White Coat
Ive lived at St. Martins Childrens Home since I was five. Ive never really understood why I ended up heremy memory just holds onto the night my nan didnt wake up, and mum never came back. After that came strange adult hands, painted walls, and the never-ending smell of boiled cabbage. At first, I used to cry at night. Later, I simply stopped. I just existed, quietly and diligently, as though a reward for good behaviour might one day be something real and lasting.
Of all the rooms in the home, I liked the gym the best. It was large, creaked underfoot, with tall, grimy windows set up high, and it pulled me in like a secret world. Compared to the cramped Room Eight I shared with three other girls, the gym felt like a great ballroom out of fairy tales. Once I started bouncing the orange basketball on the polished wood, lifes burdens faded away. If I managed a perfect shot, it almost felt like happiness. Almostbecause real happiness, the sort everyone here believed in, belonged to people with families. We all kept a little corner of hope tucked away, waiting for that day.
I was quick on my feet, could leap high, and the ball listened to me. Miss Turner, our carer, once remarked, Youve got the makings of an athlete, Mary. Ill ring a friend of mine, a coachmaybe he can get you into proper training.
He could. I started training with the local basketball club at twelve. First, I made the borough team, then the citys. At the county games final, I was named best player, scoring thirty-two points for my side.
The head of the sports committee congratulated me with a medalYou have a fine future ahead, Mary, he said. Tears nearly stung my eyes, though he probably thought I was just giddy like any child. When he saw me an hour later, slipping out the gym alone into the chill evening, he stopped me.
Mary, whys no one meeting you? Wheres home?
St. Martins Childrens Home, its four stops on the tram.
Sorry, Mary, I didnt know. My names Richard Osbourne. Come on, Ill give you a lift.
It was my first ever proper car ride, and I felt oddly settled.
Whos in charge of you there?
Miss Turner, my carer.
Will you introduce me?
Of course, but shell only be back in the morning. He nodded. And I wondered, heart beating with curiosity, what he had to say to Miss Turner. But I was too shy to ask.
The next day, Miss Turner called me to her office after classes. She told me Richard Osbourne had asked what I needed most. Shed told him nothing, aside from a new coat.
I told him youve grown so fast, nothing in the childrens sizes fits you. Well need to start shopping in the adult sections now. He asked your size andlook. She plonked a paper parcel tied with string on her desk. Shall we try it?
Miss Turner pulled out a snow-white coat with a narrow belt and amber buttons. It was so beautiful, leagues beyond anything Id worn, I couldnt say a word. And best of all, it was newno faded name written inside with a marking pen like all the hand-me-downs from the homes storeroom.
My word, Mary, Ive only ever seen coats like that in films on actresses! Now, what a gift! Go on, slip it on and turn around!
Dazed, I felt the cool lining, quickly warmed up by my own skin. It felt like someone in the world was giving me a real, tight hug. When I glanced in the mirror, I saw a red-cheeked, smiling version of myself I barely recognised. True, my skirt and red t-shirt looked odd beside the coats elegancebut that was a small thing compared to the thrill shivering through me.
And thats not all! Miss Turner beamed, almost as happy as I was. She handed me a folded slip of paper, with a drawing of a scout.
Whats this?
A spot at Bramblewood Holiday Camp! Youre going first thing in summerits beautiful there. Richard Osbourne brought that too, bless him.
That night, I couldnt sleep. The weeks eventsfinal win, medal, the car ride, the camp invitation, the beautiful new coatflickered in my mind, like telly in full colour. At last, I climbed out of bed, took the coat from the wardrobe, and cuddled myself in it at the window, watching the first gentle spring rain. For the first time, I wasnt quite ready to say goodbye to winter. I wanted to enjoy this new, dressed-up part of me a little longer.
***
Trainers, plimsolls, sunhat and a proper coatlook, its written in your camp pack list, Mary. Demi-season coat, it says. No arguingif its down in the checklist, it must be important, Miss Turner read out, packing me off.
I nodded, puzzled at needing a coat in summer. Still, the evenings might be chilly, and anyway, I wouldnt leave my most precious thing in the communal wardrobe.
At Bramblewood Camp, eyes followed me as I entered the dorm. The other girls wore thin jackets and trendy denim gilets. MeI arrived in my white coat, since my rucksack was crammed with my basketball.
Ooh, gone for a granny look, have you? snickered thin Jess across the beds.
Think its her grandads! piped up another.
Bit warm for Christmas, isnt it? laughed a girl by the window.
Probably trekked here from the North, riding reindeer!
I just muttered, Mind your own business, and glared back until they left me alone.
I hung my coat on the bedpost and went out. Shes odd, I heard someone say as the door closed behind me.
I explored the groundscanteen, open-air stage with benches, the football pitch, a volleyball court with an old net. The basketball area was disappointingly overgrown, only one hoop left standing. Why did I even come? I wondered, leaning against a tall birch. Well, its only twenty-one days. My coat and ball were with me, and as for the other girlswell, stuff them. I felt lonely, just like in the old days.
The official opening ceremony came, complete with bonfire and disco. The fires glow danced in my eyes, and later the neon lights spun across the open air. I couldnt dance, but I loved music, so I watched from a bench in the acacia bushes.
At bedtime, the girls swapped scary stories and plots from American filmssome boasted of having videos at home. I listened with my eyes shut, pretending I was asleep. What could I possibly boast aboutsneaking crusts of bread out from the canteen, the cries of new girls at night, or the dread when a stranger appeared, wondering if theyd come for me?
When they needed players for the volleyball team, the group leader called, Mary, you do sportgive it a go. Id never played beforethe ball was odd, you had to hit, not catch. Dasha was captainbold, pretty, with a long plait.
You keep grabbing the ball! This isnt basketballhit it, pass! Softer! she barked.
The ball soared off every which way. Dasha groaned, Honestly, youre hopelessget up to the net, you can block!
After mishap after mishap and another round of Dashas complaints, I left the court, got my orange ball, pulled up weeds round the basketball hoop, and threw shots over and over.
Camp days rolled onwake-up exercises, tidying, meals, preparing for the Weve Got Talent contestall the usual bits.
Movie nights were my favourite. The duty girls would hang up signs for the film, and at night the film man from the village came with his reels. I always sat right at the back, so as not to block anyone, and watched spellbound while brave sailors fought pirates or black-haired Indians shot arrows and saved their tribe.
Most evenings, I shot hoops while the others joined different clubs. My white coat was my only constant, visible in the gloom, standing guard.
I never went to the discos. When the others did their makeup and dressed up, giggling their way out, I stayed in the bushes, on my old bench.
One night, whispers carried from behind the shrubsDasha and a boy from the first group, hiding, thinking themselves alone. Then three local lads swaggered out from behind the club, tall, half-tipsy, cigarettes glowing. They closed in on the pair. The boy bolted, abandoning Dasha, who looked trapped and frightened.
Well, look at you, city girl! Fancy a stroll in the moonlight? they taunted.
Dasha shouted but the music drowned her out.
I sprinted out, bold and breathless, to stand by Dasha. Leave us alone, I hissed, or Ill make you regret it!
For a moment, the boys looked shocked, seeing a snowy ghost, but then they noticed I was just another girl.
Oy, heres a new friend for you, Colin! Long legs, stylish!
The tallest one reached for me, but I lashed out firstclumsy, but full of fight. Dasha, snapping to her senses, grabbed anothers hair and screamed. The music paused, and people ran overboys, leaders. Two troublemakers were caught instantly, the last tried to run, but I, grabbing my ball, lobbed it straight at his head. He went down, and they nabbed him.
Great shot, sis, Dasha grinned, out of breath, but stronger now.
Thanks, I said, picking up my ball, turning for the dorm.
You alright? Dasha caught up, looking at me kindly for the first time.
All good.
The next morning after exercises, Dasha called me over. Oi, Mary, partner up with me! Ill teach you to serve!
Im no good, Dasha
Nonsense, youll pick it up, promise!
Soon, we were passing the ball back and forth over the net.
Softer, Maryjust with your fingertips, lovely!
Everything felt different after that. Not right away, but it changed all the same.
***
When Parents Day came, snow fell out of nowherebig, quiet flakes from breakfast onwards. Frost on handles and snow on red roses looked poetic enough, but they didnt help us warm up.
With the bad weather, I couldnt escape outside with my ball, so I just sat in the dorm, staring out.
Soon, mums and dads began to arrive. Between the camp gates and the radio hut, the phone line buzzed non-stop. A loudspeaker attached high up a pine tree kept coming alive:
Jessica Morris, Emily Brooks, Daniel Shawyour parents are here! The excited voices sent children running to the gate to leap at mum and dad.
Oof, girls, its freezing, Ill catch pneumonia before I reach them, Jess joked, reaching for her cardigan. Oh, Ill manage.
Suddenly, an unusual voice cut through:
Take my coat, Jess; its warm. You wont freeze.
Everyone looked round as I handed over my coatyes, the very one Jess had called grannys just days before.
Ta, Mary Mary-Anne, she said, blushing.
And so, my coat went from girl to girl, cuddling each as they dashed out for hugs and sweets. Each one brought me something backa bar of chocolate, a little juice, a fistful of nuts. I said I didnt need anything, but by evening my bedside table was covered with gifts like a real feast.
Dasha was lastshe slipped the coat on, strode out into the glowing dusk, all athletic poise. Watching her, I wished more than anything that someone was there for me.
I lay on my bed, pulling my blanket all around me, just for a moment wanting to pretend I had my own little home.
I must have dozed off, because I woke to a gentle hand brushing my shoulder. In the dim, I saw a woman sitting on the edge of my bed. It felt unrealno one had ever stroked my hair before. Thinking it must be a dream, I turned away. But she didnt go.
Mum? I whispered, not daring to open my eyes.
Yes, she replied quietly, May I be your mum?
And me your real sister, Dashas voice chimed in.
I finally sat upwide awake now. The woman who wished to be my mum was beautiful, her honest gaze reminding me of Miss Turner.
Smiling, she said, Dasha has told me so much about you, I already care for you as if you were my own. She says youre the best girl hereand she wont leave without you.
Please, Mary-Anne, Dasha begged, sitting close.
Would your dad mind? I asked, worried. What if he doesnt want me?
Hes happyhe knows you already. Remember Richard Osbourne, the coach? Thats him!
I agree, I whispered, tears coming at last, wrapped in both their arms.
That was just the moment the girls returning from dinner walked in on us.
***
Richard Osbourne waited outside in the car. When he saw the three of ushis wife and two grinning girlshe knew what my answer was. He simply smiled and said he was proud to have another daughter.
From that day, I felt changedlike someone had flung open the curtains inside me, letting in joy, laughter, and a newfound confidence. The other girls accepted me wholeheartedly after the rescue incident and the coat. And I didnt eat all the treats by myself. Instead, that night, I laid them on my bed, lit a candle, and invited the girls to a midnight feast.
They persuaded me to join the Miss Bramblewood contest, taught me to dance, style my hair, and try on dresses.
A week later, the speaker rang out: Parents of Dasha and Mary-Anne are here! Hand in hand, Dasha and I dashed to meet them at the gates.
Everyoneadults and kidsknew in those moments they were living some of the happiest days of their lives.
