'Fair, happy, face with the girl's questioning smile
Expectant of an answer from the days,
Fair, happy, morning, face who wast myself,
Talk with me, with this later drearier self.'

~ Faded, Augusta Webster (1893)

Chapter Eight -'A poem begins as a lump in the throat'*

Kathleen awoke at eight am, with absolutely no desire to get up and face the day. Or more accurately, face the boys. Yes, she was angry that Charlie hadn't said anything, that nobody had thought she needed to know, that the likes of Fraser and his buddies thought they had the right to talk about her in that way. Yet she had forgiven Charlie already, no matter how much of a reckless idiot he could be, the boy had a heart of gold and nothing but good intentions. But she also had to show them that she wasn't this fragile thing to sheltered, that she had a right to know these things. She groaned aloud at the whirlwind of thoughts in her brain and cocooned herself in her bedcovers.

At least it was Sunday.

After a few more minutes of indulgent self-pity, she forced herself to get up and face the day. She dressed and made her way down to the food hall, praying that it would be filled with only the early risers. She plated up some toast and made her way to the usual table. To her relief, only Neil and Todd were there.

"Morning," she greeted, sitting down and spreading marmalade onto her toast.

"Hi," Neil smiled brightly, "I'm going to get another pastry, anyone else want one?"

Kathleen and a sleepy Todd shook their heads and murmured, "no, thank you."

"He got you up early again, then," she observed once Neil had wandered off.

Todd nodded, "how does he manage to be so lively at seven am? He was practising his lines and woke me up," he grumbled, "then he made me get up because he was bored. Bored when he should be sleeping."

Kat laughed, "benefits of having no roomie."

"I'm moving in with you if he continues every weekend."

"Oh, you wouldn't leave, even if he kept you up rehearsing all night."

"Shut up," he mumbled, "besides, Neil told me what happened."

She glanced over to the serving area and saw that Neil was safely engaged in conversation with another student by the juice.

"What do you think of it?" She asked.

"He should have told you, and preferably not done it in the first place. But he meant well and Neil thinks he's sorry," he shrugged apologetically. "Fraser is a jerk by the way."

"Thanks," she smiled weakly, "I think I've forgiven him already but I just want everyone to tell me things before they have to. I don't know, he needs consequences."

He nodded thoughtfully, "I get it. But try not to be too harsh, he seemed pretty miserable when he came to find Neil last night."

The pair fell silent when they saw Neil approaching the table.

"Who died?" He asked, "the mood has dropped to negative numbers in the space of five minutes."

"We were talking about Charlie," admitted Kathleen

"Oh."

"Yeah." She finished her toast.

XXXX

After breakfast the trio headed back upstairs to the boy's dorm, Neil still had his poem to write for Keating's lesson tomorrow, leaving Todd and Kat sprawled out across Todd's bed playing chess. It was getting close to lunch time when they were interrupted by the door flying open and Charlie stalking in, shadowed by a red-faced Richard Cameron.

"I swear to God, I can't share a room with him much longer!"

"This is your fault, Dalton," shouted Cameron, charging after him.

"Just calm it down, " Neil tried unsuccessfully to intervene.

"You're annoying me on purpose!" Cameron continued.

"You annoy everybody," Charlie shot back.

"Guys!" Neil raised his voice.

"Untrue, and irrelevant to this discussion."

"Oh, do everyone a favour and shut up, Cameron."

"Don't take your bad mood out me, Charlie. It's your own fault that you're miserable," retorted Cameron.

Kathleen caught the look distress that flickered briefly across Neil's face. "Boys!" She shouted suddenly, sitting up on Todd's bed and abandoning the chess game.

The pair whirled around, startled by her presence.

"I think we should get some lunch," she suggested firmly.

"Good idea," Neil jumped up and lead the way out before anybody had the chance to disagree.

Lunch was an awkward affair. Nobody was fighting, but nobody was having much fun either. Charlie and Cameron ignored each other, and Kathleen and Charlie were not ignoring each other, but they also were not talking. The most contact they had was the cautious glances they sent at one another every now and then when they thought it was safe, flashing weak smiles when their eyes met.

"Okay," Neil threw down his fork, "I can't take this anymore. Charlie apologise, and you two," he pointed to Cameron and Kathleen, "take turns talking it out."

"He already apologised and I forgave him," Kathleen said, pushing her pasta around the plate.

"You did?" Charlie blinked.

"I do," she sighed, "I implied it last night because I was too angry to be sure."

"You don't have to do the dare," he replied, "it wasn't right."

"Thanks," she smiled carefully, earning a small but genuine smile back.

"Good, now it's your turn Cameron," Neil prompted.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Charlie?" Neil nudged his friend expectantly.

"It was just a stupid fight, we have them all the time," he protested. Neil stayed silent and shot him a pointed look.

Charlie rolled his eyes, "sorry."

"Better?" Neil grinned, "Now let's get desert."

The rest of the afternoon passed by quickly, the rifts healed and the post-fight awkwardness faded with time. By early evening, the group lay out on the grass beneath a tree as they watched the sun set and laughed at jokes they wouldn't remember by tomorrow morning. They only separated when the bells chimed through the autumn darkness at seven o'clock.

"Oh no, I have to go," Kat whined, dusting off the blades of grass which Charlie and Knox had been throwing at her.

"Why?" asked Knox, "we still have another hour until curfew."

"Dinner with Nolan," she explained wearily.

"Have fun with that," Meeks smirked.

"I'm sure I will," she frowned.

The boys waved goodbye and she headed back towards the school. Dread settled in her stomach and her nervousness increased with every step closer to his office, and away from the comfort of her friends.

XXXX

Kathleen paused outside of the door. With a deep breath, she knocked, straightened her clothes and smoothed down her hair.

"Enter."

She pushed open the heavy door and stepped over threshold onto the thick, red carpet of her grandfather's opulent office. She felt slightly sick.

"Good evening," Mr Nolan inclined his head, "please be seated."

"Good evening, Grandfather," she said, gingerly taking the seat by his desk, directly opposite both him, and the rather large portrait of himself which hung on the wall behind his seat.

He finished the papers that he was examining and moved them aside so that they joined the stack to his right.

"How have your classes been this week? I have had positive reports but I would like to hear about it from your perspective."

"They have been going very well, thank you. Still slightly more challenging than what I am used to, however my study group has helped enormously," she adjusted her skirt before folding her hands delicately over her knee.

"Excellent. I know your Father was concerned about you attending Welton. I told him it was the right place for you," her grandfather smiled, "coffee?"

Kathleen nodded, "please."

"Have you called home yet this week?" He passed her a steaming cup.

"Thank you," she cradled the warm china, leaning into its heat. "I last called on Tuesday."

"And how is your Mother?"

"Very well. Her ladies club are attending the opera in London next week."

"My dear Cordelia always had taste, even as a girl. And your Father? I suppose cultural pursuits are not his idea of quality entertainment."

"He's staying home with the boys," she replied shortly, recognising the usual, veiled dig.

"Have they hired a nanny?"

"No."

"I have always told Cordelia she should get him to pay for a nanny. I see he still doesn't agree."

"Mother still prefers not to have a nanny," Kathleen said, sipping her coffee to hide the scowl threatening to adorn her features.

Nolan continued on as if she had not spoken, "I have been suggesting for years that the boys attend Welton. Your presence gives me hope, William is already fourteen and Neville must be approaching eleven soon."

"He turns eleven next September."

"So he does. The family must visit before you depart."

"I'm sure they will." She gripped the china handle of her cup tightly.

"Yes, yes they must. Now, I see that you have made a couple of friends, the Perry's boy, Mr Cameron, and Mr Overstreet are excellent choices. I assume they are part of this...study group you have mentioned?"

"Oh, yes," she replied, relieved at the change in topic.

"And Mr Anderson? He seems rather different from his brother. Jeffrey was quite the star during his time at Welton."

"Todd is doing well. He is slightly shy around new people, that's all."

"I'm glad to hear. it He needs to speak up if he expects to follow his brother to Ivy leagues," he said, "Have you thought about your own path after graduation?"

"Oh," Kathleen replied hesitantly, "I have been considering college, or possibly further education in Britain."

"I see," Mr Nolan set down his coffee cup, "I would perhaps consider securing a marriage. Education is very important, but making a life should be a priority for you. By no means am I encouraging you to be as hasty as your parents, young love can seem...intense. You need to take your time and remember that your future family will depend on this choice. One must be practical. Your time here may even be helpful."

Kathleen placed her coffee cup down with as much control as she could muster. Silently, she counted to ten.

"Of course, I shall consider your advice," she responded. "It's getting late and I have classes tomorrow, may we continue next week?"

"Oh, yes. Do not let me keep you," he rose from his desk and walked her to the door."Goodnight, Kathleen."

"Goodnight." She exited the room as quickly as possible. As soon as she rounded the corner she let her composure slip. She wanted to scream. Had her grandfather just implied that he took her in this term, with hopes that she would find a suitable husband?! She had known that suggesting college or university was risky, but in the end, it was her choice and her parents were luckily more than happy to help her find one. Nolan still was not over his daughter marrying a man he did not approve of. God help her brothers, William had evaded Welton so far, now it was Neville's turn. Being a girl had given her a surprising freedom, the ability choose her schooling.

Kathleen got into bed, anger still bubbling deep inside. It was 1959, for crying out loud! Nolan needed to get with the times and stay out of her personal life, or else he would drive her away the same way he did with her Mother. She missed her paternal grandparents. As she stared into the darkness she could picture their country house on the coast of inverness where she had spent every Christmas since she had been born. It was there that her grandad had taught her to read in his armchair by the fire in his library. She could almost smell the gingerbread houses they made with her granny in the kitchen, the scent of the Christmas tree which clung to her father's clothes after he wrestled it into the entrance hall, feel her mother's arms around her as opened her presents to the joyous laughter of her little brothers.

She succumbed to the pull of sleep at last, dreaming of warmth and love far away from the cold elegance of Welton.

* 'A poem . . . begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is never a thought to begin with.' – letter from Robert Frost to Louis Untermeyer, 1st January, 1916; The Letters of Robert Frost, Volume 1, 1886-1920 (2014), 410.