A School-Leaving Present
Story from Janus 37 by Simon Banks The beautiful grounds of St Millicent’s School for Girls were basking in the lovely cloudless June morning, but for James Mackie, Deputy Head, the splendid grounds, the beautiful morning, meant nothing. The dour Scot, fiftyish, tall and thin, bore a typically grim expression on his angular rimless-spectacled face. It was now halfway through the last week of Summer Term. So in just a couple of days another batch of what Mr Mackie regarded as his natural prey — the Sixth Form girls — would be leaving and would be forever beyond his gasp. Or more specifically beyond the reach of his cane. The thought made Mr Mackie grind his teeth. Mr James Mackie could rightly be regarded as a man with a chip on his shoulder. He had never been able to forget his own background — a poor Tayside family and meagre State education — and bitterly contrasted this with that of the St Millicent’s girls, almost all of them