Undying (3 page)

Outside it was still fairly dark and misty and the morning air was crisp on my face. Funny enough, what I could see didn’t really look like what I thought it would. I wasn’t really sure what to expect. It was very modern and quite ordinary.

Silly really. I guess I must have been expecting horses, carriages, castles, and a few royals. That was quite ignorant I supposed. Nevertheless, I was here and I was sure that whatever I was looking for was here too.

To my left I noticed a man dressed in a dark driver’s uniform staring at me with a paper sign in with my name written on it. I started to slowly walk towards him when he noticed me, and a relieved expression came over his face.

“Miss White?” he exclaimed.

“Yes.”

“I have been sent to collect you and take you to Wimborne College.”

“Oh… Wow! Thank you!”

In a matter of minutes, he had packed my bags in the car boot and we were off. It was such a relief: I could only imagine how much a taxi would have cost. I had always had an aversion to public transport. I refused to take a bus or train – a taxi was the only form of public transport I accepted. My attitude had always annoyed Annie, and, remembering my best friend, I sent her a text message to let her know that I had arrived safely.

The driver was quite formal and refrained from small talk. No tour, not even “how was your flight?” I kept twisting my head left and right, not wanting to miss anything on either side of the road. To my left seemed to be miles of neatly cut grasslands and to my right countless trees. We seemed to have a clear run, unlike the cars heading east that were caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic. The display of flora on either side of me then turned into residential homes on my right, and to my left, sheep grazing on small perfectly rounded hills with an intermittent cluster of homes. As I leaned closer to the window the coldness of the glass startled me
. I can’t believe I’m here! I wanted to feel nervous and surprised, but strangely enough I wasn’t. I am not sure why that is so. Was it because I was not impressed with what I was seeing? Or was it because I was expecting something more?

Despite this, something wasn’t right. I looked out the car window a little disappointed, waiting for something exceptional, something historical. I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath.

Why are my expectations so high for this country?

Every so often I would get a glimpse through the trees and indulge in the view of the sloping, rich green hills scattered with livestock. A blanket of light fog and mist was the only hint of cold that I had experienced earlier. Previously, my knowledge of England amounted to what I had read in books, seen in movies and my dreams. I could see now none of those things had done it justice; it was just breathtaking. The countryside was beautiful, full of substance, and it filled me with euphoria and fascination.

“We’ll be there in less than an hour, Miss,” the driver unexpectedly announced to me.

“Thank you,” I replied.

I closed my eyes and thought about Victoria, and what I may have dreamt last night. What did I miss that I would have been able to add to my story? Excitedly, I pulled out my laptop and continued with my story.

I must be ill! At present there cannot be any other sensible explanation for my behaviour. My vulnerability annoyed me. Mother has sent for the doctor so many times that he is now constructing reasons to avoid seeing me, in fear of my insults. I am not in the least pleased with my actions, but I do not seem to have any command over them.

“Victoria, I do not know what else to do. My nerves cannot hold up for much longer, please tell me what is happening to you,” my unfortunate mother said from the door of my room.

“It is embarrassing, I am certain the whole town is talking about us! You have not left the house since the Campbell’s tea party; this is all I need to add to my list.” She continued to rant as she constantly straightened her dress and pulled back her hair.

I don’t ever recall my mother standing still.

“Mother, nothing is happening, I do not have an appetite, that is all.”

“Charles Barton has come to see you almost every day since the Campbell’s tea party, why will you not see him? It’s upsetting.” Her eyes widened and I knew what her expression meant: she was due for one of her fits.

“I have no interest in him, I loathe him.”

“Hush Victoria, any sensible lady would be honoured to have Charles Barton at their doorstep. But you are annoyed. If he should call on you again today, what am I to say? My excuses have been exhausted!”

“Will you not try telling the truth today? Tell him I despise him,” I replied.

My mother left enraged but I don’t want him, I want nothing to do with Charles Barton, his very name makes me cringe. Why won’t he leave me alone?”

As I slowly walked to my window, the deepest emptiness filled me, and the fear that this sentiment may never disappear frightened me. If only Charlotte were back from her vacation to Bath and was here to speak sense to me and shake me out of my bizarre behaviour.

My mind seemed to be constantly occupied with nothing; I wanted to leave, I longed to be somewhere, I wanted Charles Barton to go back to the cavern that he had left and most of all… I… I wanted Jonathon Bates.

Finally it was said. The one notion that has been occupying my thoughts since the day we met. I want him and only him. How was it possible that an impression so strong can be made in only a few moments? Even though I am ready to put aside all my pride and forged notions to be with him, why did he leave that day so quickly? Why did he say he would visit again and did not. Why did I have to meet him if I could not have him? I cannot believe that it has been almost two weeks since we first met at the Campbell’s. And with my confession came what I dreaded most – another visit from Charles Barton. The bell rang as it had done every day for the past two weeks in the late morning. Could Jonathon be at the Barton’s dinner party tomorrow evening or will I be forced to tolerate such boredom and torment without any allies? But today will be different, for today I will not hide from Charles Barton. I will give him the answer to the question that I know he wants to ask, and I will take pleasure in my reply.

“Excuse me miss, a Mr Jonathon Bates is here to see you,” a servant announced from my doorway.

“I beg your pardon?”

“A Mr Jonathon Bates, Miss,” he repeated.

“Ah, um, I won’t be a moment,” I stammered.

“Very good Miss.”

“Excuse me, Miss? My apologies for interrupting, but the scenery is quite beautiful here,” the driver interrupted.

“Oh, OK, thank you,” I said, quickly closing my laptop. I couldn’t thank the driver enough; the village that we were going through was incredible! There were consistent terraces down every laneway. There was a scene of elegance and history around every corner. Private little gardens had pedal bikes parked out the front, leaning on iron rails. The one thing to distinguish these homes from each other was the colour of door the occupants had chosen.

Not long now…

For some reason, it was at that point I started thinking about the sleeping and living arrangements.

Will I be the only female teacher? Where will I sleep? Will I be surrounded by men? How will I cope with that?

Questions that had never crossed my mind before now seemed exceptionally important to me. Living on the school grounds with the majority of the teachers being male was going to be quite a challenge. Being an only child and then living with my unmarried aunt after my parents died, I had now come to realise that I was throwing myself in the deep end. At least I was arriving on a Saturday, and with a public holiday on Monday, I would have a few days to get over the flight, settle in and find my way around the college. I looked back out my window, the countryside continued to impress me. We drove over arched stone bridges and little creeks that were flowing with crystal clear water, edged with tall reeds and pretty spring flowers. Passing through some quaint villages I saw that they were mixed with little old cottages with thatch roofs, prestige homes and in the distance grand-looking stone castles. The sun still hadn’t shown itself, but a few locals were out and about.

Turning off the main road, I felt as if we were getting close. The loose gravel on the road suggested that this road was private and not regularly used. On the horizon, I could now see the building that I hoped was the college.

“Are we here?” I asked, a little anxious.

“Yes, we most definitely are.”

As the car came to a halt, the driver offered to take my bags in for me, which I declined. I didn’t want to be rushed; I wanted to admire the building for a while.

C
HAPTER
T
WO

How long have I been standing here for? Strange, I don’t even remember the driver leaving or saying goodbye. Maybe he did. That’s embarrassing. I must have been so taken by the grounds.

They were exquisite.

I closed my eyes and took in a long and deep breath. With a smile forming involuntarily, I looked at the magnificent building before me that was to be my home for the next 12 months. I did not want to rush this moment. The college was colossal.

It was built entirely of sandstone, cathedral style, with gargoyles and sculptures adoring every corner and turret. Stunning stain-glass windows ensured privacy within and added an array of colour and beauty against the golden brown walls. The architecture was absolutely amazing and the symmetry and size of the building in height and width was breathtaking. The formal gardens surrounding the building almost outshone the building itself: mature trees and shrubs cut into perfect angular and round shapes, several shades of green lawn carpeting the grounds. So typically English!

Not a soul was in sight, so I gathered that everyone must still be asleep. Upon closer inspection, I could see that there were three separate buildings on the grounds of the college. They were all joined on the bottom level by a glass walkway and the overall shape resembled a horseshoe. An immaculately groomed grassed area lay in the centre, stretching out for miles. It looked like a fortress. In the centre of the lawn was an incredible marble fountain. It was adorned with sculptures of mythical creatures with water sprouting from different parts, creating an extravagant water feature. Around the fountain were dark cobblestone walkways that lead to the buildings. The college was magnificent. In the centre, a large wooden board carved with the coat of arms and gilded in gold leaf on a claret-coloured backing representing the school emblem, stood proud and high in front of the building.

I noticed from the first building to my right, a dim light was shining. It was coming from one of the windows and I wondered if I was been watched.

Suddenly a voice rang out.

“You’re here, you’re here. Please, you must get out of the cold! Oh, I do apologise. I wasn’t expecting you for another half an hour.”

A strange looking lady was walking very quickly towards me.

“Oh dear!” she exclaimed as she came to a complete stop, gasping for air. She was on the heavy side and short, with dark curly hair and porcelain white skin with a big smile plastered across her face, she wore an unflattering white dress with red stripes. A little red cardigan tightly covered her shoulders and matching shiny red ballet flats protected her feet from the cold.

“Oh! Dear, I must say, I am quite unfit,” she admitted. Her cheeks were so rosy. As she reached me, still gasping for air, she did the unthinkable. She hugged me! It was not a gentle hug either, more of a heavy embrace that almost stopped my circulation. When she finally pulled away, she started rambling again.

“My name is Julie Kent, but please call me Jules. We are going to be such great friends. I have organised everything. Your room is next door to mine. Mr Kemp, the science teacher, was a bit sore that he had to move down the hall but he will soon recover. You must be so tired and hungry. Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine,” I replied, glad she had finally drawn breath to let me get a word in.

“Oh, I have longed for another female teacher, and here you are, finally! I will have another woman on my side. Between you and me, some of our gentlemen teachers here were born in the dark ages and, if I may say, a bit conservative. Oh, but not our principal, James, oh I beg your pardon, Mr Barclay. We are very lucky to have him. Indeed he is younger than our last principal and one must never ask about age of course,” she said as she smiled, grabbed one of my luggage bags and started walking back through the door from whence she came.

I immediately followed with the other bag, walking directly behind her.

What a character! I hope I have a lock on my door…

“Come in, come in. This is the main building, our ‘foyer’ if you like. I will take you straight to your room to settle in. I will collect you for breakfast in half an hour or so,” she asserted as she went up the stairs, recklessly banging my new suitcase on every step.

“Miss Kent… oh, I mean Jules, I ate on the plane and am quite full,” I interrupted. I was not ready to have breakfast with everyone.

“I see…” She sounded unconvinced. “I will take you to your room where you can unpack and freshen up, and I will come and collect you in a few hours for a tour,” she continued.

“Perfect!” I agreed with a smile.

Lucky for me and my bags, I only had to go up one flight of stairs for my room. The corridor was long and narrow and the lighting was dimmed. The doors spaciously spread out with stunning decorative wall lamps and beautiful artwork between every few. The doors were stained in a deep dark cedar with ornate carvings and a number in polished gold on each door.

“Catherine dear, this is your room, number two, and I am next door to you in room number three. Our wonderful principal, Mr Barclay, is in room number one on your other side. You are completely surrounded! You can’t escape! Just teasing!” she joked, all the while laughing hysterically. She was very touchy-feely, constantly grabbing my arm, squeezing my hand and it was making me feel somewhat uncomfortable. I was only ever relaxed with my mother’s hands around me; even my few failed attempts at relationships were cut short due to my so-called lack of affection.

Finally, Jules gave me the key to my room and a quick reminder that she would be back to collect me in a couple of hours for my tour. As soon as she was out of sight, I opened my door, took my bags in and closed the door, locking it from the inside.

At last I was in my room and it was unbelievable. In the centre of one wall in the room stood a four-post bed with pale blue and silver linen and an abundance of differently-shaped pillows and cushions. Small timber bedside tables with four drawers sat on each side with a lamp on one. A matching freestanding cupboard stood on the other side of the room along with the most exquisite little writing desk and chair. And from the ceiling hung a beautiful chandelier. The walls were lined in a beautiful rich timber panelling on the lower side, with the upper part lavishly wallpapered and a gorgeous decorative mirror on one wall perfectly framed the reflection of the room. The door across from me was equally beautiful and, it was safe to assume, led to the bathroom.

I half unpacked my belongings, and then went across to the window to catch a glimpse of the outlook from my new home. I looked out to the grounds. The weather was grey, but the scenery was magnificent. The deep green grassland went for miles and from here I could see the full extent of the college’s flawlessly groomed gardens that seemed to spread out for several acres. So many different shades of green blended effortlessly into the distant horizon. I gazed out the window for a while until I started to feel restless. I yawned and stretched out my arms. I took off my blazer and boots and jumped onto my bed. I felt spoilt. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes, just to rest them. I decided to remain lying down with my eyes closed until Jules and all her enthusiasm came to collect me.

My breathing became deep and definite. I felt my mind drift and my body admit defeat. I can’t recall ever being as exposed or as vulnerable as I am now – being in a strange country and not knowing a single soul. I am in a different environment in every way possible, yet I have never felt so at home.

I continued to take pleasure in this feeling until my short-lived serenity and contentedness was ended by the sound of a door slamming nearby. I sat up quickly. It must have been Jules next door.

Oh no, Jules! What time was it?

I searched for my mobile phone to see, but I couldn’t find it in my half-unpacked state. I decided to just head out and see if I could find her, but for some reason the door wouldn’t open. I played around with the key, but still nothing. It seemed to be jammed. I grabbed hold of the doorknob tightly and with all my strength pulled it open.

“Ahh!” I screamed in pain as I fell backwards to the floor, hitting the back of my head on the end of the timber bedpost, doorknob in hand. The pain shot through my head, immediately throbbing. It was unbearable, I felt sick. I held on to the back of my head, applying pressure while trying to moan quietly. With one hand on the back of my head and the other helping me crawl across the floor, I headed back to the door.

What have I done?

I tried to put the doorknob back in, but it was useless. The pain was forcing me to shut my eyes; I couldn’t focus enough to put it back in place. I got onto my knees and with both hands carefully attempted to fix it. I then noticed there was blood on my hand. Panicking, I accidentally pushed out the handle from the other side into the hallway, making matters worse.

Damn it!

Displeased with myself, I sat down on the floor in front of the door and held onto the back of my head to stop the bleeding. My cursing was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. If the pain wasn’t going to kill me, my humiliation surely would if anyone heard or saw me right now.

But it was too late.

“Is everything alright?” asked a troubled voice from the other side of the door.

“Um… Ahh… No not really… I… I can’t get out,” I admitted.

“You wouldn’t happen to have the other side to this doorknob in there?” the voice asked, tongue-in-cheek.

“I do!” I cried, looking into my hand.

I turned towards the door, still on my knees, and put my side of the handle back. The mystery man put his side of the handle back too. Once the handle was functional again, the door opened slowly. I was still on the ground, and struggled to get out of the way as it opened. I was too embarrassed to face the mystery man who had just witnessed my incredible display of stupidity.

I found it difficult to get up off the floor, so I sat there. The pain was still severe. I didn’t want to raise my head to explain to whoever was there what had happened.

“Please… allow me,” he said as he bent down to help me up.

I wish I were a horse; the honourable thing to do right now would be to shoot me.

“I’m so sorry, I am so embarrassed. I tried to open the door, but it seemed to be jammed – I am so embarrassed!” I muttered quickly, finally able to raise my head, which I regretted immediately.

The man was very handsome, making it all the more embarrassing. His eyes were strangely familiar, making it difficult for me to look away. I was sure the dumb-founded look on my face was doing nothing to make me look less of a fool. I closed my eyes and put my head down again. I felt sick.

“You’re bleeding! Wait here,” he ordered.

“Miss Kent!” the voice yelled further down the corridor.

“What is it? Is everything alright?”

“Catherine has hurt herself. Please go and get Dr Simons and have him come to her room immediately,” the gentleman calmly requested.

“Yes, of course, right away!” I could hear Jules shuffling quickly past my door and down the corridor.

I lifted my head again and opened my eyes. This time he had a comforting smile on his face, but his eyes were full of concern.

“Who
are
you?” I asked. I could feel tears in my eyes start to well. I wish I could take back today and start again. Between the pain in my head and the humiliation, I felt stupid and clumsy.

He didn’t answer. He continued to stare at me like he was expecting me to say something.

What was so hard about the question? Surely he knew who he was!

“Who
are
you?” I repeated, shocked at my tone and impatience.

He let out a heavy sigh and straightened his posture.

“I am James Barclay, the college principal.”

The principal! He’s the principal? What in God’s name have I gotten myself into? I can’t look at him without my heart thumping and he is my boss!

I couldn’t look away from him, even though I’m sure I was making him uncomfortable. “Catherine, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. All that matters now… is to stop your pain and that you are alright,” he whispered.

I could have easily started crying again. His voice was calming, his words comforting. I was feeling a strong affection for this person.

OK, I have just hit my head. That explains why I am entertaining such nonsense.

As I started to get up, I could see that Mr Barclay was confused as to whether he should grab my arm to help or not.

“Take it slowly,” he said with his magical voice.

I was determined to salvage whatever dignity I had left. I started to pull myself up from the floor, but as I did so I lost my balance and without thinking I held out my hand to him for support. Mr Barclay quickly came to my assistance, grabbing my hand to stop me from falling. He placed his other arm around my lower back and brought my body close to his so as to lean on him. Even with all this pain, my body trembled from his touch.

“Slowly,” he ordered, as he guided me to my bed.