Grace

Chapter 15

"Grace!" Clara called and knocked on my door. "Some French guy is here to take you on a hot date."

I rolled my eyes and opened the door. "We've got to see our PD tutor tonight. He's showing me where he lives."

"Who have you got?"

"Mr. MacLachlan. He's like, ninety but seems really great. You?"

"Miss Penny Rose. She's about twenty three. What you got there?"

I showed her the quick watercolour I'd done and explained what it was for.

"Combining two things into one, like it. But why squids?"

"That requires a whole load of explaining I don't have time for," I said, grabbed my hat and then hurried down stairs, school issue umbrella in hand.

I folded my watercolour up and tucked it into my waist coat to protect it from the rain and put my umbrella up as I stepped outside. Claude quickly stepped under it.

"You might have layers and hats, but at least they keep you dry. We aren't even allowed umbrellas," he complained, his normally soft accent coming though strong and thick. His teeth were beginning to chatter and his normally gravity defying hair was plastered to his head.

"South of France, huh?"

"Oui. Solei, chaleur et mer." Sun, heat and sea.

"Stop making me jealous."

"I'm making myself jealous," he said shortly. "I didn't know what to bring. You have something?"

I nodded. "I did a quick painting. It's not very good."

We chatted about the music homework for the rest of the journey, which the rain stopped part way through, to Master MacLachlan's house. It was a cottage in the school grounds quite close to the original school building and just as old. He had a garden fenced in with creeping roses that had probably broken the original fence, but were growing well anyway. Inside the garden flowers grew everywhere along with apple trees, some berry bushes and other small edibles. Butterflies and bees danced in the air and there were bird feeders everywhere brining in some nature's greatest vocalists. The birds of a quintessentially English garden had always been my favourites with their sweet, innocent voices.

"I have seen nothing prettier," Claude declared softly.

I smiled and thought how wonderfully lucky I was to be able to come here once a week. I felt myself relax the more I listened to the birds and watched the butterflies. We walked in to the garden being sure to keep to the path and step over the slugs and snails that were on it. The house itself was modestly grand as all old cottages with thatched roves were. It was made completely from red brick, had sash windows which were surrounded with flowers and honey suckle vines. The door was thick old wood with a polite notice on it.

My dear friends, for you must be friend if you are coming here, for what enemy is there left that cares for me?, please leave your worries and cares at the door, wipe your feet on the way in and deposit any wet umbrellas in the stand to the right. And don't mind the cat. He will only attack if you try to stroke him.

We went in carefully calling out to Master MacLachlan as we did so. There was a set of stairs to the immediate left of the door with what looked like a hand carved banister. The umbrella stand was to the right and already had a couple in it. Mine joined the bunch and then we wiped our feet on the mat which read home sweet home.

"We're in here," a freckled girl said from the first door on the left. "I'm Gemma. Tea?"

"Please," Claude said as we walked further into the house, my boots clicking on the tile floor.