The Taller One

Cathie had always been the taller of the two of us. At least two inches, the used to declare theatrically at fourteen, and even though it was my eternal duty to contradict that fact of nature, it was a simple truth. At least two inches.1

It was my one, true trauma, that. One youth memory that is particularly bright is the one of that blissful, May day in 1937 when I came home with- oh Lord, oh God...- high-heeled shoes. They'd cost me half of my pocket money of the previous five years, and I was so very proud of them. I, Eliza Joan Thackeray, was finally taller than my younger sister.2

I remember how I cried as mother threw them into the fireplace. 3

They were immoral- shocking, even, and I had to ask God for forgiveness on my bare knees- on my bare knees, she kept on repeating, and since to me my old, stern mother had equalled God since many years, I quite fell on my knees in front of her. I don't know if she ever forgave me.4

Mother, Alexandra, was every inch a lady after all.5

Cathie laughed, though tears stood in her eyes as well because of the thick, grey smoke filling the room as mother took care of the proper burning of the brown leather that I had so adored. My shoes were burnt, like a witch.6

I knew of the burning of witches, so many centuries before. Miss McAngell had made me study them- that was, before, at Cathie’s complaints, she was fired for “not giving my mother’s daughters a proper education for neat, young ladies”. 7

I never was a neat young lady like Cathie or mother. I did not obey, I was no good girl, I closed my ears.8

I loved Miss McAngell and I loved my shoes- mother and Cathie took them away.9

For mother was God after all.10

I suppose that made Cathie Christ.11

I was eleven when Cathie made send away my beloved teacher, I was fifteen when she laughed at my tears.12

Now I am nineteen and the century is forty-one years of age. The war and a bomb have set our house on fire, and I am standing on the grass- watching it.13

I could easily escape, lying there on my bed, counting the hours.14

And I hear Cathie’s scream.15

And I close my ears for the very last time.16

I’m not a good girl, after all.17