Read The Child Garden for Free Online Page B

Truth was my mother didn’t mention the divorce because she was ashamed, was still campaigning to stop it.
    â€œThere’s never been a divorce in this family,” she’d said. “Never. Your grandma gritted her teeth and stuck it out and so can you.” There was no use telling her it wasn’t my decision. All she said was, “Well, whatever it is he wants from you, give it to him. You made vows, Gloria, and you should keep them.” She had looked me all over, as if whatever had disappointed Duggie would be there for her to see. “At least you could take more care of yourself,” she said. “Tart yourself up a bit. He’s a red-blooded male.”
    I could have pointed out to my sister that a doting mother doesn’t say things like that to her favourite child, but my sister agreed with every word of it and she’d only chip in with her tuppenceworth. I’d heard it before: Cut your hair, Gloria. Lose some weight, Gloria. Get new clothes, shoes, nails, teeth .
    â€œSo what happened to Moped?” I asked Stig.

Five
    â€œIt was May Day,” Stig began. “The Beltane. The girls wanted to get up at dawn.”
    â€œAnd wash their faces in the dew,” I said. “I used to do that. My mum used to wake me.”
    â€œAnd it sort of snowballed into all of us sleeping out all night in a clearing in the woods.”
    â€œWhat clearing?” I said. “The one with the flowers and the birch trees all round?”
    â€œYeah, bluebells it was in May and—don’t laugh—fairy rings.”
    â€œIt’s a fungus,” I said. “Nothing to laugh at.”
    â€œAnyway, we were going to build a bonfire and make our beds out of bracken, the whole bit.”
    â€œLike the Famous Five.”
    â€œMore than five, more like twelve,” said Stig. He must know who the Famous Five were, but it didn’t sound that way.
    â€œThat was your whole class?”
    â€œThat was the whole school that first year,” said Stig. “That was the plan. Start with the first year then, when we went into second year, start another first year, get new staff and all that, and by the time we were in sixth year, the school would be up and running.”
    â€œYou were guinea pigs.”
    â€œMiss Naismith said a school should grow organically . She said we were pioneers.”
    â€œWas she the head mistress?”
    â€œShe was it. The only teacher. She did English, French, and art. And all the other crap like gardening and woodwork. She was winging it for history and geography—taking us to Hadrian’s Wall and calling it both—and they got some guy in from Kirkcudbright to do maths and science. But you could tell she couldn’t give a stuff about them, really. The next teacher was going to do all the boring useful stuff.”
    â€œYou know a lot about the plan,” I said. “Was it one of these student council commune things?”
    â€œNah,” said Stig. “Anyway, yeah, so there was me, Van the Man, Moped, Bezzo, Jo-jo, Ned, and Nod—they were the boys.”
    â€œBut wasn’t Bezzo … Hang on, Bezzo Best?” I said, sorting through the names. The Bests had been at our primary school. Good friends with Stig. Friends of the family. “ Alan Best?” I said. “Wasn’t he Mitchell Best’s brother? How could they both be in first year at the same time?”
    â€œThe school did some kind of deal,” said Stig. “Cut price kind of thing. And that was nothing. There were three Irving sisters there. All different ages. Okay, one of them, Sun Irving, was special needs so it didn’t really matter, but Cloud and Rain should have been in different classes.”
    â€œCloud, Rain, and Sun?” I said. “At least they’re the type for an organic school in the woods.” Then hearing myself, I thought I sounded like my mother. “So that’s