Ravensborough (2 page)

‘Here we are, this is Chesterfield,’ Rupert says as he swung off the main road and into a large housing estate. I could tell by the size of the houses and the type of cars that were pulled neatly in front of them that this must be a pretty comfortable area. The grass in the front gardens looked like it was all cut to a regulation length and the houses had names instead of numbers. Rupert pulled into the driveway of a huge rambling mock Tudor house called Lakeview. Sure enough when I got out of the car I could see the lights of the Starling-Bird Bridge twinkling where it crossed Lady’s Lake.

I had known that Rupert had a fairly good job, but I still wasn’t prepared for the size of his house. It was huge. Our place back home could have fitted into this house several times over. And up until now Rupert had lived here by himself!

My room was in the eaves, a large space with a dark wooden floor and a wrought iron bed placed under the window. Rupert had made a real effort to make it nice for me, but with no kids of his own he had little idea of what I’d like. A patchwork quilt in a colour scheme so bright it made my eyes hurt was stretched over the bed. The wall beside the door was taken up with a desk and bookcase in dark mahogany, and a framed picture of the Starling-Bird Bridge was hanging above the desk, despite the fact that I could see it easily from my bedroom window. A wardrobe large enough to be the gateway between this land and Narnia took up most of another wall. A Nordic-style rug lay in front of a huge old cast iron fire-place. The wind blew down the chimney, which made the room a little draughty if atmospheric. Rupert promised that he would block it up for me.

I sat down on one of the bed and looked around. It was hard to believe that, a few months ago, Mum and I had never even heard of Rupert. He worked in one of Avalonia’s biggest investment banks and as my Mum had been a legal advisor for a bank in Ireland they had a lot in common. They had met at a networking dinner back home where Rupert was giving the keynote speech. They had instantly hit it off, and while I found it strange at first, I had gotten used to the fact that Mum had a boyfriend. But then, it was almost ten years since Dad had passed away. That was a long time for her to be on her own.

My room was full of packing crates that had been shipped over before I arrived. I reluctantly shifted to my knees and opened the first box. I hadn’t wanted to move here. It had taken a lot of persuasion to get me to agree to come with Mum, and now that we’d arrived here I couldn’t say that I was happy to be here. But I had agreed to come, so I couldn’t show my feelings to Mum. This was an exciting time for her, and I didn’t want to ruin it. Once I’d made up my mind that was it: no going back.

I hung my clothes up in the ancient wardrobe. There were way too many items of heavy thermal clothing in there, still with their tags attached. The thought of wearing them made me shudder.

I put most of my books in the battered bookcase. There wasn’t enough room for them all, so I stacked what wouldn’t fit on the ground beside it. Mum had wanted to cut down on the amount of books that I brought to Avalonia. Because of their weight, the price of shipping them over was pretty expensive. But I had a bargaining chip: I was moving to a new country so she could live with her fiancé. I’d gotten my way in the end, and my entire collection had come with me.

I put some photos up on the dressing table. There were pictures of my friends and I at parties, a photo of Sam and I taken last Christmas, and a picture of my dad and I on a beach twelve years ago.

I felt too tired to fully unpack just then. The last items I took out were my sketchbooks and charcoal, and I lay on my bed, letting my hand wander over the page absentmindedly. I sometimes sketched to relax, and I hardly noticed exactly what I was drawing. When I looked at it afterwards I noticed that I’d drawn a picture of a storm. Storms meant disturbance. I hoped it wasn’t prophetic.

If I had thought that small talk with my mother’s fiancé was difficult in Ireland, living with him was a whole new challenge. First of all, as we shared the same house we were spending more time together, which meant that I had to dredge up even more topics of conversation. And while he was a nice man, I found out in those few days that he was also a neat freak – which meant that having me as a stepdaughter wasn’t a great fit. He told me to me to make myself at home and to treat the place like it was my own, but that was hard to do when he kept sighing and picking up after me. His house was full of expensive furnishings and ornaments that I was terrified of breaking. I couldn’t even imagine how much they’d cost to replace. I felt more like a guest than a resident, and the house felt more like a museum than a home.

I had a few days to settle in before school started. That was something else to worry about. The idea of starting school in a new country was something I found extremely daunting, but at least they spoke English here. Still, after spending the last sixteen years in another country, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to master all the new material. I’d been one of the best students in my year at home, but that was unlikely to be the case here. All the other students had a head start on me, I’d have a lot of catching up to do.

Mum on the other hand was settling in well. She had landed a job in a large legal firm in Ravensborough, and started the day after we arrived which meant that I was left on my own during the day.

We were having breakfast together one morning before Mum and Rupert left for work.

‘I got a letter from your new school,’ Mum said as she sipped on a cup of coffee. ‘They sent a list of all the books you need, and the uniform you need to get.’

‘What colour is it?’ I asked.

‘Maroon,’ she said smiling.

‘That’s going to go great with my hair,’ I complained.

‘I’m sure it will look fine,’ she replied soothingly.’ We can head in tomorrow after work and pick up everything you need.’

‘Can I not pick them up myself?’ I asked. ‘It would give me something to do, rather than sit around here reading all day.’ The idea of spending yet another day alone in the house was not appealing.

‘I don’t know, you haven’t been into the city yet,’ Mum said worriedly. ‘You mightn’t be able to find your way around.’

‘There’s a large shopping centre in the city that’s really easy to get to,’ Rupert said to Mum, unexpectedly coming to my defence. ‘She’ll probably get everything she needs there.’

‘See?’ I said to Mum as I took a bite out of my toast. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Armed with the lists, a guidebook and a heavy duty jacket I braved the outside world. The air outside was cool and crisp, and dark green conifers contrasted with the stark grey sky above. I found the Chesterfield underground station relatively easily and managed to buy a ticket to the Ravensborough central area without too much difficulty, struggling with the coins of Avalonian krone. I hadn’t managed to make head or tail of the currency yet.

I got a seat on the train, and it slid through a series of stations with names that I’d never heard of. Bessborough I recognised, because the school that I was going to was called Bessborough High School. Chesterfield Academy, the school nearest to Rupert’s house, was a fee-paying institution that you had to enrol in years in advance. There was no chance that I could get a place there at this stage, so I was going to the next best place a school in the nearby suburb of Bessborough.

I wondered what my friends back home were doing. They were probably making the most of their last few days of their summer holidays before returning to school in September.

I got off the train at Guinevere Plaza, a wide open square with an ornate fountain at its centre. Yellowstone buildings, around five stories tall, surrounded the square and the pavements were crowded with people hurrying to various places, trying not to trip over buskers and street performers. The shops in the square all looked expensive, and one or two of the building held flags of European countries. I guessed that they were embassies.

I followed the directions that Rupert had given to get to the shopping centre. When I got there I found that the uniform was as bad as I had imagined it would be. The red shade did indeed clash with my hair, while the jumper looked frumpy and heavy. At least it seemed warm, which I supposed was a bonus here. I got all the textbooks I would need, and a flick through the textbook on Avalonian history made me feel a little woozy. I knew none of this. I guessed that I wouldn’t have to look too hard to find something to do with my free time until school started.

I paid for the items, stumbling again as I tried to work out which note was which. I’d planned on doing some exploring to get a feel for the city, but the bags were really heavy. Still, I knew how to get here now. I could come in and explore another day.

On my way to the underground station to return home, I saw a protest rally outside a police station. There were around thirty people outside, each holding a placard that bore various slogans such as ‘Stop This Injustice’ and ‘Protect Pagans Rights’. A trestle table was set up at the front of the protest, decorated with the same slogans that were on the posters. Glossy leaflets were piled high on its surface weighed down under large stones, and a guy around my age was standing behind with a clipboard trying to get signatures from people walking by.

I walked over to the table to see what the protest was about.

‘Would you like to sign the petition?’ he asked, smiling at me.

He was cute, with lightly tanned skin that looked strangely exotic in the gloomy grey winter light. His hair was jet black and his eyes were dark and almost the same colour as his hair.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve just arrived here, I don’t really know much about it’, I explained. ‘I’ll take a leaflet though.’

‘Sure’, he said smiling at me again. He was taller than me by a good five inches, and his hair was tousled by the sharp wind. His face was too angular to be conventionally handsome, and his mouth was a little too large. Despite this, I was unable to look away. There was something faintly hypnotic about him.

He handed me a leaflet. ‘You’re not from around here are you?’ he asked.

I smiled. ‘Is the accent that much of a give away?’

‘Ireland is it?’

‘Yep. I just arrived here a few days ago.’

‘Are you here on holiday?’

I shook my head. ‘I’ve moved here to live.’ I held up the bags containing my school supplies. ‘I’m just getting my stuff ready to start school next week.

‘Oh, don’t talk about that’, he grimaced. ‘I’m back next week too. My name is Gethan Ellis.’ He held out his hand to shake mine.

‘I’m Scarlett, Scarlett Edwards,’ I shook his gloved hand. It felt strangely formal. He didn’t let go of my hand and our eyes locked together. For the first time since I’d left the house I forgot about the cold and about how much I missed home.

An elderly lady came by, looking for information on the petition. ‘I’d better go’, he said reluctantly, taking his hand away.

‘Of course...I’ll read this’ I waved the leaflet at him.

‘You do that,’ he said smiling at me again.

I blushed to the roots of my hair as I walked away with a feeling of butterflies in my stomach. I wished I knew where to meet him again. I looked at the leaflet in my hand. I could always contact him through the organisation. I shook myself. He was just a random guy that I’d met. And besides, I already had a boyfriend, even if he was a few hundred miles away. Nevertheless, I decided to read over the campaign leaflet that he’d given me on the train ride home.

It appeared that a policewoman had been denied the right to wear protection charm bracelets, a symbol of following a Pagan religion, to work. The protesters felt that this was yet another part of the Rationalist conspiracy to suppress the Pagan element of society, and they were campaigning to try to make the station change their decision.

I reread the leaflet, confused. I knew that there were a lot of crazy people in Avalonia who believed in magic. I didn’t know what a Rationalist was, but I presumed that if this Gethan guy was handing out fliers for the Pagans he was either one himself or at the very least thought that they were telling the truth. Did that mean that he thought that magic was real? Great, I though: I meet a nice guy, the first person my own age that I’ve talked to since I arrived, and he turns out to be delusional.

Not that it mattered. There were a few million people in Ravensborough. I wasn’t likely to meet him again. And even if I did see him again, Sam and I were trying to make a long distance relationship work. I was already spoken for.

When Mum and Rupert got home that evening, I was busy looking through my text books. I needn’t have been so worried. The syllabus for biology, maths and German were pretty much the same as they had been back home. The English course covered similar enough topics as back home, with an additional module on Avalonian literature. History looked to be the biggest problem. It covered general European history, which I was familiar with, but it also covered Avalonian history, which I knew nothing about. I would also have a lot to catch up on with Avalonian politics.

‘How are you?’ Mum asked giving me a kiss on the head.

‘I’m good, thanks.’

‘Did you manage to get all your things for school?’

‘Yep, I’m all set for next week.’

Rupert picked up the leaflet from the table and looked at it. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘Outside a police station off Guinevere Plaza,’ I explained. ‘There was a Pagan group staging a protest there.’

‘Be very careful, Scarlett. Those kinds of people are dangerous,’ Rupert said seriously.

‘Really?’ I asked. ‘How so? Doesn’t Pagan just mean that they follow a certain religion?’

‘It does mean that, but this particular group is more political than religious. They just use their religion as cover, and hide behind ‘freedom of worship’ legislation. All religions get freedom of worship here.’

‘Are they really a threat though?’ I asked. ‘I thought that they were just slightly wacky people who liked to hug trees, wear a lot of hippy clothes and believed in magic.’