Chapter Four
Constance and Samuel sat on mismatching chairs, facing each other across the tiny, circular table. It had the air of a Viking shield, Constance mused as she traced the metal circle in its centre with the long fingers of her right hand. Around her, the few still there were tidying up after the group. The small room had emptied slowly as people left alone or in pairs every few minutes. Doing things this way took a lot longer than letting everyone out at once, but the risk of raising suspicions was too great. As large a group as theirs suddenly appearing from the cellar of the pub would send questions flying, something none of them could afford. Constance was conscious of Samuel's eyes studying her from across the table. She continued to fidget with the metal in front of her, avoiding his gaze as she thought about how best to answer his question.
"I don't know," she admitted eventually. Samuel frowned questioningly at her answer and she sighed, trying to find a better way to explain.
"I'm not sure why I came back. I've spent fifteen years trying to think of anything but..." Constance waved her hand to indicate their surroundings. "...anything but all this. I've been quite successful too. I have a job teaching now, at Cackle's Academy, the school on the hill."
Samuel nodded and it occurred to Constance that he probably knew this already. The man had an uncanny knack for finding out information when he wanted to. Sighing again, she continued.
"I think it was the news this morning that finally settled it. These riots and protests have been getting so frequent and hearing about the sheer numbers of people involved amazes me. I haven't been able to keep my mind off it all day." She looked up at Samuel for the first time since the start of her monologue. "I want to feel like I'm doing something. I want things to change, more than anything, and spending my life in a classroom marking tests certainly isn't going to make that happen."
Samuel raised a speculative eyebrow and seemed to consider his response carefully. Constance Hardbroom wasn't known for taking criticism lightly. Eventually he said, "I don't mean to mother you Constance... Certainly not. But are you sure this is the right thing to do? I mean..." He struggled for words as Constance's gaze intensified, giving him the strange sensation of shrinking under her stare. That look belonged perfectly to the powerful woman he had once known so well and the sight of it again banished any fears he had had for her.
Constance clicked her tongue testily and worked hard to keep herself from rolling her eyes at his words. "I don't mean running around like an imbecile waving rainbow flags and throwing Molotov cocktails at the police, Samuel." Samuel's face darkened with embarrassment at this. "I suppose I just came to tell you that I'm here if you need me. God knows you can't have too much help when you're involved in this business." Samuel grinned at the seriousness on her face and extended a calloused hand towards his companion. Constance shook it grimly, her face a mask of determination.
The last man and woman had finally left the cellar together and now Constance and Samuel sat alone under the pub. The room was a lot colder without the heat of the crowd and Constance pulled her cloak around her shoulders as she felt herself shiver. It was getting late. She stood up and fastened the cloak properly under her chin. "I'd best be getting back now. I'll need to get some sleep before trying to teach anything to those first years." She folded her arms in annoyance. "I've never seen such an incompetent class! And that's including the third years and the disaster that is Mildred Hubble."
Samuel chuckled softly at her anger and stood up to shake her hand once more. "It really is nice to see you again Constance. I hope this means we can keep in touch again. I'll send you updates of how we're doing every so often if you'd like?"
Constance nodded. "Yes, that would be good. It's been nice seeing you again too." The corners of her mouth turned upwards in a rare smile before she turned on her heel and left the cellar.
Imogen hardly heard the grumblings of the other customers as she pushed past them in her hurry to leave the pub. She was determined not to lose sight of the potions' mistress this time but her heart sank as she finally made it to the door, only to see an empty street before her yet again. The rain fell in sheets before her as she struggled to decide what to do. After looking hurriedly down both ends of the high street Imogen decided to try her luck back at the castle. Even if she wasn't heading there now the other woman would have to eventually. Her feet slid this way and that over the cobbled street as she set off for the path back to the school. Her fast walk soon became a stumbling run in an effort to evade the battering wind and rain. At the turn back onto the path Imogen stopped to wipe the water from her eyes as though surfacing from a swimming pool. Her vision was cleared just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of the cloaked figure about twenty metres ahead of her. Determination rushed through her, pushing her forward as she stumbled up the muddy slope. Her heart hammered in her ears, her lungs burning as she fought against the rain and wind. Just as she had almost made up the distance, Imogen's whole body was wrenched violently from below as her foot caught on an exposed root snaking out from the forest. Her cry as she fell alerted the potions' mistress who span 'round in shock, arms raised with powerful incantations ready at her fingertips. A flicker of surprise passed over her pale, stern features at the sight of the woman sprawled across the path before her.
"I was just coming back from my run."
The lie was as pathetic and mud soaked as the woman it came from. Imogen tried to collect herself as quickly as possible, bending down to massage her left ankle in an attempt to avoid her colleague's penetrating stare. As the silence stretched out between them she cursed herself for speaking so suddenly. Top Ways to Look Unquestionably Guilty, by Imogen Drill. She chanced a quick glance at Miss Hardbroom and was surprised to see her face creased with worry. The silence lasted another eternity and just as Imogen started to seriously worry about the danger of hypothermia, Constance spoke.
"How much do you know?"
Her voice was cracked, the words seeming forced out against her wishes.
Imogen didn't know how to respond. The surprise at seeing real fear on the older woman's face must have been obvious in her own features as Constance's usual stern demeanour slowly returned. The women regarded each other a while longer as the gym mistress' thoughts raced around her mind. The other woman's fear from moments ago was now gone but she highly doubted she could get away without answering. Finally, she decided on the truth. Another look at the powerful, graceful woman before her convinced Imogen she would see straight through any lie.
"I was coming back from my run..." she admitted slowly. "But about an hour ago really. And then I saw you walking down towards the village. I didn't know it was you at the time, so I followed..."
Constance made her displeasure known, curving her eyebrow into an elegant arch above her long, straight nose. Imogen's stomach contracted sharply. This really hadn't started well.
"It wasn't an invasion of your privacy or anything..." Stop digging! "I was just worried that the school could be in danger."
The other woman said nothing to this so she continued.
"And then when I reached the village you had already disappeared so I went for a pint and, well, that's it really."
Giving what she hoped looked like a natural shrug, Imogen averted her gaze and continued to massage her ankle which by now had started to swell.
"You saw me in the pub."
It wasn't a question. Imogen stiffened before slowly nodding her head. She didn't dare look up at the witch who so easily made her feel like a guilty school girl. A guilty school girl who hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. She felt the familiar anger rising in her chest. Who was this woman but a colleague? A colleague who certainly had no right to make her feel like this. Looking up, she opened her mouth to say precisely that, only to see the other woman striding down the path to where she still sat on the ground. A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet.
"Don't lie to me again."
Imogen winced as the threat was hissed in her ear. Biting back any retorts she may have had, she shivered. Never before had the younger woman seen such anger directed at her. Satisfied that her message had been received, Constance turned on her heel and strode back up the path, leaving Imogen to limp back to the castle alone.
Constance's chest tightened like a clamp as fear and anger fought out their battle inside her. Her first time back in fifteen years and she had been so close to getting caught! With Cackle's Academy now in sight, she stopped to lean against the wall as the familiar panic clutched at her chest. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to calm herself and ease her breathing. The thought of Miss Drill, who couldn't be very far behind her now, finding her in the grip of a panic attack was less than welcome. As a distraction, Constance turned her gaze to the castle above her. The towering building was seen by few at night but it was in the darkness that Constance found it the most majestic. The dark walls and turrets seemed impossibly tall as they faded into the night sky, the line between the two almost imperceptible in most places. Almost all windows were now invisible against the stone with only the odd burning light here and there, as if left as reminders that the castle was indeed inhabited. Constance clicked her tongue as she noticed one of these windows was the library. It wasn't the worst place for a student to be out of hours but nevertheless, homework should be done in the girls' free time, not at the last minute. That's what they were given so much free time for after all. The night was clear and cold once more as the storm finally moved on and despite the ebb in Constance's panic she leaned against the wall a little longer, savouring the feel of the cold, clean wind on her face. Cackle's Accademy. It had a calming effect on her, the sort of feeling she assumed most people must associate with home. With that in mind Constance rejoined the path and made her way back to the school. She quickened her pace, deciding to head straight for the kitchen where she would make herself a calming cup of tea before bed. Constance turned the corner into the castle grounds and all thoughts of tea vanished at the sight of a very familiar, displeased figure in front of her.