Yesterday I had to catch a train just at the time when lessons started in a nearby school. Pupils walked by the station to get to the school, and I watched them speed up as they neared the level crossing that was about to be closed.
When my train set off – just minutes before 9, which was presumably the time lessons started – we went past the barred crossing, where a sizeable group of six-formers were waiting in frustration to be let across, towards the school. Of course, nothing drastic was going to happen to them if they were late, but my mind wandered to a different time, in a different school. There, the duty mistress waits with a clip-board at the door, and starts taking names on the stroke of 9.
A group of six-former friends, all living in the same street, usually time their arrival at the school perfectly, but this time one of them had to dash back home for a forgotten book, and the other girls waited for her. It took only a minute – but this minute was enough for the barrier to come down at the level crossing, two minutes before the girls were supposed to be at school. They waited, squirming, with a few other unfortunates, as the little local train crawled lazily past. As soon as the barrier opened, they were sprinting – but even as they ran they heard the bell going off at the school.
The duty mistress didn’t even spare them a lecture as she quickly took down the name and form of every late-comer. “Go to your lesson,” she said curtly. “Come and see me at the start of the lunch break.” The girls trudged off in misery, each already feeling the three quick licks on the hand they were going to take at the end of this morning.
“I’m really sorry, everyone,” said the girl who’d had to return for her book.
“Could have happened to any of us,” another girl said bravely. “Never mind, it only hurts for a little while.”
For a little while, yes… but they knew it would hurt. Oh yes, it would.