Her eyes narrowed. “Aye, course they do.” She muttered something under her breath, but I couldn’t catch what it was. Her accent was thick, almost unintelligible.
I settled back with a defeated sigh and sipped at the scorching tea held within a tiny cup. I couldn’t fit my finger through the delicate handle, so I gripped it from underneath. Mrs Cox frowned at my lack of etiquette. “I still can’t believe my aunt isn’t here to greet me.” I pushed further. “I haven’t seen a family member in ten years—didn’t even know I had one—surely she should be here…” I trailed off when it was clear Mrs Cox wasn’t going to sway under my sob story approach.
She smoothed her skirt with her hands. “It’s a regrettable inconvenience,” she waved her fingers in the air and smiled. “But, I assure you, I am here, and I will do everything I can to help you settle into your new life. I want you to feel at home here.”
“New life? This is only a visit.” A tight band wound its way around my rib cage. “I can’t stay. I won’t stay.” I could have added that there was no way on this side of forever I was going to stay in the school once I’d turned eighteen. I shook my head. I should never have come. Never opened that damn letter. Should have run away.
“Do you have somewhere else to be?”
I hesitated. Of course I had nowhere else to be. It was the fundamental story of my life. “Well, no. I’ve been put in homes I haven’t wanted before; it’s part of being a child orphan.”
“You aren’t here because you are an orphan, Mae.” She paused for a moment, her sharpened gaze sweeping over me. “You are here because you're family and this is where you belong.”
“I’ve never belonged anywhere,” I muttered, but I was running out of steam. “I’m tired, the flight is catching up with me.” Exhaustion washed over me and my legs and arms began to pull with a heavy ache, like I’d been running a marathon, or been finally defeated in the tenth round of a fight.
“You will be happy here.” It was a statement I wasn’t meant to argue with. Mrs Cox gave me a nod of her head and a small smile. “Come, you’re tired.” I bit my tongue from a fast and loose response—they’d got me in trouble before. “Let’s get you settled.”
I humphed in response, but she dismissed our conversation and motioned for me to place my tiny cup on the tray of tea things she’d had laid out on a small card table by another member of staff. I drained the cup and clattered it down onto its saucer. “Sorry,” I mumbled, when she frowned at my heavy-handedness with her fine china.
“Not to worry, dearie. It’s just an old family heirloom, a mere trifle, I suppose.” She shrugged, waving her hand and opening the door. The room had become toasty and warm from the fire in the grate, but a chill blasted with the opening of the door, much like a stiff north-westerly wind.
I shivered and rubbed at the goose bumps spreading along my skin as we marched along the dim corridors. It seemed schools were damp in Scotland although I wasn’t surprised. Occasionally, as we wound through the maze of low-ceilinged passages, I sought a glimpse out of a lead window. Although the glass was aged and yellowed in some places, it didn’t detract from, or improve, the dismal view outside. Heavy thunderous curtains of wet gloom obscured any view further than a couple of measly feet. There must be scenery out there somewhere—it was just invisible from the inside of the stone walls.
“Does it always rain?” I ran to keep up with Mrs Cox’s short legs. She moved with surprising speed and I resembled an elephant crashing through foliage in her wake.
“Sometimes it shines.” She shouldered on, barely glancing in my direction.
“The sun?”
“The sun, the moon, sometimes the stars.”
“Okay.” I didn’t have any other answer to give. The crumbling building wasn’t giving off warm and cosy inviting vibes—I didn’t think walking around at night would be at the top of my to-do list.
“So, how many students do you have?”
“Just two hundred.” Her gaze slipped to the side, running over me. “Your uniform will be ready; your aunt has it all arranged.”
Uniform? Was she batshit crazy?
“Has she? Yet she’s not here. How did she know what size I would be?” I filed away the thought of only two hundred students. That was the same amount of one single year in my last school. Mrs Cox didn’t answer how my aunt knew my size despite never laying eyes on me. And honestly, I couldn’t even think about it—I flew all this way to meet an aunt I didn’t know—was I crazy?
We came to a stop outside a dark wooden door. “This is the girls wing. There are house rules, but I’m sure you will be brought up to speed by your new friends.
I liked her optimism. I wasn’t going to tell her I wouldn’t be here long enough to make friends.
“Is it a dorm?” I asked.
Mrs Cox pushed on the door, and a shiver of apprehension stalked its way along my spine. Nothing about this was anywhere near my expectations, and my expectations had been minimal, to say the least. Of course, when I’d found out I was flying to Britain, I’d considered the prospect I’d maybe bump into a royal prince and fall madly in love, living out a wondrous and unexpected fairy tale. But, honestly, what girl didn’t have those dreams?
I glanced up and down the dark hallway and said goodbye to the fantasy. There’d be no princes here, of that I was sure.
The door creaked open with a Hitchcock groan. “You have your own room. Some girls share, others have singles, it all depends.”
“On what?” We faced yet another new corridor, equally dark, but
