Chapter 2: Arrival

Two hours later, the car was passing through a heavily wooded area. It slowed, then turned through an unmarked gap in the trees. The track was barely drivable, covered in spots with a thin layer of gravel, and pitted with muddy potholes. As the line of vehicles which had queued up behind them sped up again, the police car slowly bumped its way through the woods and up to the looming front of a sombre looking Victorian manor house, complete with gloomy windows and peeling paint.

The policeman remained in the car and kept the motor running as the WPC freed Linda and pointed her toward the front door. Wearing that mysterious little smile, she stroked Linda's short hair and affectionately told her to ring the bell and she would be taken care of. Linda shook herself free, and the WPC got back into the car and left.

Linda's first thought was to turn around and follow the car out of there, but she knew she couldn't really act on it. As she stood there wondering whether the house was as haunted as it looked, the door burst open. The tweed covered apparition which emerged almost convinced her it was. She was the image of the no-nonsense housekeeper from the old movies, with her muscular arms and legs and impeccably groomed steel grey hair. She smiled in a professional manner as she walked up to Linda.

With a booming voice, she exclaimed "You must be Linda, the new girl. Excellent! My name is Miss James. I am your new headmistress. Welcome to Sands", as she placed a beefy hand on Linda's shoulder and guided her briskly towards the house.

Linda found herself propelled up the walk, through the door, and into an enormous, dimly lit forier. She wondered whether she would be marched up the polished wooden stairway, which dominated the room. At least up there were windows, however small, to let the light in. The solid front door closed with an ominously reverberating thump.

"This way, dear. Come along," the redoubtable Miss James encouraged. "You will be needing your uniform, then you can start your classes."

Linda had been less than thrilled with her previous school uniforms. She shuddered to think what monstrosities this prison would force her into. She found herself hustled along the hardwood floor of a gloomy passage, into a wider, brighter hall flanked by well lit classrooms. At the end of the hall, she was swung to the right and almost collided with a group of girls. Their uniforms were worse than she imagined, navy blue in an antique cut, with white blouses and school ties patterned in depressing colours. To finish the look, sturdy black brogans and straw hats. Ugly, she had imagined. But these girls looked like poster children for the late nineteenth century.

"Ah, excellent," the headmistress exclaimed, "Classmates of yours from 4C. Girls, this is your new classmate, Linda Magnesson. She is joining you for the rest of the term. I am confident that you will make her welcome here. Victoria Gilbert, what is your next lesson?"

The curvaceous young redhead promptly replied "PE, Miss James."

"Very good. Nothing like a bit of exercise to work out the knots of a long journey. That class does not require a uniform, so go ahead and follow these girls. You can join Miss FitzGibbon in the gymnasium. Then you can report to matron afterwards to have a check-up and pick up your kit. Run along now girls, don't keep Miss FitzGibbon waiting!"

As she watched the headmistress march away, Linda was a bit surprised. The girls were not what she had expected. While their antique uniforms and plaited hair were more suited to an historical melodrama, the girls themselves seemed cheerful enough. Dressed more reasonably, they could be in any other school she had visited. She did not trust them enough to completely lower her guard, but smiled and politely replied to the inevitable questions.

They entered the changing room, joining a dozen others who were in the process of getting ready. Victoria seemed to have decided to take Linda in tow, and showed her to a bench with a vacant peg. Then she turned and started undressing.

"O. K. Where do they keep the gym kits?" Linda asked her mentor.

"There aren't any. They say it would be a waste of money. We have to do PE in our underwear. Miss FitzGibbon says it's much better for us to go barefoot and to be able to move around freely."

"She's never heard of Athlete's foot?"

"It's not that much of a problem here. And since it's girls only around here, nobody really bothers too much what they wear in the gym".

It bothered Linda, though. Casual dress was one thing, but this was taking it too far. Despite her good physical condition, she had never really liked PE. She was a bit of a prude, as well. Especially when it came to changing and showering with other people. When she was younger, she had developed early but unevenly. At a time when most of the girls were still quite flat, she was, of necessity, wearing a bra. And she still had occasional nightmares about the ways they taunted her about it. Especially the time in the changing room, when one girl had grabbed her bra and dashed out the door with it. Barefoot, and naked from the waist up, she had unthinkingly given chase. She realized her mistake as soon as she had burst into the hallway, running into a crowd of people, students and teachers alike. She covered herself with her arms and tried to get back through the door, but several girls were leaning against it on the other side and she couldn't budge it. She finally got back in and finished dressing, sans bra, after a teacher stepped to the door and ordered it released. She felt exposed for the rest of the day, even with the rest of her clothes on. And many of the other girls treated her as though she was still topless, taunting her. And then the missing garment had reappeared, on the Founder's Bust at the front entrance. She had been called to the office to explain how it had gotten there.