Temporal Exploring 101 - Branch Cut

V.16 Perhaps Evelyn is not evil, after all

"Not Ulysses," Mallory Carmichael muttered. "By all the gods, don't let it be Ulysses."

I shot her an irritated look. "What on earth are you talking about, Carmichael?"

Together with the rest of our classmates, we were waiting for our Contemporary English Literature teacher who was already a couple of minutes late.

"Don't you remember, Hart? Today is the great day. Ms Farrow is going to announce which novel we will be reading during this and the next term."

I shrugged. "So?"

"Last year, when you were not at this school yet, Ms Farrow asked every student in her class to suggest a book for us read. From that list she was going select a novel. Which one it is will be revealed today."

"I get that. But I still don't see why you are worried."

"I suggested Ulysses by James Joyce." Mallory sighed. "I meant it as a joke but old Farrow took it seriously. Now I fear that she may have chosen Ulysses."

"What if she did?" I had never heard of Ulysses, myself. "Is there a problem with that book?"

"Go read it and find out about that yourself, Hart." Mallory made a face. "I tried to read it and gave up after less than fifty pages."

"Now, that does not sound very encouraging," Debbie Turner commented.

"Don't worry about it," Nancy cut in. "If she didn't let us perform Waiting for Godot, there is no chance in hell that she will have us read Ulysses."

She sounded almost as if she would enjoy it if we were to read that novel in class.

"Trust me, Beckett's work is easy reading compared to Joyce's stuff," Mallory grumbled. She turned to my roommate. "What did you suggest, Nat?"

"I proposed that we read The Lord of the Rings," Natty told us. "I even talked to Ms Farrow in private, in an effort to convince her to select that book."

"Really? What did she say?" I was kind of curious.

Natty frowned. "She just laughed."

What could have turned into a lively discussion of the respective literary merits of Joyce, Beckett and Tolkien was cut short by the arrival of our teacher.

"Before we begin." Ms Farrow focused on me. "Hart, Headmistress Stuart asked me to tell you that you are to come to her office, right away."

Uh oh.

I had been summoned to the Head's office before, a couple of times, and it had rarely turned out well for me.

"May I ask what this is about, Miss?"

"I am certain that the Headmistress will tell you what it is about, Hart," Ms Farrow replied. "If I were you I would make haste. Do not make the Headmistress wait for you."

I took her advice and briskly walked over to the Head's office.

With the usual amount of trepidation, I knocked on the heavy wooden door.

"Come in," I heard Laura Stuart call from inside.

I entered the room and closed the door behind myself. Looking around, I noticed that Laura Stuart had a visitor. A tall, smiling man, perhaps in his early forties, wearing corduroy trousers and a tweed jacket.

The visitor was none other than Mr Francis Taylor, of Hampden, Taylor and Clark, the man who had been commissioned to play the role of my dad here in the 1960s.