A tale of egg cups or the lack thereof - well that is likely completely incidental to the story

Rachel thought she had done well on the Geography exam. However, she found her worries about what she was traveling back to; at home, swallow her thoughts on the exam and the questions as soon as she left the class room. Sarah was peppering her with possible questions and answers for the English literature and General Science exams tomorrow morning and her numb worry meant she was replying in automatic while paying as minimal amount of concentration on their conversation as possible.

“Miss Stillman, into the office please.” Misses Thatcher interrupted the two girls that were walking aside the front offices prior to exiting the school. “Miss Parker, I believe you have a Havant train to catch.” She continued to split the girls apart.

“Take a seat Rachel.” Misses Thatcher told her as she continued round her desk. Rachel gingerly sat down. “How did your exams go today?”

“Fine.” Rachel said not offering anything to further that conversation, while hoping to get out of the Student Support and Wellbeing Manager’s office. When she had thought that having Glenda air their home troubles in the cafeteria she had only thought on how the other students would behave toward her. Misses Thatcher hadn’t before been interested in how Rachel was surviving the bullying. Of course now there was muck to stir she was in the thick of it. ‘Bloomin problem loving busybody’ Rachel thought while trying not to glare at the waste of air.

“Which of your three exams did you do best on and what problems did you have with the one that was most difficult?”

“I’m happy with how I did in Art, Geography and Maths. None gave me any major problems.” Rachel sweetly offered as close to nothing as she could.

“Well of course with how talented you are, having been promoted twice into a higher year. You likely don’t have problems with school. It is my job to help students with problems though, and if I can’t help you with school problems. Can I help with problems outside of school?”

“I’m fine Misses Thatcher. Not a single problem I need your help with. I really do need to catch…”

“Well Miss Stillman, I have a problem if you don’t have a problem…”

Rachel figured if Misses bossy boots can interrupt her, she could interrupt too. “Sorry to hear that and hope you can work it out for yourself. I doubt I could be any help to you.” Lacing her words sugary sweet she hoped Misses Thatcher picked up on how useless she’d been in regards to curbing the bullying this school year.

“Oh we will work it out. Now I know your ‘Mum’. No, sorry, she is your ‘Mother’. Well it was heard by all… you telling everyone that she did something that is against the law…

“Misses Thatcher, hearsay and rumors are inadmissible. I did not say my Mother broke the law. It would appear typical school rumors have as usual provided you with false information.”

“Miss Stillman lets cut to the chase. I know your Mother did something illegal, and you can either tell me, so I can solve the problem, or I will be issuing you three demerits for being on school property outside of school hours, and another demerit for causing a disturbance in the cafeteria at lunch time.

Pushing back to her feet Rachel began working for the exit. Misses Thatcher obviously didn’t like that and called after her. “I’m talking to you!”

“I have said nothing that provides you with any right to inquire into my life. Give me any demerits you can prove I’ve earned…” Rachel said, wanting to add how useful she believed she was to the students, but wisely holding back, as she left the office. She was surprised to see Sarah had been waiting. “Come on, your Havant train leaves before mine.”

“Rachel, the door was left open and I was just outside the door.” Sarah offered, whether as an apology for hearing or an attempt to get Rachel to talk she was rather unsure. She had to jog as Rachel’s only response was to speed up even more toward the school’s exit. Thinking over the overheard conversation and how her aborted apology was ignored she tried to work out what she could do to help. The pregnant silence was smothering, and she knew though it might not be successful she had to try to find some way to help. She felt terrible at all the things she’d done and wondered if Rachel had even acknowledged her as a bully. It was weird to think that where she thought she had been a hotshot making fun of a girl three years her junior, she hadn’t even been acknowledged as a threat.

“Rachel, are you worried about home?” Sarah suddenly asked as they finally had slowed down to a fast walk along the footpath to the train station, having left the school property behind a while ago.

“Not really, there isn’t anything more my Mother can do. I bet if I go straight to bed, she’ll likely ignore me.”

“How about you spend the next two nights at my place you can help me study for Lit and G.S., and I’ll help you with French, our afternoon exam? We could tell Glenda that your exams are too important to be messed up and taking two nights away will give both you and your Mum time to calm down.”

Well Glenda took it as well as a person accepts the notification of less than three months left to live from a Doctor, but she couldn’t stop Rachel from catching the earlier train to Havant. Further, for all Sarah had surgested 'we' she'd quickly chivied Rachel to go to the other platform and let her take care of it. Rachel watched her older sister wringing her hands on the far platform through the train window. Rachel tried to not feel guilty about it as Glenda was left small and seemingly alone on the other platform than the one the Southampton bound train pulled away from.

Sarah glanced at hopefully her new friend looking out of the window and decided that a change of subject was best to get them learning about each other. Obviously, home, her mother and likely her sister were not good choices. Perhaps risking her greatest fear was best. “This is my last chance to recover my lost year.”

“Soz! Lost year? What’s that?” Rachel swung around trying to work out what Sarah was talking about. It made absolutely no sense.

“You know I repeated my last year of Primary, Rachel.” Sarah replied, not asking it as a question. At Rachel’s nod she continued. “Well I’ve talked with the school shrink and co. and if I don’t do well on these and the end of the year finals, I will not be allowed per my request to get back up into my form year.”

“What, so this year is the last chance to get promoted? No one’s ever told me that.”

“Well your sister and possibly you are the only exceptions to that rule from the rumors I’ve heard, but as O’ levels are based on the fourth- and fifth-year school work they like to have a solid buffer third year prior to the two years of material being taught.”

Rachel was wondering about the rumors about Glenda and herself but was able to work out Sarah was trying to skip second form of her Secondary education to get back with her age group. Obviously according to her words, they didn’t allow third form to be skipped and obviously skipping half the material the University’s exams would be based upon was not advisable.

“What’s Glenda got to do with school promotions?”

“Your sister complained that she refused to be in third form with you next year, so they mustn’t promote you again. She was told to buckle down and do well this year as if they felt you deserved another promotion, they would be giving it to you. So, unless she did well enough to be promoted into fourth form, she could have the last three years of Secondary School with you in the same form as her.”

“Sarah how do you know that, the staff aren’t going to blab those details?”

“The staff, no, but your sister when she’s pissed talking to her gossiping friends and the whole school will know fairly quickly. Further, they said that even if you didn’t do well enough for a promotion this year, they would still consider allowing you to skip your third year, thus except for possibly you and your sister apparently could be awarded, the ability to skip third form is not on the table for the rest of us.”

As the train pulled into Havant station the two of them checked they had their belongings and went toward the closest door to get off. They were joined by a fair number of Warblington Secondary kids coming the other direction toward their intended exit. Behind the jostling kids were a few adults that also were getting off the train here. With Sarah blocking, Rachel got the new experience of being the first kid to exit from a train doorway, when many kids are wanting to do so. Both flashed their student rail pass as they exited the platform.

Rachel seeing Peacocks after they left the station quickly checked her handbag and was glad she had enough emergency funds, and that she had made a point of maintaining said emergency funds to have them if something like this happened. “I need to grab a change of clothes, do you mind if I hit Peacocks?”

“They carry discount clothes they will be unlikely to have many second hand uniforms and doubtful in your size.”

“Can I quickly look?” Rachel replied not wanting to confess to her desire for underwear before their absence is found out. The store actually had several Warblington girl’s uniforms, but none anywhere near small enough to not drown Rachel, but they did have what she most needed so a few minutes later and a more relaxed Rachel exited the store with Sarah. The changing room had a mirror and Rachel had seen, what she had felt, her bum was nearly completely recovered.

“I’ve got to pick up my little brother from his friend’s house. Oh, and you can help me make tea. Mum and Dad don’t get home till gone six.”

“How old’s your brother?”

“Too young for you!”

“What no! I have zero interest in boys.” Rachel exclaimed working out what Sarah was teasing her about.

“Should I worry about my virtue, Miss Stillman?” Sarah, asked. Cackling at seeing her friend blush. “Come on, this way.” She took off running down a side street. With starting to run first and knowing where they needed to go, Sarah won their race. It also helped it was slightly downhill and only a few dozen yards. Any further and she would have been a wheezing mess.

However, for all Rachel’s legs were shorter it was likely only due to those helpful details that she won the race, and was not left in the dust. Sarah panted holding onto the gate catching her breath back while noticing Rachel was breathing completely normally. Unlike her labored rattling wheeze Rachel breathed as if they had not undertaken any physical activity. She wondered if the crazy practice of cycling on the South Downs was what enabled her to be more fit. Breath re-caught she opened the gate and led the way up the footpath to the front door.

“Who’s this?” Frank more demanded than asked of his big sister when he joined the two of them to head home.

“Rachel, meet my eight-year-old monster, Frank.”

“Hey there monster Frank.” Rachel said trying to ignore the fact that he was taller than she was. Gulp these Parkers obviously got the genes to grow tall.

“You eight too?”

“No, I’m in the same class as your sister.” Rachel didn’t want to say she was only ten, even if by saying what she had, emphasized her lack of height. Frank lost interest and turned away. Sarah smirked at how she’d avoided discussing age, but thankfully didn’t tease her. In order to avoid thoughts about age and height Rachel thought about getting to stay over at a friend’s house.

This life aside when they visited Kim and Anne in the next-door bungalow in Fareham, this would be her first time going to another, none relatives’, house. Both her sisters had made and visited friends. Maybe, if she had actually made a friend, she would be able to do this more often.

“Okay Frank, you can either watch TV or play in your bedroom. I’ll call you once we’ve made tea.”

“Can I have egg ‘n’ sol’jers?”

“Let me check we’ve enough eggs and bread.” Sarah replied. “This way to the kitchen. Oh, you can leave your handbag and blazer in the hall closet next to mine.” The TV blaring out the end of the ‘Magic Round About’ theme tune, and the narrator introducing Florence stumbling over a sleeping Dylan’s legs, blasted loudly through the open living room door. “Turn the volume knob below the marker, Frank. You know you can’t have it louder than Dad marked on the dial!” The volume dropped to reasonable level before Dylan responded to Florence’s question that Rachel had missed behind Sarah’s yell.

The kitchen was small and having the laundry basket sat in front of the washing machine didn’t do the room any favors. “Ah Mum wants me to do the laundry of course. She complains I get kicked back a year but gives me chores during exam time. Go figure.”

“If you’ve got an old shirt I can slum in tonight, I’m fine doing the laundry. I’d actually like to wash my uniform so I can have it clean for tomorrow.”

“You know how to do laundry?”

“I’ve done it before. It’s not exactly rocket science.” Rachel didn’t mention the before was memories of another life.

“Thought I was the only one that had to do it.” Sarah looked over at her friend diving into sorting their laundry basket and in order to not get humiliated stopped with her pity party. “I’ll grab you one of my old night shirts. You good with a boiled egg too? Oh, do you prefer the shirt to have an image of a girl with frilly dress and bonnet but also some huge gangster machine gun or a Smurfette style?”

“Egg will be perfect thanks and I think I can handle a few frills if I get a huge gun, but you’re going to have to explain what the heck the shirt is about.” Sarah nodded and left upstairs. Rachel started placing the coloureds into the washing machine. She’d add her skirt once she had her borrowed night shirt.

Said shirt went to her ankles and was a camel brown with pink rectangular frame at the front. Within the frame a girl wearing a puffy bonnet with a light brown fringe escaping and hiding her face stood sideways on, with a bulky gun at her hip, held in two dainty hands. The gun had the large circular magazine of the 1920’s Tommy gun style. In addition to sprigs of flowers and tufts of grass around the girl’s shod in unlaced bovver booted feet, were the words in flowing lilac font, ‘Precious Moments’. Rachel figured the gun covered for the otherwise way too sugary sweetness. Adding her skirt to the machine she started the wash. Her blouse could go with the whites in the next wash.

“So what’s the deal with ‘my precious’ here.” Rachel offered in Gollum’s voice.

“No idea about your weird voice but it has to do with Bonny and Clyde. I have a few figurines too in my room. But you do realize that your clothes will be wet tomorrow…

“I’ll hang them tonight over there, if that’s okay.” After getting Sarah’s tentative nod.“Then tomorrow morning I’ll run an iron over them. I’ve done it before.They’ll be fine.” Rachel suddenly thought that Gollum’s voice like the running an iron over a not quite dry shirt were of course from Geoff’s life and might not be true or a popular meme yet. Heck, memes weren’t referred as memes yet, if they ever would be, but worse was she right in recalling the iron trick working?

“If you say so. Any way can you make soldiers for Frank’s boiled egg?” Sarah asked as twisting so the Smurfette night shirt she’d changed into was noticed by Rachel.

“Just lightly toast and cut it into strips thin enough for dunking into the egg opening?” Rachel confirmed and got Sarah’s nod. “Where do you keep your egg cups*?”

“Third top cupboard. Yes, that one. They should be toward the back right of the middle shelf.” Sarah stated while adding three eggs to the boiling water and flipping the egg timer, and noting Rachel dropping the two slices of bread into the toaster and turning the dial to light. “Can you open the leaf on the kitchen table?”

“So, you knew exactly which night shirt would be available?” Rachel asked indicating the two shirts. “Oh, you want to share a slice or have soldiers like you brother?”

Sarah laughed then replied. “Give over we can have half each but only Frank needs his half cut into smaller strips. As to the night shirts, I knew I should have both as I have two of the one your wearing and three smurfettes. I’ve got a Bagpuss one if you prefer.” Rachel grinned cutting both slices in half as they popped up toasted and then making thin strip soldiers of one of the halves for the resident monster.

“This shirt is fine, and thanks for it. The timer is almost done.”

Sara grabbed a serving spoon with drainage holes and as soon as the three minutes of sand completed running into the bottom of the egg timer turned off the gas and scooped the three eggs into their respective cups. A quick bash on the top of all three to stop the eggs cooking and they were set. “Frank, your egg and soldiers are ready! Bring a stool with you.” The two girls arranged the three servings around the table, and they each pulled one of the two stools tucked beneath, out from under it.

*egg cup is a cup sized for an egg so if you want to eat a soft-boiled egg you don’t make a mess or burn your hands. For reasons I will go into later every restaurant in the USA that serves boiled eggs will provide them in a bowl that even though little, is way too big and the egg rolls around in it. You then have to decide whether you want to burn your hands to eat the egg while hot, or wait for it to be cold before trying to eat the thing. And good luck not making a mess from the runny egg you requested from the bamboozled server rather than accepting them in the standard hard boiled way it otherwise always arrives.

My leg pull and likely the reason for the lack of egg cups is that when the UK hands down does something so much better than the US, to the point where it appears the US didn’t even show up for the event; like egg cups, cats eyes, the Concord, and the Harrier jump jet, then these items are marginalized as best they can to not be found out by the general population. Heck Boeing even dropped parts of its own planes that never are defective to ensure they could ground and bankrupt the French/UK joint venture. This paragraph had something to do with egg cups, but the English American got lost in ranting – go figure.