“I see a woman may be made a fool / If she had not a spirit to resist”
William Shakespeare
Maggie’s mortal coil
There was a little girl who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead
When she was good, she was very, very good
But when she was bad, she was horrid.
Maggie had heard it all before. She was raised on it, and it left her sharp, ready, and cold. In the end, it made for a good warrior if a less pleasant woman.
Still, Maggie van Rooyen had been very, very good for thirty-five years. Everyone said it. What a good girl she was, how kind, how thoughtful, how pretty, how quiet, how giving. I suppose that was the reason it came as such a shock to them all.
‘She used to be such a sweet little thing.’
‘What’s got into her?’
‘I don’t know where this behaviour’s coming from. It’s so unseemly!’
None of it had been at all surprising to Maggie though. She said it had always been in her. Then she added that there had been no alternative. In any case, she’d simply gone into the bathroom one day and decided that was that. Went in good. Came out bad.
Her words. That was how she phrased it. And this is what she told me at the end of it all. More or less.
J March 