When Nights Were Cold by Susanna Jones Read Free Book Online

them with my hands. I stretch my legs out almost into the fire and let my stockings smudge in the ashes on the hearth.
    A bright autumn afternoon. Yes, I think it was. We had a bad summer and a sunless September, but then a big, blue day landed on us. Carriages lined the drive and servants lugged trunks into the Main Hall. The red brickwork flamed against the sky. Young women called out friends’ names and chattered in pairs and clusters. Some wore elegant and colourful hats and gowns, far more fashionable than my dowdy brown dress. I felt a little forlorn and uncertain.
    Mother and I walked under the clock tower and into the north quad. Mother seized my arm and walked slightly behind me as though I were accompanying her and not the other way round. Sarah was to have come with me – it was usual to bring a maid to help one settle in – but just as we were about to leave, Mother had ordered her into the kitchen and said that she would travel with me instead. It was not because she had changed her mind but that she might have a little longer to change mine.
    Mother’s fingers tightened around my arm. I shook them off and stomped ahead.
    â€˜You can come home again now. We don’t have to stay.’
    â€˜ I am staying.’
    â€˜Slow down, Grace. I’m talking to you.’
    â€˜Yes, and everybody will hear you.’
    â€˜The quad was almost empty. Just a few students and their parents lingered at the opposite side, but windows were open and curtains fluttered.
    â€˜We’ll think of other plans for your future. It doesn’t need to be this way and you don’t have to be proud about it. Look at your Ernest Shackleton. He knew when to turn back from the Pole, even though it wasn’t what he wanted. It was the right thing to do and now he’s a hero.’
    â€˜That’s ridiculous. I’m not going home with you.’
    In truth, I longed to be back in Dulwich with Catherine and Father, but I knew it was only nerves and I would somehow survive them. We followed the path alongside the neat lawn. Rows of dark windows lined each side. The space behind them seemed somehow forbidden and yet it was to be my new home.
    A third-year student led us on a walk around the college. I imagined that Mother would see the grand buildings and facilities and fall in love with the place as I already had. Indeed, as we strolled around the grounds, her eyes widened at the neatly mown grass, the pretty walkways and balustrades. She admired the statues, the carvings, the chapel and picture gallery.
    â€˜Very nicely done,’ she said of the library and museum. ‘Though I wouldn’t like to be the one to dust them. Some of the teachers are forbidding, don’t you think?’ She gave me a tentative look. ‘Their clothes are very severe.’
    â€˜They are lecturers, not teachers.’
    I had also noticed that the principal and some lecturers wore very sombre clothes and did not look as friendly as the mistresses at my school, but I considered this an appropriate sign of academic seriousness which my mother could never be expected to understand.
    We strolled through the woodland to the swimming pool, then across the road to the botanical gardens, where a couple of students pulled up weeds and tended to the plants. One of them had caught an earthworm on the end of her pitchfork and waved it at the other. They were both laughing.
    â€˜Is it not pleasant, Mother?’
    â€˜It would suit some, I daresay. It must be a sweet interlude for those who have no future but to work like cart horses.’
    â€˜Can’t you keep your voice down a little?’
    We returned to the Main Hall and passed through the long corridors towards my rooms. Mother peered at the ceiling. ‘And all electric lighting.’ She nodded, impressed by the place.
    She watched some students as they passed us in the corridor. They greeted us politely and resumed their conversation about the summer