‘Perhaps she wants to be noticed.’ Again, I load what I say so Jemima will know I’m talking about her too, but it makes no difference. I hoped that Jemima would show some compassion because she has been hurt recently. She doesn’t. She grabs Susan hard by the arm and drags her out of the toilets. Susan yowls.
We follow. As we get into the corridor, our class comes shrieking out on their way to the yard. This scuppers any hope I had of a teacher stepping in to stop this.
Jemima frog-marches Susan ahead and tells everyone to follow. They do. I get jostled out of the way, the other kids are so eager to keep up. People’s yells crackle the corridors. Shoes march. The electric smell of fear and excitement. I look for the receptionist as we go past, but he isn’t at his post. I can’t wait for him. I have to stay with the others.
Susan is The Witch. I’m utterly gobsmacked. Quiet, unassuming Susan. She’s the one who spread all that hate and malicious gossip. Maybe Susan deserves to be tried.
I catch the picture of Winter out of the corner of my eye. The people in it look wild, frenzied. Just like we are now. What am I thinking? What have I become? I’m so sorry. I need to stop this.
We are heading for the willow tree. I’m at the back of the crowd but the words pass through us like a snake from mouth to venomous mouth.
‘Susan is The Witch.’ I hear it over and over.
I can see Dorcas at the front, trying to wrestle with Jemima, but Jemima is strong, and everyone else is with her. They pull Dorcas away and she falls back into the pack. I wait. I don’t know what to do.
We get to the willow too quickly. The green is a tangling cage today. It hides us from the outside world. Here there is no law except ours.
I’m torn. I want to run to get help. I want to stay to make sure things don’t get any more out of hand.
‘Quiet!’ Everyone obeys Jemima immediately. Suspense fills the space. ‘We have before us The Witch.’
I cower at the back as people hurl questions at Susan. They are so angry. These curses burned away at us and kept us from sleeping night after night. The heat of them scorched us with humiliation, revealing secrets we were never going to tell.
I want to scream at them all to stop, but I’m afraid. Why should I put myself in danger? I haven’t done anything.
Jemima holds her hand up.
‘You want to know why she did it?’
A massive chorus of ‘Yes’. The shoving is so hostile, I nearly get knocked over.
‘Because she wanted a friend.’
There are jeers. Screeches.
Susan is held by Holly and one of the other girls. She’s struggling to get free. ‘Please,’ she says, over and over. She is scared stiff. I have to help her.
‘Stop this.’ I push through. ‘Stop this.’
I get to the front and look at them all. There’s something in their faces I don’t recognise. They’ve turned into a seething mass of rage.
Jemima holds her hand up again, but it takes a long time for her to get any hush this time. ‘What do we have here? Another traitor?’
They surge forward. Branwen is toppled off her feet. Lewis picks her up and takes her to the side, but even he is changed.
‘I’m not a traitor. I just don’t want this.’ I can’t think of the words. ‘This is barbaric.’
Boos come at me full force.
‘She was just lonely. She wanted to be noticed. We have to let her speak.’
‘Let her speak,’ Jemima says, and then, before anyone else can say anything, ‘Let’s give her a real trial.’
A roar of approval.
People begin arranging themselves. We’ve practised a witch trial often enough.
I close my eyes against the unfolding history of this place. This can’t happen again. The birds are gathering. I can hear them even though no one else can.
Dorcas’s hands swing helplessly at her sides. She looks at me. I can’t give her anything.
Someone pushes me roughly from behind and I’m in my position as the executioner, whether I want to be or not.
Susan is shaking so much, it’s amazing she’s still upright. I want to put out my arm to help her, but I can’t. I’m afraid. I’m afraid.
‘Susan Stevens, you are brought before our court on this day under suspicion of witchcraft.’ Jemima is enjoying her leading role at last. Her audience is rapt. ‘You have put this class under your evil spell.’
All she’s done is write some letters. Poisonous and spiteful letters, yes. Enchanted letters? Capable of cursing us? No.
We aren’t the children of Year Six anymore, we are a court, a jury, a judge, an executioner.
‘Why did you do this?’
‘I was lonely. You don’t know what it feels like to be lonely.’
I know exactly what she means. Loneliness is a killer.
‘Lonely? Really? In fact, you wanted to – and I use your own words here – pay us all back, didn’t you?’ Jemima is milking the spotlight for all its worth.
‘Yes. I felt like someone important for once. But it got out of hand and, once it started, I couldn’t stop.’
‘So, you do not deny that you are The Witch.’
‘But…’
‘A yes or no answer, please, Miss Stevens. Are you, or are you not The Witch?’
‘Yes. But…’
The class gasp in astonishment as if they hadn’t already heard this. Someone is casting an evil spell here, but it’s not Susan.
The birds are getting so close.
‘As you have no defence and no witnesses to speak on your behalf, may I suggest we bring this trial to an end with a guilty plea?’
I can’t help myself. ‘I’ll be a witness for her.’
Even Jemima looks amazed. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I should just shut up. Go along with the crowd.
‘I’ve seen the way you all treat her. She’s excluded from things. I didn’t even notice her until she showed me the first curse note.’ She wrote that first note. She showed me it for attention. ‘It’s not nice being lonely and alone. If you’d all treated her better, taken more notice of her, she wouldn’t have done this.’
The birds zoom outside this swaying green light.
‘So you are on her side?’ Jemima’s eyes are evil flames. I can’t believe I made an effort to be kind to her. I’ve never wanted to punch someone so much in my whole life. She’ll make every day hell for me for this. But what can she do? Term’s nearly over. I’ll move to another school. I’m not friends with Dorcas anymore anyway.
‘I’m not on anyone’s side. I just think you all could have been kinder. It wasn’t nice to write those notes, at all, but she doesn’t deserve this.’
‘I think we’d better decide on Susan Stevens and then hold a second trial.’
This gets yells of approval. They’re rattled by the thought that they may somehow be responsible. It was a wrong move to try to reason with them while they are in this state.