waiting patiently for Ms Villeneuve without saying a word, and
keeping very still at the far right of the line. Their boy was
about the same size as Ben, and seemed very experienced at keeping
still and quiet.
The next family was dressed in
very bright colours that reminded Ben of the colourful birds in the
Amazon rainforest that he had seen on David Attenborough wildlife
documentaries. The father jangled his keys in the air as he paced
up and down talking loudly into his gold mobile phone, while the
mother carefully styled her son’s blond hair.
“Keep still Jordan lovely,” she
said to him as she licked her fingers and styled his hair into a
sharp, gravity-defying point.
Jordan tapped on his matching
gold phone with a blank expression, ignoring everything else.
The Silverstones had arrived
next and stood beside Jordan and his family, and to their left had
just arrived a very tall, skinny family with twin girls, who talked
to each other much too fast for Ben to interpret, while their
parents did the same. He thought they might have been foreign.
After a few moments further
waiting as more families arrived, the clock struck 9am, and the
enormous doors at the top of the steps to the main building made a
groaning noise as they creaked open, precisely on cue. Ms
Villeneuve stepped out.
Ben had been half expecting a
headmistress like old Mrs Bumblebottom at his little primary school
in Parsons Green. But Ms Villeneuve was very different. She wore a
pensive expression as if she was constantly considering a problem
she hadn’t yet been able to solve, and actually looked no older
than his parents. Her clothes were similar to those worn by the
first family in the line, but a touch sharper and more modern, and
helped reinforce the air of superiority she exuded as she calmly
glided along toward them. Her glasses were rimless, and magnified
her sharp green eyes to at least twice their normal size as she
observed them. Her light brown hair was contained in a perfect bun,
positioned very carefully in the very centre of her head.
She paused at the top of the
stairs for a moment to survey the group, measured out a small
smile, and then descended and introduced the tour.
“Welcome back to Hulstead
College and thank you for coming. Parents, your previous tour
covered most of the grounds and buildings, so today is simply a
formality to make your children more comfortable prior to the
commencement of the school term in three weeks time.”
Ms Villeneuve talked in perfect
English, but with a subtle French accent. Jordan’s father was
clearly impressed.
“Great. Yeah. Fantastic,” he
commented, as his wife concluded a final flourish to Jordan’s
quiff.
“We will begin with the Great
Hall behind me,” she said with a dramatic gesture, without removing
her gaze from the group. The parents and children looked up at the
grand features of the building. Ben’s parents seemed to love it,
and he heard them oohing and ahhing a great deal as they pointed
towards different parts of it.
The crisp morning sun gradually
gave way to a few grey wisps of cloud, and a cool breeze rustled
the early autumn leaves from the trees behind them as Ms Villeneuve
recited a perfectly rehearsed history of the school, and in
particular the Great Hall. The boy from the smartly dressed family
posed a question, and she dealt with it swiftly before returning
effortlessly to the narration. To Ben, the building was just
old.
Finally she reached a precise
pause. “Now, let us go inside.”
Ben’s chest ached again. He
drifted back behind the parents like the other children, and
exchanged a few pleasantries with his fellow students. Ilse and
Lotte were from Holland, and had moved over to London so that they
could grow up speaking more English. George didn’t say much at all
besides his name, and was eager to pay attention to everything that
Ms Villeneuve had to say. Jordan showed Ben an amusing picture of a
cat on his phone while Ms Villeneuve talked about
keeping very still at the far right of the line. Their boy was
about the same size as Ben, and seemed very experienced at keeping
still and quiet.
The next family was dressed in
very bright colours that reminded Ben of the colourful birds in the
Amazon rainforest that he had seen on David Attenborough wildlife
documentaries. The father jangled his keys in the air as he paced
up and down talking loudly into his gold mobile phone, while the
mother carefully styled her son’s blond hair.
“Keep still Jordan lovely,” she
said to him as she licked her fingers and styled his hair into a
sharp, gravity-defying point.
Jordan tapped on his matching
gold phone with a blank expression, ignoring everything else.
The Silverstones had arrived
next and stood beside Jordan and his family, and to their left had
just arrived a very tall, skinny family with twin girls, who talked
to each other much too fast for Ben to interpret, while their
parents did the same. He thought they might have been foreign.
After a few moments further
waiting as more families arrived, the clock struck 9am, and the
enormous doors at the top of the steps to the main building made a
groaning noise as they creaked open, precisely on cue. Ms
Villeneuve stepped out.
Ben had been half expecting a
headmistress like old Mrs Bumblebottom at his little primary school
in Parsons Green. But Ms Villeneuve was very different. She wore a
pensive expression as if she was constantly considering a problem
she hadn’t yet been able to solve, and actually looked no older
than his parents. Her clothes were similar to those worn by the
first family in the line, but a touch sharper and more modern, and
helped reinforce the air of superiority she exuded as she calmly
glided along toward them. Her glasses were rimless, and magnified
her sharp green eyes to at least twice their normal size as she
observed them. Her light brown hair was contained in a perfect bun,
positioned very carefully in the very centre of her head.
She paused at the top of the
stairs for a moment to survey the group, measured out a small
smile, and then descended and introduced the tour.
“Welcome back to Hulstead
College and thank you for coming. Parents, your previous tour
covered most of the grounds and buildings, so today is simply a
formality to make your children more comfortable prior to the
commencement of the school term in three weeks time.”
Ms Villeneuve talked in perfect
English, but with a subtle French accent. Jordan’s father was
clearly impressed.
“Great. Yeah. Fantastic,” he
commented, as his wife concluded a final flourish to Jordan’s
quiff.
“We will begin with the Great
Hall behind me,” she said with a dramatic gesture, without removing
her gaze from the group. The parents and children looked up at the
grand features of the building. Ben’s parents seemed to love it,
and he heard them oohing and ahhing a great deal as they pointed
towards different parts of it.
The crisp morning sun gradually
gave way to a few grey wisps of cloud, and a cool breeze rustled
the early autumn leaves from the trees behind them as Ms Villeneuve
recited a perfectly rehearsed history of the school, and in
particular the Great Hall. The boy from the smartly dressed family
posed a question, and she dealt with it swiftly before returning
effortlessly to the narration. To Ben, the building was just
old.
Finally she reached a precise
pause. “Now, let us go inside.”
Ben’s chest ached again. He
drifted back behind the parents like the other children, and
exchanged a few pleasantries with his fellow students. Ilse and
Lotte were from Holland, and had moved over to London so that they
could grow up speaking more English. George didn’t say much at all
besides his name, and was eager to pay attention to everything that
Ms Villeneuve had to say. Jordan showed Ben an amusing picture of a
cat on his phone while Ms Villeneuve talked about
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