Grace

Chapter 2

We'd gone through a mostly empty corridor and were now in what I'd describe as a lounge rather than a waiting room. There were a bunch of leather sofas and chairs, coffee tables all with tea pots and plates of biscuits on them. There were bits of art hanging on the walls. It took me a moment to realise that they were previous headmasters. Ben guided me over to a chair near the office door and sat opposite me. There was a table between us with tea for two and some scones waiting to be eaten.

"You're my last one before my break," he said. "Tea?"

"Please. Just a little."

"Milk?"

"Straight up, please."

"So how you feeling about this?"

I shrugged. "Being here I think is a bit more intimidating than the interview is. I think."

"Because it's Eton?"

"Because it's a private school."

"You're state?" he asked in a purposely quiet voice. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"No offence meant," he said holding his hands up. "I'm just surprised that's all. With all the fuss this has created I thought for the first year at least it would be restricted to private school prefects."

"Are there enough private school prefects to make up a school year?" I asked.

His lips quirked a little as he began to cut a scone in half. "Ok, you have a point there."

I sipped my tea. It was really good. "So what's it really like here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Good. Classes end in the afternoon, but we have them on Saturdays as well which is a bit weird for a school but that's why we have shorter days. Boarding is more like home away from home than anything. Privacy and being treated like everyone else for me too. Not that you really want to hear all about that. But it's good. Fun. And the food is really good," he continued. "Not that that's important for today. The interview will be for about half an hour. They'll ask you all sorts about your interests, but mostly about academics and what you think of this person and that person in your fields. What subjects are you going to be taking by the way? Oh, scone?" He'd put butter, jam and cream on it.

I knew I really shouldn't have before the interview, but I took a half anyway and nibbled at it. "Fine art, dance, music and literature."

"Nice. Might see you in lit."

"Maybe," I smiled.

"Miss Bennett?" a voice called.

Ben frowned. "They're running early. I'll save the scone for you."

"Thank you," I said and stood up.

"Ah, Miss Bennett," the headmaster, a middle aged man, smiled. I wasn't sure if it was a real smile or not, but he sure remembered me. "Come in."

"Thank you, Mr. Whittaker," I said.

The office was pretty large, the walls were clad with wood and book cases, there was a huge desk – the kind that featured in gothic novels – and there were leather chairs on either side of it. I didn't take much more than that in, I figured it was safer for my blood pressure. Mr. Whittaker sat himself at a table to the side of the room and it was then that I noticed that both it, and the two other people at it existed. I walked over and sat in front of them in the seat I was gestured to.

Mr. Whittaker introduced first of all Mr. Urquhart, the deputy head and 'as luck would have it' former head of the arts. He was a tall, former red head with thin glasses perched on the bridge of a round nose. He had wide cheeks somewhat like an orang-utan male and skin that looked as soft as an ape's was leathery. Quick black eyes did an instant survey of my appearance and seemed to approve. Then there was Mr. Clarke, mid forties, stern everything and was holding a pen though he had no paper. He was the head of sciences and a house master, but I didn't quite catch which house.