So far in Embraceable You ….
School girl Josefine Hanrahan has been a boarder at Our Lady of Dolores for most of her childhood. Today is her eighteenth birthday but it’s a lonely birthday. Josefine finds it difficult to make friends and the other girls don’t like her. Her father is Australia’s richest man but he’s a lousy father. Today, Josefine is going to break free …
It was Saturday. The girls were free to do whatever they wanted on Saturdays except leave the school campus without letting the staff know where they were going.
Most of the other girls in her wing would already be out on Lake Burley Griffin, rowing. That was a team sport and Josefine wasn’t a team player, so she wasn’t invited into any of the crews. Some of the girls would play tennis after breakfast.
Josefine had two left feet, two large left feet, and no hand-eye co-ordination so the ball was never in the spot where her racquet floundered ineffectually. As usual, there were no tennis invitations for her which was just fine as far as she was concerned; she didn’t like sport.
“Call me JK,” she once suggested hopefully, to the girls in her class.
It wasn’t much to ask of a cohort whose cosy nicknames, allocated by loving families, were destined to follow them into adulthood. The rare moment of exposing her insecurity had harvested only a snide campaign against her. She heard giggling whispers as she cowered in the bathroom cubicle and knew then that Bundle Haig was encouraging her friends to call Josefine something else entirely.
“We should call her Too Hanrahan,” she heard the melodious voice, which carried with such clarity, explaining to a coterie of admiring boarders.
She was a trendsetter, was Bundle, a ringleader whose every opinion, every fashion innovation was slavishly copied.
“She’s too tall, too skinny, her chest is too flat, her jaw is too square and her mouth is too wide,” someone else chimed in.
They probably knew she was in the bathroom with them but still, the whispering was audible and so she heard Sharna Petherbridge-Wedderburn add: “…and she’s too clumsy.”
Too rich, they probably said that as well, for her father was the richest man in Australia. The Business Review Monthly listed St John Hanrahan at the top of the ‘ten richest’ for so long that their readers had probably stopped bothering to look there. There was a chasm between first and second place that meant her father had long been unassailable at the top of the pile.
Luckily for Too Hanrahan, this meant that when she was dispatched to Our Lady of Dolores College as an inconvenient parcel, at least her father could afford to pay for a very nice room and he saw it as a matter of social standing that his daughter had the best. In fact, she’d ratcheted up her privileged place in the best room with the nicest view, by demanding that they combine two rooms into one. St John had delegated the request to a junior secretary (not Happy Birthday Josephine but some other member of the shifting sands in the secretarial pool) and it was done.