The White Coat
I remember Mary growing up at St. Peters Orphanage since she was five. She never truly understood why she ended up there. Her memories began with the vague scent of lavender on her grandmother and the morning when her grandmother never woke up. Her mother, too, never returned. That was all in the distant past, replaced by the impersonal care of strangers, the pastel blue walls, and the everlasting smell of overboiled cabbage in the orphanage kitchens. For the first few weeks, Mary wept herself to sleep. And then, at some point, she simply stopped. She learned to be quiet and diligent, living with the faint hope that hard work and good behaviour might one day earn her something genuine.
Out of all the rooms in St. Peters, Marys favourite was the gymnasium. Its polished, creaky floorboards, tall grimy windows beneath the rafters, and the cool echoing space all beckoned like a hall in some enchanted palace. Room eight, with its cramped quarters and four thin beds, was a world away from the grandeur she felt each time she entered the gym. When the taut orange basketball drummed its rhythm on the floor, she could leave her troubles behind. If she managed to send the ball cleanly through the hoop, she almost felt happyalmost. Full happiness, everyone said, could only be found in a family, and beneath their brave faces, every child kept a little shuttered space for a hope they dared not voice.
Mary was swift-footed, could jump nearly as high as the hoops, and the ball seemed to obey her touch. Miss Barnes, their matron, once said, Youve got an athletes spirit, Mary. Ill ring a coach I knowlets see about getting you into a real basketball club. She did just that.
By the time she was twelve, Mary trained three evenings a week. First, she joined the school team, then the towns. In the county finals, she led her side to victory, scoring thirty-two points and being named Best Player of the Match.
When the chairman of the sports committee placed a medal around her neck, he said with a smile, Congratulations, my dearyou have a bright future ahead. Mary nearly cried, and the official took her tears for childish joy. Later, seeing her leave the gym alone in the late autumn dark, he stopped her.
Mary, how come theres no one waiting for you? Where do you live?
Im at St. Peters Orphanage, down the roadyou take the number four bus to get there.
Forgive me, Mary, I didnt know. My names Mr. Ivor Bennett. Hop in, Ill give you a lift.
For the first time in her life, Mary travelled by car. She felt strangely proud, as if life itself was, for the first time, treating her kindly.
And whos responsible for you at St. Peters?
Miss Barnes, our matron.
Will you introduce me to her?
Yes, but shes only in tomorrow morning.
Very wella chat it is tomorrow.
Marys curiosity grewwhat could such a dignified man want from Miss Barnes? But she did not ask.
The next afternoon, Miss Barnes summoned Mary to her office.
From Miss Barnes account, Mary learned that Mr. Bennett had asked, What does Mary Smith need most? Miss Barnes replied that Marys needs were modest except for one thinga new coat. “Shes sprouting up too fast,” said Miss Barnes, “and none of our childrens sizes fit. What she needs is an adult-sized coat, proper for a growing young lady.” Hed inquired about her size, and nowMiss Barnes placed a brown parcel tied with string on the deskLets try this on.
To Marys astonished eyes, Miss Barnes unwrapped a white coat, gleaming, slim-waisted, with gleaming amber buttons. It was miles beyond anything shed ever owned, beautiful in a dizzying way. More than that, it was newno other childs name stitched in the lining with harsh laundry pencil.
Goodness, Mary, Ive only ever seen such coats on film stars! Its a real present, that is. Come on, put it onshow us!
Still in a daze, Mary shrugged into the coat. The cool lining became enveloping warmth. She felt hugged and spun around. In the reflection, Mary saw herself, blushing and smiling in a coat that fit her athletic frame just so. True, her old skirt and red jumper clashed terribly with such finery, but none of that could spoil the feeling of celebration.
And thats not all! Miss Barnes, too, seemed delighted with her protégés good fortune. Look here!
She handed Mary a folded slip of paper with a grinning Scout drawn on it.
Whats this, Miss Barnes?
A place on the Camp Jubilee Scout holiday! First session in June, just look at thatits wonderful out there. Mr. Bennett brought this toobless him.
That night, Mary could not rest. The eventsthe basketball victory, the medal, the car journey, the camp letter, and, of course, the splendid coat waiting in her wardrobeweaved through her thoughts like scenes on a colour television. Quietly, she slipped from bed, tiptoed to the wardrobe, and, for the tenth or hundredth time, draped the white coather Coatyround her shoulders.
Sliding her arms into it, she wandered softly to the corridor window. Spring rain was starting to fall, grey and gentle. For the first time, she wished winter would linger, just so she could wear her beautiful coat that little bit longer.
***
Shoesboth ordinary and sports. Hatrequired. And coat spring or autumn weightsee, Mary? Its listed here. If its on the packing list, it must be done, read Miss Barnes the day before departure.
Mary nodded, not quite seeing the sense of a coat in June. Still, evenings remained chilly sometimes, and she did not want to leave her treasured coat where anyone might take it.
At Camp Jubilee, Mary immediately stood out. All the other girls wore light windbreakers, cotton jackets, or flashy denim vests. Only Mary arrived in a bright white coat. Her rucksack, already stuffed with her basketball, had no room to spare, so she wore the coat in rather than pack it.
Bit old-fashioned, that, quipped a thin girl, Alice, from the bunk beside hers.
Your grannys? teased another.
Winters long gone, you know, laughed the girl by the window.
Come from the North on a sled, have you? someone else said.
Its none of your business, Mary replied softly but with such a look that no one pressed her any further.
She hung the coat carefully at the end of her bed and left the room.
Shes a strange one, that Mary, someone whispered, as the door closed behind her.
Mary strolled around the camp, taking in the canteen, the open-air stage with its wooden benches, the football pitch, and the battered volleyball net. The basketball court was overgrown, with only one hoop remaining. Why did I even come? she thought, leaning on a birch tree. But then, shaking herself, she decided she could endure these twenty-one days. She had her Coaty, her basketball, and, as for the taunting girlswell, never mind them. She felt alone, as she had so often before.
The next day came the ceremonial openingbonfire and allwith a disco to follow. Mary stared, eyes wide, at the flames and later at the coloured lights dancing across the field. She didnt dancedidnt know howbut she loved music and found a seat at the edge, hidden among acacia shrubs, listening to unfamiliar songs.
At bedtime, the girls swapped ghost stories and tales from overseas films (some had a video recorder at home). Mary lay with eyes closed, pretending to sleep. What could she share to impress such happy, pretty girls? Stories of new arrivals crying at night? The crusts of bread smuggled from the canteen and stored under pillows? The intense, searching glance every grown-up receivedCould they be for me?
When a volleyball team fell short of players, the youth leader said, Mary, you play sports, dont you? Come on, give it a go. Mary agreed, although shed never played before; the volleyball felt all wrong, so light, racing away after each hit.
Alice captained the teamconfident, popular, with a thick, shining hair.
You cant catch it, Mary, this isnt basketballhit it, gently, pass it! she called out.
But Mary struggled. The ball sailed out of bounds, and after a miserable few minutes as blocker, enduring Alices frowns, she left the court, fetched her orange basketball, tore up the nettles on the run-down court, and began shooting hoops, over and over.
Camp routines took over: early morning exercises, tidying the grounds, queuing for meals, rehearsing for the talent contest, and all the other events that meant nothing to her but made others feel right at home. Film night was Marys favourite. The camp projectionist would hang up the poster a day in advance, and Mary, always on the back row, gazed raptly as sailors battled pirates, or noble Chingachgook saved his tribe with bow and courage.
Evenings, shed shoot baskets, staying out late while the others gathered in friendship circles. And through all this, her white coat kept vigil at the end of her bed, a bright sentinel in the growing dusk.
Mary didnt join the discos. When the girls painted their lips and strutted arm-in-arm to the dance floor, Mary retreated to her bench in the shrubbery.
One such evening, she caught whispers behind the bushesAlice and a boy from the first squad, hiding from prying eyes. Suddenly, three local lads emerged, tall, half-drunk, cigarettes glowing.
Well, well, look at you, London fashionfancy a moonlit walk, sweetheart? They circled Alice. Her companion slunk away, leaving her alone and frightened.
Without thinking, Mary leapt into the lamplight, swift and sure.
Back off! she snarled. Ill flatten you!
Stunned, the lads blinked as if theyd seen a ghost in a white coat. Then, emboldened, the tallest lunged. But Mary struck firsta clumsy but earnest punch. Alice, catching her nerve, yanked anothers hair and screamed. At that moment, the music lapsed. People ran, adults and campers alike, and two of the troublemakers were caught at once. The third tried to flee, but Mary, in a flash, lobbed her ball and struck him on the back of the head. Down he went.
Cracking throw, sis, Alice managed, still breathless but fiercely grateful.
No bother, said Mary, gathering her basketball and heading back to the block.
You alright? Alice hurried after her, no longer mocking.
Im fine.
Next morning, after exercises, Alice called out cheerily, Come be my serving partner, Mary! Ill show you how.
I cant, Alice
Nonsense. Youll manage, youll see.
Soon, Mary was volleying gently, ball passing smoothly from her hands to Alices and back.
Lighter touch, Maryyes, thats it!
Everything changed after thatslowly, but undeniably.
***
On Family Day, to everyones disbelief, it snoweda wet, March snow that frosted windowpanes and left icy patterns on the rosebushes outside the canteen. It was lovely but made the air even colder. The campers phone wire buzzed with calls to parents, and the camp loudspeaker boomed to life:
Alice Robinson, Emily Spencer, Jacob Shepherdyour families have arrived!
Babies flung themselves through the gates for bone-crushing hugs.
What a chill! muttered Alice, after her name was read. If I catch pneumonia, itll be from standing in this old jumper of mine!
Then, out of nowhere, Mary spoke up, rarely one for grand gestures: Take my coat, Aliceitll keep you warm.
A hush fell over the room as Mary, calm and quiet, offered her precious coatthe coat Alice had once sneered at. “Thanks, Mary Mary-Anne,” Alice stammered.
So the coat journeyed from girl to girl that dayaccompanying one, then another, returning perfumed and sticky with sweets, an apple scent lingering, too. Each girl brought Mary somethinga chocolate bar, a carton of juice, a handful of nuts. Though she tried to refuse, by evening her little table was covered in treats.
Alice was the last to go, swinging on Marys coat and vanishing outside. Watching her disappear, Mary thought shed give anything for someone to visit her, too.
She curled up on her bed, blanket pulled over her heada makeshift hideout, as shed done years ago when life seemed too much.
She must have dozedfor she woke to a gentle hand upon her shoulder. In a haze, she looked up to see a womans profile beside her. Thinking it a dream, she turned over, but the gentle touch remained.
Mum? Mary whispered without opening her eyes.
Yes, the woman replied softly. Please, may I be your mother?
And meyour real sister, it was Alices voice now.
Mary sat up fully awake, startled to see the woman, beautiful and kind-eyedreminding her of Miss Barnes. The woman smiled.
Alices told me so much, she said. I love you already, and she says youre the best girl in the worldshe wont leave camp without you.
Yes, Mary, say you will! Alice chimed in.
But will your father mind? Mary asked, uncertain.
He already knows youhes even pleased. Remember Mr. Bennett, the one with the car and the basketball coat? Hes my dad.
Mary nodded, tears spilling at last, as she flung herself into the arms of her new mother and sister.
That was the scene the other girls found when they returned from supper.
***
Mr. Bennett awaited the decision out in his car. When he saw his wife and two happy girls, he understood everything and could only say that nothing would please him more than one more daughter.
From that day, Mary changed. It was as if shed finally drawn back the curtain in her soul, letting happiness pour in. Gone was the silent, lonely girlhere was a cheerful, lively camper, loved by all. The girls admired herafter the night with the thugs and the story of the coat. And when, the next Sunday, the treats poured in, she invited them all to a midnight feast, spreading her sweets and snacks on the bed by candlelight and inviting everyone to share.
The girls convinced her to join the Miss Jubilee contest, taught her dance steps, showed her how to do her hair, and helped her choose a dress.
One week later, the loudspeaker crackled: Daisy Bennett and Mary Smithyour parents are here! Hand in hand, the two sisters rushed to those waiting by the gates.
And just theneveryone understood, those who waited and those who were metthat these were, perhaps, the happiest moments of all their lives.
