Chapter 5
5
JONATHAN
I consider dressing for dinner, but that would be silly, wouldn’t it? It’s not like I’m dressed informally. I’m wearing a nice tweed jacket and waistcoat with my favorite paisley tie over a green oxford shirt that matches my eyes. Despite Zane’s barb, I like these clothes. I like how I look in them. But I pace in front of the mirror, straightening, tweaking, buttoning, unbuttoning and generally fidgeting for ages. I change the jacket for a blazer. I run my fingers over the expensive fabric, soothing myself with its soft texture. Then take it off, hang it up, and change back into the tweed.
This is fine. This is okay. This is not the thing that’s going to get me thrown in Scottish prison or broken in half. No one will care what I’m wearing. De Villeneuve was in a henley with jeans for goodness’ sake.
It’s a relief when it’s finally nearly seven. I follow the long passage back towards the control room, but pause outside the room he indicated would be used as a classroom. Curiosity gets the better of me and I nudge the door open.
It’s like this space was designed by someone whose sole knowledge of a school came from reading Victorian novels. Two rows of wooden desks stand before a blackboard, which is flanked by one of those big, brown, antique globes that probably still has labels like Siam and Constantinople. Dust motes dance in weak light coming in from three large windows that match the one in my room.
I adore everything about this.
Dad would too.
“Quaint, isn’t it?”
I spin to find a darkly handsome man standing behind me. He’s in tight-fitting sportswear and is conventionally attractive in the same way Zane is, but he has none of Zane’s warmth. Something about his pointy chin makes me think of a snake.
“It’s very classic,” I agree.
The man rakes his eyes over me. “You’ll fit right in.”
My stomach tightens. Maybe I should have changed. “Are you…” I try to imagine what role a man like this might play on staff. “Adam said his assistant’s name was Meredith, am I to take it you’re not…?”
His smile sharpens. “Not Meredith, no.” He offers me his hand. “Geoff. Head of public relations.”
I shake. “Oh, I see. Is this all your project then? With the children?”
“Would be if ‘Adam’ wasn’t so beastly.” He tilts his head in the direction of the control room and we start walking in that direction. “No one calls him that, you know? Adam. You have to admit, he doesn’t look like an Adam .”
“What do you call him?”
“Beast. He’s been Beast as long as I’ve known him. What’s your story, Jonathan?”
“No story,” I answer too quickly. “I—I’m a teacher, as you probably know.”
“You’re just going to go with that, then?”
My heart stutters. “Wha— what do you mean?”
“There you are!” A woman in a finely-tailored mauve suit approaches. She’s tall with dark skin and short curls. Her kitten heels clack on the hardwood. At least I’m not as overdressed as I feared. “Geoffrey, I hope you’re behaving?”
“Never.”
She holds out her hand to me. “Mister Belle, I’m Meredith.” Her voice is soft but her shake is firm. “I apologize for not being available to greet you earlier, I had some urgent paperwork to see to.”
Geoff scoffs and I know at once that whatever she was busy with, it wasn’t paperwork. She skillfully ignores him.
As we continue onwards, Geoff falls into step. “She’s been anxiously awaiting your arrival. She’s had to help Lily-Iris with the brats.”
We’re passing the grand piano and just then it twangs and plays a long, wavering note. I jump. So does Geoff and I hear him mutter, “This fucking place” under his breath.
Meredith looks a little alarmed herself, and she pulls at her blazer as if to straighten it. But sounds perfectly calm when she says, “Little wonder the strings are starting to go after all this time. Must be the weather.”
It’s a tragedy that such a fine instrument would sit unused. I feel inexplicably sad for whoever the mystery designer was, who loved this place so much and then lost it. The thought of losing my own old home makes my stomach ache, even though I know that selling it would be the answer to all our problems. Certainly a more reasonable solution than this.
Geoff casts another wary look at the piano. “This weather could make anyone snap. Hope you like rain, Teach. Because, let me tell you, this place is rain on rain on rain. And sometimes, if you’re real lucky, you get snow, sleet, hail, thunder, lighting or a blizzard.”
“Gosh, blizzards? Really? Does that happen a lot?”
Geoff rolls his eyes. “I was being sarcastic about the lucky part. No need to sound so excited.”
We continue downstairs into the foyer and Meredith leads us left into another wallpapered passage, then left again through double doors into a steamy kitchen that smells like garlic, rosemary and roasting chicken.
The room is huge, with stone floors and exposed rafters. There’s a fire roaring in a grate and the man who drove me here is sitting at a big wooden table with a mug between his hands, talking to a young woman with bright red hair pinned back in a tight bun.
“You’ve met Angus,” Meredith says, gesturing to the driver. He gives me a nod of greeting. “And?—”
The woman leaps up, rushes around the table and thrusts her hand at me. “They ca' me Lily-Iris.”
“This is Lily-Iris,” Meredith finishes her sentence.
“That’s pretty. Two flowers.” I take her hand and she shakes it vigorously.
She says something to me in Scottish and laughs heartily. I have no idea what she’s saying so I smile and hope that’s enough.
“Lily-Iris is our housemaid and nanny. Angus, her father, is the groundskeeper,” Meredith says.
“And I’m Ray. A drop of golden sun.” A round-faced Black man emerges from the steam. He’s nearly as large as Adam, his pink t-shirt stretching over bulging biceps covered in tattoos. “I’m the cook.” He takes my hand and shakes warmly. As he does, I notice the tattoo on his right arm in more detail. It’s a pair of purple and yellow dragons tussling in the shape of a yin-yang. Maybe not ‘man’, then. Masc-presenting.
“That’s so funny, I was just referencing The Sound of Music to Adam and he had no idea what I was talking about.”
Ray exchanges a look with Meredith.
“Yeah, it’s fucking weird,” Geoff says. Ah, right, no one calls him Adam. Geoff collapses into one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You got any more of that coffee?”
Ray rolls their eyes (is that the right pronoun?) and gestures over their shoulder with their thumb. “In the pot, hun. I’m not your servant.”
“Seriously? I just sat down.”
“So pick your lazy ass up again.” They shake their head and ask me. “Would you like some coffee? Have you eaten since you left the village? Do you need a snack? Oh! Do you have any dietary preferences?”
“Um, no, thanks. To all of the above.”
“Oh good. I suddenly realized, I’ve made chicken stew. Maybe you were a vegan. I’d feel so embarrassed. Sit, darling. Why are you hovering?”
The last is addressed to Meredith.
“The children should be here.” She frowns. “I told them—never mind. I’ll go and fetch them. Can I leave you to get acquainted?”
“Sure,” Geoff answers. “I’ll call if the teacher tries to run off with the silverware.”
Everyone ignores him, so I do too. As Meredith’s heels click away and the Scots fall into quiet conversation, I follow Ray back into the steam. The cooking part of the kitchen is separated from the rest of the room by a wide stainless steel counter. The coffee pot is sitting there, alongside a basket of bread rolls. The stove is set up against the far wall and the windows above it are white with condensation. Ray checks on some pots on the stove and stirs something in a pan.
“Talking of preferences…” I say, “I hope it’s not forward of me to ask, but I noticed your tattoo and was wondering what your pronoun choice is?”
Ray lights up like the aforementioned drop of sunshine. “My preference is they/them, but I’m used to he/him.” They gesture at the muscles and tattoos. “That’s so sweet of you to ask. I think I’m going to like you.”
I smile too, my unease lifting a little. “Do you need any help here?”
“Oh no, no! You can go sit with the others.”
I’m not overly keen to do that, because it would mean sitting near Geoff, but I don’t want to be rude. I start for the table when a wail of distress sounds from the hallway. A child’s cry.
I hurry out to find Meredith kneeling before the four-year old—Adam said his name was Enrique—who’s screaming and stomping his feet. Another child, a prepubescent boy, is standing beside him looking lost and overwhelmed. The pair share large brown eyes and black silky hair, but the elder one is pale with sharp features, while Enrique has golden brown skin and a sweet button nose.
“I didn’t do anything!” the older child is saying. He has an American accent—New York, I think. I knew that The Beast would be importing kids from his new home country, but the accent is still somehow a surprise.
“I don’t believe you,” Meredith replies. She’s struggling to shush the toddler. “You must have done something .”
The boy’s chin juts out like he wants to argue, but he bites his tongue. Then he notices me and his eyes narrow in suspicion. My stomach flips over. Lying to adults is one thing, but now I’m faced with lying to the children…
I clear my throat. “I’m, uh, your teacher. I just arrived.”
Hearing my voice, Meredith looks back at me, “Maybe you can do something about this?”
She steps away and I take her place, eye-level with Enrique. He abruptly stops screaming to stare at me, his little chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Um, hello Enrique.” I smile at him. “My name is Jonathan.”
He takes a step back from me.
“You don’t need to be scared. I’m a friend.”
He looks around wildly and starts crying again, his cries rising in volume and pitch.
“Well, you’re no help at all,” Geoff says somewhere behind us.
Enrique darts away from the comforting hand I was reaching out and sprints off in the direction of the stairs. The older child curses and takes off after him. Before either of them reach the end of the passage, the other two children come into view.
Enrique bounds up to them and wraps himself around the legs of the eldest child. She’s a teenager, with dark skin and dark hair tied back in a tight braid. She looks down at him fondly, running her fingers through his hair. The fourth child is another boy—pale from head to toe, probably eight or nine, and wearing a bowtie. He takes me in, staring unabashedly. His eyes are the clearest blue I’ve ever seen.
I hold up my hand in greeting. “I’m Jonathan Belle, your new teacher. Good to meet you.”
“Geoff said we were getting an old guy,” the pre-teen says, coming to my side and looking me up and down. The look isn’t nearly as intimidating as he probably means it to be, given that he only reaches my shoulder.
“Manners, Malakai,” Meredith scolds.
“I’ve been told I act like an old guy, if that’s any consolation?” I offer.
The boy pulls a face. “What does con-sol-ation mean?”
“Well, it generally means making someone feel better.” There. Lesson one done.
“Why not just say that, then?”
“Malakai,” Meredith warns. Her voice isn’t loud, just firm, but he flinches.
“No, it’s okay,” I assure her. “The wonderful thing about English is that it’s so varied. There are hundreds of ways to say what you mean. It’s really up to you which variation you prefer. For instance, just now when you swore…”
His gaze shutters as if sensing he’s about to be in trouble.
“...that was one of many ways you might have expressed your frustration. While I’m here, I hope to teach you some better ones.” I give him a smile.
He scowls at me as if I’m the one who just let loose a string of curse words.
Meredith sighs. “Children, I was hoping we could do this around the dinner table rather than hanging about the hall, but never mind. Why don’t you introduce yourselves to Mister Belle?”
The girl goes first. “I’m Alisha.” She gestures to Enrique, still firmly wrapped around her. “This is Enrique. He doesn’t talk.”
Geoff is leaning against the wall with his arms folded. “She insisted Beast take the kid. Wouldn’t come without him.”
She stiffens and pulls Enrique a little tighter to her. I feel her embarrassment second hand. Couldn’t Geoff have waited until we were alone to say something like that?
“I’m sure he didn’t mind taking both of you,” I say. “This place is certainly big enough.” I turn to the pre-teen still standing at my shoulder. “Your name is Malakai?”
“Mal. Your name is bell? Like ding-dong?”
“With an ‘e’ on the end, but said the same, yes. I don’t mind if you want to call me by my first name.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t care either way.
“And what’s your name?” I ask the blond boy, who’s still staring at me.
“Ben. I like your suit.”
I smile again. “Thank you. I like your bowtie.”
“It’s why we were late.” He glances at Meredith. “I wanted to look nice.”
“I can completely understand that. I spent a while choosing my own outfit.”
Geoff snorts. I hear the unspoken, “And that’s what you came up with?”
Ray sticks their head out of the kitchen and calls, “Dinner’s ready!”
Alisha lifts Enrique onto her hip and we all file into the room and find seats around the table.
Dinner is chaotic. As one of six children, I’m accustomed to chaotic dinners, but this isn’t the warm cacophony of family talking over each other.
Enrique kicks and cries whenever Alisha tries to set him on his own seat. Mal outright refuses to eat the hearty stew that Ray has prepared, no matter what punishments Meredith threatens or how Lily-Iris coaxes. There’s screaming, there are tears. Ben joins in on the tears when he accidentally spills down his front. I try to help him mop up and reassure him that The Beast won’t have him sent away even if his nice shirt is ruined.
“Feeling out of your depth yet?” Geoff asks when I return to my seat beside him. He has to raise his voice so I can hear him over Enrique’s cries.
Completely. But I’m not about to admit it. “Oh no, not at all, this is fine.”
There’s this meme of a dog in a burning room saying something similar. I feel a bizarre kinship with that anthropomorphized hound right now.
Then, at once, a ringing silence falls. Adam’s walked into the kitchen.
Meredith stands so quickly her chair squeaks across the floor and nearly topples. “Beast. I didn’t know you wanted to join us. We would have waited.”
“No need.” His deep voice echoes in the sudden quiet. He circles the table, moving behind me to help himself to a portion of stew from the counter. Geoff leaps up to get him a chair, which he sets between us.
“What do you think of your new teacher?” Adam asks.
The children are still and silent. Mal glares into his bowl, Ben holds his breath, trying his best to cover his stained shirt with his arms, Enrique stares, wide-eyed, from Alisha’s lap.
“We think he’s fabulous,” Ray says. “Don’t we?” Their gaze lingers on Ben, who nods while biting his lip. I’m more grateful than Ray could imagine for the show of support.
“That’s good.” Adam takes the seat Geoff offered and settles beside me. I’m more aware of his presence than I’ve ever been aware of anybody. My shoulder prickles where we’re nearly touching in the cramped space.
Adam starts eating and it’s as if a spell has broken. The frozen figures around the table animate once more. I picture the scene as if I was on the outside looking in. We must look like a misshapen Dungeons and Dragons party all crammed around this table in this old kitchen: Adam, a half-giant barbarian, Ray the tattooed fighter, Meredith the straight-spined high elf, Lily-Iris the kind-hearted gnome, her father the wise old wizard and so many halflings. Geoff would probably be a bard. The type who seduces every woman he sets eyes on. And me? The token nondescript human along for the adventure.
“You’re not eating, Malakai,” Adam notes in his low growl. “Something wrong with the food?”
Mal gulps and shakes his head. He reaches for his bowl and his hand trembles.
“You don’t have to,” I say before I have a chance to think better.
Adam’s stormy gaze flicks to me and I want to sink into the floor, turn invisible. “I won’t have good food going to waste. You’ll eat what’s put in front of you unless you can offer Ray a good reason why you won’t touch their food.”
Mal sinks into himself, cheeks going red, but he doesn’t move to eat.
“It’s all right, really—” Ray starts, but the look that Adam gives them silences them.
I force a cheerful note into my voice and boldly attempt to break the tension, or at least move attention away from Mal. “When I was young, I went through a phase where I wouldn’t eat potatoes. Can you believe that? Potatoes. Who doesn’t love potatoes? I can’t even tell you why I didn’t like them. Possibly the texture. Of course, I love them now. Grew out of it.”
“I like potatoes,” Ben says. “Especially mashed potatoes! My gran makes—” His forehead wrinkles. Then he swallows and, as if he’s physically swallowed down a bad memory, he says, “I mean, I used to have them at Thanksgiving.”
There’s a whole tragic story in the unspoken words.
“I’ll be sure to order some more potatoes next week,” Ray says, matching my forced brightness. To me, they add, “We get deliveries every Thursday. So if you ever need anything, add it to my list by Tuesday.”
“You don’t have any other contact with the outside world?”
It’s Adam who answers. “Contact, we have. Via satellite. It’s slow as hell but it gets the job done.”
I’m relieved he’s moved on from the subject of Mal’s meal.
“That doesn’t count,” Geoff says. Then, to me, “Yes, Teach, we’re isolated AF.”
Adam shrugs. “So’s the world right now. At least we have the house, the Highlands–”
“And each other,” Ray says. Geoff groans.
“'n' th' midges,” Angus remarks with a chortle. Lily-Iris nods solemnly.
“And the ghosts,” Geoff adds. Ben and Mal exchange a look. Lily-Iris nods even more solemnly. I feel Adam stiffen beside me.