The last day of the summer holidays hung heavy over Cackles Academy.
Above the towers blue skies shimmered with barely a hint of cloud, light streaming into all the castle's nooks and crannies through vents and windows that in winter allowed icy tendrils of breeze to circle and settle. Even the outer bricks fairly glowed with a summer's worth of gathered sunshine. But not even six weeks of glorious weather had been enough to soak right through the thick, ancient walls, and inside, in those places untouched by direct sunlight, a chill lingered in the air.
High up in the outer tower, the Headmistress' office lay in shadow, the only trace of summer being the scent of grass and flowers that streamed through the open window on a gentle bed of warm air as it shivered its way around the cold corners of the room. On the desk, three neat piles of papers, each sheet bearing Miss Hardbroom's precise signature, shifted and rustled under their respective paperweights.
Miss Cackle pulled her cardigan closer around her and fixed her deputy with an exasperated stare. "Oh, for- Hecate, would you please stop pacing and sit down? You're causing a draft."
"I like pacing." There was an uncharacteristic hint of mutiny in her voice but she folded herself gracefully into the fireside chair regardless and sighed into stillness, the dull tap of her nails against the worn velvet of the armrest the only concession to her state of mind.
Miss Cackle looked at her much as she would at an unruly pupil. "If this is still about Mildred Hubble...don't you think you might be overreacting? Just a bit?"
"Over-" She fairly exploded out of her seat, towering over Miss Cackle with a bristling intensity that put any comparisons with one of her schoolgirls immediately out of mind. "Ada, that...that girl-"
"That girl," Ada interjected, as calmly as if she were discussing arrangements for afternoon tea, "put herself in a rather significant amount of danger - and out of the sheer goodness of her heart, I might add."
There was a moment's silence, and the tension visible in the lines of Hecate's body loosened into a tired sort of resignation. "You could have died," she said eventually, softly, her eyes filled with an almost guilty affection.
"Ah." She regarded her deputy with a wry smile. "I had wondered whether it might be that." Reaching up, she traced the line of Hecate's jaw with soft fingertips. "You're getting sentimental, dear."
"I have always been...sentimental, as you put it...where you're concerned," Hecate said stiffly. Her hand covered Ada's against her cheek. "I refuse to see it as a weakness."
"A compliment of the highest order."
A smile twisted unbidden at her lips, and her free hand rose almost unconsciously to smooth at the unsettled line of Ada's cardigan where it lay slightly off-kilter on her shoulder. For a minute they stood, caught off-guard by the affection shining in each other's eyes despite its familiarity.
Somewhere in the castle, a door creaked, and both women started; the moment was broken.
"I do understand your concerns," said Ada gently, reclaiming her hand with one self-indulgent touch of fingertips to Hecate's lips . "And I will confess to sharing some of them. But Mildred Hubble deserves a chance - much as you did, I might add!"
Hecate scowled. "Mildred and I are nothing alike."
Ada said nothing, but the twitch of her lips spoke for her. And then she sighed, and sank into the armchair Hecate had so forcefully vacated minutes earlier, rubbing absently at her temples.
Wordlessly, Hecate crossed to the Headmistress' desk and poured a cup of tea from the ever-present, ever-warm teapot, adding a shortbread to the side of the saucer before handing it over, her raised eyebrows forbidding comment.
As Ada bit obediently into the biscuit, Miss Hardbroom made her way up the shallow stairs to stand before the open window and look out over the grounds. Outside, the clear beauty of the afternoon was clouding over, and the breeze still floating through the window now carried with it the imminent promise of rain. Beneath her hand where she leaned, the stone windowsill was leeching warmth at a steady, unstoppable pace. Everything was still, as if in anticipation - silence where soon there would be chatter, stasis where tomorrow would bring a never-ending flow of unruly students. The start of a new year, held in check by this one last day.
Curious at the uncharacteristic silence, Miss Cackle peered around her chair, up at the higher level of her office where Hecate stood motionless, and allowed herself a brief moment of indulgence to enjoy the sight of the tall, slim figure silhouetted against the brightness of the window. When she eventually spoke, her voice was soft: "You worry too much."
"You worry too little," Hecate shot back, closing the window abruptly and turning away from the view. "And someone has to make up for your singular lack of concern."
Ada began to laugh.
"I am perfectly serious!" The brief lull in the storm that was Hecate Hardbroom was over, it seemed, as she all but stalked back down the steps towards her employer. "There's still so much to do, Ada, and the girls will be arriving tomorrow." Despite the change in mood, there was an oddly pleading note to her voice. "We must ensure that everything is in place - you know as well as I how things have a tendency to...unravel...once term starts."
"I take it you'll be sleeping in your own room tonight then?"
"Of course. We must set an example for the girls."
"Of course." Ada looked knowingly at her. "You'll have time for a cup of tea before bed, though?"
A tiny smile played across her lips as she met Ada's eyes. "Oh, I think we can stretch to that. Headmistress."
And then, without so much as a goodbye, she was gone.
Ada chuckled to herself and shook her head, took another sip of her rapidly cooling tea.
Everything was going to be just fine.