A Decent Education

A Decent Education

The Cunninghams looked up at Derrymont School as they walked up the small hill towards its entrance. It was an old building that had been refurbished several times, so that sections of the original iron cladding were still visible underneath the modernised concrete.

“Doesn’t look very fun,” Elsa Cunningham said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not meant to be fun,” Davy, her father, shot back, “it’s got the best Ofsted reports in the whole county three times in a row.”

“But what if…”

“All right you two,” Claire, the mother, interjected, “let’s present a united front. Don’t want them thinking we’re common!”

Davy, running his fingers over a balding head that had once been blonde, nodded his compliance.

The entrance door half opened, a few flecks of newish red paint dropping off as it did so. In front of them dressed all in black was Ula Mules, the headteacher. She was a woman of average height, but somehow still imposing. Possessed of a bob haircut without a single hair out of place, she smiled thinly before extending her hand.

“Welcome,” Ula Mules said, pausing unnaturally. “To Derrymont School. My name is Ms. Mules. I’m the headteacher here. I will give you a brief tour of the school, before we repose to my office for a closer discussion.”

“Thank you so much! We are very happy to be here,” Claire said, shaking her hand. Davy was convincingly playing along with her words, Elsa less so.

“Thank you,” Davy mustered.

Elsa shook the extended hand without speaking, while realising Ms. Mules stared right at her throughout. She smelled paint, mixed with what she thought was bleach. Ms. Mules hand was cold, but not unpleasantly so. In fact, the handshake helped her feel more relaxed.

“Please, let me show you around our little world,” Ms. Mules said, opening her palm to escort the family inside. Claire went first, followed by Davy adjusting his dark blue tie from side to side and lastly Elsa. She looked out back down the hill as she entered. The sun was strangely low for this time of day she thought, with a grey sky with a few shards of light peeking through. She considered how unusual it looked, as the door closed behind her.

They were in a long corridor, with classrooms ahead on both the left and right. Ms. Mules began walking at a deliberate pace. “You will see here first the Year 2 students. They are learning Mathematics.”

Claire investigated the first classroom on the left. She was struck by how clean a modern the room was, with a full LCD screen on the rear wall, with the teacher—a woman who almost seemed too young to be a teacher—standing to the left of it. As she spoke, students repeated the answer to her question regarding multiplication in unison. “Wow, impressive!” Claire found herself saying.

“How old is that teacher?” Davy asked without thinking, adjusting his tie. Claire shot him a look.

“Like many of our staff, Ms. Moore is a former alumna of this very school,” Ms. Mules said, without answering the question.

“Wow, you must build a lovely home here for your students for them to come back!” Claire said, genuinely impressed.

“We like to think of our little world like the Hotel California.”

“Sung about by Eagles?” Davy asked, adjusting his tie. Claire shot him another look, this time more insistent.

“You can check out any time you like. But you will never leave.”

Elsa was too young to understand what the three adults had referenced, but she did notice something about the classroom that her parents had not. There was not one pen out of place. No one fiddling or chewing gum or chatting absentmindedly. It was like no classroom she had seen in her previous schools. Elsa ran her hand across her head and realized she was sweating.

“Okay if we move on? Great.” Ms. Mules moved her arm to usher them towards the next corridor. Claire followed first, with Davy once again adjusting his tie side to side. Elsa stayed a moment longer and stared into the glass front of the classroom. She assumed they could see her from inside, but no one so much as looked up.

“This is our Library,” Ms. Mules said as she opened one side of a large double-door, painted black. Elsa—who had caught up by now with her parents and their guide—stared wide-eyed at the contents within. There were three tiers to the library. The ground floor was two rows of desks with new looking laptops arranged on each, with well-organized charge cables connected to the left-hand side. The second tier was full of paperbacks, uncountable in quantity from the floor to what Elsa judged to be three meters in height. She could smell the dust of the old books from where she stood on the threshold, and it gave her a momentary feeling of great excitement. The third tier of the library, up a narrow stairway from the second which Elsa perceived as too narrow for most adults, were myriad hard back books—many without covers and she judged ancient in nature—at least as tall as the previous tier’s paperbacks. Elsa stared at it for a long moment, taking in the scale of what she saw.

“Wow,” Claire said almost involuntarily. Davy nodded.

“Can I…?” Elsa blurted, before stopping herself.

Ms. Mules whirled around. “Why of course my dear, go ahead.” She clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “We may continue our tour and send for you shortly.”

Elsa walked through the door. She bypassed the computers and headed straight to the second floor. There, she began to keenly thumb through various dusty paperbacks. They had a well-fingered, yellowing copy of Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, which she spent several minutes avidly perusing.

Eventually, Elsa happened upon a yellowing book, with many of the pages turned over entitled “Derrymont Through the Years”. It detailed the history of the town. As she idly skimmed through the pages she was startled by the fact the town had been burnt down during the Great Plague and then completely rebuilt.

As she continued indolently thumbing through the pages, Elsa encountered the founding of the school. It was old, dating back close to 150 years. There was an old black and white photograph on the page, captioned ‘Derrymont School, staff and pupils 1912.’ The students were all dressed in old fashioned shirts or blazers, shorts and culottes. There was a woman in the backrow, with a different haircut and the unmistakable piercing eyes, that looked just like Ms. Mules.

Elsa went to make her way to the next level but hesitated on the stairs. She briefly caught the sleeve of her jumper on the banister of the staircase and pulled it away. Thinking better of advancing further as her parents and the headteacher might be starting to miss her, she turned round and made her way down the stairs.

Once back at the edge of the library entrance, Elsa looked down at her wrist to check the time. She realised with both annoyance and concern that when snagging her clothes, it had pulled her watch loose and it must have dropped in the library. Cursing her luck, she made her way with trepidation back towards the staircase.

Making her way up the staircase, Elsa touched the banister. It was cold, though not an inviting cold like the headteacher’s hand. There was a heavy sound like the wind blowing through a bough of trees, then she understood it was her own breathing. Steadying herself, Elsa took the last step to the top of the steps. At last, she retrieved her watch from the ground.

Elsa began to ascend the last, narrow staircase to the third tier, almost unconsciously. She smirked involuntarily as she did so, reminded of Fliss the main character in Room 13, who was carried forward with terror by feet controlled by some unseen force. Elsa had loved that book when she read it. But she considered this and knew that an ambivalent mix of fear was counterweighed by an overwhelming dose of curiosity.

The upper tier was darker than the other two floors had appeared. There was a skylight that had long surrendered to the dust contained in and on the innumerable volumes of coverless books. The smell of the dust was what struck her first. She couldn’t fully place it, but it somehow reminded her of earth, something unmoving. Elsa pored over several volumes of the books. Many of them were written in languages she couldn’t decipher. The odd one she made out what it was, maybe Latin or a similar language? But she stood little chance of digesting more than beyond an odd word here or there.

After a considerable time and no longer worrying about the ire of the adults, Elsa struck upon several volumes that whilst they were no less covered in dust, she could discern the titles. ‘Derrymont 1925’ one read, ‘Derrymont 1947’ another. They were yearbooks of the school, though in no semblance of order.

She flipped through them fervour, almost obsessively. In every volume, with the unmistakable piercing eyes and a gradually changing haircut, was a woman with an uncanny resemblance to Ms. Mules.

And then at last, she was frozen. With surprise? With revulsion? With hopelessness? For there in two identical almost volumes, one from 1955 and another from 85, were two little girls, about her age who looked almost identical. And both looked nearly exactly, unmistakably like… her. * Davy scratched at the insistent stubble on his chin, looking at some of the various trophies in the cabinet conveniently located in the corridor that led to the canteen, “Something about it I don’t like.”

“Must you be so critical of everything?” Claire shot back.

“I’m not, I just think it’s off that…”

“Odd that what?”

“So many of the staff went to school here,”

“Your point being?”

“Well, it’s not usual,”

“I think what’s not usual is your attitude to our daughter’s education,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know just what it means!”

“No, why don’t you tell me, eh?”

“Well, it’s always me who has to take the lead on these things!”

“That’s not fair,” he sighed, “I do care, you know?”

“Sometimes,” she paused, “you have a funny way of…”

“Anyway, let’s stop arguing. She could be back any moment…”

“Yes, don’t argue in front of the headteacher. We at least want a chance of Elsa getting in!”

“But why this school? I mean, why do you insist?”

“Do you ever listen to anything I say?”

“Of course I do, it’s just…”

“You really don’t remember…”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to…

“I told you more than once!” Claire came closely to him now, visibly annoyed.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to rem…”

She interrupted him, “I went here myself.”

As Davy went to reply, Ms. Mules returned. “Shall we go to get a bite to eat in the canteen? I will also have Elsa sent for. She seems to have spent an eon in that library!”

Ms. Mules whispered inaudibly to a prefect who was in the door of the lunchroom, and she scuttled off towards the library compliantly. With a gentle wave of her right arm, she ushered Davy and Claire towards the servers in the canteen.

“What would you like?” the server asked. Davy observed that once again, the woman behind the counter did not appear that much older than the girls who were eating quietly at rowed tables. He glanced over the menu.

“Shepherd’s Pie, please,” Davy said without enthusiasm. The server began spooning a generous portion out of the large tray in front of her.

“Not from there, from the staff food!” Ms. Mules interjected, a modicum of emotion entering her voice for the first time.

“The same please,” Claire said, not noticing the change in the headteacher’s tone.

The three of them made their way to the only empty table in the canteen, which was bare except for 4 knives and forks in front of 4 large wooden chairs. Davy observed that the chairs seemed identical to those the children were sitting on, just proportioned for adults.

The prefect returned momentarily with Elsa, who was a step behind. She looked quite pale.

“You alright? You were in that library for a long while. Know how you love your books!” Davy said.

 

“I…,” Elsa began, understanding that Ms. Mules was scrutinising her once again, “yes, fine. It was… fascinating.”

“Splendid,” Ms. Mules replied, never shifting her unstinting gaze.

The group of four ate their meals largely in silence, with Davy and Elsa momentarily exchanging a knowing glance. Claire’s eyes shot back between the pair, as if in disapproval.

“That was delicious,” Claire said optimistically.

The others did not react, with Ms. Mules continuing her perusal of Elsa. Whatever her actual thoughts of the young girl, the headteacher was expert at keeping them hidden from the object of her scrutiny.

“Let’s make our way to my office for a more... personal discussion,” Ms. Mules said, gesturing with one hand towards the far corner of the canteen.

Claire stood first to follow, Davy also followed but more slowly. Elsa was obligated to follow, but she again felt parallels with stories she had read where the characters are drawn somewhere against their will, as if their body is under the control of some intangible force. As she followed, she vowed to herself that whatever happened, she wouldn’t be intimidated or manipulated into doing anything against her will. She knew what she had seen, felt she knew what it meant and would hold to that thought tightly.

They made their way down a short corridor, painted almost a battleship grey. Ms. Mules bid them enter with her familiar sweeping gesture, the small oaken door seeming to move of its own volition.

There were three seats arranged immediately upon entry, identical to those from the canteen with two large either side and one Elsa assumed was intended for her in the centre. The room itself was austere, except for a large oak desk in the darkest of woods, with a few ornate faces carved into it. Elsa couldn’t decide if the faces were beautiful or ugly. The chair behind the desk was made of the same wood as the others, although significantly taller.

For a moment recalling the odour of earth from the library, Elsa discreetly sniffed the air. What struck her instantly was not the similarity with the library, nor the strong smell of aging wood she expected from that opulent desk that formed the centrepiece of the room. Instead, she caught the smell of nothing. Not even a fragment. Elsa thought this to be very strange. Just for a second, a fragment of a second, she felt afraid.

“Please, be seated,” Ms. Mules prompted them.

Davy sat first with Elsa in the middle and Claire to her right.

 

“Thank you again for making time to see us, I know you must be very busy,” Claire said with almost artificial enthusiasm, looking over at Davy who tried to gather a smile.

“A pleasure.” Ms. Mules took out a pair of glasses that Elsa judged to be oddly old fashioned and placed them on the end of her nose. “As always.” The headteacher took in each of them for a few seconds with restraint, before continuing. “So, what makes you want to join our community?”

Claire glanced at her husband, who gave the subtlest of shrugs. Elsa was staring quite intently at the desk in front of her. “We feel that Elsa could be a genuinely top student if she applied herself, but she isn’t push… isn’t sufficiently challenged at her current school.”

“I see,” Ms. Mules said with an encouraging nod.

Claire took this as a prompt to continue.“Her attention often wanders and I worry she might not achieve her potential.”

“Yes, I could see how that might be a concern for you.”

“And we know that this is such a great school, so you know…”

“Yes?”

“We really want her to get a decent education.”

“A decent education, yes.”

“So we came here with the hope that that would happen…”

“I see, yes that makes sense.”

“And we’d find a place where Elsa could get a decent education.”

“A decent education, yes indeed.”

“A decent education.” Claire drew in breath. “A decent education just like me.”

The most parsimonious of smiles crossed Ms. Mules’ lips, as she said softly, “Very good.” Elsa shot her mother an involuntary glance, as she finally understood.

“And you, my dear? Why do you wish to join our community?”

“I…”

 

“Speak properly, Elsa,” Claire chided.

“I really…”

“Take your time, we are all friends here,” the headteacher assured.

“Come on Elsa.” Claire’s impatience was evident.

“She’s nervous, encourage her,” Davy offered.

Elsa steeled herself. For a moment she glanced down at the table again and thought for a moment she saw an impression of her mother’s face, before she blinked, the light changed and it passed. “I really… don’t want to.”

“Elsa!” Claire blurted.

“Let her speak,” Davy said supportively but weakly.

“I admire your honesty, my dear. It is… refreshing. But tell me, didn’t you find our library intriguing?”

“Yes, I… suppose…”

“And don’t you want the best for yourself in the future?”

“I’d never really thought, but yes…”

“And isn’t a decent education going to help you with that?”

“It could… I’m not really…” Elsa glanced down at the desk again and for a moment in the half-light of the office’s gloam, a shadow danced across the oak that she thought bore an image of her own face. Was it her anxiety playing tricks? An illusion? Or something genuinely sinister?

“No, I don’t want this! I don’t want any of this!”

“Elsa! Sit down!” Claire exclaimed.

Ms. Mules looked ahead impassively, “It’s fine, I love that you are passionate and express yourself.”

Elsa slumped down into the chair. She put her hands on the armrests to steady herself, but for a moment it felt like the armrests had asserted themselves to trap her in place. The feeling passed, as she took a large breath of tasteless air to try to hide her encroaching anxiety.

Davy gave Elsa a scan. It was a brief look not of disapproval or distaste, but of pride. She took ephemeral strength from it, to raise her eyes from the floor to the waiting headteacher’s blue eyes, unfleeting in their quizzical stare.

“Your passion can make you a genuine asset here, if channeled correctly,” the headteacher opined, never lifting her gaze from Elsa’s.

“But in the library I saw…”

“What did you see?” Ms. Mules interjected quickly, cutting off Elsa’s train of thought.

“I saw… pictures… Pictures of…”

“Yes?”

“Of you… Over so many… years…”

“That’s likely my dear, I’ve been here for so long.”

“But they were so long ago. Impossibly long ago!”

“Impossibly long ago? Not only such passion, but a brilliant imagination!”

“But… but… fifty years ago, eight years ago, you were there!”

“Me? Are you sure it was me? Perhaps it has been such a busy day, your mind is playing tricks?”

“I’m… certain… it was you!”

“Surely not, my dear. Some relative, perhaps? My family has a… long history, in this community.”

Elsa stared down, briefly doubting her conviction. Looking into that dark desk, she swore she saw yet another face. This time at first calm, then friendly, then at last cruel. Staring back not just into her eyes, but into her heart, into her mind. As if it knew. Not just knew who she was, but what she thought. What she would do next. Understood. Anticipated. Manipulated.

“Elsa, please! You’re embarrassing me!” Claire spat almost cruelly.

“It’s all right, I admire honesty,” Ms. Mules said, her eyes never moving from Elsa.

“I think we should bring the meeting to an end. Elsa’s obviously not feeling well,” Davy said in an attempt to help.

“Do you know how hard it is to get into this school? All I want is her to receive a decent education!” Claire blurted, fixing her disapproving eyes on her husband.

Ms. Mules looked at each of them in turn, the slightest smile curling the corners of her lips. It crossed Davy’s mind that there was a slightly cruel hint to the movement of her mouth, almost like she was enjoying the events in her office.

Elsa, for her part, had been transfixed by the desk, barely even hearing the argument commencing around her. The dancing of the only crack of light from a high, curtained window had shown faces, fleeting, as if taunting her. She swore she had seen the faces of some of the teachers. Her father, her mother. And at last herself. She doubted everything now. Her mind. Her love for her parents. And her hope of breaking away from here.

“Please do not worry, Elsa’s creativity and imagination will fit in wonderfully here, I am sure,” Ms. Mules assured Claire, whilst never lifting her eyes from Elsa.

“But I…” Elsa began, but the words got lost.

“Yes, you will make a great addition here. Your personal qualities and family history are just what is needed.”

“I saw…”

“My dear, in the dark, our minds can sometimes play tricks. The library is old. But in time, you will know everything you seek.”

“Everything?”

“But of course. That is the goal of a decent education.”

“I don’t know, I…”

“If you want to know more, then surely you have to come and learn here?”

“I don’t know, I…”

“Well, why don’t you take some time to think about it as a family? I am satisfied that you are a great fit for the decent education we provide and will hold a place for you.”

“That’s great, thank you so much,” Claire responded.

Davy shook his head at the robotic response from his wife.

*

The family descended the hill towards the gate to leave the school. Elsa looked up at the sky as she walked. The grey that had been shot with a shard of light an hour or so earlier had given way to a deep, brownish colour. The sun had disappeared and night was approaching. The grass on the school field was freshly cut and she expected the accompanying pleasantness of the smell, but there was nothing. Her father was silent with his head down as they made their way towards the exit, as her mother chattered away.

“A decent education at last! This will be the making of us!”

 Elsa took one last look up at the building on the hill, the iron cladding and concrete both now dark in the fading light. A wind touched her face, unpleasant, shocking like a body jumping into ice water. It seemed to carry a voice, familiar, unsettling, certain, to tantalise and taunt her ears:

“See you in September.”