Chapter 7
June 1982
Constance sat alone on a wooden chair in a third floor corridor waiting to be called in for her practical chanting examination. Constance's Great Aunt had been a highly proficient chanter in her youth as well as a great lover of music. Constance too was a natural at chanting, something which as a child she had been delighted to learn she had inherited from her mother. However, Mistress Broomhead did not approve of chanting which she viewed as weak and emotional magic. She had instructed Constance's to drop chanting and a number of other "weak magics" next year so she could focus on the core subjects like potions and spells. Constance had a lot on her mind and she let out a gentle sigh as she toyed absentmindedly with the ever-present silver band on her wrist. The movement revealed a thin line of pink, new skin also lying in a band around her wrist; the contrast stark against her almost translucently pale skin.
The mark had happened some two weeks previously. Constance had been one person away from the front of the queue in the refectory when she had felt the bracelet grow warm against her wrist. She spun around, ready to respond immediately to Mistress Broomhead's summoning when she caught sight of the queue behind her. The entire college was in a state of pre-exam fever and everyone was keen to get an early lunch so that they could squeeze in another half hour of revision before afternoon classes. The queue snaked right around the outer edge of the refectory and out into the entrance hall and Constance realised that even if Mistress Broomhead released her in time she would never be served before afternoon classes if she left it now. Constance had missed breakfast this morning; Mistress Broomhead had required some woodland flowers picked in the morning dew for her fourth year potion class and had sent Constance on the five mile broom ride to pick them. So Constance impulsively decided to risk Mistress Broomhead's wrath in order to get a sandwich and some fruit which she could at least save in her bag for later.
The girl in front seemed to be taking an inexplicably long amount of time to choose her food as the band on Constance wrist grew ever hotter. Constance finally reached the front and chose her food without any recognition of the items she picked. She hurried to pick up her tray ready to find a quiet table where she could quickly stow her food in her bag. However, the movement of picking up the tray caused the now searing hot silver band to press more firmly into Constance's skin and she gasped in shock, jerking her burning wrist upward and causing her tray and contents to clatter loudly to the floor. Constance stood stunned for a moment amid the chaotic mess of bits of sandwich and broken china. Her apple had rolled beneath a nearby table and the tray itself had skittered away across the tiled floor. Constance attempted a spell to clear the mess, but the burning pain in her wrist was now so severe that she couldn't concentrate and so she instead fled barely hearing the intrigued whispers of her fellow students as she passed.
It had been a pointless risk and Mistress Broomhead's wrath at being kept waiting nearly ten minutes was unquenchable. In fact, it was only the arrival of the fourth year potion class that allowed Constance's to slink away with her tutor's cruel scolding still ringing in her ears and the promise that they would discuss the matter further that evening filling her with dread. Constance's wrist was badly burned by the incident, her bracelet unpleasantly cushioned on a ring of tender blisters. Mistress Broomhead had openly forbade her from seeing the college nurse and by mid-afternoon Constance could not even bend her wrist enough to hold a pen. Her salvation came in the form of Miss Fairwind; the young teacher had not forgotten her promise to help Constance in the first few weeks of term. When Constance returned to her room after the final lesson of the afternoon, she found a worn blue book entitled "Potions for Healing and Remedy" on her bed. Inside the front cover was tucked a key and a slip of paper on which a neat, cursive script read
"My classroom will be empty during dinner. Lock the door when you are done and slide the key underneath"
Constance had managed to brew a suitable healing potion, but the tender, raw skin which replaced the burn was only now starting to toughen enough to allow the incident to be forgotten.
The next day, Constance had received a summons from the Head of the First Year during her chanting class. She was not too pleased at reports that Constance had not only caused a great deal of mess in the refectory but also run away rather than clean things up. Constance pleaded that she had suddenly felt unwell. Perhaps luckily, Constance had accidentally jarred her still tender wrist against the doorframe of the Head of Year's study on the way in and her resulting watering eyes and pale complexion seemed to incline the Mistress to believe her because she let the matter lie.
"Oh and Constance" she called to her as Constance was leaving the study "I understand that it is not possible for you to return to family over the Summer break. I have a form here for you to fill in if you wish to remain here at the college. It is purely administrative, so the kitchens know how many to cater for and the cleaners know which rooms to clean and so forth. Of course, a young girl like you might want to use the Summer to do a little travelling – see something of the world while you can. But if you want to stay at the college for any portion of the Summer can you fill this out and drop it in to me when you are next passing."
Constance was awakened from her reminiscence as the door of the Chanting classroom opened and Dorothy Pendle-Jones exited, her blonde ponytail swinging perkily behind her as she left with the air of someone who knows they have performed well. Constance watched her unseeingly. How she would dearly love to see something of the world as her head of year put it. It was completely impossible for Constance had no money to speak of. It had been over half a decade since she'd had any contact with her father, and while the money for her not unsubstantial college fees continued to be paid from the English bank account her father had set up for her, it seemed never to have occurred to him to set up any kind of allowance for this daughter. Constance had inherited the vast majority of her great aunt's small estate but this was placed in a trust until she was twenty one. She heard the Chanting Mistress call her into her exam. Constance rose to enter the classroom; more acutely aware than ever how effectively trapped she was within the college's four walls.
[Author's note: Thank you to my reviewers – I am glad you are enjoying it. I have the rough arc of this story planned out but any feedback or any parts of HB's character you think should be explored in this then let me know!]