The Walls We Build Around Us
Disclaimer: Characters are the creation of Jill Murphy
Summary: Constance and Imogen are forced to share a room but it brings up past memories for Constance that she's not sure she wants to remember. Rated M for later chapters. Reviews very much appreciated, unbeta-d piece of work any mistakes please forgive me.
The nerve. The downright, arrogant nerve. She'd managed to survive Mildred and her cohorts – and she'd noted Ethel Hallow as the instigator on more than one occasion – for three years, including several quite eventful trips out of the school. She'd prayed and prayed to whatever deities would hear her that she make it out of their fourth year without adding to her growing list of 'ways in which my form can humiliate, maim and/or annoy me'. Not only had she managed to survive her form but she' also managed to get through several painful encounters with Heliboring and his merry band of twits. What was that they said about speaking too soon?
No sooner had Miss Cackle announced the impending visit of Helibore and some of his students had disaster struck. Quite frankly she didn't care if Barry, Ethel, Charlie, Mildred or Helibore himself had caused the latest disaster. The fact of the matter was that the entire East Wing had been flooded due to a spell gone wrong. Not only did the Foster's Effect mean that their problems could not be solved magically, but it also meant that everyone was doubling up in rooms. More pupils meant more chaos and the only way she would have been able to deal with all the extra strain would to have been able to retire to her rooms at the end of the day. Fortunately her room was situated at the highest point of the West Wing, unfortunately she was being forced to share her inner sanctuary with another member of staff.
"Please not that puffed up Heliboring, please goddess Hecate, I will cut down on wide awake potion as long as it isn't Heliboring," the mantra went round and round her head as names were pulled out of a hat.
"Sharing with Miss Hardbroom will be," please, please, please, "Miss Drill."
Constance sighed audibly with relief, thank you goddess Hecate, I owe you one.
"Miss Hardbroom I'm flattered that you have no problem sharing with me, I'm sure we'll have a great time," came Miss Drill's smug voice.
"Miss Drill, may I assure you," she murmured in clipped tone, "that when the other options are Helibore and Miss Bat you suddenly become a preferred room mate."
"Well then as long as I am preferred perhaps you would be so kind as to take me to where I'll be staying for the next few days, I'd like to set my things up before I have to run detention later," the hurt in Miss Drill's voice stung Constance but she pushed the feeling down with her usual brusque manner.
"Very well, I will meet you at the bottom of the West Wing in half an hour whilst I sort through some things." And with that she disappeared leaving a very bewildered and curious Miss Drill.
"What on Earth could she have to sort out? Maybe she really does lock pupils up!"
The nervousness Constance felt had her fall back onto her bedroom door as soon as she reappeared. She looked around her room in desperation and dread. Her quarters were not just where she slept and spent her solitary hours. They were her sanctuary and told so much about, most of which she kept hidden from prying eyes. Even Miss Cackle had never been into her quarters, she'd gone to great lengths to ensure that. And now Imogen Drill would be staying with her for an indefinite amount of time.
She knew how she was perceived by all those in the school; strict, perfectionist who lived for order. That worked perfectly for her in the classroom however in her own personal domain things did not run quite as smoothly. Books were strewn everywhere from where she'd read one and moved onto the other almost straight away. Seeing this and all her other 'neat' piles scattered about she dove into her work and hoped she'd be done by the time her guest arrived.
Imogen thought herself a confident woman but standing outside Constance Hardbroom's quarters she felt anything but confident. She felt the panic constrict her throat and her bewilderment over her panic only made the knot in her stomach worse. She'd been shocked by her own delight and being roomed with the formidable HB. She figured it was because of the mystery that surrounded the woman. She'd always been a source of intrigue to her, dressed head to toe in black and never giving anything away. Like an impenetrable and unknown region of the world that Imogen yearned to explore. She was fascinated by this woman yet couldn't work out why which only made things ten times harder.
"Oh get a grip of yourself."
"Excuse me Miss Drill?"
With a start Imogen jumped back as the woman in her thoughts appeared in her usual fashion.
"Miss Drill who on Earth are you talking to?"
"Umm, myself," she sheepishly replied cringing inwards as she felt herself blush once more.
"I'm sure it was a fascinating conversation now hurry up I only have a few minutes before I have to oversee dinner," and with a curt nod Constance lead Imogen into the unknown.
Cobwebs, a torture chamber and a wall lined with pickled potions' ingredients. Where were they? This couldn't be the room of the evil HB, the woman who turned noted radio presenter Icy Stevens (creep) into a frog.
She knew that the teachers' rooms were nothing like those of the pupils, she didn't know why but having lived in her own room before the latest round of Cackle's Chaos she had an idea of the rooms.
Obviously Constance, as Deputy Headmistress, had been given one of the bigger rooms but Imogen would have thought it would have been bare. Instead one wall was covered with shelves upon shelves of books save for a huge window that overlooked the forest below. Her eyes were then drawn from the breathtaking view to the bed. It was a huge four poster bed with a dark purple curtain decorating it. She imagined it made for a fantastic sleep though why the self-professed Wide-Awake witch would need such a bed was beyond her. At the foot of the bed was a chest sealed by a heavy lock. That must be where she's hidden the frogs.
Constance was very aware of the woman's fixed gaze on the chest and cleared her throat to avert it.
"Are you quite finished? No monsters or instruments designed to punish my pupils Miss Drill." She could see from the absent-minded nodding of the sports teachers that her guess was right. The woman's unsure movements were beginning to grate on her already frayed nerves so grabbing her bag from her she put it in front of the drawers she'd managed to clear out.
"This will be yours, feel free to put any toiletries in the bathroom. I've put a spare duvet at the end of the chaise longue I can assure you it is quite comfortable enough and I will be back to check that everything is alright after dinner. Feel free to settle but respect my room Miss Drill," she explained, "please."
Once more she was left gawping in the wake of Miss Hardbroom. The tentative 'please' was a word very rarely heard coming from Constance, unless it was dripping with sarcasm. Her lack of confidence resonated within her and she was determined to make an effort and quell her strong curiosity. Knowing that unless she buried herself in a task she would go on a hunt, she dove into the bag which held all her clothes and some of the possessions she knew she couldn't be parted with.
She quickly placed her sportswear in the top two drawers then placed her nightshirt and underwear in the bottom drawer. She stood up in dread; her night shirt had been a gift from Serge at Christmas. It was pale blue and covered in sheep, she was going to be seen by Constance Hardbroom in the most laughable piece of clothing. Then another thought hit her. She was actually going to be sleeping in the same room as her. Did the woman sleep? Suddenly she was giggling uncontrollably as she had the image of the fearsome potions' mistress snoring and drooling in her sleep. The laughter made the thought of sleeping near Constance less terrifying but only slightly as she realised that Miss Hardbroom might end up being the one giggling uncontrollably at the sight of her nightwear.
"Why couldn't he have bought me a new whistle?"