Gated II: Ravenhill Academy Page 2
“Sweetie, I would in heartbeat, but he is obviously smitten with you. He roams the hallways calling your name in the middle of the night like Heathcliff on the moors. SARAH, SARAH!” Jemima laughed.
“Ladies,” Mr. Barnaby said from behind startling them both, “I believe that the school day is now underway.”
“Yes Mr. Barnaby,” they both replied, chastised.
The Headmaster strode ahead and Jemima mocked his walk behind his back. Sarah felt a small smile creep across her face; it felt alien, but it felt good.
“Must we really have another conversation about your decorum Ms King?” Barnaby said, without turning round.
“Not at all, Sir,” Jemima answered cheerily. “’Tis the season to be jolly after all,” she grinned.
“Not until Friday afternoon it isn’t, my dear. Until then, ‘tis the season to behave properly.”
Sarah and Jemima stared at each other as the Headmaster entered the dining hall. “Did he just make a joke?” Jemima smiled.
“Almost, I guess,” Sarah grinned back as they entered the dining hall.
The dining area was like something out of Hogwarts. The long open space had high ceilings and stonework carved by hand. Sarah felt the pressing weight of history bearing down on her in most parts of the school as the ancient building had witnessed more in its life than they would ever know. The doorways were wide and tall with stone arches. Walls were lined with solid oak paneling and dark beams held the ceilings aloft with mighty arms. There were huge stained glass windows that flooded bright natural light, but Sarah had noticed that most rooms still contained shadowy corners that wouldn’t quite forgo the dark.
The long dining hall was buzzing above the usually normal level, Sarah noticed at she entered. The children could feel the excitement of Christmas in the air and were suitably keyed up. Even Mr. Barnaby seemed to know that trying to keep their feet on the ground was a pointless exercise. He still maintained absolute control, but his steely grip was allowed to loosen a little.
Breakfast was served sharply at 7:45 am every morning including weekends. The pupils were lined up crossways across the hall and the teachers sat at a long table at the head of the room on a raised platform.
Sarah and Jemima joined the line by the wide metallic cabinets. Breakfast was everything: from a full cooked offering, various locally sourced fish, to every conceivable cereal and fruit. Sarah normally picked at some muesli or fruit, but today her appetite called for a small kipper or two. Jemima packed away enough food for a dozen horses but she barely gained a pound. Sarah remembered her own battles with food in the past, but misery and guilt had soon cured her of over indulging.
“You really should eat a little more, honey,” Jemima urged, looking at Sarah’s small plateful.
“I thought I was,” she answered genuinely and a little defensively.
“You’re skin and bones girl,” Jemima said, leaning in close.
Sarah felt uncomfortable. They had been dancing around the edges of being friends for the last couple of years now, ever since the young woman had joined the school. She knew that there would come a point when her story might slip out and it wasn’t a tale that she wanted to share.
She made a hasty retreat to the teachers’ table whilst Jemima heaped more food onto her plate. Barnaby sat in the centre of the table as always. His beady eyes were trained out across the room, always vigilant for signs of misbehavior. Stuart Keaton sat to his right with the school nurse, Hannah Marks, next to him. Hannah was a warm and friendly woman in her fifties. She was short and round with a never ending supply of hugs in her pockets and doubled as an unofficial school psychiatrist. There was also the PE teacher, Dora Tibbs. Playing into the stereotype, Sarah had never witnessed the woman out of a tracksuit. Dora cut a powerful and athletic figure around school. She was tall and broad shouldered with a naturally blonde buzz cut and hard blue eyes that cut disobedience off at the knees with merely a stare.
Sarah took her usual seat next to Dora and was greeted with a curt nod. Jemima slid in beside her and whispered, “We’re not done talking; my New Year’s resolution is going to be to make you open up and possibly to get you laid.”
Sarah had to grab her nose quickly to stop the coffee from snorting out which drew a stiff stare from Barnaby. The Headmaster stood and the hall was immediately engulfed in thick silence. Every morning the Headmaster led the school in saying grace. It was a religious touch that had made her uncomfortable at first. Eden had been founded and ultimately destroyed by the twisted ideology of an insane preacher, but Barnaby’s traditional words had grown to be of comfort to her.
The bell always rang on the dot at 8:30 am every morning to signal the end of breakfast. Students took their plates to the end of the rows and stacked them on the trolleys provided. As well as the faculty staff, there were also an additional four kitchen staff and another four that made up the custodial team.
Today was Monday and the start of the last week before school broke up on Friday for Christmas, but it had been a long time since Sarah had celebrated the season.
After breakfast she liked to take a walk around the school grounds regardless of the weather. After 6 years now at Ravenhill Academy she was fascinated by the old building. She headed out through the massive front doors into the cold morning air. She tightened her coat around her against the light but biting breeze. The grounds of the school apparently covered over 100 acres according to Barnaby who seemed to have been in residence here forever.
She headed past the winding gravel driveway that was around a half mile long and eventually reached the main road. The face of Ravenhill was imposing with an impenetrable stone expression. There were multiple tall windows staggered across the front exterior and tall turrets spiked with Gothic railings sprouting out of the tiled roof.
Sarah followed the path around the side of the school and out towards the woodland beyond. The sight of trees had startled and worried her at first, but she had soon witnessed that the British countryside was littered with green fields, woodlands, and tall trees. Besides, the influence of the Eden forest was a lifetime away and its ashes had been scattered to the winds.
For some reason, the air always seemed fresher and cleaner here. Ravenhill was some 15 miles away from their nearest neighbors, who resided in a small quaint village called Bexley Cross. The open fields in front of her seemed to stretch on until they reached the horizon. One of the benefits that she had found was that the UK was small enough that you were never far from the ocean at any point. She had grown up in the bosom of farming country and had never seen the ocean. But at Ravenhill she was only a 30 minute hike from the cliff tops that overlooked the sea. She had walked out to that spot many times since living here. There was an unmanned automated lighthouse that she had found unlocked. The views from the top of the lighthouse had to be seen to be believed.
She checked her watch and saw that it was almost time to get to class. She had English first thing and wasn’t looking forward to trying to control a classroom of excitable 13 year old children. Most of the kids were very much looking forward to returning home for the holidays. The parents would be collecting come Friday afternoon, or at least their staff would be. She had never quite grasped how some parents wouldn’t bother to turn up in person after months apart.
She turned away from the woodland view to walk back when she felt eyes upon her. She spun around quickly; her senses were blazing and her heart pounded. There was a flash of movement out in the trees somewhere and she stared hard. After a short while she suddenly realised that she was holding her breath. She let her lungs work and wondered just what had spooked her so much. There were often wild deer on the land as well as a multitude of other wildlife. Stuart was an avid nature watcher and would often try to entice her along with his midnight nature walks, but she had always politely declined. She had caught glimpses of four legged wandering things out in the shadows, but this was different. She had felt like she was being watched, and watched with malice and ha
tred.
She backed away quickly, eager to return to the comforting sounds of others inside the safe walls of the school. In the 10 years since Eden she had only ever felt grief and guilt but never afraid, until now.
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Rosa Marsh hiked her way up the long driveway from the main road to Ravenhill Academy. She had worked in the kitchens of the school for almost 20 years and never missed a day in her life or been so much as a minute late. She lived in Bexley Cross and the bus journey into work seemed to always take a lot longer than the mileage would suggest.
Today had been the perfect storm of incompetence of bad luck. The bus driver had been ill and his replacement had gotten lost. Because he was late picking her up, it meant that they hit every cattle crossing as farmers blocked off country lanes to walk their herds across.
She stared down at her watch and felt the great knot of tension in her stomach tighten. She was already late and now it was just matter of how late.
She ignored the groaning arthritis in her knees and pushed harder up the gravel driveway. She was approaching retirement age now but she had no one at home to keep her company anymore. Arnold had passed away some three years ago now and all she had left were Ravenhill and the children. She had never been blessed with being a mother and the school was her family. She was dreading the day that they told her she could no longer come and she would have to sit in her small cottage and stare at the walls. She had always thought that she would rather be dead than retired.
The bitter wind was biting as she rushed her way up towards the school. Her bones were old and brittle now and she no longer had the protection of youth to keep her warm.
She hurried around to the side of the building to the staff entrance. She cursed the heavens for spoiling her perfect record: never a day sick or a morning late had been ruined through no fault of her own.
She knew that the doors would be locked by now for the children’s protection. It was a sad state of affairs when the world was full of dangerous men looking to snatch innocent babes to satisfy some sickness in their minds.
She took the large iron key from her pocket and reached out to the solid door. A hand suddenly snaked out of the mist behind her and she screamed as the fingers touched her shoulder.
“Oh it’s you,” she said, relieved and clutching her hand to her chest to still her thumping heart. “You could have given me a heart attack sneaking around like that,” she panted. “You could have killed me,” she said with a laugh, smiling at the familiar face.
Two powerful hands were suddenly wrapped around her throat and squeezing with an iron grip. As the darkness closed in around her, Rosa found that perhaps retirement would have been preferable to death after all.
CHAPTER 3
Sarah stopped to watch the rugby practice. Dora Tibbs was putting the boys through their paces but Sarah was more interested in watching Stuart. Whilst Dora was the PE teacher, Stuart was the rugby expert having apparently played at a decent level before an injury had stolen away any possibility of a professional career.
It was past 6 pm and the night was already dark but Ravenhill had the best facilities of any school that she had ever heard of. The playing fields were set up for rugby and football (not soccer, as she had been corrected multiple times). The grass was lush and level like a luxurious carpet. The markings were pristine white and the posts gleamed at any time of year. The floodlights were the match of any professional ground in the country and Barnaby had once bragged about using the best sporting designers to put together the school’s pitches.
She found herself watching as Stuart ran through running and passing drills with the young boys. She couldn’t help but notice as his toned legs shone with sweat and rippled with tight muscle. She told herself that she was just passing, but it was getting increasingly difficult to convince herself as she was “just passing” on the nights that he was training.
She told herself that it was just a little harmless look. She had no intention of pursuing him further, but a little look never hurt anyone. She felt herself smile as he slipped and fell to the good natured ribbing of the boys around him. She suddenly felt the stabbing pain of guilt. This wasn’t for her, her hands were bloody and she did not deserve even a glimpse of happiness.
She walked away brusquely hoping that he hadn’t caught her watching. She could do without the complications of encouraging him.
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Stuart hadn’t in fact noticed her watching him. He was too busy wiping the mud from his blushing face. At least the boys were in good fettle ahead of Wednesday night’s game. Training was going well and he was pleased that Dora Tibbs had allowed him to work with the team. He missed the game more than he cared to admit even to himself. It had been a long time since his dreams had been dashed by a stamp on the knee by a bitter opponent, but that had been all it had taken for a cruciate ligament injury that had never healed properly. He had come back too early and too hard. He could have played at a semi-pro level but it would have been taking second best and he couldn’t face the constant reminders of what might have been.
“Alright boys,” he called out to the team. “Twice round the pitch double time and then hit the showers. And Thompson,” he called to the cheeky faced youth, “if I catch you slacking then everyone else goes another five laps whilst you watch.”
The team grumbled a little under their collective breaths, but he knew that they were good kids. The school had a habit of only attracting the best and brightest. Barnaby seemed to have a knack for selection and often turned away those more connected and wealthy in favor of the more deserving.
His thoughts turned to the game tomorrow; it was the last one before the break, and he hoped that the team would be able to focus. Maplecrest was a school from a couple of hours’ drive away. Those boys were from an entirely different world to his. Maplecrest, despite the name, wasn’t a private school and the boys there were hard on and off the field. Ravenhill had more than its fair share of injury stories from games against Maplecrest. He was determined to instill into his team that skill and dedication weren’t always enough. They’d have to find heart and guts to overcome some of the thugs tomorrow. They were defending an unbeaten start to the season and while he may have appeared passive on the surface, when it came to the game he was committed and desperate to win.
He wondered if his gentle outward nature was holding him back when it came to Sarah. He was confused by her, more so than with other women. Occasionally, she seemed on the cusp of being friendly with him only for her to run a mile when it seemed like she was realizing it.
He decided that trying to fathom out the mind of a woman was too rocky a terrain for him to navigate. He took off after the boys to join in their run and he had them sprinting by the end.
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Sarah heard the soft rap at her door. She had turned in for the night and wasn’t looking forward to the dreams that lay in wait beyond the veil of sleep. She walked to the door surprised. It was long after lights out and Barnaby was on night duty. She threw on her dressing gown and slipped her feet into thick woolen slippers as the floor was like ice.
She stopped before she reached the door, wondering if she had been half asleep when she heard the gentle knocking. She had spent much of the day thinking about the sensation of that morning. She was sure that someone out in the woods had been watching her and she was more and more sure that she had seen a figure ducking behind the trees. If Eden had taught her anything, it was to stay on her guard, but also not to jump at shadows.
The soft rapping sounded again and she walked closer. “Hello?” she whispered, but there was no answer.
She stood by the door with a sick feeling in her stomach. All afternoon she had been jumping at shadows, waiting for something to happen. It seemed only fitting that whatever it was, it would happen in the dead of night.
Taking hold of her fears, she reached out and threw the door open. She didn’t find Tolan Christian back from the grave seeking bloody vengea
nce, only a small girl rubbing her eyes with sleep.
“Martha Raines?” she said to the eight year old. “Whatever are you doing out of bed?”
“The man woke me up,” Martha answered sleepily.
“What man?” Sarah asked.
“Man in my room,” the little girl answered.
Sarah had witnessed the nightmares of small children too many times to count over the years at the boarding school, but something clawed at her insides at the words now.
The school was always patrolled at night by a staff member on a rota system and the security on the windows and doors was second to none. There were also panic alarms on the walls of the corridors in the accommodation block. The buttons were under a guarding bracket that staff held a key for to prevent mischievous hands from playing with. Sarah found her hand reaching out to the big red button before she stopped herself. She had suffered from panic attacks for years after she’d first left Eden. But ever since she had come to the UK to live and work at Ravenhill she had fought her demons to an uneasy draw and found a kind of solitary peace. She was unwilling to surrender to her fears and spoil her sanctuary.
“I’m sure that it was just a dream Martha,” she soothed. “Would you like me to walk you back to your room and check under the bed for monsters?” Martha giggled and held out her hand.
Sarah led the girl back along the corridor and down to the floor below. Martha was a sweet kid and never an ounce of trouble, but she also wasn’t given to flights of imaginative fancy either.
The corridors were dimly lit by a night setting on the lighting. Sarah walked towards the girls’ room holding Martha’s small hot hand. She stamped all over her own unease at the night’s hour and her scare from the morning.
Most of the girls shared rooms and Martha was housed with another older girl called Deborah Vance.
“Is Deborah still asleep?” Sarah whispered as they approached the room.
Martha shrugged in reply.