of my case and pulled out the letter they’d sent at the beginning of the holidays.
‘Boarders are expected between 5p.m. and 7p.m. on Sunday 6th September.’
I looked down at my watch and sighed. No wonder there was no one about – I was two hours early.
I gnawed on my thumbnail for a while, before giving the door handle a surreptitious rattle: locked. I tried the buzzer next to it. Nothing.
I thought for a while, and decided I had two choices: I could haul myself and my case off up the hill in search of somewhere to get a hot chocolate, or I could just park myself there and wait it out. And as much as I loved anything and everything chocolate-based, I wasn’t built for climbing, so I slouched to the ground and wrapped my arms around my chest against the chill. I told myself I could use the time to get my head straight and make sure my grip was good and tight before all the other kids started arriving. But despite my best efforts it wasn’t long before those trees began to feel like they were closing in around me, and the silence slowly but steadily grew so very loud around me that I couldn’t bear it.
I dug my phone out of my pocket and my fingers went straight to Beth’s name – like chubby little magnets – when a sudden noise shattered the silence. I dropped the phone in surprise as something exploded out of one of the oak trees, arrowing across the courtyard in a flurry of disturbed leaves and frantic wings. I ducked down and swore reflexively, pulling my hands up over my head before realising nothing was actually attacking me. I looked up and saw a magpie. I felt ridiculous. Thank goodness no one had been around to see.
“Good-morning-Mr-Magpie-how’s-your-wife?” I blurted the silly greeting Mum always used out of superstitious habit, and the bird let out a rapid-fire series of yaks that sounded like laughter in response, then disappeared into a hedgerow across the lane.
A car door slammed nearby, and I swung my head around as I spotted what must have disturbed the bird in the first place. A dark hatchback sat across from the gate, which now swung open to let a handsome, older man – Silver fox! Beth would’ve said – into the courtyard. An equally handsome blond teen with a large rucksack slung over his shoulder followed close behind.
“Hello!” The George Clooney lookalike offered me a cheery smile as he walked over. “Are we too early? Strickland not about?”
“Um…who?”
“Mr Strickland? Or Mrs – it’s usually Ian who opens up and then Irene…” He drifted off and looked down at my nervous, fidgeting form. I sprang up into a standing fidget instead, almost going flying over my case in the process. The boy beside him, the spitting image of the man who could only be his dad, slowly took me in without saying a word. I felt my cheeks flush.
“I’ve only just got here,” I said. “I haven’t seen anyone yet. It’s my first day.”
“Ah, I didn’t think I’d seen you before.” He beamed at me. “You’ve not been left on your own, surely?”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” It wasn’t like I was a little kid or anything. I felt my cheeks do their thing even more.
“Well, you’ve got some company now,” he said. “This is my son – Tyler.” He punched the boy lightly on the shoulder. “Say hi, Ty!”
Tyler, all surfer hair and golden tan, rolled steely-blue eyes before a loud buzz belched out from the speaker by the door – making me jump yet again. My nerves were completely, embarrassingly shredded. A deep voice boomed from within. “What’s this then? Such keenness! Commendable!” A wheezy chuckle followed, then, “Well, come on up! Don’t stand about making the place look untidy!”
As the door clicked open, surfer-boy Tyler grabbed his dad in a quick, one-armed hug.
“See you Friday,” he said in a soft voice, clapping him on the back before ducking through the door. I was just about to awkwardly thank Clooney for the introduction when Tyler stuck his head back out and lifted an eyebrow. “You coming then, New Girl?”
“Ty’ll help you find your feet,” Clooney said, lifting my case up and over the step for me. “He’s just starting Year Twelve so he knows the ropes. Don’t let him boss you around though!” He gave me a friendly wink before making his way back towards the gate. When I turned around, Tyler had already gone back in. I took a deep breath, visualised Beth making shooing motions at me with impatient hands, and headed in after him.
The second both my feet were inside the building a single, piercing yaw rang out from behind me. I spun, expecting to see the magpie again, almost losing my balance and face-planting in the process; but as I turned, a gust of wind caught the door and slammed it soundly shut behind me.
My heart thumped with a mixture of nerves and general out-of-shape knackeredness as I wrestled my case up the dim stairwell – finally emerging into the bright reception area like an exhausted mole. A short man, completely bald with a perfectly round belly sitting like a beach ball under his shirt, was chatting away cheerily to Tyler. Mr Strickland, I presumed. He looked like he’d been off somewhere hot for the summer, as the top of his head and the front of his nose were brightly burned – a flaming red a million miles from the sun-kissed look Tyler was rocking. That made me smile. He was, quite literally, a shining beacon of normality.
I stood out from both of them though: ghostlike in my comparative paleness, and chubbier than the pair of them put together. Vive la difference! Dad would have said. Get over it, Fatty, would’ve been Beth’s advice. It’s your own fault. Double sting. But I’d spent most of the summer indoors, with comfort food for company. She was right. I had no one to blame but myself.
“Couldn’t wait to get back eh? Missed the old place that much?” Beachball asked, grinning at Tyler, whose reply was another lazy eye-roll. Obviously a standard move. “And who do we have here?” He peered at me for a second, before recognition dawned. “Ah! You must be Abigail! Hello! How was your journey?”
“Yeah, fine thanks.” I was still trying to catch my breath, and made an attempt to cover up the catch in my breathing with a totally unconvincing yawn.
“Excellent!” He grinned. “Well, welcome to the boarding house, Abigail. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here. We’re all the quintessential big happy family. Isn’t that right, Tyler?”
I was expecting yet another eye-roll, but something sad flashed across Tyler’s eyes, just for a second, before he murmured something non-committal in response. Beachball clapped him on the back and took a dig at “the eloquence of youth.”
“Mum and Dad not with you?” he asked, raising himself up on the balls of his feet to look over my shoulder, as if maybe they were standing behind me and were just incredibly small.
“Oh, no. Mum had to rush back,” I told him. “She flies out early tomorrow morning. And Dad’s already out of the country.”
“Ah, now, that sounds very exotic! What is it your parents do? Something much more exciting than teaching by the sound of it!”
I felt a painful tug in my stomach, and there was a split-second delay before I answered. “They’re in the army. Dad’s on deployment in Afghanistan, on his third tour now. Mum’s heading over there for the first time tomorrow.”
“Ah, now, well then.” He looked suddenly uncomfortable, his face glowing even more redly. There was something we had in common, at least. “My word. Not exotic at all. That must be extremely difficult for you, Abigail, having both parents in such… Well, yes, my word…”
There was an awkward pause. I thought it was a bit odd that he hadn’t already known. But with so many kids to look after, I supposed it must have been hard to keep track of everyone.
“And there I was,” he eventually continued, “thinking all our brave young men and women