She was supervising the students on work detail who were busy serving up lamb hot pot and mashed potato.
‘Not that much, Bee! We’ll run out afore we’re halfway through! And don’t slop it everywhere!’
The students served the food from steaming vats, which were replaced at intervals from trolleys pushed in from the kitchen. The whole operation went like clockwork for Marigold was more than accustomed to feeding such large numbers, even if her latest band of helpers had little idea about portion control. Cherry, meanwhile, kept a close eye on the students clearing away the dirty plates and keeping the tables clean.
Leveret finally received her plateful and looked for a space to sit. The long tables were laid with cutlery, water and bowls of pears. Everywhere teemed with teenagers and she eyed the teachers’ corner warily, not wanting to sit anywhere near the large, secluded alcove where the adults were served their lunch. She scuttled down the long rows to a slightly emptier spot in the corner and quickly began to eat.
There may just be time to go outside to visit to the herb garden before afternoon classes began. Leveret knew that next September, the start of her final school year, she’d move up here and join the other boarders. She really hoped to get in Cherry’s good books and influence her when the work detail rotas were drawn up every week. If she could get herself rostered to work regularly in the herb garden, life would be a bit more bearable.
‘Can I sit here, Leveret?’
She scowled up through her mat of curls and was really surprised to see ginger hair. Rufus – the only person at Stonewylde, apart from his mother, to be blessed with truly red hair. Her scowl deepened. The last thing she wanted was to make conversation with a silly boy, who’d doubtless attract his mates to the table too. She knew it was Rufus’ first year at Senior School, although he lived in the Tudor Wing with Miranda. She’d seen him daily when they were at the Village School together, but had never really had much to do with Rufus. However as offspring of two of the key Council Elders and siblings of Yul and Sylvie, they’d been thrown together on occasions in the past. Leveret grunted noncommittally and continued eating quickly. If he thought she’d be friendly he was wrong.
‘I saw you coming out of Yul’s office at break time,’ said the boy, sitting down opposite her. He picked up his cutlery and started to eat, his table manners far neater than hers. Rufus watched her carefully from beneath his thick fringe of silky red hair. Like his half-sister Faun, he’d inherited his father’s deep brown eyes. Combined with the bright hair and pale skin, he was striking and Leveret had always thought of him as a red squirrel. Not that she thought of him much.
‘Did he ask to see you, or did you ask him?’
His voice was quiet and a little hesitant, and he nervously blinked at her through his fringe.
‘None of your business!’ she retorted. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Sorry. It’s just that … I know you’re Yul’s half-sister and I’m his half-brother, and—’
‘Yeah, but different halves. I’m no relation to the old magus.’
‘No, I know – you’re lucky. Everyone hates him and I don’t like people thinking I’m going to turn out like him.’
‘Doesn’t seem to bother Yul. Or Faun.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
Leveret had almost finished her lunch and took a great gulp of water, anxious to be off. She’d take a pear with her to the herb garden.
‘Leveret, do you think …’
He stopped and she frowned at him. He was pretty hard work and she’d never asked him to sit here.
‘Spit it out, Rufus. Do I think what?’
He knew she was about to get up and leave, and it came tumbling out in a rush.
‘I really want Yul to teach me to ride and I want to go and ask him but I’m scared he’ll say no or just laugh or something and—’
‘Why on earth are you telling me this?’ she asked. ‘I can’t ride. Well, not very well.’
‘I just thought …’ he paused and looked at her in anguish. Their eyes met for the first time and Leveret felt an unexpected surge of sympathy. He had beautiful deep brown eyes, like soft velvet, and his hair reminded her of new conkers. But it wasn’t that – it was his wistfulness that got to her. So she smiled encouragingly; he’d been