The Serpent in the Glass (The Tale of Thomas Farrell) (10 page)

Thomas and Penders hurried through the doors and into the assembly hall, stopping just in time to avoid falling over a group of boys sitting on the floor. All the first-year students sat on the polished wooden floor.

‘Oi!’ came a deep voice from below.

‘Uh — oh sorry,’ Thomas said as he took his foot off the bottom of the blazer of a large, muscular boy.

The large boy stood up and glared darkly at Thomas from under a short crop of light-brown hair. It was the one who’d been sitting on the back of the bus. He looked like he might say something, but he never had the chance, as a sharp voice snapped across the hall.

‘Mr Penderghast and Mr Farrell, you are both late. Please sit down immediately. The same goes for you, Mr Roach.’

Thomas reddened even more as he looked up and saw Miss Havelock. Several other adults sat at a table behind her, presumably other teachers. He scolded himself for being late. Being late meant that everyone looked at you when you walked in. Thomas had a sudden flashback to a still vivid memory of his first day at junior school. All those new people staring at him. All those eyes. He silently wished to be somewhere else now, as he had then. As he desperately looked for a place to sit in the assembly hall he spotted Jessica waving her hand so as to get his attention. Thomas moved quickly over before it was more than his and Penders’ attention she attracted. Why did girls have to be so embarrassing? He tried to calm himself down a little as he followed Penders. He felt a little more comfortable once he’d sat down, even if it was between Jessica and Merideah.

‘That’s Guth Roach,’ Merideah whispered in Thomas’s ear. ‘One of the girls said he pushed her off her seat on the bus because he wanted the backseat all to himself. If he pushes me, I’ll push him back!’

Thomas didn’t have a chance to reply. A hush fell among the pupils as Miss Havelock started talking about some very uninteresting matters, such as what to do in the event of a fire or where to dispose of rubbish or when and where to do the laundry. Thomas took the time to look around the room. On the far side of the hall, another table, even larger than the one the teachers sat at, stood laden with dishes, cutlery, serviettes and finger food. Penders kept on eyeing the food, but Thomas turned his own eyes back to the teachers. The Headmaster, Mr Trevelyan, sat in the centre of the table, a large orange tie poking out the top of a mustard-coloured waistcoat draped with a tweed jacket. The Housekeeper, Miss McGritch, and a tall, muscular man, whom Thomas hadn’t seen before, flanked the Headmaster. The man’s apparel couldn’t have been further removed from Mr Trevelyan’s — a suit of dark grey, with a thin black tie around his broad neck, and the smallest sliver of the whites of a shirt at his cuffs. He might have been described as handsome were it not for the fixed look of dissatisfaction that marred the strong features of his face. Stanwell Clear was there too, but standing off to one side, by the fire exit. He still wore his long, dark coat, but his hat and gloves were gone. He had a smile on his face and seemed to be quite enjoying the meeting.

Several other adults sat at the table, but Thomas began to feel they were staring at him, so he stopped his study, fixed his attention on the trees and bushes he could see through the fire-exit doors, and pretended to be hiding there, watching from a distance. It was a technique he employed whenever he felt like he couldn’t deal with the eyes of others upon him. It always worked if he could convince himself he was really somewhere else. It had the disadvantage of giving the appearance that he wasn’t paying attention, something that had added to his reputation as a daydreamer at his old school. He wasn’t entirely sure why he held such a fear, but he couldn’t help but suspect it had something to do with the pursuing darkness in his recurring dream. Somehow, if no one paid attention to him, it would keep him safe from the eyes of the cold terror that sought his life. But it was just a dream. He knew it shouldn’t affect him like this. But it did.

As Thomas recovered from his anxiety he became aware of the assembly room again. Miss Havelock had just introduced the Headmaster. Mr Trevelyan stood up and smiled. His trousers were pale orange and the monocle still hung from his neck by its silver chain. Thomas felt immediately more comfortable. He thought he heard Merideah mutter something about bad dress sense, but when he glanced at her she looked the epitome of focus and attention.

‘Welcome to Darkledun Manor, School for Gifted Children!’ Mr Trevelyan announced heartily. ‘I trust you’ve all had a chance to settle into your new rooms by now?’

Penders shot Thomas a knowing look which Thomas did his best to ignore.

‘My name is Mr Trevelyan. I am the Headmaster, and hope to be so for a long time. Miss Havelock here is Deputy Head.’ Miss Havelock smiled briefly — very briefly — on hearing her name.

Mr Trevelyan introduced the teachers seated at the table, but Thomas paid little attention until Mr Trevelyan got to the stern-looking man dressed in dark grey.

‘And this is Mr Gallowglas, our Physical Education instructor.’

Mr Gallowglas inclined his head toward the children, his mouth yielding not so much as a flicker of a smile. Thomas thought the man’s grey eyes fixed onto him, but then he turned to say something to a bearded teacher sitting to his right. As Mr Gallowglas turned, Thomas saw that his jet-black hair had been tied back in a ponytail.

The Headmaster put his hands behind his back. ‘I’d like to remind you to become familiar with the school rules in your welcome packs. I would particularly point out that no students are allowed near the tower.’ Mr Trevelyan seemed to relax a little before continuing. ‘Now, finally, I’d like to point your attention to our motto:
Aonfhuil is Aonchnamh
.’

Thomas caught his breath. Mr Trevelyan had pronounced it exactly the same way as him. He could feel Penders cast a glance his way, but he didn’t take his own eyes off the Headmaster.

‘It means ‘One Blood and One Bone’. Here at Darkledun we are not many, but we are a family. We hope you will treat your fellow pupils — your brothers and sisters, if you will — well. And, if you have any problems, please view us, your teachers, as you would your own parents. Today our family has grown by more than any previous year, but don’t worry’ — he looked toward the tables at the other side of the room with a twinkle in his eye — ‘we’ve still got enough food to fill all your bellies! Now, go find your seats at the table.’

The first-year students didn’t wait for a second offer. They were up and seated within moments, but Thomas felt eyes on the back of his head as he approached the table. He stopped and, gathering his courage, looked back, but no one seemed to be paying him any heed. The Deputy Head had her back to him. She was talking to another teacher, a man with a moustache, whose name Thomas couldn’t remember from the Headmaster’s introductions. Mr Gallowglas was nowhere to be seen. The Headmaster was having a few words with Mr Clear, who seemed to be nodding a lot in response.

Thomas took the only remaining seat at the table, next to Penders. When he sat down he saw a little white card on the table with his name on it. The seats had been reserved. Looking down the table he saw Jessica had already engaged in conversation the blonde-haired girl who’d been fortunate enough to have been seated next to her.

‘Sweet, eh?’ Penders eyed the large plate that lay on the white tablecloth before him, no doubt excited about how much food it would hold.

From a door not too far from the tables, two dinner ladies appeared wearing pale-blue uniforms. But they weren’t the focus of the children’s attention. It was the large bowl each of them carried that had the hungry eleven-year-olds enthralled. They placed the bowls on either end of the table, and then disappeared back through the same door.

Thomas and Penders, being seated in the middle of the table, had to wait a minute or so before the bowls worked their way down to them, a fact that Penders didn’t seem to like at all by the look on his face. Thomas eventually received the large serving spoon from the small, mousy-haired girl sitting to his right, who with some effort also heaved the large bowl in his general direction. Thomas grabbed it before it went somewhere it shouldn’t. Inside he saw about as much mashed potato as he’d ever seen in one place before. Dumping a moderate pile on his plate, he passed the bowl on to Penders who dumped a less moderate amount on his own plate. Just as Penders looked as if he might take one more scoop, the bowl coming from the other direction reached him. It was full of beef stew and dumplings.

‘My favourite!’ Penders said excitedly, scooping a couple of spoons’ worth out and passing it, somewhat reluctantly, to Thomas.

Thomas quite liked beef stew and dumplings himself, but he’d never had this much before. After he’d taken his share, he passed the mousy-haired girl the bowl. She dropped a dumpling onto her plate. She had less on her plate than there had been on Thomas’s at the Westhrops’. She sniffed it, gave it a suspicious look, and cautiously took a mouthful of potato. She ate it quietly while she stared unseeing at a large wooden salt cellar as if nobody but her sat at the table.

Thomas glanced back to his left and noticed Penders own plate was already dumplingless.

‘Never mind,’ Penders whispered, looking at the girl, ‘more for us.’ He grinned, scooped up some mash potato, and stuck it in his mouth.

Dessert consisted of one large ladle of semolina. A pot of jam had also been provided. Penders dumped a large lump of it in his bowl and stirred it in. The mousy-haired girl looked at Penders with an expressionless face as she slowly ate her own jam-free semolina. Guth Roach sat at one end of the table, the only pupil who, Thomas reckoned, had eaten more than Penders. Reginald Quaint sat next to Guth casting furtive glances at his neighbour every so often, as if his own food might be forfeit if he looked at him in the wrong way or failed to finish it fast enough.

Several times Thomas turned to see if he could get Jessica’s attention, but she was always deeply involved in conversation with someone. By the time Thomas looked to her for the fifth time, he reckoned she’d spoken to everyone within polite hearing distance on the table. Thomas didn’t even know the name of the girl beside him, and he certainly hadn’t spoken to the two directly across the table — the strawberry-blonde twins. The latter had chatted away about all manner of trivial things throughout the course of the meal, and Thomas briefly wondered if they’d ever stopped since he’d seen them on the bus. In any case, they seemed to have no interest in talking to him.

After he finished, Thomas pushed his empty bowl aside and looked around. Some were still eating, some had finished and were talking amongst themselves, and some were trying to do both. Thomas suddenly had a feeling come over him, the kind of feeling he supposed people might have when they met unknown cousins, aunts or uncles at a big family event like a wedding or a funeral. Strangers and yet somehow connected.

He shook his head and the feeling went as suddenly as it had come. ‘Scottish air probably.’

‘Sorry?’ said Penders, clanking his spoon down into his bowl and eyeing the pot of jam as if wondering if anyone might mind if he ate it neat.

‘Nothing,’ replied Thomas.

Despite his unscheduled forty-winks before dinner, Thomas fell exhausted into his soft bed not long after the meal in the assembly hall. He awoke, quite suddenly, a little later and stared at the door in the gloom of the night. Had he just heard it close? Before he could tell if the click of the door had been in his dreams or not, he heard footsteps outside his room. They were moving away, down the hall. He got out of bed, moved to the door, and gently pulled it open. He couldn’t see anyone down the unlit corridor. It was too dark. But he could hear the footsteps fading, the footsteps of someone, thought Thomas, with a slight limp.

— CHAPTER SEVEN —

Dreams and Memories

Thomas looked up at the bright blue sky, vaguely aware that a tall figure carried him away from a large building, from comfort, from home. The scene changed to one of sunlight and trees followed by a blinding light that left him and the man standing before what looked like a giant fireplace filled with glowing coals. Here they paused, but it didn’t last long. A sense of fear filled the figure who bore him, a fear that descended upon Thomas too. There came another blinding light, and Thomas felt a cold breeze as blurred images of a dark forest passed before his eyes. Then came the darkness and the silence.

Thomas awoke and looked at the wind-up clock he’d brought from the Westhrops. It was seven o’clock. It had been several months since he’d last had the dream. Strange, he thought, that it should resurface again on his first night at the Manor. Maybe the school’s connection with his father had triggered it? He couldn’t be sure if the figure in the dream was some dreamworld fiction or a true memory, but he felt sure the image was that of his father. Today, Thomas determined, he would ask the Headmaster about Fearghal. Mr Trevelyan had told him his father had served in the army, but Thomas hadn’t had the opportunity to ask where he died. If Mr Trevelyan didn’t know anything, maybe he could at least tell him how to contact the representative of his father’s estate. Maybe this representative was even related to him. Yes, Thomas thought, he’d find the Headmaster at the first opportunity and find out more about his father.

The rest of the students from the upper years of Darkledun Manor had evidently turned up last night or early that morning. Breakfast had been a sea of chatting strangers catching up on lives and matters Thomas knew nothing about. He was glad when Penders finally pushed his empty bowl aside and they left the growing crowd to their toast, cereal, orange juice and chat.

‘We’ve got maths as our very first lesson of the year,’ Penders said gloomily, as they walked from the assembly hall toward their form room. ‘Whose bright idea was that?’

‘How unlucky.’ Thomas pulled his timetable from the breast pocket of his blazer. He’d only glanced at it briefly to see which room they had registration in.