A Blindefellows Chronicle

Chapter 1... The Fair Filles of France

A Blindefellows Chronicle Auriel Roe © Published by Unbound

1

The Fair Filles of France

Michaelmas 1974

It was midday on the 31st August, and the new History teacher had arrived at Blindefellows, former charity school for poor blind boys, now a second division private school for anyone who could pay. Twenty-six year old Charles Sedgewick gingerly carried one little cardboard box at a time into his assigned rooms in Loaghtan Wing, nervously avoiding the oddly prominent incisors of a flock of a few dozen miniature black sheep that jostled around him. They'd been there for generations, deployed by the school's founder to crop the grass of the grounds, and were now trotting alongside him, baaing for a possible treat. Sedgewick, who sported tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses and unkempt wavy black hair, had selected a casual outfit suitable for heavy lifting on his arrival - Bermuda shorts, buckled sandals and an orange tee shirt he'd grown out of which rode up as he carried the boxes, revealing the loose musculature of his midriff.

The Deputy Head, Reverend Beaulieu Hareton and William Japes, the Physics master, watched from one of the Neo-Gothic leaded-glass windows of the Oak Room as Sedgewick, assisted by a middle-aged couple, the female of whom kept referring to him as "Charl", omitting the es, ponderously unpacked a purple Austin Allegro Estate.

"Are those his parents he's brought with him? Are you sure about this one, Bunny?" Japes asked.

"Please, Japes, you know I don't like being called that now that we're grown ups," Bunny reminded him. "Yes, I believe those are his parents and yes, I am quite sure about Sedgewick. He lives and breathes History; it's his life."

"Mm, I can tell and that's precisely the problem," Japes sighed. "I'll go and see him tomorrow. Help him to get settled."

"Settled?" Bunny glanced at him, revealing a tinge of anxiety. There was nothing settled about Japes. With his receding sandy, brylcreamed hair, a mischevious twinkle in his hazel eyes, and an ironic smile ever playing about his lips, he had the look of a vampiric sprite. An ex-military man, he was always dapper with a silk handkerchief in the lapel pocket of his brass-buttoned blazers, which showed off his still powerful torso. Despite having now turned forty, his circle of lady friends was ever-growing and he displayed not the faintest flicker of ever getting settled himself.

"They really have brought absolutely everything for the lad," Bunny remarked as he observed Sedgewick's parents carrying in groceries, tea-towels and an ironing board. "You'd think at twenty-six he'd be making a move like this for himself. Well, I trust he'll become a man of the world with your expert guidance, Japes."

The next evening, Japes called on Sedgewick with a bottle of Rioja, a gardening trowel and a young passion fruit vine in a pot. Sedgewick's parents had set up his rooms for him in an eclectic mix of clashing boiled-sweet hues, whilst he'd been sent to his room to do prep for his classes. His mother had ironed all his clothes and hung them in the wardrobe. His father had polished his shoes mirror-bright and lined them up by the door. The bookcase was neatly arranged with history books, British historians only: Trevelyan, Trevor-Roper, Carr, Elton, and Churchill, of course. Sedgewick had left the door ajar since the wing was empty and Japes, as was his wont, walked straight in without bothering to knock. Sedgewick, who was standing at the kitchenette counter turned round looking discomposed, as if he were a boy who'd just been caught breaking school rules.

"Uh, I was doing beans on toast," he stammered, "Rather more complicated than I'd expected".

"Great meal in the field. Heat up the can in the coals and do the toast over the flames on your bayonet, if there's any bread to be had, that is."