ROSIE – The girl who shook the Program
The story that had to be told.

Chapter 1

I watched the petals float away on the sea as the boat returned to the shore. She’d loved the sea ever since her father had taken her to see the fishing boats at Rye when she was very young, and it seemed appropriate somehow that her ashes should be scattered there.

I think we all wanted to stay a little longer, but the boat’s Master said that we had to get back because of the tide, so sadly I watched the motor begin to churn up the water. We swept around slowly in a wide curve and headed past the spit of land that pointed the way to Rye harbour. There were a few children playing by the wall and they waved as we passed. The wind began to blow colder and I saw them run into one of the houses. Children and boats, I thought, the children forever waving and the boats forever passing.

We hardly looked at each other as we disembarked, but I caught sight of Mrs. Chaplain’s face. She looked older than I remembered. I went to speak to her but she turned away. Some pain you just have to bear alone.

Suzie, Samantha and I had travelled down together with Heather, wanting to support her in what was obviously a difficult time for her. It was the first time all of us original "Proggies" had been together without Shelley and it seemed strange without her. It was certainly quieter. Jed had driven down separately and Sam and Suzie were returning to London with him straight afterwards. I saw him whisper something to Heather, then, after kissing her lightly on her forehead, he got into his car and drove away. I opened the doors of my car and Heather got in beside me.

I saw Mrs. Chaplain’s car turn onto that spit of land. Heather wanted to follow her to try to comfort her, but I said, “No. I think she needs to be alone right now. We’d be intruding.”

Even the sky was dark which matched our mood. The rain that had been threatening all day finally began to lash the car as we turned onto the main road.

I’m Laura Townley, and this is the story I never wanted to tell. Although I’ve put it down in the form you see, a lot of it was written by Shelley and some by Heather as they were both involved.

I suppose it really began with a blazing row in the Committee. I’d been visiting Heather and Jed down in London and there was an emergency meeting of the Program Committee.

Mrs. Chaplain had recently moved to a new school, just opened up in one of the new towns that were springing up in many less developed areas around London. This one was in Sussex, not far from the coast.

Although Mrs. Chaplain was on the Committee, and it was compulsory for all schools to run the Program, she still had to get formal approval for the Program at her school from the Committee. As had become routine, Shelley and Heather had both paid visits to the school.

The emergency meeting had been called because their reports differed widely, not an unusual event. As I was staying with Heather, she invited me along to the meeting, and the chairman, our old headmaster, Dr. Reynolds, had no objection.

It wasn’t so much a meeting as an increasingly intense argument between Shelley and Heather. Shelley laid out, very reasonably, all the plans for the Program at the new school, the staff training that had taken place, Mrs. Chaplain’s undoubted Program experience, everything.

Heather sat by quietly and listened until Shelley had finished. Then she said simply, “I wouldn’t feel safe there.”

Mrs. Chaplain asked her why.

“I can’t put it into words, that’s what makes it so difficult. I can’t pinpoint anything wrong, but it just didn’t feel right there. I think you need more time… preparing everyone at the school before you start it.”

Mrs. Chaplain looked hurt and Shelley was furious. I should explain that it wasn’t unusual for Heather to persuade the Committee to delay a Program launch until she was satisfied with the support participants would receive. And frequently this would lead to arguments in Committee with Shelley, who thought the Program was so wonderful that everyone should benefit from it and seemed to have a blind spot to any problems.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Heather continued before Shelley could get a word in. “Mrs. Chaplain has run the Program for years, most of the staff come from schools where they have it, and the students have come from schools where they have it. But everything is telling me something is wrong. I’ll come down and help teach if you like. Give me a month or two.”

“Heather, you’re just being paranoid.” Shelley used that tone of voice sisters reserve for sisterly “discussion”.

I must admit, I had to agree with Shelley. Heather had confided to Jed and me that she’d felt fine about the new Program until she’d taken a walk down a path in a glade which was almost identical to where she’d been raped. After that, nothing would convince her, though she insisted that it wasn’t that which had changed her mind.

Finally Shelley proposed that Mrs. Chaplain be given permission to start the Program on a reduced scale, and Shelley would go there for the first two weeks to help out.

The Committee voted. All in favour except Heather, who abstained.

Now I’ll hand the story over to Shelley…

WEEK ONE

Partly because of Heather’s warning, Mrs. C had selected a group of really popular and outgoing students for the first week of the Program.

One of the boys turned out to be not as outgoing as she’d thought and tried to run away, but the other boys stopped him and convinced him to give it a try, if only for a day. He did, and had no more real problems, unless you count teeth marks on his penis later in the week when a girl got a little too excited.

Mrs. C was really pleased. It showed that the careful preparation had worked. Unlike at her first school, it hadn’t taken a visitor like me to persuade that boy to stay.

One of the girls came on her period on the Thursday and had to have her remaining Program time postponed, much to her own disappointment as she’d been thoroughly enjoying herself.

When Friday came and went with no major problems, Mrs. C and I sat in the staffroom with some of her senior staff.

“I think we can call week one a success,” she said.

“Definitely,” I agreed. “So it’s random selection next week?”

“Yes, if you think it’s okay?”

She was asking me, not telling me. I nodded. “Next logical step.”

“Pleased?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“The first time the Committee went with your recommendation against your sister’s and you seem to have been proved right.”

“I’m wondering if I was,” I said.

That stumped her, not to mention getting the attention of the others.

I had an uneasy feeling and I didn’t like it. “This week was too perfect. I don’t know, but… there’s something missing.”

“Trouble?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes, in a way. No trouble. No real problems. And that’s unheard of in a new Program. There should be difficulties, it just doesn’t seem right. It’s almost too good to be true.”

WEEK TWO – MONDAY

The first time I met Rosie Baines, she was in the office with tears running down her face. “I can’t do this. Please, Headmistress, choose someone else.”

“You know I’m not allowed to do that, Rosie. You will survive it, just as others have. Your fellow participants will help you.”

She stood there motionless and unresisting as her fellow participants undressed her, then wandered out with them to her first class.

“Didn’t you sense it?” I asked Mrs. C.

“Sense what?”

“They helped her do what she had to do, but they didn’t support her. No real encouragement, no caring.”

She looked at me. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go with her to her classes, for a while at least.”

“No. I can’t agree.”

“I’m worried.”

“Look,” she said. “You know I’m here as headmistress. I can’t represent the Committee here. You’re here representing the Committee. If you feel strongly enough about this, you know you can overrule me. But it would change the whole dynamics of the girl’s situation. And what happens when you’re not here in a future week?”

Looking back, she was so reasonable, so correct, just like I had been in the Committee meeting. And just like I had been, so very very wrong.

ROSIE – The girl who shook the Program
The story that had to be told.

Chapter 1

I watched the petals float away on the sea as the boat returned to the shore. She’d loved the sea ever since her father had taken her to see the fishing boats at Rye when she was very young, and it seemed appropriate somehow that her ashes should be scattered there.

I think we all wanted to stay a little longer, but the boat’s Master said that we had to get back because of the tide, so sadly I watched the motor begin to churn up the water. We swept around slowly in a wide curve and headed past the spit of land that pointed the way to Rye harbour. There were a few children playing by the wall and they waved as we passed. The wind began to blow colder and I saw them run into one of the houses. Children and boats, I thought, the children forever waving and the boats forever passing.

We hardly looked at each other as we disembarked, but I caught sight of Mrs. Chaplain’s face. She looked older than I remembered. I went to speak to her but she turned away. Some pain you just have to bear alone.

Suzie, Samantha and I had travelled down together with Heather, wanting to support her in what was obviously a difficult time for her. It was the first time all of us original "Proggies" had been together without Shelley and it seemed strange without her. It was certainly quieter. Jed had driven down separately and Sam and Suzie were returning to London with him straight afterwards. I saw him whisper something to Heather, then, after kissing her lightly on her forehead, he got into his car and drove away. I opened the doors of my car and Heather got in beside me.

I saw Mrs. Chaplain’s car turn onto that spit of land. Heather wanted to follow her to try to comfort her, but I said, “No. I think she needs to be alone right now. We’d be intruding.”

Even the sky was dark which matched our mood. The rain that had been threatening all day finally began to lash the car as we turned onto the main road.

I’m Laura Townley, and this is the story I never wanted to tell. Although I’ve put it down in the form you see, a lot of it was written by Shelley and some by Heather as they were both involved.

I suppose it really began with a blazing row in the Committee. I’d been visiting Heather and Jed down in London and there was an emergency meeting of the Program Committee.

Mrs. Chaplain had recently moved to a new school, just opened up in one of the new towns that were springing up in many less developed areas around London. This one was in Sussex, not far from the coast.

Although Mrs. Chaplain was on the Committee, and it was compulsory for all schools to run the Program, she still had to get formal approval for the Program at her school from the Committee. As had become routine, Shelley and Heather had both paid visits to the school.

The emergency meeting had been called because their reports differed widely, not an unusual event. As I was staying with Heather, she invited me along to the meeting, and the chairman, our old headmaster, Dr. Reynolds, had no objection.

It wasn’t so much a meeting as an increasingly intense argument between Shelley and Heather. Shelley laid out, very reasonably, all the plans for the Program at the new school, the staff training that had taken place, Mrs. Chaplain’s undoubted Program experience, everything.

Heather sat by quietly and listened until Shelley had finished. Then she said simply, “I wouldn’t feel safe there.”

Mrs. Chaplain asked her why.

“I can’t put it into words, that’s what makes it so difficult. I can’t pinpoint anything wrong, but it just didn’t feel right there. I think you need more time… preparing everyone at the school before you start it.”

Mrs. Chaplain looked hurt and Shelley was furious. I should explain that it wasn’t unusual for Heather to persuade the Committee to delay a Program launch until she was satisfied with the support participants would receive. And frequently this would lead to arguments in Committee with Shelley, who thought the Program was so wonderful that everyone should benefit from it and seemed to have a blind spot to any problems.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Heather continued before Shelley could get a word in. “Mrs. Chaplain has run the Program for years, most of the staff come from schools where they have it, and the students have come from schools where they have it. But everything is telling me something is wrong. I’ll come down and help teach if you like. Give me a month or two.”

“Heather, you’re just being paranoid.” Shelley used that tone of voice sisters reserve for sisterly “discussion”.

I must admit, I had to agree with Shelley. Heather had confided to Jed and me that she’d felt fine about the new Program until she’d taken a walk down a path in a glade which was almost identical to where she’d been raped. After that, nothing would convince her, though she insisted that it wasn’t that which had changed her mind.

Finally Shelley proposed that Mrs. Chaplain be given permission to start the Program on a reduced scale, and Shelley would go there for the first two weeks to help out.

The Committee voted. All in favour except Heather, who abstained.

Now I’ll hand the story over to Shelley…

WEEK ONE

Partly because of Heather’s warning, Mrs. C had selected a group of really popular and outgoing students for the first week of the Program.

One of the boys turned out to be not as outgoing as she’d thought and tried to run away, but the other boys stopped him and convinced him to give it a try, if only for a day. He did, and had no more real problems, unless you count teeth marks on his penis later in the week when a girl got a little too excited.

Mrs. C was really pleased. It showed that the careful preparation had worked. Unlike at her first school, it hadn’t taken a visitor like me to persuade that boy to stay.

One of the girls came on her period on the Thursday and had to have her remaining Program time postponed, much to her own disappointment as she’d been thoroughly enjoying herself.

When Friday came and went with no major problems, Mrs. C and I sat in the staffroom with some of her senior staff.

“I think we can call week one a success,” she said.

“Definitely,” I agreed. “So it’s random selection next week?”

“Yes, if you think it’s okay?”

She was asking me, not telling me. I nodded. “Next logical step.”

“Pleased?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“The first time the Committee went with your recommendation against your sister’s and you seem to have been proved right.”

“I’m wondering if I was,” I said.

That stumped her, not to mention getting the attention of the others.

I had an uneasy feeling and I didn’t like it. “This week was too perfect. I don’t know, but… there’s something missing.”

“Trouble?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes, in a way. No trouble. No real problems. And that’s unheard of in a new Program. There should be difficulties, it just doesn’t seem right. It’s almost too good to be true.”

WEEK TWO – MONDAY

The first time I met Rosie Baines, she was in the office with tears running down her face. “I can’t do this. Please, Headmistress, choose someone else.”

“You know I’m not allowed to do that, Rosie. You will survive it, just as others have. Your fellow participants will help you.”

She stood there motionless and unresisting as her fellow participants undressed her, then wandered out with them to her first class.

“Didn’t you sense it?” I asked Mrs. C.

“Sense what?”

“They helped her do what she had to do, but they didn’t support her. No real encouragement, no caring.”

She looked at me. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go with her to her classes, for a while at least.”

“No. I can’t agree.”

“I’m worried.”

“Look,” she said. “You know I’m here as headmistress. I can’t represent the Committee here. You’re here representing the Committee. If you feel strongly enough about this, you know you can overrule me. But it would change the whole dynamics of the girl’s situation. And what happens when you’re not here in a future week?”

Looking back, she was so reasonable, so correct, just like I had been in the Committee meeting. And just like I had been, so very very wrong.