Grace

Chapter 4

Abraham Clarke was a tall man in his mid forties, had a shock of thick red hair that he kept short, but long enough to sweep to the side, and was befreckled as every ginger was at this time of year. Luckily he wasn't lobster red all over. He was in tan trousers and a pale blue shirt that matched his eyes and it was open at the collar. I was guess smart pared down was to make us all feel more comfortable and at ease. Unlike in the interview, he had a pleasant countenance and smiled at me when he saw me in the doorway.

"Grace, let your father know what you want to eat," Mum said before I was even in the room.

As we were in the 'smart lounge' we were a floor above ground level so I used the intercom to ask for "some melon and yoghurt or something" before getting introduced to the head of my house. Wow. That was weird. The head of my house. I had a house. It was like I was at Hogwarts.

"Very pleased to see you again, Miss Bennett," he said. His accent placed him as Welsh, but it was an underlying, almost disappeared lilt so much like Dad's.

"You too, Sir."

"You've met before?" Mum asked.

"I was on the interview panel," he said.

"Oh yes, I remember Grace telling us now."

She gave me a look. I didn't know what for so I said the first thing that came to mind. "Sorry I'm going to be eating. I've only been up half an hour." Whatever smile of approval Mum had in her eyes at the beginning of the sentence disappeared when I got to the end. "Mum, it's the holiday!"

Mr. Clarke laughed. "My boys are worse. My daughter even worse than them."

"Do they go to Eton?" Mum asked as we all sat down.

"My eldest is just beginning there this year. He's in Walpole too."

"And your wife is the Dame?" Mum asked. Someone had been googling whilst I was in the shower.

"Yes," he smiled. "We have a private side of the boarding house. But enough about me. What about you, Grace? Excited?"

I smiled politely though I spoke the truth. "Yeah. Not entirely sure what to expect, but yes. I do have a question though. Why are we being filmed?"

"Oh this is a BBC camera crew," he said off handedly. "They're doing a documentary about life at Eton. Coincidence that it matched up with girls joining us. I hope you don't mind?"

I did. I didn't like being filmed, but I wasn't about to say that. "They with us later too when we go to, um, the house?"

"That's the idea," he smiled. "The chap in the jeans is David. The guy in the shorts holding the mic is Tony and the woman is Jessica."

"Hey guys," I smiled.

"Hi," they all said.

"Just ignore us completely," Jessica said. She was watching more than anything.

"Ok."

"So," Mr. Clarke said. "Just while we wait for your dad, how about you tell me a bit more about yourself?"

That conversation lasted about five minutes and then Dad thankfully came in with some food. My stomach rumbled loudly making me blush as everyone but Mum laughed at me. Dad passed tea around to everyone, though the film crew politely put theirs down. I immediately began eating. Food wasn't normally allowed in here as the upholstery was pale, silk and expensive to get cleaned. I was careful with the yoghurt especially.

The conversation lasted about half an hour and was pretty basic stuff, but all important. He talked about a typical school day, what happened after classes, what Walpole was like as a house and, lastly, went over sleeping arrangements – that was mostly to satisfy Mum and Dad. Then he told me the kinds of things I'd need to bring with me and what was prohibited. He was glad to hear I didn't have any of the prohibited stuff – drugs, cigarettes, alcohol and weapons. Mum asked if I'd be able to take all of my instruments. The simple answer to that was no as there wasn't any room for all of them let alone one single harp in my room.