Chapter 17 of Through different Eyes has been posted. Col arrives in England - but Willi and Lili are missing...
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In spite of the storm, I ran again in the morning, the rhythms tamping down but not stilling my swirling emotions. After breakfast, I caught a number seven bus to Canterbury – the same bus that the three of us had taken to school. This time, though, I left the bus at the stop Willi had used. I was hoping to find a clue to Willi’s whereabouts at his school.
Willi’s school was in the cathedral precincts. The uniform hadn’t changed from what I saw of the students – boys, in pinstriped trousers and boaters. I stopped one and asked for directions to the school office. He pointed across the open grass. “Go round the Green and it’s that house next to the Undercroft.”
I had no idea what an ‘undercroft’ was, but I could see a house. I walked onto the grass.
“Miss, you can’t walk across the Green. That’s for masters and prefects.”
I could hear the shock in his voice. Smiling, I set off round the path circling the grass to the school office.
Inside, I could hear a typewriter clacking away in a room to the left. I knocked on the open door.
“Enter.”
Sitting at a desk behind a typewriter was a thin lady, whose greying hair was pulled into a tight bun.
“Excuse me, I’m trying to find out some information about a student – well, a past student.”
The woman looked at me with disapproval in her eyes. “And you are a relative of this gentleman?”
“Er … no. I’m a close friend, but I’ve been out of the country for four years and we lost touch.”
The woman sniffed. “Clearly not such a close friend.”
I swallowed my annoyance at her attitude. “His name is William Johnstone – he was quite a special student.”
A brief flicker of recognition?
“We cannot give out any information about past student unless you are a relative. If this William Johnstone was a student.” Her voice was cold and hostile.
“Oh, he definitely was a student.” I curbed the irritation I heard in my voice. “He excelled in Maths and Physics but was studying languages as well.”
She did not recognise the name as her face remained blank – or she was an excellent actor.
“As I told you, if this person was a student, we could not give you any details. You are not a relative.”
I stood there, trying to think of a way round this uncooperative woman.
“Is there anything else?” Her eyes were telling me to leave. “I have much work to do.”
I turned on my heel and controlled the urge to slam the door. Looking over the Green, the cathedral towered above the buildings clustered around it. I’d seen a gift shop catering to tourists on the far side. I should let Mutti and Lizzie know how things were going: a postcard first and I’d write an airmail when I was in London.
Walking round the Green, I passed a building labelled ‘Staffroom’, stopping to look at it. Something tried to surface in my memories, but it eluded me. I walked round the cathedral and found the tourist shop, buying some postcards. I took them into the tea shop and sat writing them over a cup of coffee.
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Iskander
(Robert Hart)