Miranda part one
by Clarissa
It really was the most filthy day thought Miss Svenson as she lifted her eyes from the governors’ report and listened to the rain lashing at the mullion windows and the wind scurrying around the rooftops: the most filthy day, and practically dark outside, even though it was only 11 o’clock in the morning. She turned back to the report, only to be interrupted by the ring of the telephone. ‘Yes?’ she enquired somewhat testily. It was her secretary, Edith: ‘Sorry to trouble you Miss Svenson, but I have Dr Rudd on the phone.’
Donald Rudd, head of Millward, the boys’ school practically adjoining Camsford House. If Camsford’s grounds yearned for the sea, Tillwood’s pulled in the opposite direction, its outer reaches skirting the county town of Shrewton.
‘Put him through,’ continued Miss Svenson. ‘Hello Elsa,’ came a loud voice, ‘it’s Donald.’ Miss Svenson winced slightly at Rudd’s informality, but followed suit: ‘Hello Donald, how may I help you?’ ‘Well,’ continued the headmaster, ‘I do have a slight problem I am hoping you can assist me with. Yesterday afternoon, before prep, one of my prefects caught one of my fifth form boys with one of your girls – just talking you understand.’ ‘Carry on,’ continued Miss Svenson. ‘I saw the lad first thing this morning, having given him a night to contemplate the prospect of our meeting. This normally opens them up but this time, despite six of the best for being out-of-bounds, and another six for meeting up with this girl, the boy refused to disclose her name.’ ‘I see,’ said Miss Svenson. ‘I have given him a week’s detention for his trouble, but I don’t really want to punish him further; you see, he is captain of the rugby XI.’ Another slight wince from Miss Svenson, then ‘Did your prefect have a description of the girl?’ ’Most certainly,’ continued the headmaster with gusto, ‘exceptionally tall with long fair hair.’ ‘Anything else?’ ‘As a matter of fact there was something else: when the prefect asked the girl what she was thinking of, she replied “O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here. O brave new world. That has such people in’t!” which, if I’m not mistaken, is a slightly truncated line from Shakespeare’s’ ‘The Tempest,’ interrupted Miss Svenson abruptly. ‘Yes, that’s right, The Tempest. Now you see my problem: I do need to find out this girl’s name and, I imagine, so do you: any ideas?’ Miss Svenson wrinkled her nose slightly and listened again to the lash of the rain. ‘I believe I do: I’ll get back to you, if that’s OK?’ ‘I would be most grateful,’ continued Rudd, ‘you will let me know the outcome?’ ‘I will,’ asserted Miss Svenson; ‘Good morning, Donald.’ ‘Good morning, Elsa.’
Miss Svenson returned the receiver to its cradle, resting her hand there a moment. She picked it up again: ‘Edith, could you ask a prefect to fetch me one of the Upper Fifth?’ ‘Of course, Miss Svenson,’ came the slightly crackly reply, ‘who?’ ‘Miranda,’ continued Miss Svenson; ‘ask them to fetch me Miranda Spears.’