‘Miss Rust?’
She jumped when she heard the voice behind her and swung around.
Standing at the other end of the passageway was a tall, gaunt woman, her silver-grey hair pulled back from her face, glasses shading her eyes. The light cast dancing shadows about the hallway, so that the woman’s body seemed insubstantial, melding with the gloom around her.
‘Yes, I’m Thea. Thea Rust,’ she said, ignoring a desire to turn back to the pub she’d passed, to the light and the warmth and the life there.
The woman seemed to glide across the floor before stopping a few inches from her. The oversized, opaque-lensed glasses and severe hairstyle were at odds with her delicately patterned blouse. ‘You look hardly older than the girls we’re expecting. Mrs Mary Hicks. Dame of Silk House,’ she added, tucking her hands behind her back. A large cat the colour of smoke curled about her feet, disappearing and reappearing from under her skirts, hissing furiously at Thea.
Now the woman had come closer, she was less intimidating, but nevertheless there was something about her that sent a shiver down Thea’s spine. ‘Very nice to meet you, Mrs Hicks,’ she said, doing her best to sound sincere. ‘I wasn’t sure if anyone was here – it was dark …’
‘Well, of course I would be here, Miss Rust. The girls arrive tomorrow. I have been so busy readying the house that I didn’t have time to turn on a light at the front. That is all.’
Thea bit her lip at the condescending tone but said nothing. She didn’t want to make an enemy of the woman before they’d had a chance to get to know each other.
‘What a lovely cat,’ she said, trying to be friendly and bending down to stroke it. The cat slunk beneath the Dame’s skirts once again and Thea straightened, feeling foolish.
‘Isis. A damn fine mouser.’ Her lips twitched and she eyed Thea, as if silently evaluating her. ‘Be careful, though – she scratches.’
‘Got it.’ Thea had only a sketchy knowledge of Greek mythology, but knew the cat was likely named for a goddess not the Islamic State.
‘Well now, we should get you settled. Your room is at the top of the house,’ Mrs Hicks said, pointing in the direction of a staircase further along the passageway. ‘Turn left at the top, second from the end. I am at the back, to the left, on this floor. The girls will be on the first, second and top floors, with the communal rooms and breakfast area here on the ground. There’s also a garden at the back, off the breakfast room, and at the end, past the fishpond, is a gate in the wall that leads to the river. Going beyond the gate will be strictly out of bounds.’
Thea sensed that dictate extended to her as well.
‘And in future, I would prefer if you call me Dame Hicks. It’s an Oxleigh tradition.’ She smiled, but Thea had no way of knowing if it reached her eyes or not – the glasses made her quite inscrutable. ‘I’ll give you a full orientation tomorrow,’ she added. ‘You’ll need to be up to speed before the girls arrive.’
‘When will that be exactly?’ asked Thea.
‘From three; enough time for them to settle in and unpack before supper at the house.’
Thea knew from the copious briefing notes she had been sent, that the girls – fourteen of them – were to eat their early and late meals at the boarding house, but would have lunch and dinner at the main school with the rest of the pupils.
‘And Mrs Jackson? The housemistress?’ Thea had met her at her interview, a lovely, warm dumpling of a woman who smelled of talcum powder and peppermints. It occurred to her that if Mrs Hicks, or the porter for that matter, had been on the interviewing panel, she might have had second thoughts about taking the job. She could only hope that Mrs Jackson would smooth her path.
‘I’m afraid there’s been a slight hiccup there. She rather unfortunately injured herself playing badminton last weekend. Tripped over the shuttlecock. Has put her back out, so it seems,’ Dame Hicks said. ‘The school was obviously unable to employ anyone to replace her at such short notice, and I have been informed that you will stand in for her until she is recovered. Which will be quite some weeks, I am told.’
Thea, who had been momentarily distracted by the thought of the chocolate bar in her bag, started. Had she heard correctly? She was to take responsibility for the new girls? The Dame sounded as happy about the prospect as she was and her mood plunged as she realised that it would mean being involved with their wellbeing and welfare. She loved teaching history and sharing her passion for the subject, but she had precisely zero experience in pastoral care, and had little patience for the petty dramas and emotions of teenage girls. She could still remember what it felt like to be sixteen years old, pivoting from crippling self-doubt to boundless self-belief, sometimes in the same minute. Although it was probably considered a step up in responsibility, she mused, it was not one she had planned on.
‘Obviously, I shall also be here,’ said the Dame. ‘But my role is to ensure the house runs smoothly, supervise the kitchen and cleaning staff, oversee the laundry and so on. Come along, then,’ she said, glancing at her watch, ‘and bring your bags. Let’s not waste any more time.’ She marched off at a smart pace, flicking on another light as she went, not checking to see if Thea was following. ‘On this floor we have the dining room – it was the hotel restaurant before the school bought the house.’ The Dame indicated a room off to the right and Thea looked through a half-open set of double doors, seeing two long tables and rows of chairs flanked by a serving area. Cheerful patterned curtains hung at the windows and she could smell that the room had been recently painted.
‘The kitchen is behind there,’ she said, pointing to a set of double doors at the end of the room. ‘Now, follow me upstairs.’
A wide oak staircase, the time-buffed newel posts carved into acorns, led to the first floor. Thea hefted her suitcase and bag up the uneven treads, glad that she hadn’t given in to the temptation to pack more than absolutely necessary.
They reached the first floor, where a long landing ran towards her right, off which were five doors, two on one side and three on the other. ‘The girls will sleep two or three to a room.’ As the Dame opened a door Thea peered around it to see twin beds, made up with white cotton duvets and thick pillows, and two desks with comfortable-looking chairs filling the space. Pinboards were fixed above each desk, a circular rug lay between the beds, and a wall of cupboards lined the back. To Thea the room looked, for the moment anyway, rather antiseptic, the only accessory a curious disc about the size and shape of a large pebble on one of the desks. Thea’s own teenage bedroom had been a similar size, though plastered from skirting board to ceiling with posters of hockey players, glossy thoroughbreds and tennis stars. She remembered with embarrassment a crush on Andre Agassi that had endured throughout her teenage years and wondered if the girls would be allowed to personalise their space. She suspected they might be limited to the pinboards.
The Dame indicated a smaller staircase at the end of the hall that twisted upwards into darkness. ‘That leads to the attic, and also runs all the way down to the ground floor – I believe it was the original servants’ staircase. Two girls will share the larger room up there, and then there is your room, and a study for your use as well.’