When she brought her lamb to school, Mary’s classmates didn’t understand. They teased her mercilessly, singing rhymes which made her cry. Instead of helping, her teacher tied the lamb to the gate and said she hoped that someone made a stew out of it.
Mary’s uncle gave her the lamb a week after her parents drowned. He dragged it over to her kicking and bleating, and said it was for ‘emotional support’. She was sceptical. Probably, he was sick of her crying all night. He said it was keeping him awake, even though she slept in the barn which was quite far away from the house. She didn’t want to look after a lamb. She didn’t know how. She didn’t even know how to look after herself.
Everything changed that first night with her new companion. They began by peering at each other from opposite sides of the barn. She tried closing her eyes a few times but as soon as she did, an image of the lamb rushing towards her to bite appeared in her mind and each time she snapped her eyes open as quickly as she could. She’d look across to see the lamb curled up in its’ corner and feel very silly.
Mary made herself be brave. Alright, she thought, I have to live in this barn with this lamb. I might as well try and get to know it. Her body full of tension, she tiptoed over. The lamb’s ears pricked up and it shot to its feet. Mary froze. Of course, she thought, the lamb had to be as afraid of her as she was of it. After allowing the lamb to calm, Mary inched forward again. Little by little, she advanced until she was right next to it. Up close and alone, they recognised a kinship in the quiet dark. They breathed together and for the first time in as long as she could remember, Mary felt safe.
Eventually the lamb lay down again, and Mary took a risk. She snuggled into its’ fleece, half expecting to be kicked, bitten or attacked. The lamb tensed but allowed her to stay where she was. It was a bit runty, and not very clever. To her though, it was the most magnificent creature on earth. The white fleece was like a blanket, or a comforting cloud.
That night, she had the best, most restful sleep she could remember. Her parents’ house had been taken away. She felt utterly alone in the world, but now she had this new friend who accepted her without question.
Her relief did not last long. Talking the lamb to school the next day began her life of misery. It went on for months until one day, the mockery had pushed her to the edge. Her classmates were calling her lamby-wamy, sucking their thumbs at her, and forcing her to lie curled up in a ball like a baby. They spat on her, pulled her hair, they were relentless in their abuse. From a comfortable chair, her teacher did nothing. All at once, Mary heard the lamb crying pitifully from where the teacher had tied it. She bounded to her feet, startling the children clustered around her.
“Is being mean the only thing you know how to do?” she yelled. “Which of you has ever been nice to me? Shared your lunch with me? I don’t bother anyone, I don’t say anything most of the time, but still you torment me. I thought our teacher would protect me, but she’s just as mean as the rest of you.”
“Mary –,“ warned the teacher, but Mary was is no mood for a rebuke.
“Mary what?” she spat back. “Mary behave nicely, even though I said I thought it would be better if someone cooked your lamb in a stew? You’re just a big kid, miss, and I hope you get cooked in a stew.” The other children gasped. Her teacher stood up slowly and told the rest of the class to go inside. They oohed and jeered that Mary was in trouble. Her teacher said she had to stay after school but she didn’t care.
At the end of the day, her teacher made her write lines about respecting elders. Mary didn’t cry and she wasn’t angry. She simply did as she was told. The fire of the moment had passed.
After her outburst, her teacher didn’t tie the lamb up anymore, so it followed Mary around all day. The other children also stopped teasing her, though from that day they kept their distance. She seemed to have transformed from a scapegoat into an Ogre. Well, thought Mary, at least Ogres get left alone.
The lamb grew into a sheep and Mary grew into a woman. As a coming-of-age present, her uncle gifted her a few more of his sheep. He had had great success, becoming extremely wealthy. She ruefully observed that he carefully chose the worst of his flock to give her. Still, she was grateful for the gift.
It came time to choose what she was to do with her life. She didn’t have to think about it at all. Mary knew what she would do. With her tiny flock, she went to live in a remote cave far away from everyone, eking out a sufficient, meagre existence.
After a period of blissful solitude, the strangest thing started to happen. Every now and then, a sad, exhausted child appeared, asking to sleep the night in the cave. Mary would share what little food she had and pile up coarse blankets by the fire for them to sleep on. In the morning, by some incomprehensible magic, the child were always greatly improved.
As a parting gift, Mary would take a handful of wool, stuff it into a scrap of burlap to make a tiny, rough cushion. She never thought about why she did this. It was a deep instinct, an unfathomable knowledge that this talisman would offer a little comfort as each child made their way from one harshness to the next. If ever you find a ratty, scratchy, uncomfortable cushion which inexplicably delivers more solace than anything else in your life, never give it up. There are only a few in the world and most people don’t see their value.