Dreams at Silver Spires by Ann Bryant Page B

planned.
    â€œOkay, I’m off!” I said, kicking Sasha by mistake as I got up from the bench. “Sorry, Sash. See you in the garden, everyone.” Then I raced over to the counter, nearly dropping my knife and fork in my big hurry.
    But when I was almost there, I heard someone mockingly singing a line from the old nursery rhyme: “The farmer wants a wife…”
    I made the mistake of glancing over to find out who it was, and saw a grinning Juliet. And that tiny second of not paying attention to where I was going made me knock into the cameraman.
    â€œWhoops! Sorry!” I said. “I didn’t see you.”
    A great guffaw of laughter erupted from Juliet’s table.
    â€œThat’s okay,” said the man, grinning at me. “No damage done.”
    I heard Juliet’s voice coming over in a very unsubtle undertone. “Some people will do anything to get attention, won’t they?”
    And again I was filled with a sharp crossness, which quickly shrivelled and left me hurt and embarrassed and bright red as I handed my plate to one of the dinner ladies.
    â€œEr, excuse me,” I asked her quietly, desperately hoping that I couldn’t be heard by anyone except her. “Do you know where the domestic bursar’s office is, please?”
    â€œMiss Gerard’s office?”
    Miss Gerard. That was a name I’d heard before. A memory of Ms. Carmichael walking towards me in the corridor beside a very slim, smart lady in high heels flashed through my mind. I remembered those high heels because they seemed so loud compared to everyone else’s shoes. And I also remembered how stern and unsmiling the lady looked, even though Ms. Carmichael was saying, “Thank you, Miss Gerard,” as they went past.
    I nodded at the dinner lady and swallowed. I hadn’t realized until this moment that Miss Gerard and the domestic bursar were one and the same person. “Yes, do you know where her office is?”
    â€œMain building. Top floor. Somewhere up there.”
    â€œThank you.” I decided to go ahead with my next question even though it was a bit embarrassing having to ask it. “Er…what exactly does domestic bursar mean?”
    â€œShe’s in charge of the catering, love. Plus she’s responsible for how the buildings and grounds get looked after. Sorts out how much gets spent and all that.” The dinner lady glanced at the camera as though to check that she wasn’t being filmed, then leaned forwards. “Word of advice, love. Choose your moment carefully. That’s all I’m saying.” Then she nodded firmly and went back to work.
    â€œTh…thank you.”
    When I went through the gate into the garden, I thought how funny it was that until Saturday, my favourite thing at school had always been to go riding at the local stables, but now my mind was full of gardening. I got the gloves out of the outhouse and set to work straight away. I just planned to move the pile of weeds into the corner, to start a proper compost.
    It was so frustrating that there was never enough time at lunchtime and it always got dark so quickly after school, which only left the weekend. And if it rained there was no point in doing anything, because the earth was like a mudbath. At least I could wear wellies at the weekend, though. Not like now. I knew I shouldn’t really garden in my uniform, so I was extra careful all the time to make sure I wasn’t getting it covered in dirt.
    It was very satisfying moving the pile of weeds, because now it could start rotting away and I wouldn’t need to disturb it again. I was just wondering whether to quickly pull up a few more, when I suddenly got a lovely surprise at the sound of Stan’s voice.
    â€œHello, Emily!” He was coming through the gap in the hedge from Ms. Carmichael’s house, and gave me a little wave as he walked over to me. I noticed he was clutching a small brown bag.