Another snippet of Snapshots of Sophie

1990

Sophie sits quietly staring out of her bedroom window. It’s a rainy day and she feels so tired and so fed up. Her eyes have no sparkle in them. Her entire body seems to be pointing towards the ground somehow. She is tired and unhappy.

She is also hiding from mother. She knows what her mother will say about her feeling upset. She will say she has no reason to. She will get angry with her. Tell her she has “no idea how much effort it takes to bring up a kid – especially a “whiny kid like her”. That she should “count herself lucky” because there are people in the world who have a much harder life than she does.

She would also say that Sophie should just pull herself together. That she can’t expect “everything to be handed to her on a plate” and that she just had to try harder to get what she wanted. Sophie looked even more gloomy as she thought of these well worn phrases her mum constantly bombarded her with. She hated that she couldn’t talk to her mother. She knew that other kids could talk to their mums. Or at least, she was pretty certain they could. She didn’t have anyone she could compare with though as she really had no close friends at all. Nobody whose house she had gone to, nobody who she could rely on or trust. She had none of that.

She hadn’t had that for a long time really. She knew that some of her teachers worried about her because of that. She couldn’t really see what she could do about it though. It seemed to her that she was stuck with having no friends at school. Everyone hated her and she didn’t really know why.

Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she was somehow wrong. Maybe they could see something she couldn’t – some awful things about her that made them want to laugh at her and make fun of her and not want to be friends with her.  Maybe that was it. She stared blankly out at the rain. She didn’t know what it could be though.

Mother didn’t understand. There were things Sophie hadn’t told her about. Things she had to keep a secret. Maybe if mother knew those things it would be easier for her. Maybe it would help. There was just no point in thinking that way though – mother couldn’t know those things. They were a secret. Sophie’s life had been so much easier before those secrets came along. Before she had seen what she had seen. She had definitely been happier then.

It all went back to those days when she would find a quiet spot to hide. Somewhere unexpected – like around the back of a shed or up a tree. Today she was hiding in her room but that was expected. People would expect her to hide there. But she used to hide all over the place. That was when she ended up in the wrong hiding place and saw the wrong things.

It started out as a good thing. She had some friends at school at the time – she was ten by then and didn’t look quite so awful and fat. Looking back now she didn’t really think she ever was fat, but that was what people said to her at the time. But anyway, she had friends and sometimes she would tell them things about things she heard or saw when she was hiding. Silly things but important to them. Things that they didn’t really get but that they wanted to. They knew they would be a part of growing up and they definitely wanted to be grown up. She sighed. That was when trouble had kicked in again for Sophie. She still wasn’t totally sure why.

Everything had been great for her. People at school thought she was ace – she seemed to know so many things! Well, she had heard lots of things and could repeat them was the truth. She didn’t really know them at all. She didn’t totally get what was meant. But still, it was more than anyone else knew. And that made her cool and made people want to talk to her.

It all started like this: one day she was sitting high up in a tree at the end of the field behind her mothers house. She was nestled in a branch just reading a book when she heard voices underneath her. There was a man’s voice and a girl’s voice. She didn’t recognize the voices at all and she honestly wasn’t trying to listen in but she just couldn’t help it. She could hear every word they were saying. She tried (well, a bit anyway) to concentrate on her book but it was no good. She was listening to their conversation.

The man was talking about love. And how people like to show each other love. That people like to show people they love that they love them. The girl agreed with this. It sounded as though her words were kind of blocked – like she was eating a lolly at the time. Sophie couldn’t hear her speak all that well at all. Maybe that was why she didn’t recognise her voice?

Anyway, the man kept on about love and showing how much you love someone. He asked the girl how she showed people she loved them. She was quiet for a bit before she answered, “I kiss and cuddle my mum and dad because I love them. Is that what you mean?”

Sophie heard the man move across the ground and realised they must have been sitting at the bottom of the tree right below her. She couldn’t see them though through the trees. And that the man (she assumed because it sounded like someone heavy moving) had moved over to the girl. He agreed with the girl. He said that was exactly what he was talking about. Sophie heard sweet wrappers being rustled and then no more talking.

The two people – man and girl – must have sat together rustling sweets and not talking for at least half an hour. Sophie got a bit worried. If they didn’t leave soon how would she get down and go home to mother? She would have to get down in front of them and let them know she had been there, been listening, all along. She knew in her heart that wouldn’t be a good idea. But if she was late home to mother.  She fretted about that and worried and tried to think of some excuse for mother that she would be OK about. She quickly dismissed all of them. She had to get home on time.

She could hear movement beneath her though – maybe they were leaving? Maybe she was going to be lucky this time – they would leave and she could run home and be there on time. She heard them picking up papers, brushing off dust from their clothes. She was so relieved. They left and she sneaked down the tree after them and ran off. She didn’t even take time to look and see if she could see them or recognize them – she just ran off down the track across the field to her house in time for tea. She knew she would be in all kinds of trouble if she was late.

She didn’t really think too much about what she had heard at first. She did wonder who the people were but other than that she didn’t think much about it at all. She only talked about it at all when she heard some girls talking at school. She was sat near them in the lunch room and she couldn’t help joining in. They were talking about boys they liked. About what it would be like to be with them – to be in love with them.  Sophie saw a connection here and dived right in head first. Big mistake. She wanted so desperately to fit in and to have friends. Somehow the years and years of knockbacks hadn’t made a difference to her at all. They hadn’t made her give in at all. They had made her crave attention more than ever. She wanted to say the right thing – she felt it in her heart that if she just were to say the right thing then she would be set. People would like her and her life would be better all round. So, the instant she could think of something to say to these girls she just went right ahead and said it.

“I know about love, what it’s like,” Sophie said, slightly too loudly. Everyone stopped their conversations and turned to look at her. Sophie squirmed in her seat uncomfortably. She had wanted them to listen to her, but maybe not all at once. This was suddenly very scary.

“What would you know about it Sophie? You don’t even have friends, never mind anything else.” Everyone laughed with Tamara who’d just spoken. She was right really – Sophie didn’t know anything. Nothing at all. But she had heard stuff and could repeat it. That was good enough for her.

“Well, I know that it means to want to hug and kiss someone more than anyone else.” Sophie was gulping for air and trying not to sound nervous. She wanted to sound as though she knew exactly what was going on. It was hard though – the others were staring at her and making her nervous.

“Everyone knows that unless they’re stupid.” The girls were laughing. Sophie could feel she was losing their attention, that they were starting to turn away. She had to find something better to say. Something that would make them think she knew stuff.

“As well though, as well you want to touch them. And you don’t want anyone to know.” From nowhere Sophie had come out with a voice that sounded like she knew what she was saying. Her voice had come over all calm and confident. She felt the girls attention swing back towards her. “But you might not know that stuff, you might never have heard of it.”

The girls were all looking at her now, looking at her in a different way than before. They were quiet and some of them looked surprised. Sophie waited patiently, trying to look casual for what Tamara would say. She was the important one. Whatever she decided they would all go along with. If you were alright with Tamara then you were alright with everyone.

“Maybe you know more than I thought Sophie,” Tamara said coolly. At that moment the bell rang for end of lunch break. Everyone started to pick up their things and head for classrooms. Sophie felt like she was walking on air. Tamara had agreed with her. Tamara had said something nice about her. She felt like her whole world had changed in the blink of an eye. One moment she had been invisible and alone, now the possibilities were endless. This could be the thing she had needed to get her noticed and to get people to like her again.

The school days flew by after that. Every day she would spend her breaks and lunchtimes with Tamara and her friends and they would talk and talk and talk. Mostly about boys and relationships (which they all though they were old enough for but their parents didn’t) and about what it would be like to have a boyfriend.

Sophie was often the centre of attention. She would tell them all of the things she overheard whilst sitting in the tree (which she now did all of the time on purpose in case her mystery couple should come along) but would make it sound as though those were things she knew herself or had heard of herself. She would never let on that she had just heard them whilst hiding up a tree. She knew well enough that would not be cool.

She would go to Tamara’s house after school a lot, and they had suddenly become proper best friends. She could hardly remember what it had been like before this. How she had been lonely and would go days without talking to anyone at all. She felt like she belonged with these popular girls, like she had always been friends with them. She was riding high on the adrenaline of being popular.  And it felt really good.

Looking back at her 10 year old self as a 12 year old Sophie smiled a little sad smile. She hadn’t realised that all of these new found friends had come to her too easily. That anything that was given to her that easily could also be taken away that easily too. That there would be a time coming up soon where the girls would be shocked by the things she said. That she wouldn’t understand why (because she had never really understood any of the things she had repeated to them) and that she would end up in real trouble because of it.

Sophie had been so happy for a brief time there. And it was a brief time. In a matter of months it had all changed again and she felt as though everything was wrong and broken in her world once more. She went back to being ignored but with an added layer of being laughed and sniggered about thrown in for good measure. As if to make sure she didn’t get any ideas above her station ever again. As if to make sure she knew her place by then. And Sophie surely did. Her place was to be alone, and she felt like that would be the case forever more into the future.

So that was a big part of why Sophie was so upset really.  She was upset because nothing in her life seemed to be right really. Nothing seemed to work out for her. She was stuck in this lonely place and couldn’t see what to do about it. And her mother didn’t understand. No one did really. A lot of people said they did but they didn’t.

Her teachers tried to talk to her about it all and tried to convince her that everything would be OK. Gave her advice like “joining a club might help you to make friends” or “why don’t you try to talk to people a bit more.” It annoyed Sophie to be honest. Did they really think she hadn’t tried that already? Did they think she was completely stupid? She tried to talk to people all of the time. Or at least she did try. For a long time. She would try every day. She would talk and get no reply. She would try to make friends and get no reply.

She had tried so much. It was so hard and so embarrassing. That was the worst part of it to be honest. The embarrassment. Mostly Sophie didn’t mind being on her own. She was happy enough reading or listening to music on her headphones. Even watching TV sometimes. But it was the embarrassment really. That was what really upset her.

Even though she was OK with being on her own most of the time other people weren’t. Other people seemed to need to interfere all of the time (teachers) or to point out she was on her own all of the time (other kids). She just wished they would leave her be. Wished they would leave her alone and let her get on with her life. What did it matter to them if she was alone? Why would they even care? Why did they have to make such a big deal out of it? Why couldn’t they just ignore her?

She wouldn’t mind if they did ignore her, as long as they did it totally. So no snide comments, no tripping her up in the corridor at school, no throwing bits of paper or spit balls at her when no one was looking. If they could ignore every good thing she did – ignore all her opinions and all her ideas; not let her join in with them in anything and just generally make her life miserable by being ignorant then they could definitely just ignore her altogether. She would really prefer that. Really she would. Just to not exist as far as they were concerned. Her life would be better then.

As it was at the moment she counted any day that she got through school without any nasty words said or anything else as being a good day. It didn’t really matter that no one had spoken to her. She didn’t really care about that. The fact that she hadn’t said a single word to anybody all day until she got home to mother just didn’t matter. As long as she had gotten through the day without anything awful happening. Then she was happy enough. Not happy, but happy enough.

On days like this though, days when she was just at home thinking about things. Those were the days when she felt the most like she wanted to have some friends. When she felt the most lonely. If she could only talk to someone about anything – about how she felt (without them being an adult who just tried to tell her that everything was OK and things would be better soon). Then she would feel better.

She had started a diary to try and make sense of everything that was going through her head. But her mother had found it and read it and went mad at her for writing such things. For thinking such things. Sophie had been embarrassed then too. She had been mad with herself for upsetting her mum and unhappy  about her mum reading her thoughts. After her mum had stopped shouting at her and sent her upstairs she had been angry herself. It wasn’t as though she had asked her mum to read her diary. She had written things in there that only she was meant to see. They were her private thoughts. They were things that she wanted to write (or really wanted to talk with someone about) but she had no one to talk to at all.

She had only written them down at all because of that. She had felt like she had to write them or she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about them. Yes, some of them weren’t very nice. She knew that. But she had to get them out of her head.

Mother didn’t understand that at all. She didn’t even listen when Sophie tried to explain. She had been so angry – Sophie had never seen her like that before. She had shouted and shouted and shouted.

Sophie had been really shocked about that. Shocked that her mother had reacted so badly. Shocked that she had even bothered to read it in the first place. She didn’t know her mum went through her room much apart from a bit of hoovering. But she obviously did. She wondered if mother would have read that diary if it had been meant for her. If she had written her mother a letter or a poem would she have read it? Or did she only read it because she knew it was information she wasn’t supposed to know. Information that would make her understand her daughter more. She had no idea that mother would spend so much time just reading about her. That had really surprised her to be honest.

Sophie often thought her mother didn’t really care much about her to be honest. She had felt this was the case for a long time. Her mother wanted her to do well but mainly so that people wouldn’t think badly of her. If Sophie didn’t do well at school or if she didn’t have friends or if she didn’t look smart or neat then people would notice. People would talk about it. Talk about her. They would say bad things about mother as well as Sophie. And mother just couldn’t have that.

That was what Sophie thought anyway. She didn’t think her mother was really interested in Sophie herself at all. She didn’t think her mother would ever be very interested in her to be honest. She would never be really that interested in Sophie. Not to the point where she actually wanted to know her or get to know her better or to understand her better. She just didn’t think mother was all that interested in her.

Sophie was just someone her mother had to keep an eye on. If she didn’t then there would be consequences, and those consequences would be very public and very uncomfortable. Sophie even thought that if mother knew for certain that no one would know or say anything then she probably wouldn’t pay Sophie any attention at all. She would just let her do whatever she wished. She definitely wouldn’t have taken the time to read her diary from cover to cover.

Sophie sighed. She felt so very alone, and that loneliness was really starting to eat away at her. She felt helpless in the face of it. Completely helpless. She couldn’t even talk to anyone about being lonely. It was all just too much really.

She was trying to be a bit stronger. Mother was always telling her to be stronger. She was trying to not let it bother her. Trying to just be happy about what she did have. She had lots of books to read and lose herself in (her favourite pastime) and a library card which gave her access to even more books. So she kept her self happy and content.

She was doing well in her lessons. Well, all of the ones where she didn’t have to work in groups or pairs. She was clever – her teachers told her so anyway. She enjoyed her lessons and she enjoyed reading and writing answers to questions. She loved to write stories. She wrote loads of them almost all of the time.

In fact, that was what she spent most of her time doing to be honest. She had a book full of stories with extra stories on separate pages tucked inside. The book was overflowing with ideas and she just loved to add to it.

There were some days though when she just wanted to hang out. She didn’t really want to read or write anything. She just wanted to hang out and talk and chat and laugh and joke. But she had no one to do that with. No one at all.

Sophie sighed and headed to her bookcase. She chose a book at random and settled onto her bed to read. That would make the time pass faster for her. It would make her feel less bored and less alone.

It would also keep mother off her back. She never really bothered Sophie when she was reading. Sophie knew she would be safe from interruptions and interference with a book in her hand.

She drifted off into another world and another life. The life of the characters in her book. She was happiest there after all.

Sophie Holland – Character CV

I came across an interesting article a few days ago about how to find an agent. One of the techniques suggested was to write a CV for your principal character, which I thought was a fabulous idea. I set to work immediately.

Here is what I came up with for my main character Sophie:

Courses and Training 

Providing good Customer Service – Browns Bookstore

Electronic Till Training – Browns Bookstore

Labelling and Archiving – Glasgow University Library

Induction training for Interns – Glasgow University Library

Complaint Handling Proceedures – Holmefirth Library

Handling the Press – Holmefirth Library

Signposting Services – Holmeforth Library

Other

DOB:  01/08/78.

Marital Status/Dependents Married with one child.

Interests:

I enjoy painting and drawing and have taken art classes in my spare time. I enjoy visiting local theatres and cinemas to watch anything from comedy to music to shows.

I am a very keen reader, thoroughly enjoying books in all styles, from Wilkie Collins to Harry Potter to Stephen King. I belong to a local book club, and I am regularly to be found with my nose in a book. I am a keen artist, and hope to one day publish my own children’s books using both words and illustration.

I have worked in a voluntary capacity with local library services and also whilst attending Glasgow University. I believe this experience significantly enriches my CV and also my skill set.

References:

Catherine Goulding                                                                

Head of Library Services                                                       

Glasgow University                                                                                        

Email: c.j.goulding@glasgow-lrc.ac.uk

Katie Andrews

Head of Services                                                       

Holmefirth Library

Email: k.j.andrews@holmefirthcc.gov.uk

It was an excellent way to get to know my character a little better and I was really pleased I did it.

Snapshots of Sophie: another little peak!

Here's some more on Sophie - I have decided to keep writing this story and see where it takes me:

2060

The wind whistled past the window she was sitting at. She stared out at nothing really. No matter what she had in front of her, nothing really seemed to get through to her anymore. Her eyes were there and technically they were working (the doctors had made sure of that fact). Hours of tests and other annoyances had led them to that very inconsequential conclusion. Who really cared whether or not her ears worked? What possible use could they be to her or anyone? There was nothing in the world she could possibly want to hear any certainly nothing to pass onto anyone else. 

She felt like she had left her entire world behind – her life as she had known it had crumbled around her ears. So she retreated into herself. Into her own world. A world of her own creation and a way to escape the oppressive feelings of deep unhappiness and often terror. Fear was her constant companion it seemed. It was always present, even though her days were very much the same routine and she knew really that she was safe. That didn’t stop her from feeling this fear though – it was almost her constant companion.

Not that she ever articulated that fear in words or actions. She simply sat, stoic and implacable each day looking to the view outside of her window, wondering if it could calm her nerves. Wondering if in fact there was anything that could do that job for her.

She sat there, day after day completely immobile. There was nothing that could tempt her away from her spot on the ledge there and nothing that could distract her from her aim: to just be left completely alone. To be left to think, to hide, to reminisce and to lose herself in her thoughts and her memories. That shouldn’t be too much to ask she thought to herself. After all, if she was simply sitting quietly here then she wasn’t hurting anyone or causing anyone to have to do anything for her or any of those things. She simply wanted to be allowed to be. To be herself alone and quiet in her own private little world. 

She could tell that this was difficult for people to handle really. Even as an old lady she wasn’t completely unaware of the things around her. She could sense her carers worrying for her and trying with all their might to drag her into conversations and other “fun activities” that they somehow cajoled the other residents into. Not for her. Sophie was entirely immovable in her desire to just be left to be quiet. She was content within her own little walls and was content to remain there for as long as they would let her stay. That was what she really really wanted. To just not be pushed or challenged or cajoled in any way. She wanted to be left to her own devices – however quiet those devices tended to be.

This she knew seemed selfish to others. She heard them whispering when they thought she couldn’t hear them (her hearing was in perfect working order thanks very much) and she felt bad for them she really did. That they could be so easily affected by little old her seemed such a surprise to Sophie. She felt that they placed far too much importance on her involvement and her words. She was nobody too special (at least she couldn’t see how she was so special to those specific people) and so she thought they should just simply leave her well alone. God knows she gave them enough opportunities. She never really responded at all. And they just couldn’t seem to get that at all.

She actively wanted to be in her own little world. She wanted people to ignore her. She wanted to spend her days in contemplative silence. She didn’t even want to have music to listen to. Sure, they put it on for her all of the time and she was expected to respond in some way. But she learned to block it out like everything else over time. She quickly found that if she were to get up ad turn off the music once the carer had left the room they would do that all the more often as a reason for her to get up and interact with something in the world (the radio was hardly a case for interaction though she thought). So she learned to leave it and just zone out from it’s noise. The carers seemed disappointed the first time she didn’t choose to turn off the radio. She heard them whispering about how they felt she had “lost the will to even make her own choices now” and that “she must be so very lonely inside her head.” Little did they know.

She knew loneliness and what it was. She had lived with it for most of her life. She knew how it felt to spend hours and days and weeks on end on her own, longing for someone to take an interest – or at least to take the right kind of interest in her and her life. It was so hurtful. So unbelievably painful that she could hardly bring herself to bear it. Those were times she would sooner forget all about. They were times when for one reason or another she had been coaxed out of her protective shell and felt brave enough to try to be a part of this so-called wonderful world people raved about so often and so much. A world where people could hurt you and upset you and take you for granted and do their damnedest to make you feel like you were worthless and a nobody and not even worthy of any kind of recognition. A world where people took your feelings, your hopes, your dreams and your innermost thoughts and turned them against you. It was a world of sadness and pain, and it wasn’t somewhere Sophie was keen to revisit.

She could feel her temper rising inside of her as she thought these thoughts. Her emotions were burning a fire inside of her and she had a real struggle to get back to a place of peace and control. She often struggled this way when sitting absorbed in her thoughts. Particularly if she had had a lot of unnecessary interruptions to her day and she was feeling picked on and got at.

There was no trace at all of this turmoil on her lined and weary face however. Anyone watching her would see a picture of calm and serenity. Not the troubled woman she really was inside. She was careful to show no sign of any turmoil in her face at all. She was afraid this would lead to more questions and fussing and other such things, which she had decided long ago she could definitely do without.

The day was shifting slightly outside the window she could see. The clouds were gathering and the mist was down on the grass. It would be a cold and possibly rainy day here she thought. She could feel a semi shiver snaking it’s way down her spine. Not that it was especially cold where she was. The temperature was kept very much at a constant warmth for her – consistent and comfortable to the last. She never complained of the cold and wore much the same clothes every day – all picked out for her by her carers. She took no pleasure at all in her appearance these days. Nothing about her life could excite or interest her at all really.

It hadn’t always been this way though. Her life had been very different.

*

Snapshots of Sophie

Hey! Here is a snippet of my NaNoWriMo novel Snapshots of Sophie - enjoy!!

“There was nothing more she could do. She had done it all before. Nothing worked - at least not for her anyway. No matter how hard she tried or how industrious she was there was no denying it. Things had gotten so bad that she felt she was a total failure. Only one possible solution lay before her now – one possible way out of her current crisis and onto a calm and peaceful future.

Death was her only option. Her friend, confidante and soul mate. She felt it now more than ever before – this was in fact the way, the truth, the light. There was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

It was already done anyway – too late for even her to interfere. Nobody could get in the way of this now. The deed was done. The outcome set in stone. Finally, she would be free of everything that was troubling her, everything that kept her awake at night and kept her from getting a good night’s rest. Everything. It would all be over once and for all.”

Sophie sat perfectly still gazing into her bedroom mirror in an absorbed but also slightly bored manner. She took in her pale and interesting skin, her deep blue eyes outlined dramatically with the blackest eyeliner, mascara and shadow she could find. Her stare lingered on her pale pink lips and on the black velvet choker encircling her delicate neck. Not a bad look over all – pale and interesting, distant and aloof. She felt she had a regal air to her that could rival even the snootiest of girls. She lifted her chin experimentally, practicing looking down her little button nose. Yes, she felt she did that well and that she could easily be a high society lady if only she had been born into that life.

As it was, she had been born into the most ordinary and dull life imaginable. The feeling of clanging disappointment she felt with each and every day was almost nauseating at times. Why should she have been born into this mind numbing dullness? Why should she have to continue her life this way when every fibre of her being was telling her it was all wrong?

Sophie sighed and put down her little silver fountain pen. She looked at the words she had written with a cool detachment. They weren’t bad she supposed. They pretty much summed up the typical teenage cry for help – the mention of death and the hint of suicide. This should keep her teachers occupied worrying about her so that she could focus on more important things herself. Like how she was going to change her life into what she knew it should be. She could feel the impatience eating away at her. The need and urgent desire to get things moving in the right direction were too much to bear. She wanted to be here perfecting her look and writing her heart out. But the world (and by the world she meant her mother) dictated that she had to go to school instead. As if somehow that was way more important. 

As she worked her way around her room, pulling on the tortuous uniform she was forced wear (blazer, tie, skirt – all in the most awful of colours) she thought of how different her life would be if she had been born a high society lady. If she had no school to go to but a governess to teach her singing, art and sewing. How very much more at home she would be under those circumstances. Staying at home in the country manor house, having lessons alone each day, learning to sit and stand and walk correctly. How to enter a room and command attention from the right people. Not how to do equations and how to boil an egg on a Bunsen burner. The mind boggled for her – it really did to be honest. How could she expect to grow up a lady when she was learning things that really were for boys to know not for a young woman of substance.

She pulled on her clunky school shoes – which had to be that way for health and safety reasons her teachers told her. She just looked so very ugly to her eyes. Not at all the way she wanted to look and be perceived. Sophie sighed once more. She felt that she was putting on her armour ready to face the world. That she had to pretend to be someone she really wasn’t just in order to fit in and be accepted and most of all left alone.

She hadn’t always done such a good job of hiding things. She had at one time been very open about how she felt with everyone. She told her mother, her friends and anyone who would listen how she felt. How much of an outsider she felt. That way just seemed to lead to inquisitions and questions and nag nag nagging. She soon learned that if she kept things to herself a little more then she was able to spend more time in her own little world undisturbed and uninterrupted. She could spend most of her time pottering around through her own ideas and fantasies without people constantly asking her how she felt and trying to get her to interact and connect with other girls her own age. She shuddered at the memory of those times. She had really hated the other girls in her school and felt as though she had nothing at all whatsoever in common with them at all. And yet she was forced to go through wit all of these little gatherings and get togethers. She had hated every minute of it.

Now she kept up the pretence pretty well. She stayed behind after school each day, telling her mother that she was with friends (so her mother didn’t worry that she wasn’t mixing properly) when in fact she was alone in the library with her favourite books. She was entirely lost in the worlds of the characters there and at her absolute happiest. She revelled in the lives of her favourite characters and imagined herself vividly living scenes from those lives. Right down the to tiniest details – the jewellery and it’s feel on her skin, the weight of her hair all piled up on the top of her head for a special event or the feel of a silk slipper on her foot. She loved the attention to detail the girls showed towards every aspect of their looks. She imagined that getting themselves ready for a social event was a mammoth affair involving not just her own hard work but that of many others in her fathers’ employ.

The characters in her favourite novel could while away a whole day in the most rigorous preparation for an important event. They could in fact spend more like weeks preparing other aspects of themselves and the impression they want to give to the other attendees of the do. Clothes had to be researched, colours and matching trims painstakingly put together. The best designers from London would need to be visited to ensure her dresses were most definitely up to the minute in terms of cut and neckline. The bodices would need to be adorned with the finest beadwork and lace that money could buy. And then the accessories would need to be chosen with great care. Slippers, jewels, handbags and silks for her hair. It was disturbing how quickly Sophie went from describing her characters to relating their lives to hers. She talked as though she was the character she was reading about and her imagination really ran wild a lot of the time. 

She would often read only one short chapter of a book then spend the following hour drifting away on a sea of her imaginings into a time when she could have been one of those young ladies. Imagining that she was anywhere in fact but right where she was in her real life. She really wanted nothing at all to do with this so called real life. She wanted to live within the kinds of worlds she read about. She wanted to find herself living the life of a lady in high society.

This was her fantasy world. Her escape. Her way to feel happy and exactly the way she longed to be. Her source of inspiration for how to dress, how to act and how she would like to be able to live her life. She knew she didn’t have the amount of choice over her own life and her appearance as she would like at the moment but she was preparing for a time when this wouldn’t be the case. She could not wait until the day she shook off the constraints of school life and exchanged them s=first of all for the easier and more accommodating life of a college student. The part of her life she was really looking forward to the most was her university years. She felt that she would be much more able to be herself then. She wouldn’t have her mother checking up on her every move and she would (she felt sure) find solace amongst her fellow literature students. She would find like minded souls who understood her. Not stupid people who just saw her as strange and funny and someone to be pitied and mocked. 

Those were the days that kept her going. The thought of living a fuller and more fulfilling life made her life at the present time much more bearable. Still her most favourite of pastimes was to read the books of her favourite characters and to let her imagination carry her away on a wave of dresses, manners, meetings and high society excitement. She revelled in the drama of it all. The chance encounters, the longing looks from suitors and the excitement of each and every ball and event. 

This was the stuff of dreams for Sophie. Her ideal life if truth be told was one of a lady living in wealth and luxury in a country manor house or estate. The only pressure on her would be to behave always as a lady should and to achieve a good match when the time came. In the meantime she would focus on learning to sing, to sew and to laugh prettily. She would have no need of cares or worries or problems. No reason to be a realist, to prepare for a life of hard work and sacrifice. She would be pampered, cared for and treated as though she was a precious gem and something to be cherished and shielded from all things difficult and potentially harmful to her delicate constitution. That idea seemed to Sophie like such a wonderful notion. Such a romantic ideal. Never mind being equal partners in a relationship. Never mind having to share one another’s burdens and woes. She wanted to be kept safe and warm, like a pearl in a shell being cushioned and protected comfortably and constantly. That was the life she longed for. Not this life that seemed so very difficult and stressful.

Her life hadn’t always seemed this way. She could remember when she was much younger feeling as though her world was the happiest one on the earth. She had enjoyed every minute of her childhood and had never imagined a day when she would feel as she felt right then. She thought the long sunny afternoons with the wind in her hair and the feel of the sun on her back would go on forever.

She had loved spending her days making up stories for her dolls and other toys to act out. She would give each of them their own parts and would imagine to the best of her ability that they really were those characters. She would have these very vivid pictures in her mind of exactly what her characters did day by day and she fell asleep at night imagining that they came to life when she wasn’t looking. 

She dreamed and dared to dream that her life would be happy forever. That nothing could possibly shatter the feelings of peace and serenity that surrounded her. She felt alive and full of fun and adventure. She didn’t even feel she had to shut herself away each day with her books just in order to get by. She felt she was happy just as she was. There needed to be no pretending of any kind. The dreams and stories and the fantasies were just that: fantasies. She indulged in them for fun and fun only. She was happy with her day to day reality and just allowed herself these moments of fancy as part of what was a very rich and rewarding life in fact. 

But now, her fantasies were the only things keeping her going. They were the moments of her day that she looked forward to the most. The moments when she felt truly alive. When she felt like her life was exactly as it should be. She had no fears, no qualms, no dread or despair. She just focussed on her ideal life and her ideal self. That way she could shut out all of the other things which blighted her day.

Sophie was finally ready for school. She looked at herself in the mirror. She felt that every trace of her individuality had been drained away. She had to remove her makeup and her choker (not becoming of a young school girl apparently) and stared at her tiny little eyes (or so they seemed when they were so uncovered). She had also shrugged into her horrible school shirt (which looked so much like a man’s shirt on account of the tie she had to wear). The tie itself was so very ugly: a really sickly combination of yellow and brown that just made her feel horrible whenever she looked at it. It matched the badge on her blazer perfectly – two yellow and brown design disasters staring back at her from the mirror. The blazer was just an ordinary black and it hung from her petite frame, engulfing her in a sea of black polyester. It was itchy and uncomfortable too. Coupled with her awful matching black polyester skirt and those clunky shoes she felt like a monster. A big, clumsy, heavy, clunky monster. A million miles away from the delicate, pale and interesting young lady she had seen in her mirror earlier that morning. She had been happy then looking at her reflection. She tried that look she had practiced. Raising her chin and looking down her button nose at herself she realised that the look (although she had it down to a tee) just didn’t work at all well when she was dressed as her ordinary boring day to day self. She sighed once more. Nothing really suited her well at the moment.

She picked up her bulging school bag, placing into the compartments her notebook and silver fountain pen. She checked for extra ink cartridges (she really hated to have to write in biro) and shrugged the bag over her shoulder. It was so very heavy – so many subjects and each one requiring it’s very own book plus textbook and other sheets of paper. No wonder the rainforests were dying out really. Teachers she was sure were the main culprits for this. If they didn’t spend all of their time photocopying handouts and insisting on everything being written down then she felt sure the world would not be in the mess it currently was. In fact, teachers had a lot to answer for really. A lot of things would not be as they were currently without the influence of teachers. Some of the kids at school who didn’t want to be there (such as Sophie herself) would be able to organise their own education and choose their own path in life. 

Of course, teachers always tried to make you feel as though you had your own choices to make and that you could feel confident enough to make those choices yourself. After all, you get to choose your own GCSE subjects (well, some of them anyway. And of course only from a list of approved topics that the teachers provide). There really was so little choice available at all. There also were the compulsory subjects which were forced upon every student no matter what their preferences. Which was very frustrating. But it was always sold as though students had all the choices in the world to contend with and as though they should be very happy and grateful to have those. The worst teachers were the ones who went on and on about how much choice kids have these days compared to when they were at school. It that really supposed to make us feel more grateful about our choices Sophie wondered? Because it really didn’t. Not at all. Not even a little bit in fact. In fact, it only really served to wind her up more and more. In fact, thinking about it now was getting her more and more angry by the second.

She had to take a moment to compose herself. She could hear her mother downstairs pottering around in the kitchen with the breakfast things and she knew that she had to have her face straight ready for then. Her mother was always on the lookout these days for any emotions or anything appearing different or wrong with Sophie. The slightest change in her glance or her posture would unleash a whole world of fuss from her mother and would make for some very uncomfortable times for Sophie. She had learned to operate a little more under the radar really in order to avoid all of this fuss and worry. It only served to limit her freedoms and meant that she couldn’t escape into her literary world as much as she liked. Her mother would want to sit down and talk about it all and check in with her and make sure she was alright. And that was definitely the last thing she wanted. 

Sophie took one last look at herself in the mirror, checking for any clue as to her mood or feelings deep down inside. She felt she had hidden them sufficiently away from prying eyes and so headed down to face the day. It wouldn’t be long she reasoned until the school day was over and she could immerse herself in the library once again. Those were the hours of the day she really lived for. The hours that made the rest bearable.

She headed down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Her face was already prepared with a half happy half sleepy look to it and she felt the minor spring in her step she was cultivating as part of her jolly façade which was constantly presented to the world outside. This was the kind of Sophie that people wanted to see after all. So she was only giving them what they wanted from her.

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