Undying

by Bernadette Azizi

  How will I cope with him around me? The feeling in my body when I was in his arms was unexplainable. I’m really at risk of making a total fool of myself.

  Why had this man made such an impression on me?

  I continued to think about him and how ridiculous he must think I am.

  There was one thing that was weighing heavily on my mind. Why had he called me ‘Catherine’ instead of ‘Miss White’? I had clearly heard him call Jules ‘Miss Kent’.

  I lay down for a couple of hours, with the pain still throbbing lightly in my head. After what seemed like an eternity of procrastination, I decided it was time to leave my room and try and make a better impression second time around. I got out of bed, had a quick look in the mirror and assessed the damage to my head. All in all, I looked decent enough to leave the room. I put my boots and blazer back on and left. Down the hallway and down the flight of stairs, I reached the main entrance at the middle building where I had originally entered with Jules.

  I wasn’t really sure where to go from here. That tour Jules had mentioned earlier would have come in very handy right about now. I tried to listen out for any sounds of activity, but there was nothing. Not a sound. I walked about the foyer area and was intrigued. Hundreds of trophies for polo, cricket and other sports filled shelves in the dark timber and glass cabinets. It was obvious that this school was not only academically focused. The main office was unattended; it was elegant, not like any office I had seen before. A crystal vase containing a spectacular flower arrangement sat on the desk. The furniture was antique, impressive and stylish. The walls were almost completely covered in portraits of important-looking people from different eras. I looked closely at every face, as though I was trying to recognise someone. They were all men, very serious-looking, old and dull. The last picture in the series made me smile. It was Mr Barclay, looking perfect.

  “Hmm! Can I help you?” said a voice from behind me.

  “Huh? Um… Oh, sorry I’m sort of lost,” I replied, sounding like a three-year-old lost in a supermarket.

  “I see!” Came the reply from a very, very short man.

  “Where should you be?” he asked.

  “Well nowhere really. I mean, I am trying to see if there is a common room for the teachers,” I hesitantly answered.

  “Ah, I knew it! You’re the new teacher from Australia, Cathy!” he declared, still with no sign of warmth or welcome.

  Whoever he is, I don’t like him already.

  “Yes, I am, but my name is Catherine, if you don’t mind.”

  “Catherine? Is that right? Well Catherine, how did you find your room? Was it to your satisfaction?” he questioned as he reluctantly put out his hand for me to shake.

  “I am Mr Kemp, science teacher.”

  Ah, that makes sense. Jules had said that she had made Mr Kemp move out of his room so I could be near her and he obviously wasn’t happy about it.

  Mr Kemp stood less than five feet tall, stumpy and old. He was wearing every shade of brown imaginable, from his shoes to his thick ugly glasses. His moustache was long and thin and what little hair he had he had tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to spread out evenly over his shiny head. After I had shaken his small, sweaty hand he turned around and told me to follow him. He walked so fast with his stumpy little legs; the pace was such that I could have sworn he was trying his best to lose me. Plus, I’m sure he went the long, confusing way just to put me off. He didn’t give me a chance to look at anything that we passed. Every so often he would turn and look at me with his beady eyes, checking if I was still keeping pace.

  After several minutes of following him, I heard voices. We were finally there. Grumpy Mr Kemp picked up his speed just at the end. I guess he wanted to enter the room on his own. I started to walk a little faster and caught up to him so that we were now walking alongside each other. He wasn’t happy about that. ‘Mr Grumpy’ was out of breath. Not impressed that I altered his plans, he gave me a stern look.

  “Thank you Mr Kemp. It was lovely to meet you.” He didn’t reply and with a deep grunt he walked away from me. I still didn’t know where I was exactly.

  What exactly is this room? What if Jules or the doctor weren’t here? The room is full and they are all men? Where are you Jules?

  Looking around at the deep brown furniture, everything seemed so masculine; from the leather chesterfields to the black wing chairs. Sets of these chairs and lounges were placed around timber tables, each set providing a place for five to six people. A beautiful black and white veined marble fireplace sat at one end of the room, the flames naturally heating the room. It was a formal setting in a casual and social style. But it wasn’t until I sighted a coffee machine and other appliances that I realised it was the college common room.

  I tried to walk in as naturally and as confidently as I could, but it wasn’t easy. I really felt out of place and it was making me feel quite self-conscious. I could now clearly see that Jules wasn’t here and that I would have to share a table with someone I didn’t know.

  Oh my! I seem to be receiving some attention now!

  “Catherine!”

  I stopped and turned around immediately. Standing there was Mr Barclay, positioned beside an empty chair. I smiled shyly and started to walk towards him. I made my way slowly through the crowd. He was taller than I remembered and he smiled as I approached him. I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled it back from my face. I looked up again at him. At that point I had a strange feeling of déjà vu. My heart felt like it was on fire and it took every inch of self-control not to put my arms around him. I didn’t want to lose total control of myself. I could feel my smile fading and my legs trembling as I got closer to him. The déjà vu feeling became stronger. I felt as though I had lived this moment before.

  “Hello… please,” he said, pointing to the empty seat next to him.

  “Thank you.”

  I had a quick look around the room and took a deep breath before sitting down, still in a daze, my attention on him now.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked with a soft, secretive voice.

  “I’m fine, my door and I have called a truce,” I replied.

  “That is excellent to hear,” he whispered back with a wide smile on his face.

  “I gather you have already met Mr Kemp,” he whispered.

  “Mr Kemp? Hmmm, well let’s just say, I don’t think he likes me, and he would have been proud of his door if he knew of today’s events.”

  We both broke into a quiet laughter.

  “Mr Kemp is one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

  “How so?”

  Mr Barclay seemed shocked with my question and unprepared for an answer.

  “Other than your door, are you happy with your room?” he asked, disregarding my question.

  “More than happy. I didn’t know what to expect.”

  I looked around noticing more and more the environment that I would be working and living in. They were all men, old and so proper. I must seem like a student to them, and in the wrong school. I looked back at Mr Barclay who hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

  “I guess, the ratio is unfair,” he joked.

  I let out a giggle.

  “Don’t be intimidated, you are at an advantage.”

  “How?” I curiously asked.

  “It will always be hard for any of them to say no to you.”

  “We’ll see,” I joked back.

  “Indeed we will,” he said and stood up.

  “Gentleman, please, if I could have your attention.”

  Silence came over the room in an instant and suddenly all eyes were on Mr Barclay.

  “I would like to take this opportunity to introduce you all to Miss Catherine White from Australia. Miss White will be teaching English Literature at our college for the year, replacing Professor Davidson. Please make her feel welcome and help make her stay a pleasant one.”

  I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to stand so stayed seated but turned around and s
miled and acknowledged as many people as I could. Some of the teachers had started to make their way towards me. Mr Barclay was now nowhere in sight. For the next hour I was quizzed on everything from kangaroos to my favourite composers. All these men seemed so intelligent and serious; I immediately remembered Annie’s words of encouragement about me being an exceptional teacher.

  “Hello! Catherine! Coming through! Excuse me! Excuse me, please! There you are. I have been looking for you everywhere. How wonderful! You found the common room.”

  To my relief, it was Jules ploughing through all the men to get to me.

  “Right everyone, that will do. Go back to your newspapers and pipes. Off you go.”

  It only took a minute and all the men were back in their chairs reading their papers.

  “There now, is that not better? It seems you have caused quite an excitement. This is wonderful. Finally, there are now two of us,” Jules said, as she pulled up a chair and sat very close to me.

  I didn’t mind her now. At least she could do all the talking and I could really see that she was genuinely happy to have me here, unlike Mr Kemp.

  “Right, now tell me, how you are feeling?” she queried me, with a very concerned and serious tone as she held onto my hands.

  “I am much better now, thank you. I am sorry if I gave you a fright,” I said as I slid my hand out of her grip.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. It takes a lot more than that to scare me,” she said as she smiled and placed her hand on my arm.

  “Now, if we leave now, I can give you that tour and we should be finished in time to change for dinner.”

  “Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”

  We both got up and made our way out of the room. As we left, my eyes met Mr Kemp’s. He was obviously still very sour and didn’t seem to be shy about showing his feelings either.

  “Now don’t mind Mr Kemp, nobody else does,” said Jules.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well Mr Kemp is a very strange and suspicious man. He spends most of his evenings on our roof looking at the stars and reading into them. He gave Mr Barclay a very hard time when he first arrived at the college. He was convinced that he was causing an imbalance of some sort.”

  “Imbalance! An imbalance of what?”

  “Oh, who knows! To be perfectly honest, nobody cares. If he gives you any heartache, I will take care of him quicker than he can look to the stars for help,” Jules asserted.

  Why would Mr Barclay say that Mr Kemp was a one-of-a-kind, almost complimenting him, if he gave him such a hard time?

  The tour was great and I was right; there was an easier way to get to the common room. I saw my classroom and that made everything real to me. The room still had a traditional blackboard on the wall, but a new whiteboard had been placed in front of it. The desks were timber and in a semi-circular style with three aisles taking students all the way up to the elevated back seats of the room.

  I always had a great passion for English literature and loved to pass that on to others. I was looking forward to coming back to the room on Tuesday morning, full of students. The rest of the grounds were amazing as well. Awe filled me wherever I looked. The Great Hall had a soaring ceiling and sandstone walls, reflecting the external architecture of the building. The stained-glass windows in nearly every room were even more vibrant from inside the building. The floors were a mix of hardwood timber and different shades of marble, with grand marble staircases leading to the upper levels. Jules gave me my schedule and a detailed map of the building and grounds. I was to sit in Professor Davidson’s class for the first two weeks and then he was leaving and I was to replace him.

  “Now don’t be alarmed. By 6 o’clock tomorrow evening, this college will be crawling with the boys returning from their break. They are going to love you, literally! Well, you are very beautiful… and very young and not quite what my boys are used to. Not to worry, we’ll cross that bridge if need be. Let’s head back and get ready for dinner. Tonight’s dinner is a special one. It’s our last night on the grounds without the students, so it will be a formal event with music and champagne and maybe even dancing now that there is the two of us! I’m so excited! We only have two hours to get ready so we’d better get back to our rooms.” She wouldn’t stop talking long enough for me to get a word in.

  “Jules? When you say formal what should I be wearing exactly?” I enquiry.

  “A dress, a cocktail dress. You are in England now my dear and we English love to take our frocks out and whirl them around the dance floor!”

  When we arrived back, Jules went straight into her room, singing. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was interesting. I went straight into my room. I was overjoyed seeing my classroom and was really looking forward to meeting Professor Davidson. I sat on the end of my bed and again thought about Mr Barclay. He makes me feel uneasy and that is something I’m not used to. I don’t think I have ever met a man before that has made me feel the way I do. These feelings are really unexpected. I spent the rest of the time I had left getting ready for dinner. Showering and blow-drying my hair took forever with my sore head. I decided to wear my emerald-green velvet dress. It was sleeveless, tight fitting to the knees and flared out at the ends. I loved this dress. It really showed off my figure and the colour matched my eyes. The low-cut front had gorgeous dark green crystal stones adorning it and my matching emerald-green high heels finished the outfit perfectly.

  “Knock, knock!” Jules bellowed outside my door. She seemed to like yelling out “knock, knock” rather than actually knocking.

  “Coming!” I opened the door and let her in. We were like two schoolgirls, inspecting and complimenting each other’s choice of attire.

  “Let’s be off then. I want to be there early to make sure everything is perfect,” Jules said as she flicked what little hair she had and made her way out of my room.

  So far, I had found Jules to be extremely entertaining. Even the way she walked was kind of funny: her body swung from side to side. I smiled and followed her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The ballroom was stunning. There was a single long table in the centre of the room that was covered in white linen, lit up with countless candles in beautiful candelabras and a striking flower centrepiece. Soft ambient music was playing in the background. The lights were dimmed to give the candles maximum effect. It was spectacular. The walls were covered with an array of paintings and tapestry. All the men were dressed in tuxedos, and they all looked very proper. As I glanced around the room I couldn’t help notice that Mr Barclay had not arrived.

  Where could he be?

  Jules was over by the table, speaking to one of the waiters, giving her approval I guessed. Sure, the room did look great, but I was now more interested in seeing Mr Barclay again.

  “Catherine, let’s sit. I believe everyone is here now. You will sit here at the head of the table as our newest addition,” Jules announced as she gestured to a male teacher to pull out my chair for me.

  “Oh, Jules that isn’t necessary! Please! I am happy to sit beside you!” I pleaded, hoping my desperation was not too obvious.

  “I won’t take no for an answer, Catherine, and I will be right next to you,” she said, ushering another male teacher to pull out her chair for her. In a matter of minutes all but two seats were full, and Mr Barclay and Mr Kemp were nowhere to be seen.

  “Jules, will Mr Barclay and Mr Kemp be joining us for dinner? I noticed they both aren’t here yet.”

  “Catherine, please don’t remind me. I can’t believe that Mr Barclay is missing out on this dinner because of Mr Kemp,” Jules replied with frustration.

  “What do you mean? Is there something wrong?”

  “The only thing wrong is that Mr Kemp is still at this college! Dr Simons was telling me that Mr Kemp was on the roof causing a fuss again, carrying on about your arrival being an imbalance in the stars. Mr Barclay has been with him now for over an hour trying to calm him down and have him join the dinner.”

/>   Jules sighed and shook her head.

  “And to make matters worse, this whole night was arranged by Mr Barclay. We are so lucky to have such a talented and caring principal. You know he doesn’t have to work? Mr Barclay is extremely wealthy but he chooses to stay and better this school, and now he’s missing out on this dinner because of such an annoying man.”

  Jules stopped talking – a rare occurrence – and her disappointed look turned to joy. I looked in the direction in which she was looking and the sight of Mr Barclay coming down those stairs was such a relief! He looked amazing! He immediately went to the end of the table, opposite me.

  “Please accept my apology. I was unavoidably detained,” he apologised and sat down.

  He looked different from this afternoon – tired and somewhat sad. I felt his despair and I was immediately saddened. The wonderful mood I was in earlier had disappeared and I didn’t know why. I didn’t speak much – just an occasional nod to any question that was asked of me. Jules didn’t seem to notice as she and Dr Simons were utterly engrossed in conversation.

  James didn’t speak much to anyone that evening and made no eye contact with me at all. I felt unimportant.

  I really don’t like Mr Kemp! I wonder what he had done or said to Mr Barclay. Maybe Mr Kemp should stay outside under the stars permanently as our school’s gnome if that would make him happier?

  The evening was not what I had hoped for. It was slow, quiet and boring. The fact Mr Barclay was in an off mood caused my own mood to sink. When Jules suddenly grabbed Dr Simons and tried to convince him to dance against his will, it was the only time that forced me to smile. Looking around the table, I saw that everyone else was amused by them also, even Mr Barclay, his smile immense and pure, and for a moment we caught each other’s eye. His smile immediately changed, becoming warmer. Our eyes locked for a few seconds, then he raised one eyebrow and slowly lowered his head. I think he was embarrassed! I turned away quickly and continued to watch Dr Simons attempt to get away from Jules, but he didn’t stand a chance. She was whirling herself around, and being on the heavy side she barely cleared Dr Simons’ short arms. Their dancing seemed to break the formality of the room. Some teachers left the table in little groups to smoke out on the terrace and others started to move around and change seats. I stayed put, watching Jules dance, until, in the corner of my eye, I saw Mr Barclay stand and walk towards my end of the table. I pulled back my shoulders and sat up straight.