The Gilded Cage - Accepting My Place

Back to School

"Someone is nervous, I think," Miss Davenport grinned, as her efficient fingers assessed the state of my sodden diaper. She had her hand right up my Deepdene kilt, just doing a final check before she got me into the pushchair. I always used to do the same thing to my litter. Especially the nervous ones. School mornings were always a bit of a rush, and although I had messed before and after breakfast, it took half an hour to get us all dressed, and that was a quite long time for a nervous nursling like me. "She is soaked, Mrs Montague...if you can get the others all strapped in, I'll quickly change her?"

"Of course, Nanny...we just about have time," Helen said, whilst buttoning sweet Caris into her school coat. "She really is becoming diaper dependent, isn't she?"

"She is getting there...it is the natural baby in her...but this is just nerves, I reckon...it is a big day for her?" Karen said, rapidly laying out the changing mat she kept in the back of the child-carrier. She took my hand and helped me down on it, and got on with the job. Nurslings do not get privacy for such things and I just shut my eyes and tried not to cry. "She has had a good Christmas, really...better than I ever thought she would...but that was here, with us...and today is going to be very different for her."

"She should know how to avoid demerits...better than most new girls," Helen laughed, and I moaned a little, before tuning them out, concentrating on just behaving. I had surrendered to them since Christmas Day, as a good nursling should, deliberately forcing myself not to think about the future, or about who I was, or even what I was, before. I just became Hermione Scott-Montague as they were calling me, one of the Montague sisters, or litter, as all eight of us were collectively known, despite being a blend of four different families sharing our nursery. I just concentrated on the moment in front of me, whatever it was, and did my best to react to it like Caris. My darling girl not only became my dearest friend over Christmas, my beloved little sister, but my role model and shining example. She obviously sensed my distress, and wanted to help, which was so typical of her, and I was diminished before them all, shrinking down into my second childhood as each blow hit me. I have no idea what she thought about my reduction in status, because she never mentioned it, but she loved me whoever I was, and our roles were entirely reversed during the holidays. With guests staying, I was put in with Caris several times and instead of me cuddling her, she cuddled me all night and then led me through the dangerous minefield of absolute blind obedience all day. "But Caris will look after her, I think...they are basically joined at the hip and Hermione will be in most of her lessons?"

Nanny soon had me clean, and bundled up in my own coat, so that I could go into the massive pushchair next to Caris. I had never minded school uniform before. My old grammar school in Kent had a simple uniform, skirt, blouse, jumper and blazer, worn until we were sixteen, and I never even really noticed it. Everyone had to wear it, so everyone disregarded it, other than the odd girl who rolled up her skirt or took liberties with the sort of coat she wore, or the amount of jewelry or whatever. But the Deepdene uniform was very different, of course. Everything we were wearing was part of the dress code. From our socks and shoes, to our diapers and our pacifiers, every girl had to have the same, and being enveloped in it all was an astonishing experience. Nurslings do not get any say in whatever they wear, of course. I knew that was an important part of inspiring dependence, because a nursling needed to know that nothing was up to her. If she was hot, she had to ask to take off her coat or cardigan, and her responsible adult would often say no, just to reinforce it. I had done that many times.

"This is our paddock...we come out here at break and lunch," Caris explained, holding onto my hand as she showed me around. Helen had signed us in, telling me to behave, and one of the teaching assistants had just removed our pacifiers.

"She knows that, Caris...she used to sign us in every morning?" Nicola pointed out, walking behind us, still less enamoured with me than the others, for obvious reasons. It was, as she had said, the usual pre-registration routine, with all the pupils being signed in at the paddock gates by either the class teacher or her assistants, and then set loose into the small enclosure to talk to their friends before being called inside. I had spent the whole of the previous term dropping my litter off at those gates, and I knew all of their teachers and all of the assistants. "Just don't wet yourself until just before lunchtime...they hate it if they have to change anyone early...and pay attention, all the time...otherwise you'll get a demerit."