‘Who?’
‘Who what?’ Emily murmured.
A quiet cough from Miss Barnes caused their voices to hush even more. Viola sent Gwenhwyfar a sidelong glance.
‘Who’s asking who out?’ the other girl hissed. Gwenhwyfar couldn’t recall her name.
‘Arthur!’ Emily responded, giggling. She glanced deliberately over her shoulder. ‘Charlotte’s devastated. Then again, she’s totally deluded if she thinks he will ever go out with her. She’s too short.’
‘Who’s he asking?’ The girl almost sounded hopeful.
‘Morgan. That sad, skinny girl that always looks at him with lovesick eyes. I don’t know why, though. She’s so dull.’
‘But tall enough, at least,’ the other girl remarked.
Gwenhwyfar felt her heart perform something rather incredible. It both expanded and imploded at the same time. She didn’t care if it was obvious she was staring now. She did it anyway.
‘Where did you hear that?’
Emily’s voice lowered to a wicked murmur. ‘Hattie says she saw them talking at the end of break, by the girls’ toilets.’
‘And he’s asking her out?’
‘Apparently. Poor Charlotte. Then again, I can think of someone else who’ll be just as devastated.’
Viola’s sharp kick to the back of Emily’s chair pulled Gwenhwyfar out of the trance she’d fallen into. She refused to make eye contact with the girls in front, even though they both glared at her. ‘What?’ Emily hissed.
‘Sorry.’ Viola pulled a fake smile onto her lips. ‘My foot slipped.’
Disgruntled, the two turned back to bend their heads together.
‘Just ignore them,’ Viola whispered.
Gwenhwyfar couldn’t. Morgan had vanished from the cafeteria towards the end of break, and had been absent during lunch too. The whispering resumed, but she tuned out to the particulars. Morgan liked Arthur, she knew she did. What if Arthur liked Morgan too?
‘Gwen?’ Class work halted, and all eyes turned to the front. The deputy head stood waiting with his hands clasped behind his back. Miss Barnes looked at her sternly. ‘Mr Hall here requests that you accompany him to the principal’s office.’
A susurrus of speculation followed her words.
‘Now?’
‘Yes please. Take your belongings with you.’
Gwenhwyfar packed her bag, picked up her blazer and bundled everything under one arm. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said to Viola, as she self-consciously edged towards the door. The sniggering started before Gwenhwyfar was led out of the room. She heard Viola kick Emily’s chair again. ‘Ouch!’ the first of the Furies screeched.
* * *
She was in trouble; she knew it. As Mr Hall escorted her through the corridors she picked through everything she might have done wrong. Was it the money she had taken from her father? Or the nasty comments she’d made when friends with Emily? It didn’t take long for a more frightening prospect to prise its way into her mind: perhaps what Charlotte said had spread, and she was about to be blamed for what had happened on Friday.
Mr Hall ushered her into a polished, large office. Immediately Gwenhwyfar felt claustrophobic. Waiting for them both was Dr Ravioli.
‘Miss Taliesin, I presume?’ He offered a welcoming smile, but it was stiff and cold. ‘I’ve met your parents, but I don’t think we’ve spoken. That will have to change. I generally feel it’s best to hold a meeting with new students to see how they’re getting along. Sit down, won’t you?’
She took her place in the chair indicated. On the wall behind Dr Ravioli’s desk was a framed New National poster. The crimson flag, circling the un-lidded eyeball inset with a black triangle and crimson iris, watched her intently; the circles of which not only representing the all-seeing nature of the party, but the unity of all.
‘Have I done something wrong?’ she asked. Mr Hall stood at the closed door behind her, blocking any chance of escape.
‘Why don’t you tell me?’
She contemplated her options. ‘I can’t think of anything.’
‘No—?’
‘Should I be able to?’
Ravioli straightened his name plaque carefully. ‘I’ve received a tip-off from another student. A very serious accusation has been made. I’ve summoned you here because I would like to ask you some questions.’
‘Who? What accusation?’
‘I understand that you attended a private party on Friday night, hosted by one of our students?’
Reluctantly, Gwenhwyfar nodded.
‘I just wanted to clarify one or two things with you. Firstly, were there any illegal substances at this party?’
She shook her head instinctively. ‘No.’
‘No? No solution, no beer? No narcotics?’
‘Not that I know of.’ Gwenhwyfar shrugged. ‘I suppose people could have brought stuff along themselves, if they wanted. I didn’t see any. It wasn’t supplied or anything.’
‘I see.’ He made a note about something. Gwenhwyfar craned her neck to try and see what, but he moved the paper away. ‘Secondly, my source tells me that you were attacked by one of our students on Friday night. Is this true?’
Her heart thumped. Suddenly she was stuck, and the reality of Hector’s unwelcome advances rose in her stomach like hot bile. She looked away.
‘Well? Were you?’ He folded his front over his desk.
‘Define attacked,’ she responded icily.
‘Did one of our students assault you?’
Crossing her arms and legs Gwenhwyfar glared fixedly at the carpet, and nodded.
‘It would be helpful, Miss Taliesin, if you could tell me what happened.’
‘Someone forced a kiss on me,’ she said, hating the triviality of the words. She drew a breath. ‘Then he… he pinned me down.’
‘Did he sexually assault you?’
She couldn’t speak.
‘Did he rape you, Miss Taliesin?’
‘No.’
‘Did he intend to?’
‘I… I don’t know.’ She fidgeted in the small chair. Dr Ravioli scribbled something else down.
‘Could you tell me what you were wearing on the night of the assault?’
‘Does it matter?’ The principal gazed at her mutely. ‘Jeans,’ she relented, ‘and a strappy top.’ She felt sick.
‘And your attacker’s name?’
‘Hector.’
‘Hector who?’
‘I don’t know what his surname is. He’s friends with Tom Hareton.’
Dr Ravioli clenched his jaw into a hard square. ‘I see. Is there any possibility that you may have encouraged Hector to believe that you wanted to be intimate with him?’
‘No,’ she spat.
‘Don’t lie, Miss Taliesin. This is a boy’s life we’re talking about.’
‘I didn’t do anything.’ Gwenhwyfar shifted uneasily, and looked to Mr Hall, static by the door. ‘Does he need to be here for this?’
He didn’t even answer. Gwenhwyfar felt hot tears slide down her cheeks. The principal went on.
‘Now tell me. I’ve heard that others were involved in this incident. Is this correct?’
‘Yes.’ She recited the full names of all three Furies. Dr Ravioli added yet another note to his investigation.
‘Did Miss Rose, Miss Mulberry and Miss Stone tell Hector to kiss you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did Mr Humphreys know what was going on when he found you?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it! I… no, he didn’t know.’
‘I was wondering, Miss Taliesin, why you haven’t reported this to the police. The school hasn’t been notified of any investigations.’
Gwenhwyfar wiped her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. ‘I… I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t think it was worth it.’
He looked down to his notes. ‘Tell me. What happened after Hector “pinned you down”?’
‘Someone hit him on the head and pulled him off.’
/>
‘Who?’
She glanced to the New National poster looming behind him. ‘I don’t know their name. I can’t remember.’
‘You are aware that Hector had to go to casualty?’
She nodded. Dr Ravioli beckoned Mr Hall, who hurried to his side. Quiet words were exchanged and then his cold eyes settled upon her.
‘I think it’s best to inform you that I will be talking to all parties involved. Rose, Stone, Mulberry. Hector Browne, as well. I took the liberty of informing your parents.’
‘You called my parents?’ she repeated, appalled. ‘Don’t you think I should’ve had the chance to tell them?’
‘You’ve had all weekend to tell them, Miss Taliesin. You do understand that if you pursue this, it will be your word against Hector’s. If I discover that either you or my source has been lying, then your punishment will be severe. Understood?’
She nodded, utterly dismantled.
‘That will be all.’
Numbly, Gwenhwyfar rose to her feet. She was escorted out of the office and then shut out in the corridor, where she stood for a while, alone. She didn’t want to go back to class, but her Geography lesson was far from over. It was easy to decide to leave early. After a long, meandering walk she arrived at home. As she passed the threshold another wave of tears gripped her. She couldn’t stop them.
‘Gwen?’ Eve rushed to her. Llew followed, too old and stiff to make it first. ‘Are you all right? What’s wrong? I had a call from the principal. Is what he said true?’
She couldn’t go through it again. Dropping her bag on the floor she ran past mother and dog and catapulted herself up the stairs.
‘Gwen!’ Eve shouted, hurrying after her. ‘Gwenhwyfar!’
She slammed herself into her bedroom and vaulted onto the bed. She wished she’d never come to England. For the first time since moving she cried in earnest; cried for home, her friends and for her old school. She cried for her old life, and for Dillon, her horse. She sobbed away the day’s events and then, heaving, she wept for Arthur.
Merlin
Garan paced back and forth, wearing down the plush living room carpet. His hand swept across his thinning hair. Eve stood to one side, arms crossed.
‘This is ridiculous!’ he barked. Gwenhwyfar cringed again, crunched up on the sofa, wrapped in her bathrobe with her wet hair hanging in cords. ‘So that’s why you wanted to come home early on Friday night? Because you were part of some practical joke?’
Llew was by the armchair, watching the scene with brown, anxious eyes. He gave a quiet whine. Eve perched on the sofa arm. ‘Shouting about it isn’t helping anyone, Garan. Don’t you think she’s been through enough as it is?’
‘I should have never let you go to that party! You’re only fifteen, for God’s sake, and look what happened!’ Gwenhwyfar opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off. ‘Were you drunk? And don’t lie to me, Gwenhwyfar, because I could smell the solution on you when you got into the car.’
‘I wasn’t drunk,’ she insisted. ‘I tried a little solution, but only a tiny bit. I couldn’t drink it! It made me feel sick. Hector was drunk, but I definitely wasn’t.’
‘Do you know what sort of trouble you could get into if the police find out you were at a party with solution?’
‘I didn’t know there’d be solution,’ Gwenhwyfar countered.
‘Yet you still drank it!’
‘As if you’ve never done the same! You and Mam have had wine before.’
‘That’s different, Gwen,’ he scolded. ‘You’re way below the legal age limit. The laws are getting stricter. How are we going to notify the police if illegal substances were involved?’
‘I don’t want to tell the police,’ she maintained, ‘it’ll just be my word against Hector’s. If the principal doesn’t take me seriously, then why would they?’
‘We’ll be talking to him about that, Gwen, don’t you worry,’ her mother assured her. ‘It’s appalling how he handled it. I’ve called the school and we have a meeting scheduled. They will have questioned the other students by then. He should be more on side.’
‘It’s disgraceful,’ her father growled. ‘Who does he think he is? Interrogating you like that… and without parental supervision! I don’t care what he says—you’re still a child. We should have been with you. He made no indication that he’d pull you out of class like that when he called your mother.’
Llew barked nervously. Garan snarled at him. ‘Will someone please shut him up?’
‘Llew! Be quiet!’ Gwenhwyfar tried, as the sheepdog continued to yip. Another aggravated whine and he silenced himself, grumbling to the floor.
Garan finally stopped pacing. ‘What did you say those girls’ names were? Emily, Hattie and who?’
‘Emily, Hattie and Charlotte,’ Gwenhwyfar repeated. ‘The ones I thought were my friends.’
In the silence that followed, Garan seemed to calm down. Sighing, he looked to Eve. She returned his gaze questioningly. ‘I just wish… I just wish that we didn’t have to hear this from your principal. When were you going to tell us?’
‘Soon!’ she insisted. ‘I just—didn’t know how to bring it up. I was going to mention it to you at some point.’
‘Some point.’ He strode the room again, and his anger returned. ‘This Hector character… I’d like to break his neck, that’s for sure.’
Eve nodded. ‘I’d rather he was castrated, myself.’
‘We could always set Llew on him,’ Gwenhwyfar suggested. Upon hearing his name Llew lifted his head, gazing at Gwenhwyfar expectantly.
‘I think he wants his supper,’ Garan remarked.
‘He can have Hector for supper,’ Gwenhwyfar added, cheering up a little. She smiled and turned to her beloved old dog, who slowly began to wag his tail. ‘Would you like that Llew? Hector for supper?’
Encouraged, Llew hauled himself off the floor and padded over to poke at Gwenhwyfar’s crossed arms. He dislodged them both, and was rewarded for his efforts with a scratch behind the ears.
‘I think we could all do with something to eat,’ Eve concluded. ‘It is late. How about we get a takeaway? Will Chinese do?’
‘Sounds fine with me,’ Garan approved, deciding enough was enough for one evening. ‘Gwen?’
Gwenhwyfar nodded eagerly. ‘Yes please. I’m starving.’
‘Right. I’ll see what they have,’ Eve said, pleased to be doing something. ‘I picked up a menu in town today. They’ve just opened. They come highly recommended.’
Garan moved into the kitchen and Llew followed him, also in search of food. Idly Gwenhwyfar spent a few moments in reflection before succumbing to the lure of the remote. Switching the media station on, she gazed at the images that flashed before her, mindlessly absorbing the day’s news.
* * *
‘I’ve been thinking.’
Arthur’s attention returned to Marvin. The older man was standing behind him and to his left, observing the windows, hoping to discover what it was that Arthur found to be so captivating.
‘About what you mentioned yesterday; about not being able to learn certain truths. Well, what if there was an after-school club? Where such alternative views—be they truths, or not—were taught?’
Arthur’s interest was sparked. ‘Would that be possible?’
‘Perhaps.’ Marvin walked across to his desk, and sat down. ‘Obviously it would be secret, and we’d have to be careful about who attended, but it could work. It might be dangerous job-wise to have it off school property, but then again, it might be safer. I’d have to think of a cover story, otherwise.’ Marvin fell silent for a few moments, and sucked his teeth. ‘There’s a lot of hoops to jump through to get an after-school club here. It has to be fully approved by several people, and the principal likes to have staff drop in on them from time to time.’
‘Couldn’t we just meet somewhere neutral? In a library, perhaps?’
‘No, not a library, libraries are much too quiet. Everyone would hear
what we were discussing. It can’t be in public. I could host it at my house, if people were careful. If I get any grief for it I could claim I’m offering extra hours’ tutoring.’
‘Wouldn’t you get into trouble for that?’
‘Less trouble than I’d get into for teaching you all “radical” ideas,’ Marvin chuckled. ‘But remember, no chatting about this to just anyone. If we’re doing this, we must be discreet.’
‘We will be,’ Arthur assured. He was burning to learn more, know more. ‘So does that mean that I’m the first member?’
‘Of course!’ Marvin grinned. ‘I was thinking of asking Bedivere too. An hour a week should be enough. I know that might be difficult for you, but if we work around your shifts I’m sure we can agree to some sort of schedule.’ Arthur didn’t really feel like sharing the experience with Bedivere, but kept quiet. ‘How about we invite Morgan? I’ve been keeping an eye on her, and she’s smart. She’d do well with something like this. What do you think?’
‘About Morgan?’
Marvin nodded. ‘Is she trustworthy?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I think so.’
‘Good. Morgan, then.’ Glancing to the clock, Marvin lifted his bag onto his desk and unzipped it quickly. ‘Before I forget: I found this when I was clearing out my attic. I thought you might like it.’ He pulled out a small, thin book with a tattered and broken spine. ‘It was banned quite some time ago. Worth reading if you’re interested in current affairs. It’s surprising how the author manages to highlight issues so potent today in a time when such changes had only just begun.’
Arthur carefully removed the book from Marvin’s hands. It read: The Human Condition, by Marcel E. Whittler. The cover was simple, a black and grey divide merging into the illusion of a human eye. Beyond the front cover, scrawled in messy ink, was Marvin’s full name, Marvin Ambrosius Caledonensis. ‘Ambros-ius?’ Arthur questioned, a smile playing his lips.
‘I know. You would have thought Marvin was a bad enough name to give a child.’
Arthur grinned, and reread the signature. It was in pen, and difficult to read, but his grandmother had schooled him well in the art of deciphering old handwriting. He frowned, thinking he’d mistaken a few letters. No, he was sure.
The Future King: Logres Page 10
