Hi guys!
Just a small chapter as I am trying to keep this story going and hoping to finish it. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: as before, I own nothing to do with the Worst Witch.
They stayed in the kitchen for another hour, neither of them speaking. Although Imogen knew that it had been hard for Constance to open up to her, she could sense that this was only a part of the story. The death of two close family members had obviously taken its toll on Constance but the pain went much deeper. Imogen wanted to ask, she wanted to tell her that it was ok to talk about it. To reassure her that whatever had happened, it was over now. But she couldn't. Imogen knew that to push Constance was to push her away. She'd known her for years now, taught at the same school as her, drunk tea in the staff room with her and, yet, this was the first time that Imogen had glimpsed the real person under that tight black dress.
Sure, Constance had displayed moments of humanity. She'd danced with them all after Amanda Honeydew had given the school back to Miss Cackle. She's shared hot drinks and laughter with the boys from Serge's camping trip. She'd shown that she had a softer side and Imogen knew that it had been Constance who'd replaced Mildred Hubble's school boots after she lost them in the woods. Imogen had also witnessed a more vulnerable side to Constance when Mistress Broomhead had visited this school. Despite all flashes of Constance's humanity, this was the first that Imogen had seen her as an ordinary person.
Imogen didn't know how to react to this ordinary woman in front of her. She knew how to react to the extraordinarily intelligent witch with an answer for everything. The extraordinarily powerful witch, who could scare even Agatha Cackle and her cronies. Imogen knew how to argue with her, how to challenge her and how to reason with her but she didn't know what to say now. In ordinary circumstances, with an ordinary friend, Imogen would reach out and touch them, lay a hand on their arm or some other small gesture of comfort but this was Constance Hardbroom and even in ordinary moments, was she really all that ordinary?
Constance didn't know what to say anymore. She had no words left, she was exhausted, exposed and emotionally raw. There were no words for what she was feeling. She knew she shouldn't have broken down like this. She was Constance Hardbroom, Potions Teacher and Deputy Headmistress of Cackle's Academy for Witches, she didn't break down like this. No matter what, she always kept her composure, she was the strong one. Constance suddenly wondered why she needed to be strong. Who was she being strong for? She'd always been strong for her sisters and niece but they didn't need her anymore. Celestia was far away in another castle and Carra and Lily, well they were gone. An inhuman display of strength wasn't going to bring them back. At this reminder that there was nothing she could do to help them, Constance was overcome with a fresh wave of pain. She'd been so strong for most of her life and where had it gotten her? Alone in a cold castle with colleagues who simply tolerate her, pupils who where terrified of her and two of the people she loved the most had died hundreds of miles away from her.
Just as she was thinking about all that she'd lost and never gained, Constance felt a gentle hand on her arm.