***
One further drop of water dripped down into the pile of mugs that had carelessly been neglected in the common room’s sink. Ms Halford watched as the splash led to several small trails of water to flow down the sides of some of the haphazardly placed mugs and wished there was something she could do to put at least this little mess in order. But there was nothing she could do except to tell someone else that they should clean it up. She had been watching the events unfolding in the sink for most of her lunch break, an allotted period of time which she had little use for, after wandering back into the room in which she had last seen the boy. A part of herself that she considered to be quite unreasonable, but difficult not to listen to, had given her a grain of hope that the boy might have returned to the common room, but of course, this had not been the case.
She tried to run over the words - her words - that she now believed must have led the boy to leave. What had she said? How foolish had she been to suggest in such a blunt fashion that Brenden should return to the realm of the living? By letting her unsubstantiated concerns about what she thought Adam was teaching get the better of her, she had placed the poor boy in jeopardy. Brenden was still young, she considered, and from what she had heard and seen, in the modern world, children seemed to grow up at a much slower pace than when she had still known what it was to live. So, what had she done? Nothing more than send an innocent child into a dangerous environment just because of her petty squabble with another teacher. How wrong she had been.
Though outwardly she retained her composure, Ms Halford felt as if she had lost control of the run of her thoughts as they repeatedly returned to the themes of her guilt and misjudgement. She remained on the spot, stock still; nothing more than an apparition of a statue of regret and guilt.
“Matilda.”
Her name broke the spell that had settled on Ms Halford and she turned to find Adam’s cloudy eyes resting upon her with concern. His expression soon hardened, however, and after clearing his throat, he continued on in such a way that Ms Halford doubted that she had correctly read the man’s initial expression.
“That deputy can be a fool! What did he think he was doing sending teachers - and a number of the students, for that matter – off into the woods in the middle of the night? Surely it was clear from early on that the boy had scarpered.”
Ms Halford said nothing in reply as Adam’s words only led her to return to the pattern of thoughts that she had followed before her fellow teacher had entered the room. Instead, she just watched as the disgruntled giant of a man started to prepare a green tea for himself with a delicacy that few would expect him to possess.
“I mean, it’s ridiculous, you would think that the boy’s life was in danger. He’ll come back soon enough, of that I have no doubt. The only questions that we really have to deal with is whether he does so before he gets himself into a bit of grief by running out of blood and what led him to run off in the first place.”
“I think I can answer one of those questions, Adam.”
“Matilda, whatever do you mean?”
“Oh Adam, it’s awful. I don’t know how to say it. I said something and I’m sure it must have driven the boy to go. I told him that he needed to see the world for himself, to make up his mind about his future: he must have taken me to mean to go right away. How could I have been so irresponsible? He’s just a boy.”
The look of concern returned to Adam’s face and Ms Halford waited for him to tell her how terrible her actions had been, that she had failed in her responsibilities as a teacher, and how unfortunate it was that the boy was exposed to her dangerous advice. But Adam did nothing of the sort and remained silent. No words passed between them and the only noise in the room, apart from the barely audible drip in the sink, was the ever rising sound of Adam’s kettle as it came to the boil.
Adam moved over to the kettle after hearing its click and then slowly filled his cup.
“You cannot blame yourself, Matilda,” said Adam, with his eyes fixed on the green tea bag bobbing around in his mug. “The boy’s decisions are his own, and though he is still a child he is not so young. If anything, you were just trying to do your best for the boy. And even if it is the case that certain words may have helped push the boy along to go, I am quite sure that these words were not yours alone. Indeed, since I found out that the boy had departed the school, I have also been running over what I might have done to drive Brenden away. Several times last night as I was walking through the wood, I discovered something that made me believe for a while that it was
