The Poverty of the Soul: The Story of Maisie from York
Maisie grew up like weeds by the roadside—unwanted, wild. No one raised her, spoiled her, or showed her kindness. Her clothes were hand-me-downs, sometimes little more than rags that barely covered her bony knees. Her shoes were always worn through and never fit right. Her mother chopped her hair short with a bowl over her head, too lazy to bother with styling, but it stuck out in every direction, as if rebelling against the neglect.
She never went to nursery—her parents couldn’t be bothered. All they cared about was where to get their next drink. Her father was a cruel drunk; her mother, Jen, was forever lost in a haze of smoke and hangovers. Maisie hid in the stairwells when they turned violent. Running meant escaping a beating—if she was fast enough. If not, she’d cover the bruises later. The neighbours sighed and shook their heads: Jen had always been reckless, they said, and after getting tangled up with a thug, she was beyond saving. They pitied Maisie. Fed her, gave her clothes. But the nicer things her mother would pawn for drink. So the girl stayed in tatters.
When school began, Maisie clung to learning like a lifeline. Reading became her world—a place where no one hit, screamed, or humiliated her. She devoured books, lived in the library, answered every question in class, her hand always raised, hoping someone would hear her quiet but steady voice.
But children are cruel—especially to those who are different. The shabby, odd girl with the ragged hair was quickly branded “Pauper.” Worse, parents warned their kids not to befriend her: “A drunkard’s daughter—trouble.” The teachers, though they saw her potential, kept silent. Easier to look away than defend a girl with no family or connections. So Maisie grew up—alone against the world.
Her refuge became an ancient oak by the pond in the park. Under its branches, she made a sanctuary. Here, she brought her books, read, and dreamed. Sometimes she even slept there when home was unbearable. Only stray dogs and cats listened to her—the only ones who didn’t betray her.
Her father died when she was fourteen. Frozen in a snowdrift after another binge. At the funeral, only Jen and Maisie stood by the grave. The girl felt no grief—just shame and relief. After that, her mother spiralled further. Rage and blackouts took turns. She hadn’t worked in years. To survive, Maisie started cleaning stairwells. With the few pounds she earned, she bought second-hand medical books—she dreamed of being a doctor. She wanted to pull her mother back from the pit she’d fallen into.
But the bullying at school never stopped. One day, running late for class, she dropped her psychiatry book. Of course, Regina—the class beauty and queen of snakes—was right there. She picked it up, read the title, and announced loudly:
“Ooh, psychiatry! Not just a pauper, but a nutter like your mum, eh?”
Maisie couldn’t take it. Sobbing, she ran from the classroom, across the yard, straight to her oak. There, collapsing into the snow, she let the tears come. “Why are they so cruel? What did I ever do to them?” she whispered, pressing her forehead to the bark.
Then she saw the dog on the pond. It trotted across thin ice—then plunged through. Maisie screamed and ran toward it. Sprawling flat on the ice, she crawled forward. She grabbed the dog—just as the ice gave way beneath her. The cold punched through her chest, stole her breath. She fought—for the dog, for herself, for anyone she’d ever loved.
When her strength was nearly gone, and the ice felt like a tombstone—someone pulled her out. It was Oliver. The new boy, just transferred from Manchester. Handsome, clever, quiet. The girls fawned over him. But he reached for Maisie.
“Come on. You’ll freeze. My mum’s a doctor—she’ll help.”
He took the dog too. Sheltered them both. The next day, he walked into class with Maisie. Regina rushed up:
“You’re serious?! She’s a pauper!”
“Only the soul can be impoverished,” he said calmly. “You can’t hide that behind clothes and makeup. The harder you try, the more obvious it gets.”
Regina paled and fled. Silence filled the classroom. And for the first time, Maisie felt she wasn’t alone. She had a friend now. And a dog, Lola, whom she’d saved. Most of all—she had a chance. A chance at a new life.
