, I saw that the café had put out its big rubbish bin for pick-up, only leaving just enough space for a person to get through and onto the High Street. I jogged towards it and pulled my elbows in to pass the obstruction. As I went through the gap, I suddenly thought that I could see a shimmering curtain in front of me.
How can I describe the feeling of passing through that shimmering curtain? Hitting it was a little like doing a belly flop into water, the initial resistance and then sinking in. On the other side was almost the opposite effect, like being ejected from a jelly. I found myself, standing on the pavement on the High Street, the café beside me and the immediate feeling that something had changed.
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I stopped dead in my tracks. I had the weirdest feeling and remembered my Grannie having a saying about feeling as if someone had walked over your grave. I glanced up the laneway and it was clear. So there was nothing to worry about there. I looked behind me and caught sight of Paula, a member of our little group. She gave me a wave and tottered towards me on heels that would have had her thrown out of school. I supposed that it didn’t matter on this last day. She also, as usual, had her skirt rolled at the waist so that it barely covered her panties. She couldn’t look more like a bimbo if she tried but had her sights set on studying astronomy. I could think of a few boys in town who wished they could study her heavenly body.
She caught up with me and with an air-kiss and a “Morning, Liv, big day today.”
We went into the café to meet up with Angela, my BFF. As we walked in we saw her, sitting at a table with Jacquie and Ingrid.
“Hello, you two,” called Angie, “Big day today, especially for the Head Girl.”
“Hey, I’m not the only one up for an award. I think that we all qualified for something this afternoon at the FINAL ASSEMBLY!!! YEA!!!”
“I can’t believe that this is the last day, Liv, did you get something to change into?”
I held up the bag I was carrying. “Yep, Mumsie bought me a special dress to change into. My Mum has all of my other school clothes in a bag which she will bring with her to the ceremony. She wouldn’t miss it for quids.”
All the other four had their own bags. We had decided to donate everything we had to the school welfare office, so that any new girls, down on their luck, would have something to wear.
“Hey, Paula, I suppose you just have a wide belt that you’ll change into,” chortled Jacquie, “I’ll take a bet that Liv has something very swish and will make us all look dowdy.”
“She makes us look dowdy with just the uniform,” smiled Ingrid, “I don’t know how she does it. I look at her and dream about being so pretty in a blazer and pleated skirt. She doesn’t even have to roll her skirt waist to show off those long legs.”
I blushed. “I can’t help it if I’m tall, blonde, beautiful and brainy,” I laughed.
We settled down and had some milk shakes and hotdogs. It was a celebration, of sorts. Angie and I were spending summer working within our chosen courses. She would be working in the local hospital, as a volunteer, before her years of training to be a doctor. I was going to work with a legal firm before studying law. We were both going to the University of Manchester and had already arranged for a flat to share.
Paula was heading to America, to live with a cousin, and would be studying at Purdue. Jacquie and Ingrid had planned a holiday, together, backpacking Europe, before both going to Oxford to study literature, both wanting to go on from there to be English teachers.
As we chatted, Ingrid looked at me. “Liv, has your dad been on your back about your future. Last time you spoke about it, he was certain that you would be working in the office, doing the books?”
I smiled. “You bet. The other day he told me that, if I wasn’t in the office, I could be out in the workshop, helping the guys. He even told me that, with my nails, I wouldn’t need to have a screwdriver or a pry-bar, whatever that is. He still can’t figure out that a girl can become something more than an office girl, a nurse, or a wife in this town.”
Angie nodded. “My dad’s just the same. “You want to go into medicine” he told me,” There’s a vacancy at the local chemist for a shop assistant.” I mean to say, how on earth do some people stay alive in the new millennium?”
When we finished our snacks, we all trooped into the toilets to tidy our faces. I looked closely at myself as I repaired my lipstick and ran a small brush over my hair.
“You look really beautiful, today,” whispered Angie.
“Today, we all look beautiful and I’m sure there’ll be a lot of photos taken this afternoon. It’s not every day that five seventeen year-olds are on that stage, all getting into Uni a year early.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure my dad has organised a photographer,” laughed Ingrid. Her dad was the Editor of the local paper, so it would be a certainty that his daughter would be featured in the next issue.
We persuaded Paula to unroll her skirt so that it was close to conforming to the school rules, and she changed into some lower heels that she had in her bag. Together, we walked towards our school for the last time as pupils. I’m sure we got a lot of sly glances and even a few straight-out looks as we went. We were the ‘Fabulous Five’ striding out for the last time.
We had become close friends and got the nickname of the ‘Fabulous Five’ when we had all taken summer tuition so that we could advance a year. We were all Prefects in our last two years, Angie being Head Girl last year and me taking it over this year. We weren’t the brightest girls in the school, not by a long way, but we were all quick learners and all had the desire to move forward.
Actually, if the truth were told, we all wanted to get out of this town and the cloying history of steel mills and sweat-shops of the Victorian era. The council had tried it’s best to modernise the place but there seemed to be an air of Victorian or Edwardian class politics that remained. All five of us came from hard-working families but the ones that called the shots were all from ‘old money’ and the landed gentry.
My own parents were a case in point. Mum had been a secretary before I was born, and had gone back to work ten years ago in the law firm where I will be working over summer. Dad was from the east coast and had met mum at a holiday camp while they were both on summer holidays. He was a motor mechanic and had worked hard, saving enough to buy into the garage where he worked after he followed mum home and married her.
I had been one of twins, but my brother had died in his cot when we were three months old. Mum had been knocked around by it, so she had told me, but had got over it as I grew up. Dad had got himself involved with the local youth club, teaching the boys mechanics and coaching their rugby team. I must have got my height from him.
I’m sure dad missed having a son to look after, but he had filled his time with other things. I didn’t know how I felt about it. I was sad not to have a twin brother to bounce off of and to look out for me. I think that it’s this that had formed my focus and drive. I was going to be the strong one, for me alone.
Ingrids’ father was, as I have mentioned, the Editor of the local paper and her mother was a published author. That’s where she had got her love of words. Jacquie, however, was not so straight-forward. On the face of things, her bricklayer father and her seamstress mother did not indicate a love of words. It had worried her, and she and I spent a few days in the local library looking up the Family Search records. We had found out that her great-great grandfather had been an English teacher in Suffolk. His son had followed him but had been killed in the Great War, so severing the link as her great-grandmother had moved back to her roots on the western coast with Jacquies’ grandmother in a pram.
Angela was the odd one out. She was from a family tree that had titled gentlefolk hanging off almost every branch, except the last few branches. The twelfth Earl had frittered away the money on wine, women and song, dropping dead, far too young, from a heart attack while ‘in congress’, as they said in those days. The family home was now administered by the History Trust and we had been there on a school outing.
Angela and I had got together in our first year at Saint Monicas’. She was a very curvy, black-haired beauty, with a wicked sense of humour. In our second summer, we had shared a room on a school trip to Switzerland. A few nights we had shared the same bed, two fourteen year-olds exploring our feelings. When we came home, we were Best Friends Forever but had both decided that we didn’t want to be lesbian lovers. As we got older and discovered the boys at the shopping mall, we were both sure of our sexuality.
We had double dated a few times and now had regular guys. Hers was Ed, a printer from the local paper and mine was Roddy, a motor mechanic who didn’t work in my dads’ garage. Roddy had a car and the four of us had spent a weekend by the seaside. Roddy had lived up to his name and I had lost my virginity that Saturday night. Sometimes Rod and I would head off to a nearby town and take a room, paying for the night but getting home late. He didn’t know it, but he wasn’t destined to be ‘the one’. I don’t think that Ed would last beyond summer, either, even though he had been the one to deflower Angela.
When we arrived at our school, we were directed to go and see the Headmistress, in her office. Angie knocked and we were called to enter. Inside, she asked us to sit on the chairs in front of her desk. She thanked us for coming to see her and then asked us about our plan to donate our old clothes to the new girls the following year. She told us that, after she had been told about it, she had set up a small spare room near the nurses’ office, where the things could be properly stored. She thanked us for coming up with the idea.
We were then asked to give her our badges. We handed over the Prefect badges, destined for the best girls next term. I also had to give her my Head Girl badge. I already had photos of me in uniform with my badges on. Next, she gave us an idea of the events of the afternoon.
We discovered that our little awards ceremony wasn’t going to be little any more. The School Governors would be attending, along with the local and one of the national papers. There would be a goodly number of Old Girls who wanted to see us five getting our awards. Between us, we had gained a number of the awards. Jacquie and Ingrid were sharing English Language and English Literature. Paula had the Maths and Physics ones and Angela had the Chemistry and Biology awards. I was to get the overall ‘Dux’ of the year.
There was to be a catered gathering afterwards, with our distinguished guests and our parents joining us. We were expected to look good, said with a glance at Paula, but not trashy. What the Head didn’t know was that we had discussed this and had all decided that, whatever dress we chose, it would be in the school colour. Mine was cut on the bias and just above the knee. I was certain that Paula would be in a mini.
We were to change in the nurses’ office, where our bags would be safer than in the locker room. So, when she had shaken our hands, we went there to put our bags down. We then went up to the school steps to greet our parents. Some of the girls had already arrived, most with at least one parent in tow. There was a steady stream that started to fill the hall and then I saw my parents arrive. I guided them to their reserved seats at the front and took the big bag from Mum, to take it off to the new storage room.
Back in the hall I sat next to Mum and could almost feel the heat from her glow of pride. Dad seemed a little bemused by it, being in a hall full of women was a new experience for him. I don’t think it had really been brought home to him before. Saint Monicas’ was not your run-of-the-mill High School. This was an establishment that created the strong women of business and public service for the future years. As the Old Girls started to be shown to their seats, I could see three MP’s that I recognised from the papers, along with a couple of TV presenters.
Mum was, just Mum. She smiled a lot and noted all the other faces that she saw. We spoke among ourselves, the five families together. When the Headmistress went on stage a welcomed us all, she introduced the Board of Governors, one by one and then introduced todays’ special guest, the Lady Mayoress, who would be giving out the awards. We all had to stand for a prayer and then the ceremony began.
First, the various main teachers came up to give a report of the year and the expectations of the year to come. Then we had the awards for the big range of sporting achievements, followed by the top of each class, starting with the first years. After that there were the awards for the subjects we didn’t get and then, finally, it came around to our turn.
The Headmistress stood and went to the microphone.
“This year,” she announced, “Has been different in that we have, in our midst, five girls who have exceeded all expectations and set a bar that will be difficult to beat. I will, I can assure you, be working my staff hard to reach the same heights in years to come. I will ask that these five come up on stage now, all together. They have earned their nickname of the ‘Fabulous Five’ by snaring six of the awards today.”
We went up and stood in a line beside her.
“Firstly, we have Jacqueline Bassett and Ingrid Barlow who have made it impossible to separate when it comes to the two English subjects so share both awards.” The Mayoress was given two sets of awards which she gave to my two friends.
The official photographer did his job and then the Headmistress went back to the microphone and announced. “These two girls are off to Oxford University and then on to a teaching qualification. I’m sure that there will be space here at Saint Monicas’ when they are qualified.” There was a bit of applause at this.
Then she announced, “The Maths and Physics awards have been won by Paula Torrington, who is moving to the USA to study astronomy at Purdue, a move which I’m sure will have us reading about her in the papers one day.”
The Mayoress gave Paula her award and spoke to her for a little while. The photographer took several pictures.
“Now, we have the Biology and Chemistry awards for Angela Harrington-Smythe, who has been accepted by Manchester University to study Medicine. I’m sure we’ll all be in safe hands when she is a qualified doctor.”
The Mayoress gave Angela her award and the spoke for a few moments. I knew that the Mayoress had a medical background. The photographer did his ting
“Our last award is for the ‘Dux’ of the School. Olivia Taylor is a worthy winner of this. She had run close second or third in every one of the six awards we have just given out. She has been our Head Girl this year and, with the other four on stage with us, have been our School Prefects for two years. They have handled their position with tact and have led by example. The school has run smoother than I can remember it and hope that the Prefects next year follow their example. Olivia, please step forward so the Lady Mayoress can give you the trophy as the ‘Dux’ of the school. Your name will be inscribed on it and it will be held in our trophy case in the entry hall.”
I accepted the trophy, along with the medallion that I would keep. The Headmistress then said. “Olivia will be also going to Manchester, to study Law. I’m sure that she will be excellent in whatever facet of that field she works in.” The photographer did his job and then asked for the five of us to stand together for some group shots.
We five had to stay on stage as the school song was sung. Then we were allowed off to mingle with our friends and family until it was time to go and change. The official guests and the Old Girls were led off to the smaller room where the food would be laid out, later.
We spoke to a lot of the girls from around our year, who were also leaving. Many had good jobs lined up, mostly not in the local area. Then it was time to go and change as the hall was slowly clearing, with much laughing and talking about the summer holidays. A teacher led our families away to the official function and we five headed for the nurses’ office to be free of our uniform, for ever.
Marianne Gregory © 2022
Comments
I wonder if Oliver and Olivia are going to meet in her reality..
...or if something completely different is happening. I'm guessing we will find out later.
Thank you for the chapter.
Altered Fates?
I'm a little confused by the Altered Fates tag on this story. Does it mean this story takes place in the Altered Fates Universe created by Jennifer Adams, or is the tag referring to something else? I was sorta expecting a medallion to come into the story, and was surprised when Oliver seemed to walk into a parallel universe. Even with the confusion, this looks like an excellent start to a story. :)