I stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by anxious faces. It is my turn to recite the day's lesson.
The Inspector's ruler points to me.
"Stand up. Recite the adventures of Columbus. What was the date of Columbus' landing in Jamaica?
What were the names of his ships? Why was he in the Caribbean?"
My heart pounds. The heat of the morning sun, soaking through the galvanised roof, is magnified inside the schoolroom. The stench of fear is in everyone's nostrils. Something tells me that my days of being hidden, disposed of, dispatched to the invisibility of the back row, are numbered.
I stand up, my limbs shaking uncontrollably, sweat dripping from my armpits, my eyes inflamed. My belly aches. I am petrified. Words fail to come out. They are formed in my head, but my lips do not speak them. The Inspector's eyes pierce me through. They demand a response, demand to be respected and obeyed.
"What was Columbus doing here anyway?" The trapped words inside my head tumble out. The rebel inside me is alive. The schoolroom becomes even quieter, if that is possible.
"You in for it," Patricia, sitting next to where I stand shaking, mutters without moving her lips. I know she is speaking the truth.
The Inspector's face is frozen. Miss Henderson, form six teacher, pounces with the ruler. Her face says she is sure she could not have heard what she thought she heard. "What did you say, Hortense?"
From I don't know where, a power surges through me. My fists clench. My teeth lock into each other. Miss Henderson reads challenge in my face. I stand still, not daring to say any more.
"What did you say?" she commands, challenging me to repeat my facetiness. And again it happens. Words gush out of my mouth. "Is what Columbus did want? Who invite him here?"
Before the last word has left my lips, the sharp sting of the ruler cracks my knuckles. Stupidly, I had left my clenched fist on the desk in front of me. The blow brings me back to the steam bath. Sweat now drips from my face, floods my armpits, drips from between my legs.
I could kill this woman with her sharp pointed nose, mean eyes and frightened face. We cross eyes, and for an instant I see the fear which has trapped us in this rank, smelly room. Miss Henderson is afraid. She is as much afraid of the Inspector as I am.
My brains, what brains I have left, are bouncing around in my skull, goading me on. I will get more of the ruler. It is written across Miss Henderson's wrinkled forehead. My life is at an end! At least in this school. If Miss Henderson does not kill me with this ruler, my aunt is sure to finish me off when she
hears how I back-chat the Inspector and Teacher Henderson.
My parents are in England and living with my aunt is like walking a tight-rope. One little slip and I am in big trouble. Dis look and smell like big trouble to me.
The lunch bell echoes throughout the school. My salvation? For now, anyway.
Hungry bellies rumble in the steam bath, but we are still transfixed by the Inspector, paralysed by Miss Henderson's stare. Feet shuffle, fingers scratch prickly skin. From outside there is the freedom of released bodies bouncing against the partition and liberated voices rising. They magnify our imprisonment. But the walls have been breached. The jailers are quick to realise that this battle is lost. For now.
"Class dismissed," the Inspector grudgingly commands. Miss Henderson lowers her eyes.