Arabella in the Upper School - Chapter 3
Nancy Stewart, Head Girl of Rottingdean School, as her mother had been before her, Captain of Hockey and Cricket, also in her mother's footsteps, tightened her grip on the slim left shoulder of Arabella Fiennes. She steered the younger girl down the long wood paneled corridor, from Miss Wilkinson's classroom to the main staircase.
She remembered the first time she had been walked, in this way, along this same corridor. She remembered her innocent lack of anticipation. And she remembered, with horror, the subsequent events in the Headmistress's study.
Now, she could sense that same innocence in Arabella. The girl had no idea what awaited her.
Nancy felt the familiar tremor of excitement. She knew it was wrong to take pleasure in the misfortune of others but she could not help it. The feeling had an energy of its own. It came from deep inside her.
It had come to her during that first visit to the Headmistress, some five years ago. And on her subsequent visits, infrequent though they may have been.
She experienced it whenever one of the girls from her form or dorm was summoned into the Headmistress's presence and returned, pale and red-eyed, reluctant to sit at her desk.
Now, as Head Girl, she had a different role to play in the ritual. The excitement was of a different order, more intense, more powerful. She guided the pliant Arabella down the corridor from the main teaching block to the school's main entrance hall. Here, she turned right, crossed the black and white checkered marble tiles to the foot of the imposing staircase. She paused, holding Arabella still for a moment. She smiled to herself.
"Do you know why the Headmistress wants to see you, Fiennes?" Nancy asked in her most innocent voice.
Arabella thought for a moment. What could she say but the truth?
"I have no idea," she shook her head. "I expect it's some news from my parents."
Arabella's father was an officer in the Colonial Service, a District Commissioner in one of the East African colonies. She knew there had been some trouble with the natives, as they struggled for independence, but she was sure that no harm would come to her parents. Father was very confident, always in control and Mother a hive of practical activity. At the first sign of danger, they would take refuge in one of the military bases.
She shrugged.
"Maybe they want me to stay in England, with my cousins, for the Christmas holiday."
Fancy Nancy smiled reassuringly at her young charge.
"Yes, I am sure it is something like that."
Taking a firmer grip on Arabella's shoulder, Nancy propelled her towards the polished dark wood stairs.
"Let's go and find out, shall we?"
She remembered the first time she had been walked, in this way, along this same corridor. She remembered her innocent lack of anticipation. And she remembered, with horror, the subsequent events in the Headmistress's study.
Now, she could sense that same innocence in Arabella. The girl had no idea what awaited her.
Nancy felt the familiar tremor of excitement. She knew it was wrong to take pleasure in the misfortune of others but she could not help it. The feeling had an energy of its own. It came from deep inside her.
It had come to her during that first visit to the Headmistress, some five years ago. And on her subsequent visits, infrequent though they may have been.
She experienced it whenever one of the girls from her form or dorm was summoned into the Headmistress's presence and returned, pale and red-eyed, reluctant to sit at her desk.
Now, as Head Girl, she had a different role to play in the ritual. The excitement was of a different order, more intense, more powerful. She guided the pliant Arabella down the corridor from the main teaching block to the school's main entrance hall. Here, she turned right, crossed the black and white checkered marble tiles to the foot of the imposing staircase. She paused, holding Arabella still for a moment. She smiled to herself.
"Do you know why the Headmistress wants to see you, Fiennes?" Nancy asked in her most innocent voice.
Arabella thought for a moment. What could she say but the truth?
"I have no idea," she shook her head. "I expect it's some news from my parents."
Arabella's father was an officer in the Colonial Service, a District Commissioner in one of the East African colonies. She knew there had been some trouble with the natives, as they struggled for independence, but she was sure that no harm would come to her parents. Father was very confident, always in control and Mother a hive of practical activity. At the first sign of danger, they would take refuge in one of the military bases.
She shrugged.
"Maybe they want me to stay in England, with my cousins, for the Christmas holiday."
Fancy Nancy smiled reassuringly at her young charge.
"Yes, I am sure it is something like that."
Taking a firmer grip on Arabella's shoulder, Nancy propelled her towards the polished dark wood stairs.
"Let's go and find out, shall we?"
61-69, F
