trennels | Prosser fic challenge, suggested by legionseagle

legionseagle has suggested the following fic challenge and offered a ficlet to start us off:

Holders (including past holders) of the Alice Prosser Scholarship and others whose lives have been touched by her legacy reflect on what it means to them.

And, to kick off, this pump-priming ficlet:

"Standing here in Stockholm before you all I am both proud and humbled. Proud because this is the highest honour a scientist can receive; humbled because I feel the comparison with so many greater than I, both those recognised by the Nobel Committee and those who never have and never will be. Truly, Isaac Newton observed, "I appear tall because I am standing on the shoulders of giants." Before I go on to mention the outstanding contribution made to today's award by my research team, without whom I would not merely not be standing here before you today, I doubt I would be standing at all, I would like to take a moment to pay tribute to one of those giants. Alice Prosser was not a giant in stature, so far as I have ever been able to ascertain; the surviving photographs show a slight woman, made slighter still by a certain evasiveness before the camera's gaze. She was, I believe, a woman defined in life by self-effacingness; she would, I rather think, be sidling unobtrusively for the exits could she be present in this hall today. But, nonetheless, she was a giant in spirit, with a vision that saw how, if one only chose the right place to stand, with the leverage of her backing one could move mountains..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Thank you. This is a very emotional moment for me. I am aware of the burden of expectation that falls on me as only the second woman to walk through this door, and the first female Labour Prime Minister. It is a great honour and responsibility and I am humbly aware of the person who first made it all possible for me. Alice Prosser was a woman who was denied the opportunities for education and advancement and a fulfilling career that all women should be entitled to. While I am in office I vow that my government will make this country a place where anyone, from any gender, race or background, with talent and ability, will have an absolutely equal chance to succeed! Thank you.'

Splendid.

'Don't worry so much, Meg. It's all right in here. Really. I can say what I think whenever I want, which makes a nice change from the way it used to be at home. I've got some friends in here too. I read to them and they look out for me, you know.
You know, it might never have happened if it wasn't for that scholarship you didn't win. It ate away at him for years. And when you ended up at Bristol instead of Oxford .. although, I must say dear, you do seem to have come out of your shell there ... well he just became unbearable. I don't really know how I ended up with the kitchen knife in my hand...'

Oh, dear! I do hope they got her manslaughter by means of diminished responsibility,though.

Edited 2015-02-20 07:43 (UTC)

Oh, this is very plausible and heartbreaking.

Mine got a bit long for a comment box, but it's here at my journal (http://lilliburlero.livejournal.com/288937.html). (DW mirror (http://lilliburlero.dreamwidth.org/79600.html))

That's a very interesting line of enquiry. Even if the money doesn't come from slavery, it presumably comes from exploiting someone - children in factories, coalminers, the inhabitants of some part of the British Empire....
I like the glimpse of the 10 year old Karen.

Cheers. I thought it best to leave it unspecific, but I'm intrigued by Trennels being built with slavery money and couldn't resist the resonance.

"So that's THAT." Enriqueta reached across Eve, flopped back against the sofa cushions in a pose of almost comically exaggerated exhaustion to retrieve the ice bucket and, with it, the Moet.

"Not for me, thanks." Eve, eyes shut, had decoded the pattern of clinks and fizz.

"Wasn't planning to. You're out on your feet as it is."

Enriqueta topped up her own glass, and, by way of bonus, snagged another of those lamb samosas. How utterly *blissful*, she thought, not for the first time, Worthy, nutritious and *dull*. That had been the Kingscote school food rule. Retirement had meant an explosion of unheralded delight.

Delights, she corrected herself. It would be someone else's job to tell Lower IVA tomorrow that, whatever Sophia Lawrence ("Lawrence Marlow" she corrected ruthlessly, and wasn't she the most undeserving recipient of the Prosser ever? When that nice, deserving child Nicola, with a real feel for mathematics,had been positively *robbed* _- she'd told Edith at the time -) anyway, whatever "Sophia Lawrence" had worn tonight at the Oscars, anything *remotely* like that would be flatly verboten at the end of Easter term disco.

Bwhahaha! I love your choice of first names. So splendidly unlikely, it might just be true!

It was not the best of places for a press conference, being both remote and desolate, but the birds of prey were often visible in the rocky outcrops, and, as Barbara comforted herself as she arranged the chairs, it was the birds they were coming to see, not her. She stared up into the blue sky where she could see one of the newly released birds, circling, rising, up and up. With a smile, she thought of how far she had come. Who would have thought that holding a merlin during a Christmas play would lead to all this? Of course, she also had to thank Alice Prosser for the funding that had paid for her studies in Zoology, which had stretched into her PHD studies.
“Bunty?” The frustrated yell broke into her reverie, wincing again at the long-abandoned nickname. “Where is the woman?”
She groaned inwardly. They say that nothing is ever perfect, and the stone in her particular shoe was a certain Mr Merrick, who was not only certain of his own infallibility in everything concerning birds of prey, but still seemed to consider her as a schoolgirl. She gazed up at the overhanging rocks, daydreaming. After all, accidents did happen. And lightening did strike twice, no matter what people said.

Oh, very nice!

And it all started with the Christmas Play! Poor Bunty, having to work with the Merrick Boy, though.

Prosser fic challenge, suggested by legionseagle

Entering No 10.

Re: Entering No 10.

Holloway Womens' Prison, visiting day.

Re: Holloway Womens' Prison, visiting day.

Re: Holloway Womens' Prison, visiting day.

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The birds of the sky

Re: The birds of the sky

Re: The birds of the sky