Running Wild

Chapter 3

Snatches of leafy groves and gypsy caravans weave together with Swallow as a young colt and our place...our place that we found ourselves and made ours. The swirls of colour dance under my eyelids, tantalisingly real...until Miss Grey’s bell rings out and the recollections chase each other away and drift into the hall, where Miss Grey is standing with two girls. New ones.

Miss grey’s words are fuzzy and indistinct at first and the image seems to waver for a moment. I focus my gaze on one of the figures. Stooped, with dull, lacklustre hair a brownish-blonde colour. Average height and slim tending toward the skinny My jaded gaze slides off her like water off metal. She’s of no interest. Just the same as all the other girls have been over the years.

My eyes glance toward the other girl on her left. I frown slightly, for she is almost the opposite of the mousy girl who flinches and bows her head low as the curious and slightly hostile stares of everyone else make their greetings.

She is tall and holds herself differently somehow. Her stance could be found in a general commanding his troops or a captain issuing orders. She is a leader and no doubt will rival jemima’s rule.

Then again, maybe Jemima will flock to her for the sparkling brooch at her neck and the fashionable hat on her head suggest she is rich and not without means.

My now interested stare wanders over her rich velvet cape and rather feminine figure. Her dark hair is drawn into the usual bun but it looks as though it might escape at any time, as though the pins won’t really hold it. Her alabaster complexion and strong features contrast starkly with her eyes. They are a pale, icy blue but their spark of interest suggests she isn’t as perfect as she seems. Maybe she won’t be as dull as the other girls.

Miss Grey has finished her introduction of the school, which is lengthy and soporific. Most of us are nearly bored to tears but the fire of curiosity is rekindled when she goes on to explain about the strangers past school.

“The misses Wakefield and Gallagher were until last week, pupils of Ipswich’s Finest Finishing School for Young Ladies. They have been sent here to finish their instruction and will be in the 6th form as they will take their debuts in May. I’m sure you will make them feel welcome.”

Well, if the “welcome” they were getting was anything to go by, most of the surrounding girls would have gladly let them sleep in the stables.

“They have kindly chosen our grand school as their replacement after the ...um...incident at their last institution. They will need a guide for the duration of the week, is anybody willing to offer?”

A show of hands, primarily jemima and her posse are paraded in front of Miss Grey. The golden haired and sweet natured Elizabeth is also among them, which is unusual to say the least. Elizabeth tends to be in some kind of dream most of the time and is the daintiest and most fragile girl one could imagine. Also the most frightfully dull, her head filled with the latest Parisian dress or a ridiculous, fanciful romantic notion involving a long lost lover. Please!

Miss Grey is taking her time, searching for worthy girls who would impress upon these new-comers the supposed greatness of our school.

“Miss Youngham, would you be as kind as to take care of Miss Wakefield?”

Elizabeth’s face falls, but she manages a polite “of course miss grey”.

My interest in the strangers fades as I look down at the paper crumpled in my fist, my mother’s words return in a rush of hurt and shame. Why is she so cruel? What did I do to deserve her callous and disapproving manner?

“Ah, I see Miss Wilde is unoccupied. Would you take Miss Gallagher under your wing for this week?”

Bloody newbie’s! Isn’t Jemima perfect enough to be entrusted with a new student?

I raise my head and smile that smile borrowed from fashion posters, the smile that is the perfect illusion of happiness and pride.

“I would be delighted to, Miss Grey.”

She leaves and I am left with the unwelcome guest. Well then, here goes nothing.

I hold out my hand.

“Grace Wilde, how do you do” I gush, as though being forced to be polite to an uninvited stranger for the evening is my idea of fun.

“Diana Gallagher. And please, call me Di” She smiles sweetly matching my own grin.

A nickname. That’s rather...intimate. And where does that strange brogue indicate she is from?

I can feel Elizabeth’s glare boring into my back. She wanted to be Miss call-me-Di’s companion but for what reason?

“So, why did you chose grey’s? Because frankly, whatever grey herself says, it’s not that grand”

Getting down to business straight away, going good.

Whatever my exterior shows, I am as nosy as everyone else as to what happened at Ipswich.

Her eyes take in the decor and arched ceilings.

“Well, Ipswich wasn’t much better”

She gives a confidant’s smile.

“Do tell me what happened, I am simply dying to know!”

Careful, don’t overdo it!

I try to pick the chummy tone used by girls who live for gossip. Grey clammed up about anything to do with the “incident” at Ipswich for fear of “frightening her flock”. Ha! I had it from Jack there was a fire and three wings were set alight!

“Well, we weren’t all where we were supposed to be and candles and drapery simply do not mix.” She sighs theatrically and glances over my shoulder to catch someone’s eye. Against my better judgement, I twist round to see who.

Elizabeth, feigning conversation with the mousy girl, rolls her eyes at Di in exasperation.

I turn back and catch a glimpse of the same thing across Di’s face. I lower my tone.

“You know, I doubt Grey would notice if we switched companions”

She lightens up. “Well, Lizzie and I are old friends and we haven’t seen each other in ages”

“go on, I’ll take the other one” I smile and try to hide under the mask of indifference.

She gives me a small wave and a breathless thank you before rushing off to join dear Lizzie. I stand and trudge with a bored expression over to the dull girl, trying to ignore the squeals of friends reuniting.