Lucy the Pumpkin Head
Lucy! Lucy, turn your head! Hey, Pumpkin! Look, everyone its Pumpkin!
The schoolyard was drenched in late morning sunshine, vibrant with laughter after the end of the first shift. But the mocking jeers, instead of getting lost in the noise, cut through sharply, catching everyones attention. For a moment the playground froze, listening. I small, terrified, and very much a first year stood at the foot of the school steps, shrinking back and clutching my enormous, unwieldy satchel for dear life.
Oi, Lucy the Pumpkin Head! Whats the matter? Scared? Get her, lads!
The very boys whod been quiet as mice at their desks minutes before, suddenly surged towards me, emboldened. My eyes widened in terror, my hands trembling as I tried to run but my legs wouldnt obey.
I’ve lost count of the times I dreamt of that moment later. It haunted me.
A cold, sticky dread crawled through my body, paralyzing me, seeping in like treacle. It started with my fingers wrenching them open, forcing me to drop my satchel:
Drop it! Leave your bag here come home without it and youll catch it! Oh, you will! Serves you right! You need to look after your things; we can’t keep buying more because of you!
I tried to clench my fists, but failed. The satchel thudded to the ground, and then my legs unsteady, jelly-like began a fitful, desperate run that took me nowhere. I moved, but at the same time, I was stuck. Panic tightened its grip, twisting my insides until I could only whimper into the empty air:
Please, dont…
In my dreams, I never saw my pursuers only their taunts, echoing. It made no difference. The fear remained.
And then, from the darkness, a clear, familiar childs voice would ring out:
You lot! Leave her alone! Pick on someone your own size, why dont you?
The panic would dissipate, and I woke soaking in sweat, reassured. I wasnt a scared, wide-eyed first-year anymore. The worst was long behind me.
But right then…
Leave her! Or else!
A slight, curly-haired girl with massive white bows springing from her plaits dashed across the yard, ignoring her grandmothers calls.
Unlike me, Annie was always well protected. She had a granddad and two grandmothers, all vying for the privilege of picking her up after school.
Little Annie, a whirlwind with wild pigtails, hurled herself into the fray. The playground watched, considering the odds, as she swung my satchel defiantly at the lads.
Take that! Name-callers, look at yourselves! she flashed.
I, panic-gripped, tried to step forward to help my unexpected protector, but my knees buckled, my vision blurred, and the last thing I heard before blacking out was Annies grandmother shouting:
Darling! Let him go, youll hurt him!
What about me? Doesnt it hurt me? I remember thinking, before grateful oblivion claimed me.
A flurry of adults scattered the crowd, lifting me gently and carrying me to the nurses office.
Mum, summoned from her work, had no intention of gentle chats with the headteacher.
What goes on in this school? Why are children being bullied?
Well, you see…
No. I dont see, and I dont care to! Get it sorted! Well speak later!
Mum carefully helped me sit up, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I stared blankly at the ceiling not allowed to stand just yet.
How are you, sweetheart?
Nestling into her chest, breathing in that lavender-and-milk scent, I sniffled, fighting tears.
Come now, dont cry its alright. I promise, nobody’s going to hurt you again!
How wrong Mum was back then…
They would many times. The cruel nickname Pumpkin Head stuck for years.
Only one person ever looked at me any differently. Annie. She didnt notice the lopsidedness of my features, which faded over time. She didnt see imperfection, only soul.
My soul, as it happened, was a large one. There was room for everyone family, cats, the neighbours dog, even bugs that Id happily observe for hours in the park, crouched down with my heavy clever head cocked sideways.
For truly, my head was clever. My teachers marvelled at my photographic memory and the abundance of facts I kept hidden, wary of further ridicule.
With a head like a pumpkin, you must be full of brains! Shame youre thick as two short planks, Lucy! Youll never be clever, not really!
My tormentors didnt let up, yet at least they didnt use their fists any longer. Annie fought so fiercely for me that nobody dared cross her. But she couldnt tie their loose tongues into a neat bow. Still, from a distance, shed wag her fist, straightening my collar, and say:
Lucy, ignore them! Youre beautiful! In your own way, of course. My gran says everyone is beautiful in their own way.
Whats beautiful about me, Annie? They’re right… I do look like a pumpkin…
No! Annie would argue passionately. Dont let them get away with it! Dont let them put you down!
I kept silent. There was so much I could have said, yet it was too heavy, too much.
Mum was clever too very clever. It brought her little happiness. Shed met my father, a promising physicists career cut short. Mum became just a wife and mother; Dad thought the family didnt need two geniuses. He certainly wasnt giving up his place.
Dad worked in aerospace. He fancied himself a star destined for the farthest galaxies. Domestic matters were none of his concern thats what wives and mothers were for.
I couldnt stand my paternal grandmother. Shed descend upon our home, settle herself in Dads armchair the one only he was meant to use and criticise Mum endlessly.
How many times must I say it, Helen? House should be spotless, and look dust in the corners, nothing in the fridge! What do you do all day? The children are filthy! Clean them up and yourself! Poor George shouldnt have to look at you like that. You could at least wash your hair, couldnt you?
Mum, with three children (including a baby), met these outbursts only with silence. Petty spats werent in her nature. Shed glance my way, and I knew what was needed. Id wheel my baby brothers pram into the hallway and wait. When Mum emerged, youngest in one arm, middle child by the hand, out wed all go, rain or shine except for Dad, who always stayed behind.
Gran visited like clockwork, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Mum soon set her routine to avoid those times.
She loved Dad, in her way. But it was, as I saw it, a twisted love. Can anyone love with all their heart, when he cares nothing for her desires?
Helen, weve got children! How could you think of a career? Youre a mother! A wife! Thats your place! Physics not for women!
George, I have a degree, if you remember.
Oh, I remember! But where would you be without me, eh? I let you become a woman! Isnt that enough? You barely made the last train, and now you forget who offered you a hand!
As a child, I didnt fully understand. But the older I got, the more I saw. The conclusion was not a happy one.
Dad adored his mum, no doubt. He did not love mine.
The words utter egotist stuck with me I heard them at school, and they fit him perfectly. Watching Dad berate Mum after Grans every visit, I didnt see a portly, balding, red-faced man but a fat, ugly, inexplicably hairy caterpillar. He raised his paws in indignation at the heavens. Oh, how I wanted to squash him with my sandal. Impossible, of course.
Still, Mum was the cleverer of the two. She only endured things so long as necessity forced her.
Only as I got older did I appreciate how circumstances can trap people. Mum had no home of her own. The village house inherited from her parents had burned down in a terrible fire, taking half the street with it. Mum found out weeks later, from a neighbours letter. She mourned the old home shed hoped to pass to us, then acted.
How could a woman with three children and no husband-to-be get a home? Nowhere; no way.
She knew this. Thats why she agreed when a neighbour, Mrs Rosemary Parker, had been coaxing her for years to take on the role of companion.
Helen, darling, looking after me will cost you nothing! You know Im not fussy just half a grain of rice and clean sheets, thats all. In return, youll have my flat.
For my kids, Mrs Parker, not me.
No, Helen! For you, personally! Well do it all officially. At the solicitors! A woman should have her own space, especially if life hasnt been kind…
Mrs Parker was the only one who truly understood what was in Mums heart.
Oh, its such sadness! shed sigh, watching Mum scrubbing her floors.
Meaning what? Mum would ask, rinsing the mop.
That we women are so dependent on men, Helen! There are so few who put their selves first. Were raised to care for others. But, let me warn you:
What?
Its fine wonderful, even to put your children first. But only up to a point. When you put a man above yourself, its a disaster. Thats how you lose yourself.
Do you think Im like that?
No, my dear. Otherwise, you wouldnt be here. Your husband doesnt know what youre doing these hours, does he?
No.
Clever. Not because youre hiding, but because youve decided your path.
Which is?
Tell me yourself.
Ill leave him…
And rightly so! Normally, I keep my advice to myself, but Ill break my rule for you. Leave him, Helen. Run as far as you can! Dont you dare live in my flat; sell it, buy your own somewhere else! Yes, its a good area here, but youll find no peace whilst those people your husband and mother-in-law are around. Once youre out of sight, theyll find a new target. They always do.
And if they dont?
Am I a psychiatrist or not?
You, Rosemary Parker, are indeed…
Doesnt matter! What matters is, I know what Im talking about. I could use medical jargon, but you wouldnt understand your fields different. But youll find your way, I promise, if only you act for yourself.
Mum nodded, biding her time. And I quietly, I took note for my own life.
And I dreamed.
I dreamt that one day Id grow as wise as Mrs Parker. That Id know people as she did. Once I understood she grasped exactly what went on between my parents, my own future became clear. I set my sights on medicine, just as she urged, sitting at her bedside for hours, listening to her lessons, alongside her other aspiring students. Mrs Parker had been left bed-bound for years after a spinal fracture, but she never lost her spark.
Listen up, girl remember everything you hear here. Youll need it! shed say kindly, patting my cheek. Ill see to it you become the best doctor this citys ever seen.
She kept her promise.
I got into university, finished with top honours, and built my life on my own terms, scars and all.
By then, Mum had left Dad. Unfortunately, she never got to follow Mrs Parkers advice entirely. Dad passed away just as their separation began; the divorce was never finalised. Gran fumed, of course, when she realised Dads savings and home kept for some reason outside her reach had become Mums.
Threaten me again, and you’ll not see a penny more than your share.
Mums voice was like ice; I stood in awe as Gran raged, only to lose her fight when she saw Mum meant business.
How dare you?
I dare, and always have. You never understood people. The fact I tolerated your behaviour didnt mean I couldnt push back. That was my choice, not yours. You mistook it for weakness. You were wrong.
Mum wasnt smiling. She dropped each word like a pebble into a stream, and Gran was quiet at last, her confidence ebbing away as she began to cry.
Mum let her be; poured her a glass of water and waited.
That day, I realised you dont always need to lash out to win. Sometimes, its enough to let your adversary reach their own conclusions.
Gran received her share, and Mum gathered us all and asked the only question that mattered:
Do you want to see your fathers mother again?
We three said no. And that was that.
By then, my Pumpkin Head nickname was forgotten. Mum had moved me to a new school by Year Six, as Mrs Parker advised, one known for science and biology.
Shell need it for medicine. We owe it to her to help.
Annie sobbed as we parted, though I tried not to make a fuss.
Its not like Im moving to the moon! We can still meet.
You dont get it, Lucy… we wont.
In a way, she was right. School became more intense. I barely had time to help my siblings with homework, let alone meet Annie. Then her family bought a new house and moved away; phone calls and social media werent enough. Our friendship slipped into the past.
Life carried on.
I became a doctor. Married. Had a son. Divorced, remembering Mrs Parkers advice to treasure my own wishes. Settled down, at last.
I had everything: a flat in the heart of town, a good job, loving family, a son. There was no man constantly in my life that didnt bother me. The Pumpkin Head curse was long gone. I had nothing left to fear at midnight.
Only sometimes, in times of stress or exhaustion, did the old dream return. Id hear Annies voice calling.
Id tried to trace her online, but soon gave up. The past belongs in its place: well behind you.
But fate is a mischievous thing. Sometimes it tangles its threads, offering unexpected chances to settle scores.
Stop! Oi, stop, you wretch! If I catch you, youre done for!
I was cycling through the park, chasing my son, barely noticing shouting from a nearby path.
Someone shouting at their dog, I thought. But then a slim figure in a bloodied jacket darted across my path, making me swerve violently.
Annie? Is that you?
Shed hardly changed just smaller and blonder, but her blue eyes now clouded with fear. Without a thought, I swung my bike between her and the man chasing her, snatching my phone to call for help.
Stay back!
I yelled so sharply my son looked round, then pedalled off to fetch my brother and ex-husband, who to my relief I remained on good terms with.
The drunken man didnt stop. He charged towards us, ready to flatten us both until he heard me all but shouting into my mobile:
Yes, police, please! Attack!
On one side a man with a large Alsatian entered, setting the dog to growl at Annies pursuer. From the other, my brother and ex appeared. I wasnt afraid when my phone was knocked away; I heaved the bike at Annies assailant, pinning him to the ground:
Stay down. Please, just lie there.
There was so much authority in my voice even Annie flinched, still clutching my hand in a death grip.
Lucy! Are you alright? the men wrestled him away, finally peeling Annie off me, sobbing.
Me? Im fine. Its Annie who got the worst of it.
With a sigh, I hugged her.
Well now, hello…
Hello… She wilted into my arms, as everyone fussed to call an ambulance and decide what next.
Life is cyclical, isnt it? I muttered, watching Annie on the hospital bed in her quiet room.
That day I heard Annies little fierce voice for the last time, challenging the world for me. The old dream, my nightmare for so many years, never returned. Our roles were reversed. Now it was my turn to help her, as shed once helped me.
Tell me, Annie. What happened? I stroked her battered hands, noting both faded bruises and fresh ones.
Everything happened, Lucy. Everythings wrong… Annie cried softly, not meeting my gaze.
Was it your husband?
Partner. Not married. Just living together. He took me in with my daughter, after Mum died. Oh, Lucy you know nothing, do you! I have no one now. None. Not Mum, Dad, grandparents… All gone. All thats left is me. My first husband… he was a gambler. I loved him, I really did. But he gambled, and I put up with it, tried to help, chased him across town whilst pregnant. Hed beat me. I endured it. Thought he loved me, that it was a sickness… You cant be angry with the sick, can you, Lucy? Can you?
No. But you must keep away from them. Like a rabid dog. You wouldn’t kiss it, would you? So, did you split up?
I didnt need to. They found him near the main station before I had my daughter… Apparently, he was hit by a train. I never found out for sure…
The one who did this to you wheres he from?
He was a friend of my first husbands, and mine. We had dinners together. When he split with his wife, he asked to stay for a while. Then, somehow, we found ourselves together. I dont know how it happened. I felt so cold, so alone. I hoped hed help.
Did he?
Why so bitter, Lucy? You saw…
Sorry. Yes, I saw. I dont want to see it again. Wheres your flat key?
My pocket, I think…
Rest now.
No! I cant! My daughter I was just coming back from work, then he found me in the park and started yelling… I need to get home! Pick up Nastya from nursery! Whats the time?
Its late. Well go together. Ring the nursery from the corridor and let them know Ill be collecting your daughter.
How will that work?
Is there anyone else who can?
No one… Annie shook her head, defeated.
Fate grinned, sewing old ties anew.
So here we are the story finding a new course, shaped only by what we make of it. We’re no longer frightened schoolgirls much has changed. Strength is hard to measure now. But maybe it doesnt matter. Time puts things where they belong.
Best of all, we wont lose each other again.
Fate will smile and twine two golden threads together.
Let our children know one another, and be each others support, just as we once were.
And as for cruel nicknames, may they never be spoken in their hearing. Let Lucy the Pumpkin Head be nothing but a memory the seed of the friendship others say is impossible.
Fate, amused, will shake its head. Let the doubters doubt. For she Fate herself, after all knows what is possible in this world.
And she knows this: true female friendship does exist, and is not as rare as the cynics suppose especially where one simple rule is obeyed.
Give, and you shall receive in return. ©
Author: Lucy LavingtonThe next morning, sunlight poured across Annies hospital bed as I helped her sip tea, careful to avoid her bruised lip. The police came and went; arrangements were made. When the home phone rang, Annies daughters voice piped through, small and anxious, and Annie nearly wept at the sound clutching my hand, as if scared Id vanish if she let go.
Back at her flat that evening, after gathering up odd socks and scattered toys, I watched Annie pull her little girl into her arms, holding her so long the child wriggled in protest. Such fierce love filled the room that all the ugly things in Annies past seemed driven out, at least for tonight.
Later, as tired children dozed and dishes rattled in the kitchen, we sat quietly together. I saw the old Annie in her eyes, that wild loyalty undimmed by all the years. I thought of two girls in a storm of taunts and playground dust, and the warmth of hands held tight.
Lucy Annie looked at me, her voice shaky but determined. Can we start again? I dont want the old ghosts anymore.
Of course we can, I smiled. Its our turn, Annie. This time, we get to choose.
Out the window, the city glowed, restless and endless but inside, the little flat felt safe: a world rebuilt, memory by memory, on the strength of silent promises too deep to speak aloud.
And so, one season reached its soft close, and another quietly began bound not by blood or fate, but by kindness offered, and taken, and given back again.
Let them call us what they will. We are more than names.
And somewhere, beneath it all, laughter bubbled up not childish or cruel, but bright and new, and real at last.
