A Meeting
By the time Reg returned to Freudesheim after the interview, Maddy was safely tucked up in bed, sound asleep. He was quietly relieved by that for he wanted to sort through his own feelings about the interview before he had to answer Maddy's rapid-fire questions. In chatting with the other two candidates, Reg had realised he was the only serious contender. Jacques Mercier was a personable individual but one that knew only limited amounts of English and no German at all, while Franz Joseph had struck Reg as an easily dislikeable and power-hungry egotist. Both were unquestionably qualified for the post -- of that, Reg had no doubt -- but neither would fit in with the San's ethos.
'If I don't take the post,' Reg found himself musing as he prepared for a late supper, 'it will leave Jack somewhat stuck.' He smiled faintly. 'There are worse reasons for taking on the job, I suppose.'
But, as he thought further, he realised that there were other reasons he wanted to take the job. Visceral, almost subconscious reasons. He knew and liked most of the people he would be working with. The variety of work was greater than that of the San back in Britain. The challenges were more and varied. Much as Jem and Madge had tried, they weren't family in the way that Jack and Joey were.
For a second, as he looked in the mirror, he fancied he saw Len, smiling at him and nodding. "Promise me you won't do anything silly," she had whispered, as he'd held her that final time. "Promise me you won't give up."
And in the ice and the snow, he'd given the only answer he could. "I promise."
He blinked, pulling back from the memory he'd only occasionally looked at in the intervening years, but the echo of the words remained. The conclusion he'd come to on the final stretch of road leading up to the Platz returned to him and he nodded to himself. "Time to keep that promise," he murmured.
He turned to head for supper and a new thought struck him. If he took this job, what would happen to Maddy? She'd expressed some anxiety at the thought of moving to Switzerland and though she'd obviously had a good time so far, would she really enjoy living here? Then there was the issue of school.
'Although,' Reg mused as he reached the Freudesheim Speisesaal, 'school could be easily settled.'
Duly over supper, in between hearing about the lightning strike -- which both alarmed him and made him feel reassured that it had happened while Maddy was out with Joey and not someone less experienced -- and about the girls' trip into Interlaken, Reg carefully enquired as to who he needed to speak to about Maddy potentially attending the Chalet School.
"Well, Nancy Wilmot is the current head mistress," said Joey. "So..."
"But she's not here at the moment," Cecil put in. "She's had to fly to England to see to something or other with Carnbach."
"Then who would I need to speak to?" Reg asked.
"Miss Andrews," Cecil answered with a smile. "She's head of the junior school so she knows what spaces we have -- and Maddy just squeaks in as a junior, if she's not yet twelve."
"She's not twelve until December," Reg answered.
"Then Miss Andrews, definitely," said Cecil with decision. She smiled. "I've got to go over for another curriculum meeting tomorrow -- I can take you over, if you like?"
"Thank you." Reg smiled in return.
So it was that the following day, Reg found himself following the very businesslike Cecil through the gate in the hedge that separated the Freudesheim garden from the school grounds. After the shock of the previous day, Maddy was spending a quiet day in Freudesheim, something that Reg whole-heartedly agreed about, and it did mean that when this meeting was over, he could go back and talk things through with her.
He couldn't, however, quite suppress the shudder as the familiar shape of the main school building loomed up ahead. Somehow, he thought it would have changed, yet it was no different to the last time he'd seen it, when he and Len had attended the Sale of Work six months before Maddy was due. That summer, the school and grounds had been decked out for various ancient civilisations which had led to the rather strange effect of Greek Gods trying to sell you bric-a-brac while Viking warriors tried to interest you in refreshments -- it had been a good sale and an enterprising effort on the part of the school.
"Through here," Cecil directed, drawing Reg back from his wool gathering. He blinked as she led him into the wide entrance hall. "Miss Andrews is..."
"Here," finished no lesser person than Sharlie Andrews, entering the hall. She smiled. "Good morning, Cecil." Reg had to stifle a laugh as Cecil started. "You wanted me?"
"Not me," Cecil managed to answer, after returning the greeting. "This is Reg Entwistle, my brother-in-law."
There was an awkward moment.
"Len's..." Miss Andrews began, then stopped. "Of course." She looked slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry -- it's a pleasure to meet you, again."
Reg smiled, trying to ignore the brief swell of pain. "And you, Miss Andrews."
"What can I..." This time she trailed off as Cecil suddenly squawked and took off like a scalded cat.
"Late for her curriculum meeting?" Reg suggested, amused by Cecil's departure.
Miss Andrews chuckled. "Possibly." She shook her head. "Cecil doesn't change." She smiled. "So, Mr Entwistle -- what can I do for you?"
"It's about my daughter," Reg answered.
