Mary and Colin returned to the schoolroom and waited there. It was like a smaller version of Mr. Craven’s study. Two small teak desks faced a larger one belonging to their governess, and the walls were lined with books. A chalkboard stood at one end of the room, and a large globe, where Colin was inclined to plot his future adventures, stood in the far corner. Miss Crichton would be there in due course, Mary reminded Colin.
Due course seemed to be taking a very long time. After quarter of an hour, Miss Crichton had not appeared, and so they occupied themselves, as they had been instructed, with books of their own choosing. Colin liked to read outrageous stories of bravery and daring deeds; Treasure Island was his current favourite, and he longed to sail the seven seas for himself, fighting pirates and finding treasure. Mary was occupied by A Collection of Moorland Plants by C.A. Haworth. She didn’t know who C. A. Haworth was, but she did know he had a fine eye for the purple blooms of the heather and the sky-blue of the harebells. She read out loud the Latin names of the plants, which had an exotic sound which she rather liked.
‘Calluna vulgaris of the genus Ericaceae,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘Do you know what that means, Colin?’
‘Not yet, but I will when I begin to learn Latin,’ he said grandly. ‘You won’t learn Latin, will you? Because you are a girl and they aren’t as clever as boys. A girl would never have written a book like this one …’ he waved Treasure Island at her, ‘… let alone that boring thing you’re reading.’
‘How dare you!’ She loved her cousin very much, but she didn’t feel that the affection she had for him prevented her from disagreeing with him when he was wrong, and today he was very, very, wrong. ‘Women and girls are just as clever as men and boys.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mary. How could they be?’
She’d show him, she vowed. One day she’d show him that she was just as clever as any mere boy could be. She picked up her book, so that she didn’t have to talk to him again right now, but it no longer held her attention. They sat in their desks and waited, but there was still no sign of the governess.
‘What do you think about ghosts, Mary?’ Colin asked, suddenly.
‘Ghosts?’ Mary asked. She didn’t believe in any such things.
‘If we’re going to get rid this governess I don’t think she’ll be scared of mice – more likely the mice will be scared of her – so what about ghosts?’
‘Oh, I see what you mean. But there aren’t any ghosts,’ Mary said, reluctant to put her book down and talk to her cousin.
‘But we don’t have to tell her that, do we? You’re good at stories, Mary. You make something up that we can tell her.’ Colin closed his book and looked expectantly at his cousin.
She sighed and reluctantly shut her own book. ‘We could tell her about the sound of crying in the night. It sounds like a child weeping. That wouldn’t exactly be lying, because there is sometimes a sound like crying in the night when the wind howls down the chimney.’
‘It’s the ghost of a child tortured to death by an evil governess!’ Colin added with relish.
‘No, that’s too obvious. I don’t want to lie to her, not exactly. That would be wrong.’
‘I want you to lie to her,’ Colin said, standing up so that he could address her like a master speaking to servants, ‘if it frightens her away. I don’t like her.’
‘You hardly know her. I didn’t like you when I first met you – and I don’t think you liked me, either.’ She looked up at him, watching his face to see if his expression changed. It didn’t. If anything it became more rigid.
‘She talked as if this was her house. Ordering us about like that! At least all the other governesses asked us nicely – they didn’t command us as if we were their servants, not the other way around. She is nothing but a servant, and I shall make sure she knows it. It’s not her house, it’s my father’s house and one day it will be mine, and no woman will ever talk to me like that when I am grown.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Mary said, springing to her feet. ‘For one day I’ll be a woman, and I’ll still talk to you exactly how I wish, Colin Craven!’
The schoolroom door opened, and Miss Crichton stood in the doorway.
‘Do I hear raised voices? Ladies and Gentlemen should never need to raise their voices. Now sit down, both of you, at once.’
Colin thew a mutinous glance towards his cousin, but he sat down as quickly as she did, and they waited for the new governess to take her seat at the high desk, and for lessons to begin.
Liz Taylorson 