Ellen sighed as she dipped her spoon into the fishy stew in front of her. The stark silence that filled the dining room today was a far cry from the buzz that occupied every lunchtime without fail during term. The invariable chatter of the girls, the excitement, news from the girls' homes shared whether expected or not - was nowhere to be seen today. As she glanced around, Ellen wondered how on earth the same room that she'd spent meal-times in for almost two years could seem so different when it was bereft of people.

Her exam this morning had gone smoothly, at least. That was no issue, Ellen thought. She wasn't a fan of dwelling on exams if she could help it, not since the attack-of-the-nerves that had landed her in the san last year. However, trying not to dwell on anything was always harder when you were alone and unoccupied.

None of the other recently-former third-form girls were there as they were all away or at home for the hols. Ellen would've been back at home too, but it had been agreed soon after the end of term, rather hurriedly, that Ellen would return to school for three days during the summer in order to sit the school CERTs…a year early. Today had been her first, and tomorrow and the day after would be the other two. She would sit them alongside two girls who had missed the regular CERTs with illness. Ellen wondered where they had in fact disappeared to.

Lunch was some kind of fish stew and a cheese-sandwich which had been prepared by Matron in the morning. Unsurprisingly, her cooking wasn't as good as Cook's, but of course Ellen didn't think about that. Three meals a day didn't betray ill thought. With that much, a person couldn't be truly unhappy. Or shouldn't be.

Yes, Matron was still here over the hols, just like last year and presumably every other year. As soon as Ellen's exam had finished at 12 o'clock, Matron had intercepted her outside of the classroom and told her to go to the dining hall and get herself the stew and sandwich whilst the stew was still warm. Matron had clearly been off somewhere - probably the village - with her handbag and jacket on (the Cornish weather could turn rapidly). Ellen had made her way to the dining hall in all its emptiness, collected the food from the front table and sat down in the spot she normally sat at.

Despite her best efforts, she started to think about what lay ahead. She was more than happy to be moving up a year and going straight into fifth form - but until now she hadn't stopped and pondered losing the wonderful friends she'd made over the last two years. Ending friendships was one of life's certainties - but to feel it looming over you was punishing. She'd finally found a bunch who embraced her so readily despite not fitting in one bit. Would she find another Darrell, another Sally, another Jean?

Her deep thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps from outside the dining room entrance. It wasn't Matron as she couldn't be back so soon, and Miss Grayling never sounded like that anyway. Ellen sat up and eyed the door as the footsteps grew louder and louder towards the door that she had left slightly open.

Through the doorway - with heavy intent - came a familiar young man dressed in what looked like grey dungarees over a white shirt and thick boots, holding a large tin of something and a paintbrush.

He quickly saw Ellen sitting about seven meters away to his half-right, opposite the large window. She was gazing towards him unsubtly - having clearly heard his loud footsteps.

"Ellen!" he let out with surprise.

"Hello Ron" she replied, having taken a second to confirm it was him.

He made his way towards the far side - or front - of the room slightly awkwardly and started searching for something against the wall. "Apparently this wood needs varnishing" he explained, almost to the wall, but loudly enough for Ellen to hear.

"I see" Ellen affirmed, wondering whether or not to stand up and stop eating whilst Ron carried out his labour. She opted not to. She watched him run his finger down a part of the wall, looking quite confused, then dip the paintbrush into the tin, let it run dry, and then brush the bit of the wall that he'd pinpointed.

"Sorry if I smell like fish" Ron blurted out.

Ellen grinned "No, I reckon that must be the stew"

"Ah, good" Ron stepped back from the wall and looked at a doorway-wide section of it from the bottom to a meter up, before moving to his right and applying some varnish there, too. He then stepped back with a bemused look on his face, scanning every square inch of the wall in front of him. "Strange…" he uttered "Matron said that it couldn't wait" then shrugged.

Ellen squinted, but couldn't see any scratches from where she sat. She asked loudly "Was it definitely that wall?"

Ron panned round towards Ellen, wide-eyed. "Yes. She said this wall was covered in scratches which needed t' be sorted out, and then I could head home for today" He took one last look at the stretch of wall that he'd been focussed on, then shrugged and turned away from it, presumably to head out.

A thought struck Ellen. An uncomfortable one.

"She was off somewhere - she left before I could ask why" Ron continued "you…you know how she doesn't listen sometimes."

Ellen simply stared into her stew.

"Is there a fly in it?"

She looked up, slightly bewildered "Sorry? Oh…no"

Ron looked back at her with a combination of puzzlement and concern. He had clearly sensed that something was bothering her, and Ellen sensed this in turn.

She tried to force the words out, but struggled to. Taking in a sharp breath, she declared: "We're all very sorry you were arrested"

It was out, at least. She didn't look up at Ron to see his reaction, but he stayed quiet for a few seconds. Just as Ellen decided to look up, he assured her "It's OK Ellen, I wasn't badly treated or anything like that"

"All the same…we…we should've believed you straightaway and…"

Ellen grappled for words as Ron's eyes seemed to narrow. Maybe Ellen was imagining it, but she detected a sourness take hold of the boy as he stood rigidly, still some meters away. It occurred to her that Ron probably didn't know what had truly happened that day. How could it've been that one minute, he'd told Darrell the bombshell that Miss Johnson was the thief, and only an hour or two later, he was being bundled into a police car on suspicion of the thefts? He likely had no idea that Gwen had refused to believe Miss Johnson's guilt and speculated about Ron - that Darrell had stood firmly by him - and of course that Ellen herself had folded and voted against his innocence.

"I knew they'd find me innocent - the officers basic'ly said once we left school-grounds that they knew it wasn't me. Any criminal mastermind would've coached me better than to hide stuff exactly where I worked every day"

Ellen inhaled with some relief.

"But…" Ron was looking down at the floor now "My parents could've done without that phone call. Mother…well" Ron looked back up at Ellen and forced a bit of a smile "wily Miss Johnson was a step ahead of you"

Now Ellen stared back hesitantly. Any exam fatigue she'd felt left her temporarily as she pondered Ron's probable anguish. Ron didn't in fact know the full story, though.

It appeared that he simply thought the girls had been too slow to call the police and Miss Johnson had called them unprompted. He seemingly hadn't found out anything to do with Gwen raising her suspicions about him to Miss Johnson after the class court had "established" that Miss Johnson was outside Miss Grayling's office when the art had been removed.

Perhaps it was best that he didn't find out. Hopefully Gwen had learnt her lesson - hopefully. Ellen certainly had. With any luck, the matter could be considered closed.

Ron seemed to sense her discomfort. As it happened, he wanted to move on too. "What are you doing here by the way?" he asked softly.

Ellen's gazed had lowered pensively, but she looked straight up at Ron "I had one of my CERTs this morning"

Ron nodded agreeably, then paused "Why didn't you sit them with all the others?"

Ellen tried not to grin "We didn't know I would be doing them in the Spring. I was supposed to be doing them next year"

"Next year…" Ron pondered "Hang on - you're…doing them a year early?!"

Ellen made sure to look back down at her stew "Yes."

Unbeknownst to her, Ron looked towards her in amazement. "Well, they don't want to pay another year of your scholarship then!" He quipped, then chuckled to himself.

Ellen momentarily froze but kept staring at her stew. Of course, Ron was only joking, but it was a very pointed thing to bring up.

"Oh, I didn't…" Ron must've noticed some irritation radiating from Ellen "My family…"

"No Ron" Ellen could see the boy was about to tie himself in knots "It's fine. I suppose you're right"

That didn't seem to reassure Ron too much as he said nothing but didn't smile or anything like that.

"I'd better head off" Ron announced "Lunch will be ready soon, I think it's boiled potatoes today" He started turning, taking the tin in both hands.

Ellen started to worry. "Ron, if we don't meet again…" she shot up out of her chair, but hadn't planned what she'd say next "Good luck with everything" and held out her arm for a handshake, leaning over the table.

Ron stood still on the spot, noticing a bit more gravity. He eyed Ellen's arm for at least a second, then glanced up at her.

Ellen wracked her brain for the right words or gestures. There was never a good way to say goodbye for ever, so this awkward display would have to do.

Ron breathed in and pulled out the chair opposite Ellen. He then placed the tin on the table, sat down and smiled.

Ellen followed suit, glad to be able to say a smooth goodbye.

"Ellen," Ron ventured "Have you enjoyed it here?"

Her face dropped for a split-second, but she knew what he was asking "Yes. A great deal" and cracked a smile, glancing up at him.

"Because…the other girls…" Ron tried to find the right words "they're wonderful - but they're not…they don't know how things are"

Ellen looked down once again at the now-familiar wavy patterns in the oak table just in front of her bowl. She knew he'd say something like that. He needn't have bothered wording it so carefully.

He supplemented "But obviously, that's not their fault"

"No" Ellen agreed "In fact, in my first month, I think, the other girls collected a hamper of things they each didn't need and offered it to me"

"Blimey!"

"Jean knew straightaway. The rest of them then realised. I was actually quite angry. They…" Ellen desperately tried to hit the right balance.

"They cared more about you having the right things than how you'd feel"

"Well…yes. They thought I'd just be glad. It probably didn't occur to them that I'd be irritated. It wouldn't, I suppose"

Ellen continued looking down at the table as Ron looked at her sympathetically.

"Jean…" he pondered "thoughtful Jean"

"She is" Ellen agreed, then sighed "I'll try to write to her often"

A brief silence fell on them before Ron decided to tear it down.

"I sometimes think I should invite one or two of them over" he said "Of course, I never would. Mother would have a fit. But I'd watch them as they realised just how different things are for us. How cold it gets before we chuck the coal on the fire each evening, how much it smells if we just ignore it, how tired we all are after each day, how much time goes into…everything. Even Darrell and Sally would freeze with shock, perhaps just for a moment. We'd see if it changed them. We'd see if…" Ron clearly didn't want to finish that thought.

Ellen knew exactly what he meant. The girls were so kind and caring - except Gwen of course, and even she was often fine individually. Ellen would happily spend a full day with any of them now, but…what if they really knew what life was like for…most people? Would that be a revealing moment? She bitterly hoped not, and in fact she'd be very happy if she never found out.

The silence continued around them, but there was no disagreement. Their fond opinions of the girls couldn't distract them from their nagging feelings of unwelcome disdain.

Ellen opted to discuss something else; "Who buys the fish off you once you've caught them?"