Chapter 11
"The reason I have asked you here Constance, is to discuss your plans for the future"
As the dean looked down at the file open on the desk in front of her Constance took a minute to gather her thoughts. Until this moment, Constance had not voiced her plans for once she finished her third year. In fact, she had not even dared to let the plan form fully in her own mind. Instead she had kept her thoughts rather like snowflakes caught in the spiralling winds of a blizzard; constantly crossing over each other in an irreplicable manner and never permitted to settle into anything coherent. Her conversations with Celeste and Roberta followed a similar pattern; it was their intention to take a year travelling – to make up for Constance's lost summers - but their conversations on the matter were held in short and vague bursts which we baffling to anyone who happened to be sharing their table in the refectory. All three young women were determined that Mistress Broomhead would not interfere this time but as all three were now convinced of the tutor's ability to read the minds of her students they were trying to ensure that there was as little as possible for her to find. The situation meant that Constance had spent the past few months in a constant state of unease both in dread of Mistress Broomhead discovering her intentions and due to her own dislike of the vague and unformed nature of the plan she was investing so much in. The crushing disappointment she knew she would feel if her plan failed was enough, however, to encourage her to persevere.
Constance had not quite found the words to respond to the question posed when the dean began to speak again
"Of course, I have received your application to continue to a fourth year of post-graduate study" the Dean began, drawing a sheet of paper from Constance's file and laying it on the desk between them. "I am delighted to say we would like to make you an unconditional offer. You should be very pleased Constance as it is very rare for us to offer a place unconditionally. We normally require first class honours which we are confident you will achieve but, regardless, your achievements thus far are more than enough to make you eligible."
Constance stared in stunned silence at the piece of paper which the dean had placed before her. The form was filled in in Constance's curved script and at the end of the form was her signature, neat and without flourish. It was an undeniable record of Constance's application for post-graduate study except, of course, for the fact that Constance knew she had never filled in such a form.
"Mistress Broomhead tells me you are interested in continuing at the college after your fourth year. She has recommended you for our doctoral scholarship – I imagine you have already discussed all of this but in principle we would fund your three year programme of study and in return we would ask you to teach first and second year undergraduate classes. We only have one or two witches following this path at anyone time. Of course, you know the current candidate Miss Fairwind – she is coming to the end of her studies and we will be offering her a permanent position on the staff starting in September. Mistress Broomhead has requested that you be permitted to assist Miss Fairwind with her classes next year to prepare you for your doctoral studies which I have approved. I see no reason why we shouldn't be making the same kind of job offer to you in four years' time. Now, do you have anything you wish to ask me before we finish?"
Constance sat rigid in her chair, unable to quite believe what she was hearing. The dean was describing Constance's future plans as if the two of them had nurtured these ideas together. Constance's mind was reeling as she realised that Mistress Broomhead had been carefully orchestrating Constance's entire future; her studies, her training and a career which would span her entire adult life. Her tutor had cemented the whole thing into place without ever once consulting her or even taking a moment to find out what Constance wanted or enjoyed. Constance had to fight a wave of nausea as she realised she was about to be slotted into a lifetime under Mistress Broomhead's gaze; trapped within the four walls of the college and never escaping her tutor's ruthless and relentless control.
Trembling slightly with shock, Constance mechanically went through the required pleasantries and exited the dean's office without even registering what was being said. She strode unseeingly through the corridors, blind to the students who parted in her wake, staring and whispering behind their hands at the tall, pale girl who was generally known as Mistress Broomhead's favourite student – a position for which she was both pitied and treated with suspicion.
"Con, are you alright?"
Roberta's voice broke into her preoccupied thoughts. Her feet had automatically led her to her next class and she had joined the throng of third years waiting to enter Mistress Broomhead's Advanced Spells class. Constance opened her mouth to respond to her friend when the classroom door suddenly swung magically inwards and the chatter of her classmates died instantly to an uneasy hush.
"Enter" came Mistress Broomhead's stern voice from inside the classroom.