Ever a Fighter: The Adventures of Katherine Wilkinson

By David M. Caulfield

This story is about times of heavy sadness and light comedy, times of severe sorrow and complete joy, times of overwhelming fear and extreme courage, times of bitter defeat and sweet victory. It is also about attempted rape and murder, depression and healing, loss and redemption. It is a story of the epic battles of American history that pitted the rich and powerful against the poor and powerless.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514406229

Book preview

Acknowledgement

To my loving, supportive wife Joan who spent many long hours helping me proofread Ever a Fighter.

Thank you sister Bonnie Gray for always being there for me.

Thank you Hilary Caulfield and her daughter Cori for sharing with me your knowledge of the world of the dance. Cori is the model for Ever a Fighter’s Miss Cori. Cori is a renowned choreographer and dancer of whom the Vancouver Sun reports: Cori has created some of the most memorable moments of contemporary dance in Canada. who has performed in China, Vancouver, Toronto and New York. Cori is the owner/operator of The Caulfield School of Dance, Singing and Acting at 2610 Saint John’s Street, Port Moody BC.

Thank you Lauren Philips for allowing me to grace the cover of Ever a Fighter with the great photo of you flying through the air, symbolizing the great spirit of, the hero of the story, Katherine Wilkinson. Thank you also Karolin Philips for your uplifting support.

EVER A FIGHTER

The Adventures of

Katherine Wilkinson

Stand up and fight until you hear the bell. Stand toe to toe.

David M. Caulfield

Copyright © 2016 by David Caulfield.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015914871

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-5144-0623-6

Softcover   978-1-5144-0621-2

eBook   978-1-5144-0622-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/20/2017

Xlibris

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter One

On April 20th in the year eighteen hundred and ninety, Victoria Wilkinson gave birth to her first and only child Katherine. The first of Katherine’s many fights she fought throughout her lifetime came shortly after her first birthday. She contracted a life-threatening pneumonia. When Victoria saw her baby’s lips turning blue, she called the nurse who rushed to get the resident physician. Even as she rushed to get the doctor, the nurse knew if the infant had pneumonia, there would be little he could do to save her life.

When he arrived, the doctor gave a reassuring smile to Victoria. He examined Katherine, and found her temperature had risen to a level she could not sustain. He estimated this poor baby would die by the end of the day. He did not sugarcoat his diagnosis.

Victoria felt lightheaded and thought she might faint. I just can’t pass out now. Katherine needs me. I’ve got to pull myself together and help Katherine fight her way through this even if all I can do is stroke her head and hold her tiny hand and pray with all my might that God will see my baby through this crisis.

Neither Victoria nor the doctor could know Catherine was not just any infant. She had been born not just a fighter, but a fighter among fighters. Her body’s immune system had kicked into high gear and was beginning to fight off this virus that had dared to be so audacious as to invade her body and try to kill her.

Her immune system shifted into a rapid onset response to the invader’s presence. As it did, her small but mighty body synthesized proteins called interferons that sped right to her cells and gave them the armor they needed to help survive an enemy attack. It also rallied its natural killer lymphocyte troops into the battle on a search-and-destroy mission.

The enemy was able to rally its troops and fight beyond the first few rounds of viral duplication. Katherine’s immune system sounded the alarm, and her adaptive immune response kicked into high gear. Her body had decided, in response to the attempt to wreak life-threatening havoc throughout Katherine’s cells, it would fight with every weapon in its formidable arsenal.

If it could speak, it would be saying to the invader, No way, virus, not on my watch. It began using B-lymphocytes to synthesize virus-specific antigens, and cell-mediated cytotoxic T lymphocytes that raced through the battlefield, killing off any cell that might still be infected.

When these warriors discovered the enemy virus had survived the initial attack, they alerted the other fighters in Katherine’s immune system it was time to go to war. Katherine’s killer cells immediately went on the march along her arteries, then the arterioles, then through the capillary network and, finally, into the cells where they ruthlessly attacked and destroyed every pneumonia cell with which they came in contact.

Right behind the killer cells came Katherine’s macrophages, like a bunch of tiny garbage trucks, seeking out and picking up the dead cells and delivering them to her lymphatic system, which unceremoniously dumped them into her urinary tract to be excreted from her body.

How dare this virus attack this fighter of fighters and expect to win? The tough stubborn warriors of her immune system would make sure they did not.

Victoria sat beside her daughter’s bed, praying with all her heart and soul God would grant her just this one request, that her daughter’s life might be spared. After watching with bated breath for what seemed like an eternity, she thought she noticed Katherine’s cough was coming less often and was not as harsh sounding as it had been when Victoria first arrived at her bedside. Her hand, that never left Katherine’s forehead, felt her head beginning to cool down.

When she saw the blue around her fingernails and lips fading, she knew Katherine was winning the fight! She was going to survive! When the doctor examined Katherine, he shook his head in disbelief, for her temperature, instead of steadily rising as it had been, was actually dropping.

Mrs. Wilkinson, if I did not know better, I would say we have just seen a miracle, the puzzled doctor said.

Doctor, I do know better, and what happened to my daughter is definitely a miracle. You just saw God answering my prayers.

The doctor indulgently smiled at Victoria then left the nursery.

This would not be the last time when Katherine would have to fight for her life, only later with human attackers, whose evil intent made them even more dangerous to her than pneumonia.

Trying to discipline her only child was like trying to catch a snowflake in her hand, Victoria thought. She found it difficult, if not impossible, as her daughter would treat whatever she said as a joke even when she spanked her. Katherine would run off giggling as her mother, getting angrier by the second seeing the curly head of red hair bouncing along with each step, as though the hair itself were mocking Victoria, chased after her.

By the time Katherine turned five, she could outrun her mother as they raced, faster and faster, round and round, down the hallway, through the kitchen, through the dining room, through the living room, back down the long hallway, up the spiral staircase to Katherine’s bedroom where she would, in one smooth continuous move, run across the shiny wood floor, flop on her belly, and slide under her bed to where Victoria couldn’t reach her.

Giggling loudly and continuously, she would lie there safe from her mother’s wrath while Victoria huffed, puffed, and threatened her with dire consequences if Katherine did not come right out from under there this very instant!

But, of course there was no way Katherine was coming out from under the bed until her mother had calmed down and left the bedroom in defeat.

When Katherine was five, Victoria, desiring at least one block of time, when she would not have to deal with her energetic, mischievous daughter, decided she would enroll the tot in ballet. She chose Miss Cori’s School of Dance in Port Moody, British Columbia.

Meeting Miss Cori

Victoria stopped just inside the door. She noted many dancers of various ages, all looking professional and competent in their ballet slippers and tutus, warming up for their dance routines under the watchful eye of Miss Cori.

Watching Miss Cori, Victoria wondered if she would accept Katherine as a new pupil. Would she detect Katherine’s potential to create a disturbance wherever she went? As Victoria prayed Miss Cori would think Katherine a good candidate for her dance class, she failed to notice the other mothers. Miss Cori had instructed them to sit and remain silent until their daughters had completed their lesson. If Victoria had looked at the mothers, she would have seen the disapproving look given her by Hortense Pendleton, a member of Victoria’s bridge club. The two despised each other.

Victoria had heard Miss Cori, who was known throughout the dance world for her ability as an accomplished choreographer and dancer, did not accept just any aspiring dancer to become one of her pupils.

Miss Cori was looking for the best and did not tolerate slacking off or shenanigans from her pupils, or from their mothers for that matter. Victoria hoped Katherine would not do or say anything that would allow Miss Cori to be able to discern her daughter’s rebellious nature and deny her membership into her dance school.

When Miss Cori, an attractive and statuesque blue-eyed blonde, introduced herself, Victoria wondered how such a young woman could have afforded an obviously expensive studio. She would later learn Miss Cori had the good fortune of having a father, Alan Jonson, who was a talented carpenter and was willing to put in many hours working without a wage as he built her studio.

Victoria also wondered how Miss Cori had developed into such a classic beauty with such good diction and poise when her father was only a carpenter.

Victoria promised herself her Katherine would grow up knowing that one simply did not select a suitor or a husband from a lower-class family. No, indeed, her daughter would choose a husband who was wealthy, from a proper family, an Anglican, in a profession like medicine, dentistry, or the law. Other than that, he would have to be a successful businessman.

Katherine studied the dancers who were warming up at the barre. Some were doing their pliés, which stretch all the muscles of the legs to prepare the dancers for the exercises that follow.

Others placed one leg along the barre, then bent forward until their body was flat against that leg and their head resting on their outstretched foot. As she watched the dancers go through their warm-up, she was impressed with how easily the dancers could bend and stretch.

It is like they are made out of rubber, she thought. The dancers’ pretty outfits of tight tops and short skirts that looked like gossamer and ballet slippers impressed her. She thought she would look very good dressed like that.

Some of the dancers had completed their warm-up and, as Miss Cori, leaving nothing to chance, had instructed, were practicing their favorite dance steps.

She admired the grace of the more experienced dancers as they flitted across the floor then leapt through the air, landing with poise.

Chapter Two

Prudence Pendleton:

Katherine nodded approvingly at any dancer whose movements met with her standard of how a dancer should display her skills.

She stood perfectly still in front of a dancer named Prudence Pendleton, the daughter of Hortense, Victoria’s nemesis. She neither smiled at nor nodded to this dancer. Now Katherine’s mother had taught her not to stare but something about this dancer caught her eye.

A year older than Katherine, Prudence was a tall, slender, graceful child with a gorgeous head of long blond hair that, before each ballet class, her mother, Hortense, carefully rolled, tied, and bobby-pinned to the side and top of her head.

This prevented her hair, which Hortense usually did in a pigtail, from swinging and hitting another dancer when Prudence did her pirouettes. Not that Prudence would have cared, but Miss Cori insisted her pigtail be pinned up out of the way.

Prudence stood in a dancer’s pose, her head tilted upward and away from Katherine, suggesting a calculated aloofness, a certain haughtiness bordering on arrogance.

Traits that intrigued Katherine because she wondered just what made this girl who, in Katherine’s opinion, wasn’t as good as she thought she was, think she was so great, and challenged her, because Katherine felt certain she, given the opportunity, could become a much-better dancer.

Standing there staring at Prudence Pendleton, there was no way Katherine could foresee this aloof young girl, a complete stranger to her, would become, not only her fiercest competitor, but also her arch-enemy.

She could not know this girl she found so intriguing would come to despise and hate her with a white-hot passion, or this hatred would last until they graduated from high school and beyond.

Hands on her hips, a hint of a smile on her face, a mischievous glint in her eye, Katherine stared at Prudence, whose brow scrunched and eyes flashed, while she pretended Katherine did not exist.

Failing at that, Prudence became so annoyed with this impudent brat who dared stare at her like this, this inferior person who definitely did not belong in her dance studio, this nobody from nowhere, she made a face and stuck out her tongue. Katherine, head tilted back and ever so slightly to one side, simply smiled sweetly and then began to mimic every move the young dancer made.

Her inherited gifts of high intelligence, quick reflexes, excellent coordination, and precise timing, talents partly inherited and partly developed from running away and escaping the wrath of her mother, allowed her to do each move almost at the same time and almost in the same manner as Prudence. It was as though the girls were dancing to the music in unison, like dance partners doing a recital.

Prudence was not amused; Prudence was furious. Prudence did a pirouette, swinging one leg straight out just below the knee, gaining momentum as she swung it up toward her waist in a giant arc at the same time flinging her arms straight out and using their momentum to gain even more speed, then bending them at the elbow, wrapping them around her as she spun faster and faster.

Katherine did a pirouette, not quite the masterful moves Prudence had just made with her arms and legs, but a good imitation for a complete novice.

Prudence, being about six years too young to dance en pointe, took a few quick short steps on the balls of her feet. Katherine, not even knowing what dancing en pointe was, took a few quick short steps on the balls of her feet.

Prudence, imagining a piece of tight string tied to the top of her head and attached to the ceiling pulling her upward so as to keep her back straight, did a graceful petit jeté through the air. Katherine, not having a clue as to how to hold her body, nevertheless willing to give the leap a try, did a not-quite-so-graceful petit jeté through the air.

Prudence said: Why don’t you just go home, you stupid, ugly brat? You don’t belong here, and we don’t want you here!

When Katherine responded by grinning at her, Prudence stepped forward and gave her a hard slap across her cheek.

Prudence’s slap, given with all her considerable strength, making the red imprint burn into her skin, shocked Katherine. Though the slap really stung, she did not cry.

Instead, she rocked back then forward as she twisted her body to the right then back to the left while her right arm and hand followed in a wide arc and gained momentum until Katherine’s hand, with the weight of her spinning body behind it, came to a sudden stop on Prudence’s left cheek.

The resulting smack made everyone in the studio turn in their direction, stand still, and, never having witnessed a scene like this in Miss Cori’s Dance Studio, all just stared in silent wonderment at Katherine and Prudence. When the shocked Prudence held her cheek and began to wail, Katherine simply shook her head from side to side and said, What a big crybaby.

From that moment on, the girls would be arch-enemies. Victoria, eyes rolling upward, bile rising in her gut like a volcano about to erupt, tongue-clucking tsk, tsk, tsk in disgust, strode quickly and forcefully across the dance floor.

She pondered the frustrating infuriating irony of her daughter creating such a scene at such a time.

Just when Victoria thought she had figured out a solution to her daughter’s repeated acting out, here was her daughter acting out in the very place, at the very time, in the very way that might prevent Victoria from taking advantage of that very solution.

Katherine knew, not only had she won an important victory over this arrogant girl, but also that she was in deep trouble. She, nevertheless, stood her ground with her hands on her hips, eyes flashing her contempt for the sissy, and ready to whack her again should she be foolish enough to risk another attack.

Meanwhile, Victoria marched over to Katherine, grabbed her by the hand, and yanked her rebellious daughter away from Prudence. Katherine had to run to keep up as Victoria strode angrily across the floor, dragging her troublesome daughter a step behind her. Miss Cori’s dancers began to giggle, but were stopped by an admonishing look from Miss Cori.

Once she had found a place with enough space between Katherine and Prudence to keep them from attacking one another, she lifted Katherine off the floor with one hand and gave her a good hard smack on the behind with the other.

She hit her so hard she hurt her hand. Katherine, however, remained stoic. She did not make a sound. She did not even grimace. The only one crying was Prudence.

Not because her face still hurt all that much anymore, but because she wanted the ugly brat who had had the nerve to smack her, to get into as much trouble as possible.

Miss Cori, also shaking her head, strode over to where Victoria and Katherine stood and said, You know, Mrs. Wilkinson, I have to tell you I have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to my pupils misbehaving during a lesson. You might want to wait a year before enrolling Katherine in my classes.

This upset Katherine. She was fascinated by the moves she had seen the dancers make and knew she, given a chance, could become a better dancer than the big crybaby who had smacked her.

Chapter Three

Katherine pleads her case:

I cross my heart and hope to die if I don’t behave myself. I really want to learn to dance, and I know you will be the best teacher I could have in the whole world. I promise, Miss Cori, just give me a chance. You will see. I’ll be good.

Miss Cori’s remark also upset Victoria who very much wanted Katherine to be enrolled at Miss Cori’s School of Dance. She wanted to someday be able to tell the ladies in her bridge club, My daughter, Katherine, is a prima ballerina. And because she had finally reached her wit’s end, spending so much of her precious time trying to get her daughter to obey her.

So Victoria, hoping against hope Miss Cori could instill some discipline in her spirited daughter and give Victoria herself some time to do the things she wanted to accomplish, also pleaded with Miss Cori: Miss Cori, please, won’t you please just enroll Katherine in your dance school on a trial basis? If she doesn’t behave, you can always expel her. I will understand and not complain.

Miss Cori had noted Katherine, while imitating Prudence Pendleton, although untrained, had demonstrated the remarkable ease of movement and sense of rhythm that suggested, given the right instruction, this attractive, well-coordinated, spirited girl had the potential to become a very good dancer indeed.

Miss Cori held her chin for a while in silent contemplation, then said in a firm, determined voice: Well, Katherine, do you understand that if I let you come to my dance classes, you must obey all my rules without question and not do or say anything that disrupts my class or upsets my dancers?

Prudence and her mother, meanwhile, were hoping Miss Cori would have the good sense to see that this intruder into their world of dance was not at all a suitable candidate to become one of Miss Cori’s dancers.

But Katherine continued to lobby persuasively.

Yes, Miss Cori. Thank you, oh, thank you, Miss Cori. I understand. I promise I will obey all your rules and not bother the other dancers. I just want to learn to become a good dancer, and I know you will be the best dance teacher ever!

Miss Cori, as she pondered the situation, could not help but smile at Katherine’s intuitive sense of how to appeal to her ego.

Prudence after all did provoke this girl by slapping her first. And I think she could, with hours of disciplined training, become a very good dancer indeed.

Perhaps even one of the best. And she would not be the first willful child with whom I have worked. Halley Morgan was a challenge and yet she settled down and became an excellent dancer.

In fact, she ended up joining the Royal Ballet in Toronto and played the lead in The Nutcracker Suite.

But will this girl submit to the rigorous disciplined training to which I would subject her? I suppose the only way to find out is to give her the opportunity to prove herself.

All right, Katherine, I’ll tell you what. I will let you come to my classes. But the first time you act out in class, you will be expelled. This will mean you will not be able to take lessons from me for another year. So, Katherine, do you think you can behave if I let you come to my classes?

Oh yes, Miss Cori! Thank you, Miss Cori. I will be good. You’ll see.

I hope you truly mean that, Katherine.

Hortense and Prudence were furious Miss Cori had not given Catherine the boot and told her mother not to bring her back.

On the first day of lessons Victoria, having better things to do than sit in a row against the wall with a group of mothers, including the nasty Hortense Pendleton, walked out into the fresh air and sunshine.

She couldn’t believe the relief she felt at not, for a while anyway, having to deal with her labor-intensive daughter.

What a surprise! To feel so free! And on this glorious day in June, to be free of Katherine. Free! Free! Free!

After looking about to be sure no one was listening or watching, Victoria shouted: Free at last, free at last, hallelujah. Thank God I’m free at last! Then she began to skip down the sidewalk, laughing as she went.

So Katherine began to attend Miss Cori’s School of Dance three hours a day, five days a week, and dutifully towed the line in class. One-day Miss Cori, while her class of dancers was doing their warm-up exercises, took Katherine aside to teach her the correct way to do a petit jeté.

Katherine had already learned to keep her back straight, so Miss Cori instructed her to push vigorously from your underneath leg so it is stretched underneath you as you jump.

It did not take Katherine long to catch on to that part of the leap so Miss Cori went on: Very good, Katherine, now be sure to keep your working leg from moving up and down as you leap forward.

Wanting to stay on the good side of Miss Cori, and to excel in every aspect of the dance, and to eventually beat the pants off of Prudence, she listened carefully, watched closely, and caught on quickly.

As the class continued, Miss Cori kept calling out instructions like: Turn your feet out, turn out! Don’t sickle your feet! Soft arms and fingers! Shoulders down! Long necks! Come on, girls use your plié. Don’t look at the floor! Look up and out, up and out!

At first Katherine didn’t know what some of the terms meant. But when Miss Cori gave her personal lessons, she soon caught on. Katherine also learned when Miss Cori’s lessons were over and it was time to go home, the dancers curtsied and said, Thank you, Miss Cori.

Chapter Four

Training to beat Prudence:

When dance class was over, Katherine returned to her oversized bedroom with its beautiful mahogany four-poster canopy bed and dressers to match.

There, she diligently practiced every dance move she had learned from Miss Cori that day. After that she worked for many hours a day, every day.

After trying, even though she had been instructed not to, unsuccessfully to dance en pointe until the front of her toes and feet hurt, she decided to practice on the balls of her feet the way Miss Cori had instructed her to do.

She did pirouettes until she got dizzy and fell down. She practiced leaping through the air in a petit jeté until her legs began to cramp up.

She then sat on her bed, rested a while, got up, twirled and leaped and twirled and leaped some more. The more she trained the better her endurance got until she was able to go for long practice sessions without getting tired.

Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month, she trained this way. Never complaining when her feet and muscles ached, never getting distracted by the shouts and laughter of children playing in the yard next door, never being envious of their freedom.

She never even thought of giving up because she was a child obsessed, a child determined, a child who was someday going to beat Prudence Pendleton in a dance competition no matter what price she had to pay.

The radical change in Katherine’s behavior of course delighted and amazed her mother. And when Katherine was in class, Victoria had time to once again become a leading socialite in Vancouver. And when she was at home, Victoria was delighted Katherine was practicing her dance moves in her bedroom and did not have time to torment her.

By the time Katherine had been taking dance lessons for six months, Miss Cori was so impressed with her athletic ability, grace, sense of rhythm, diligence, intelligence, mental and physical toughness, and determination, there was no way she wanted to lose her as a pupil.

Katherine perceived this and, for the first time, began to test Miss Cori, who, though she had a warm, generous personality was strict and firm with her dance pupils.

On the rare occasion when Katherine acted out and made the rest of the class, except for Prudence Pendleton, of course, giggle, Miss Cori punished her by making her stand alone in the cloakroom.

When the crafty Katherine waited until the class was almost over to act up, the crafty Miss Cori outfoxed her by waiting until Katherine’s next class to make her do her time in the cloakroom.

In spite of these occasional misadventures that were sometimes so comical Miss Cori had to struggle not to encourage Katherine in her shenanigans by laughing herself, Miss Cori, although she would never let on, began to regard Katherine as her favorite pupil.

She was wise enough to always keep Katherine and Prudence, who was still furious the stupid, ugly brat had been allowed to become a member of her dance class, separated by as many dancers as possible.

Katherine disliked missing even part of a lesson, so she decided to avoid the cloakroom by forgoing her role as a comedian and focusing on becoming the best dancer she could be.

She learned quickly as she dutifully practiced at home seven days a week. She went through Miss Cori’s demanding dance routines and exercises hour after hour.

So Katherine met and even exceeded Miss Cori’s high expectations of her. And, much to Prudence Pendleton and her mother’s dismay and her own mother’s delight, Katherine, as she knew she would, became a better dancer than Prudence.

Prudence, who had disliked Katherine from the moment she first laid eyes on her, now hated her almost beyond endurance. Katherine did not hate Prudence.

She just intensely disliked the way she harassed the less experienced and less talented dancers by criticizing and mocking them.

So it tickled Katherine to no end when she finally got good enough to infuriate Prudence by beating her in every dance competition they entered.

Before Katherine came along and trained until she got better than Prudence, the adjudicator would always announce: Prudence Pendleton, first place.

Now it was the adjudicator announcing: Katherine Wilkinson, first place then Prudence Pendleton, second place.

This left Prudence and her mother, Hortense, in a white-hot fury, and Katherine and Victoria in a contented bliss. Winning repeatedly against some tough competition was as sweet as sugar, getting Prudence and Hortense so angry, was icing on the cake.

Katherine had an aunt, her father’s sister, who, although she lived in London, would come over to visit her brother and his family every summer.

Katherine admired the way her aunt stood up to her father and even teased him. Aunty Kate, unlike her brother, had a gregarious, outgoing personality, a great sense of humor, and a loud, infectious laugh. A laugh that, while it annoyed her brother to no end, amused her niece, also to no end. For this and other reasons, Katherine loved her aunt. When she learned her aunt, like her, had been christened Katherine, she decided that she, like Aunty Kate had, also wanted to drop the name Katherine and be called Kate.

Chapter Five

Katherine becomes Kate:

When Katherine started grade one, she told her teacher, Miss Shaw, she wanted to be called Kate. Katherine’s teacher tried to convince her Katherine was a much more sophisticated name, but gave in to the determined look in Katherine’s eyes.

Miss Shaw said: I will tell you what Katherine, I will talk to your mother, and if she agrees, I will introduce you to the class as Kate Wilkinson. Now are you sure you want to be called Kate, or would you prefer Katie?

Katherine said in a firm voice: I want to be called Kate, not Katie. Katie is a sissy name.

Later in the day, Katherine, her chin jutting out in determination that was also reflected in her eyes and voice, had a long heated discussion with her mother.

Kate’s mother said: We had you christened Katherine because it is an elegant, lovely sounding name. Kate sounds harsh to the human ear. It grates on one’s sensibilities.

I think Kate sounds better than Katherine.

Victoria continued: You are only a child. You cannot possibly be a competent judge of what name sounds better, Katherine.

I know what sounds better to me.

But you are a child.

OK then, let me have a name that sounds better to a child.

Victoria said, The thing is, Katherine, my friends and relatives are adults, and I know they would not like to hear you called Kate. Besides, your name’s associated in my mind with royalty, while the name Kate makes me think of a fishwife.

Victoria continued: Your father’s cousin is a member of the Teck family, and that is Queen Mary’s maiden name. So our family is closer to royalty than we are to the likes of a fishwife, Katherine. Do you really want a name that sounds like that of a fishwife? What will your friends think?

My friends don’t even know what a fishwife is and neither do I, Mother. So why not let my friends call me Kate and you and your friends can call me Katherine?

Their argument went around and around like this for over an hour. Finally, Victoria, knowing Katherine would never give up or shut up, agreed to Katherine’s compromise.

All right, Katherine. You can be Kate with your friends and acquaintances at school, but in this house and wherever you go with me, you will be called Katherine, your proper name. And that is final. I don’t want to hear another word on the subject. This discussion is over, finished, done! Is that clear?

Victoria slapped the flat of her hand on the table so hard it hurt, and her look of determination now matched her daughter’s.

Katherine, wise enough to know she had pushed her mother to the edge of her patience and this was the time for compromise, smiled and gave her mother a hug and said, Thank you, Mother. I love you.

Victoria just shook her head and gave a deep sigh as she got up from the table and left the room. Her daughter was not only obstinate; she was wise beyond her years and used the English language with amazing dexterity.

She would no doubt someday, be a formidable debate opponent. Though Victoria was proud of her daughter’s ability, she did not look forward to arguing with her when she became a teenager. It was trying enough at this age.

The next day, Katherine told her teacher, Miss Shaw, her mother agreed she could be called Kate in school. Her teacher told her she had talked with her mother and they had agreed that, when in school, she would be called Kate, not Katherine.

So, from now on in my classroom and the schoolyard, you will be known to one and all as Kate Wilkinson, Miss Shaw said, smiling at Kate. However, Kate, when I talk to your mother, I will refer to you as Katherine because your mother would prefer that.

Kate agreed with Miss Shaw it would be OK if Miss Shaw called Kate Katherine when she was talking to her mother. After that day, Miss Shaw and Kate got along well.

She did, however, have to give Kate advanced work as Kate would catch on to whatever Miss Shaw was teaching very quickly.

She would sometimes get herself into trouble when she became bored. To entertain herself, she would throw spitballs at the class bullies or say something funny to her neighbor and make her giggle.

One day, when Miss Shaw was teaching a physical education class, she blew her whistle during calisthenics to signal a changeup in the routine. Kate imitated the sound of the whistle and some of the pupils nearby started to laugh.

Miss Shaw smiled and said: Thank you whoever is trying to help me out here, but we only need one instructor and one whistle in this class.

The next time Miss Shaw blew her whistle, Kate did her imitation.

OK, class, I know who the whistler is and I have asked her to stop. If I hear another whistle from her, I will have to punish her.

When Miss Shaw blew her whistle the third time, Kate, thinking the punishment might just be having to stay in after school, hesitated a moment, then made the whistle sound. The instant she saw Miss Shaw coming toward her, looking quite angry, Kate knew she had made a mistake.

All right, Kate, follow me, and the rest of you, run around the gym until we get back.

Kate dutifully followed Miss Shaw back to the cloakroom where her teacher took a heavy leather strap out of a drawer and said: Kate, please hold out your hand.

Miss Shaw looked very sad as she raised the strap and brought it down on Kate’s hand. It hurt all right, but not as much as Kate thought it might.

Kate did not cry until, when the strapping was over, she looked into Miss Shaw’s large tear-filled eyes. Kate loved Miss Shaw, and her brown eyes that always reflected the affection she felt for her pupils. Kate’s own eyes filled with tears and she said: I’m sorry, Miss Shaw, I shouldn’t have made that sound.

I know you are, Kate, and so am I. I did not want to have to strap you, but I told you twice not to imitate my whistle and you just wouldn’t listen. I know you like to have fun and be the class clown, but when I tell you to do something or, stop doing something, you have to listen and do what I tell you. Otherwise you undermine my authority with the other pupils.

Kate, looking penitent, again told Miss Shaw she was sorry. Miss Shaw nodded her head and put the strap back in the drawer.

Then she took out a tissue for her and one for Kate. They both wiped their eyes then blew their noses in unison. They laughed at how comical that was, then went back to join the rest of the class in the gym.

One day, Mr. Saunders, the school principal, called Victoria and asked her to come to his office at noon the next day for a conference. Victoria, thinking Kate had misbehaved one time too many, grilled her daughter about what she had done. But Kate did not have a clue as to what the principal might want and told Victoria she had done nothing wrong.

Victoria, apprehensive about what kind of trouble Kate could be in that would warrant this visit, knocked on the door of the principal’s office. He opened the door, gave her a big smile, and said, Thank you for coming. Mrs. Wilkinson. It is a pleasure to meet the mother of one of the brightest pupils in Kingsway West School.

Victoria was confused. What was going on? Obviously her suspicions about Kate being in trouble had been way off base. Then Saunders spoke again: Miss Shaw informed me Katherine would be bored silly if she has to spend a school year learning the subjects in grade two. We both agree it would be a good idea if Katherine were promoted directly into grade three.

When Kate walked into her third grade class she saw none other than her nemesis, Prudence Pendleton, sitting in the front of a row of seats directly in front of the teacher’s desk. In order to torment Prudence every chance she got throughout the school year, Kate took the seat directly behind her. Prudence looked at Kate like she had just crawled out from under a rock.

The classroom was bedlam. Pupils were yelling, throwing spitballs, and wrestling with one another. A few boys were laughing loudly while drawing their raunchy version of comic-book cartoons on the blackboard. Timid pupils, knowing the teacher could be arriving at any minute, not wanting to start the school year off on the teacher’s bad side, were milling around the room looking for an empty desk they could claim as their own.

Amused, Kate sat in her seat behind Prudence and just observed the action. She knew the teacher would be arriving soon. She felt sorry for any teacher who would try to get this wild group of kids under control.

Boy, the new teacher is going to have a heck of a time dealing with these kids. I pity any teacher who walks into this circus.

Chapter Six

The maniacal and merciless Miss Holt:

Kate had never met or heard of Miss Holt. Finally, she appeared, bedlam still swirling across the room like a tornado. The classroom was in total disarray. Pupils were running around the classroom in mindless glee. Miss Holt stood motionless, allowing her dark eyes to relentlessly to sweep across the classroom. Their steely gaze froze her wards on the spot as they looked into those threatening eyes for a brief moment and saw that, should they annoy her, she would cause them much pain.

She was not angry; she was not even challenged.

She knew she would soon have this group of unruly miscreants totally under her control. And they would remain that way, bodies stiff and still, eyes riveted on their desktops, mouths shut.

Before long, the sorceress had worked her magic. It not had taken a long time as Kate had thought it would. Instead, it had taken the new teacher just a few minutes.

The few boys at the blackboard, being unaware the teacher, who had not yet uttered a word, had arrived, were still laughing as they punched one another on the arm and drew ever more outrageously offensive pictures on the blackboard. They erased one drawing then started another, each trying to make his more shocking than any of the other boys.

But as the class quieted down, the laughing, hollering boys at the blackboard became aware something in the classroom was changing and suspected that change did not portend well for their immediate future. They were right. They turned around and saw their new teacher standing at attention like a drill sergeant, her face screwed up into a scowl, her steely gaze fixed unwavering on their guilty, startled eyes.

They froze on the spot, then hunched over in a vain effort to make themselves less conspicuous as they moved between the rows of desks. Each was trying to find an empty desk where they might find refuge from this teacher’s penetrating gaze, a gaze that shrunk their gonads and shriveled their oversized egos.

When they found a vacant desk, where they hoped to hide from her threatening stare, the bad boys quickly sat down, hoping to become anonymous and forgotten. They slunk down in their seats, their worried eyes fixed on the top of their desks.

The whole class was thoroughly intimidated, except of course for Kate Wilkinson and Prudence Pendleton, who was smiling sweetly at her new teacher. When the teacher’s eyes met Kate’s, Kate did not look down. Instead her eyes, reflecting not fear, but only curiosity and amusement, looked directly into her teacher’s cold dark eyes, eyes that meant to reveal nothing but to stir profound uncertainty, and held their unwavering gaze.

The teacher’s face twisted into a threatening scowl, a scowl Kate would get to know well throughout the school year. Having silenced all of her pupils, the new teacher marched to her desk, stood ramrod straight, and smiled. It was a smile that did not go past her lips and emanated neither warmth nor affection.

Good morning, class, I am Miss Holt, your homeroom teacher. When I come through that door tomorrow morning and every morning from now until the end of the school year, each and every one of you will be sitting up straight, facing the front of the class, eyes looking straight ahead. Your hands will be clasped in front of you on the desk, and your mouths will be shut. I will say, Good morning, class. And you will reply, Good morning, Miss Holt. Prior to that time, there will be not one word, not one sound, not one peep. Do I make myself clear?

The class sat in cowed silence, bodies rigid, hearts fearful, minds where Miss Holt intended to keep them, subjugated. Two pupils were not fearful, Prudence Pendleton who said in her sweetest syrupy voice, Yes, Miss Holt, and Kate Wilkinson who leaned forward slightly and whispered to Prudence, Teacher’s pet?

Miss Holt glared at Kate and said, I beg your pardon? What did you just say to this young lady? She walked to Kate’s desk and stood over her.

Nothing, Teacher, Kate said innocently.

Miss Holt then turned to Prudence and said, What is your name, young lady?

My name is Prudence Pendleton, Miss Holt.

Well, Prudence, what was the nothing that this young lady whispered to you?

She whispered, Teacher’s pet, Miss Holt.

Thank you, Prudence.

You are welcome, Miss Holt.

And you, young lady, what is your name? Miss Holt said, turning to Kate.

Kate.

So, Kate, do you have a last name, or are you just Kate?

Kate Wilkinson.

Well, Kate Wilkinson, the next time you make a wiseacre comment, then lie about it, you will get the strap. You came very close to getting a good strapping this time. Do I make myself clear, Wilkinson? Her cold, dark eyes bored into Kate’s. She was determined to shake this impudent girl’s galling refusal to show fear, to show she was as intimidated as the rest of her class.

Miss Holt felt certain she, not this impudent brat, would, sooner or later, win this battle of the wills. Kate stared back and wanted to tell Miss Holt that she didn’t think there was any such thing as a good strapping because any time she had gotten a strapping; it didn’t feel very good. Instead she simply murmured, Yes.

Tell me, Wilkinson, are you hard of hearing. Or are you just dense?

No.

No, what Wilkinson?

No, I am not hard of hearing, and no, I am not dense.

Then you heard me tell the class to call me Miss Holt?

Yes, Miss Holt.

And you heard Miss Pendleton call me Miss Holt, did you not?

Yes, Miss Holt.

Clever girl, Wilkinson. It took you long enough to get it. Tell me, Wilkinson, are you going to be this dense when it comes to learning your lessons?

No, Miss Holt.

Miss Holt then marched to one of the boys who had been drawing pictures on the blackboard. He had hoped Miss Holt had forgotten about him.

She hadn’t.

She stopped and stood motionless and silent while staring down at him. She let him squirm for a while and then said, What is your name?

Gerald Ashram, Miss Holt.

Fine, Gerald Ashram. Go to my desk, and in the top right-hand drawer you will find a strap. Take it into the cloakroom and wait for me. And you, the rest of you boys, who were so foolishly drawing those silly, offensive pictures on the blackboard, go and join Gerald.

Miss Holt, marching like a drill sergeant, followed the boys into the cloakroom. The blakeys on the heels of her shoes, clicked out an authoritative beat. The class listened in stony, wide-eyed silence as they heard the sharp slap of the strap followed by a howl from her first victim. Her punishment completed, Miss Holt ordered the hurting, humbled, crying boys back to their seats.

Because Kate stubbornly and continually refused to allow Miss Holt to intimidate her, more than once Miss Holt had to resort to strapping her. Although the strap was made of thick leather and hurt her a lot, Kate was determined not to give Miss Holt the satisfaction of ever seeing or hearing her cry. This annoyed Miss Holt, who had a barely repressed streak of sadism that came out when she had the opportunity to take one of her pupils into the cloakroom and strap him or her.

It did not take Prudence Pendleton long to become Miss Holt’s pet as Kate had predicted. Kate referred to her as PPTP, which she meant to be the initials for Prudence Pendleton Teacher’s Pet. Other pupils took the initials to mean Pee-Pee Toilet Paper, and that was all right with Kate.

Prudence would often tattle on the other pupils whenever she saw them breaking one of Miss Holt’s numerous rules. She was smart and pretty, though her face was usually twisted into such a look of disdain for those around her, it detracted from her good looks.

Kate could barely restrain herself from pulling her pigtail every time she walked by.

Prudence loved to goad and mock any girl who was weak, small, shy, awkward, or slow in any way and not up to Prudence’s standards of classic good looks, high social standing, exacting dress code, proper behavior, and superior intelligence.

When she was sure none of the teachers was watching her, she would punch one of the unfortunate objects of her disdain on the arm. Her punch would land right on the lateral edge of the humerus where the sharp edge of her knuckles would violently compress the radial nerve against the bone and make her victim cry out.

Much to Prudence’s consternation, Kate not only did not acknowledge Prudence as the smartest, best looking, most athletic girl in the school, but took every opportunity to harass her.

One day Kate noted her nemesis’s pigtail, the one that her mother Hortense lovingly, carefully, and patiently braided each morning, was just long enough so that, with a little help from Kate, it could be guided, should Kate be so bold, so bad, and so reckless, into the inkwell that was built into each desk so the pupils could dip in their straight pens and write.

Now Prudence had the habit of slowly turning her head from side to side every now and then. This caused her pigtail to move tantalizingly back and forth, back and forth, to where it almost fell into Kate’s inkwell.

Kate, so delighted with this opportunity to annoy Prudence, was willing to risk Miss Holt’s wrath. Knowing that the circumstances of this opportunity were most fortuitous and therefore could not be ignored, she watched the pigtail like a cat watching a ball of yarn being yanked across the floor each time its mistress made another stitch. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as they followed the path of the pigtail.

And all this filled with her with so much temptation that even the fear of Miss Holt’s strap, which she wielded like an instrument of torture, was not enough to make Kate pass up this opportunity to enrage her nemesis.

Not wanting to touch Prudence’s hair in a way that would let her know Kate was messing with it, knowing that the deed had to be executed with stealth and cunning, she waited patiently until the swinging pigtail was almost in line with her inkwell.

Next, she blocked the pigtail with the flat of one hand about one half inch from her inkwell. She held it perfectly still until Prudence stopped turning her head from side to side, and she was sure Prudence was oblivious to what was about to happen with her precious hair.

Next she ever so gently and carefully coaxed the pigtail, with the flat of her fingers, to the edge of her inkwell. She held it there for a second, causing her classmates to wonder if she were really going to follow through with this madness. They did not have long to wait. Kate shifted Prudence’s pigtail ever so slightly and it dropped deep into the coal black ink.

Osmosis did the rest.

As the ink began working its way up poor Prudence Pendleton’s prized pigtail, some of the children behind Kate, watching her wide-eyed and intent, holding their breath, some anxious for Kate.

Others wishing she would get on with it, were hardly able to believe what she was doing just a few feet away from Miss Holt’s desk. Is she crazy? Is she nuts? I can’t believe this!

In spite of their valiant efforts to restrain themselves, those that could see what Kate was doing began to giggle. Kate, appearing to be intent on Miss Holt’s every word, suspecting that the wrath of God would soon be descending upon her, sat perfectly still and poker-faced. She gave her teacher no hint she had set in motion the action that had started the giggling among her pupils, the action that would offend her teacher to the very core of her being and send her into a rage.

Miss Holt gave the gigglers a menacing, cold stare that sent shivers down their spines and silenced them immediately.

But when Kate turned the palm of her hand upward, placed her fingers near the now half-black pigtail, and began making an upward motion with the flat of her hand, as though coaxing the black ink further up Prudence’s pigtail, they burst out laughing.

Prudence swung her head around to see what the laughter was about. That sent a spray of black ink over the front of her snow-white blouse and exposed her ink-stained pigtail to Miss Holt.

The teacher’s familiar, cold, hostile stare fixated on Kate. The class became silent and still as Miss Holt stared menacingly at Kate. The Wilkinson brat had made her favorite pupil look like a fool. And making a fool of her favorite pupil was making a fool of her. And no one, absolutely no one, especially the Wilkinson brat, was going to do that, not without feeling the extreme pain of her wrath.

Chapter Seven

Battle of wills:

She continued to stare at Kate while the class remained still, silent, and apprehensive. They did not know exactly what, but they knew something terrible was going to happen. Even Kate, who thought she had learned to cope with Miss Holt’s wrath, felt her stomach tighten into a knot, and for the first time, she could not meet her teacher’s hostile stare.

She looked down at her desk and waited in the eerie, nervous silence for what seemed like a long time as she fought the urge to giggle that would come upon her whenever she got nervous.

Although she could not see it, Kate imagined she could feel the brutal anger and hatred, traveling like a beam of evil light her way. Finally, Miss Holt looked at her watch and abruptly dismissed the class for recess. When Kate went to stand up, Miss Holt said, Where do you think you are going, Wilkinson? Sit down!

Some of the kids, whom Kate had rescued from a school bully at one time or another, were truly fond of her and had tears in their eyes.

When the last of Miss Holt’s pupils had left the room, except for Prudence, whom Miss Holt had asked to stay behind, Miss Holt ordered Kate to apologize to Prudence. Kate, seeing no way out, told Prudence, with great effort, that she was sorry that she dipped her pigtail in her inkwell.

But when she looked at her nemesis’s ink-stained blouse and half-black pigtail, she had to stifle another urge to giggle. But she knew she must not. Not if she valued her life.

Kate walked slowly to where Miss Holt stood and held out her left hand. She was ready to drop her hand ever so slightly to absorb some of the shock of the strap as she had done so many times before, but Miss Holt grabbed her hand and trapped it in hers.

Kate noted the wicked gleam in her teacher’s eyes and the cruel smile that was on her twisted mouth. Miss Holt knew she would strap this stubborn, willful child and not stop until she gave in and started to cry. Kate knew she, as she had done so many times before, would tough it out and not cry.

Miss Holt raised the strap high and brought it down on Kate’s imprisoned hand with all the strength she could muster. SMACK! The shock of the impact startled Kate, but she did not make a sound.

Her teacher didn’t stop at five or six times as she usually did, but kept strapping, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Seven, eight, nine times. Kate, who saw the maniacal look on Miss Holt’s face and relentless fury in her eyes that continued unabated no matter how much pain she inflicted on her, wondered if her teacher had gone insane.

Kate saw red welts rising on her hand. Tiny specs of blood oozed from the welts. Finally, she decided Miss Holt truly was insane and would not stop her relentless punishment until Kate gave her the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

So she decided wisdom really was, in this case, the better part of valor and the only way she was going to stop this insane teacher was to give up the struggle and just let the tears fall. She was in such pain it was not hard to do. Kate decided she would willingly throw in the towel and give Miss Holt a sense of victory. But she would do it in a controlled manner and not break down and start sobbing uncontrollably. No way.

Once she chose to concede the victory to Miss Holt, the battle ended, and the dam of Kate’s tough resistance to an irresistible force broke. The flood of tears Miss Holt had been waiting for and expecting came streaming down Kate’s face. Miss Holt’s eyes changed from hard, cold steel to a bright twinkle of delight.

She had won! The Wilkinson brat, as she knew she would, had caved and she had won!

Once Kate decided she would stop Miss Holt’s insane assault on her and let her resistance down, she lost control and sobbed.

She was mortified and angry with herself, but, at the same time, now that the battle was over, she felt a great release of the tension that she had created in her own body by her struggle not to cry.

She stood, head down, body slumped in defeat, crushed and humiliated. Her unwelcome heavy sobs signaling that her resolve to show a measured amount of remorse, to give Miss Holt just enough of a sense of victory to stop the insane, relentless strapping, yet leaving Kate with a feeling of being undefeated, had collapsed like a crinoline dress in the wash.

As Kate stood there sobbing, as much now from the pain of defeat as from the pain in her hand, Miss Holt ordered her to hold out her right hand and strapped that one five good whacks. That was Kate’s writing hand and Miss Holt wanted to be sure she could still hold her pen.

Miss Holt, a look of smug satisfaction settling on her face, put the strap away as her heavy breathing settled down. Kate started to walk back to her desk. She thought Miss Holt was done with her, that the sight of her tears and sobs of humiliation would have been enough for her teacher.

They were not.

Wilkinson, just where do you think you are going? I don’t recall telling you to take your seat.

Kate turned and came back to where she had been standing.

You will stand exactly where you are until I tell you to take your seat.

Oh no, the witch is going to make me stand here until the kids come back in, Kate thought.

Kate used the back of her hand to dry her eyes. Miss Holt just watched her with a cold smile. She knew, for Kate, to have the rest of the class know she had been crying would be more painful than the strapping itself. Finally, the class returned to the classroom and, one by one, took their seats. Miss Holt waited until her class was sitting in silent expectation.

This was her moment of triumph, of sweet revenge, of absolute power over the incorrigible Wilkinson brat. She had waited too long for this moment not to savor every