moonflower.

chapter one.

This is it. This is where my life begins ever so slowly to decline until it is no longer a life and is instead a living nightmare.

I am staring at the school, what we can see of it through the gates. It looks more like an imitation castle with its turrets and gargoyles. What school has gargoyles?

Then again, what school is surrounded by a ten-foot high stonewall?

There is a plaque in mock gothic on the stone, announcing “Camberley Boarding School,” and underneath that in smaller letters, “Educating young gentlemen and ladies since 1875.”

This is going to be my prison.

Mum is standing next to me, looking a lot more enthusiastic than there is any right to be. We both know it’s a lie. “It’ll be great Casey, just think, a whole new start. You’ll be able to make friends and have fun: isn’t it romantic?”

It is romantic, in a morbid, thriller kind of way. I must be frowning, the enthusiasm is wearing off and in its place is the weary sigh that mum has been giving for the past few weeks.

“I did my best Casey, most schools don’t accept students halfway through the term, especially when it’s their penultimate year.” Penultimate, she actually said penultimate. It makes a shiver run down my spine – but that could be more to do with the wind than what she is saying. It’s cold here; the wind isn’t warm and it doesn’t carry the fresh scent of the sea. I’m used to smelling of fish – there are no fish here.

There is the sea but you’d only go near if you wanted to commit suicide.

“It’s even built on a cliff – just like in all those famous novels.” She doesn’t seem to understand something; I’m going to spend the next two years of my life here. This is not a holiday for me. I am going to living in this windy, cold place. There is nothing ‘novel’-like about it.

The words are a mixed jumble to me; I can’t take anything in. I’m clutching the handle of my bag like a lifeline, waiting for everything to subside. It’s like a wave has washed over me, taking everything I used to know away. I’ve been left with nothing but a few memories and a small bag filled with all my valuables. It’s not much; the bag is light and easy to carry. Apparently you’re not allowed to have much in the way of worldly possessions – the school supplies a uniform. A uniform. With a tie and jacket and skirts, it’s like an image from hell.

Mum is still talking, emphasising on all the good parts of being in a boarding school. “You can sneak out and have midnight snacks, you can…oh look honey! They have towers; don’t you want to sleep in a tower? Like a princess?”

I have never been princess material – too tall to be dainty and too clumsy to be anything but. My stick legs are not fit for skirt or dress wearing.

“You’re lucky,” Mum says and this time I reply.

“Lucky? Really?”

She nods hastily, gesturing with her hand. “They have gardens – you can do all the planting you like!”

“I think I’ll need permission first,” my voice is droll but this time I feel a spark of hope. Maybe I will be able to get the go-ahead; surely they won’t mind one girl puttering around in their flowerbeds? It might be the only thing truly interesting about this school.

Mum’s voice is bordering on teary now as we start to walk towards the wrought iron gates. “Just say you’ll try to like it.”

I honestly don’t want to upset her, she’s only doing this for my sake so I nod and put on a fake smile, “I will, I’m just...I’m slightly scared.” It’s an understatement; I’m terrified of this place with its high forbidding walls and spiked gates. The gates look rusted shut and I wonder briefly how we’re supposed to get inside when mum walks off to the side.

This is an intercom imbedded into the stone. It looks so out of place that I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Mum shares an amused look with me before she presses the red button and waits.

There is not much delay, a voice answers almost immediately. I’m relieved to hear that she sounds normal. “Hello?”

Mum stalls, she seems unsure of what to say for a moment, “Ah, yes, I’m here with my daughter Cassandra Downing, she’s transferring and…”

“Ah! Cassandra,” she says and I wince. We will have to talk about this. I hate my name and everyone knows that. No one calls me Cassandra apart from my grandmother. “Yes, yes, come right on in!” She says. Her voice has gone from mildly curious to almost insanely perky. It makes me nervous.

“Come on Casey,” mum goads, already picking up a quick pace as she starts off down the beaten track; no vehicles will be making their way along this dirt path. I have to hurry and follow or be left behind.

“Mum, I don’t have to go school you know,” I try. “I can be home schooled, you know enough and—” I fall silent. She’s giving me the look and guilt begins to churn in my stomach as we get nearer and nearer to the school. Anyone would try to get away, the very school itself seems to repel my presence, it doesn’t want me near it and I don’t want to go near it. Mum doesn’t seem to sense this.

She sighs again. She seems so old lately, I can see new lines in her face, grey hairs that didn’t used to be there are entwining in her dark red hair. She gives me a hopeless smile and I know she won’t say anything.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’ll be fine,” I put on a brave smile. I don’t want her to worry about me. It won’t be so bad. There are flowerbeds. I decide to get permission as soon as I can.

We’ve reached the door now, neither of us knowing what to do next. I raise my hand, hesitate, and then knock quickly before returning my hand to its death grip on my bag. I’m so nervous now that I’m shaking but I tamper it down, pasting a smile onto my face and hoping I look presentable.

Mum is looking to flee, I can tell by the way her eyes flicker from left to right. I know because I do the same sometimes, it’s a habit I’ve taken from her.

“It’ll be fine,” now I’m the one reassuring. Mum smiles down at me, taking my hand in her own and squeezing so tightly I can see the skin go white. I don’t say anything.

The door opening takes us both off guard and mum jumps. I almost follow before remembering that I need to make a good impression.

I aim my most winning smile at the man in the door. He looks like a typical butler wearing a black-and-white suit, his grey hair is slicked back and his expression is that of someone who has just swallowed a lemon whole.

My smile weakens and I step back, moving closer to mum. The butler sees and his eyes go heavenward. Already I’ve made a fool of myself and I haven’t even stepped into the school.

“I assume you are the mother?” He asks, looking at mum. She nods quickly and he copies the motion slowly. He looks at me. “And you are Miss Downing?”

I have to hold back a grimace. “Ah, yes, I’m Casey.”

“I see…please come in. I am Mr Kelsby, I’ll be in charge of your mathematics lessons.” He speaks as slowly as he moves, as slowly as a half-wound clockwork toy. I’ve always had trouble with maths; I cannot see how Mr Kelsby will make it any easier.

Mum and I follow him into what I assume is the entrance hall. It’s quite nice, all done in creams and browns. I expected everything to be black and red and the cream is a pleasant surprise. Mum seems to think the same way, nodding at sofas and seats that are placed around the side. There is one large spider plant beside one of the sofas and a bookcase next to that.

You wouldn’t be able to tell it was a school except for the large photographs that dominate one wall. It shows several classes all posing in lines of students with a teacher at one end. They all look fairly happy which I take as a good sign.

“If you’ll please sit here,” Mr Kelsby says, gesturing to one of the sofas. I take a seat next to the spider plant, placing my bag down between my feet. Mum sits next to me. “Right, I’ll just go inform the Headmaster that you’re here.” He gives us both a look, seeming to decide that we are trustworthy and will not be breaking anything, before he leaves.

Mum leans over towards me, placing her mouth next to my ear, “It seems rather lovely here don’t you think Casey? Not at all as dark as the outside is.”

I nod. My hands have relaxed now, the tension in my shoulders releasing bit by bit.

“I wonder what the Headmaster will be like,” Mum is looking towards where Mr Kelsby left, her eyes alight with curiosity. “You’re not worried are you? I’m sure he’ll be nice.”

I shake my head. I don’t feel worried; I don’t feel so afraid either. I’m just content to sit back and rest before we’re forced to move again.

We’ve been on the move for weeks now. It’s been rather chaotic. First we left our old house three weeks ago and moved in with mum’s aunt, my great-aunt Harriet. She’s a rather finicky woman who hates children – she meant well and never outwardly showed her dislike of me but I could still feel it. She absolutely abhors mess.

I knew, and so did mum, that I couldn’t stay there. I don’t think mum liked it much either. We decided to go live with mum’s cousin for a while. He was nice but his house is overcrowded already with his own kids.

Mum became rather desperate when she picked up a notice for a rather cosy house in Cornwall. It’s the house of dreams – set just a few miles from the coast. It reminds me of our old house in Devon. I think I’ll miss it. It was small, only one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a living room but it was good enough. We were happy there, or, I was and I think mum was too. I don’t think she liked it as much as I did. I loved all of it: the smell of sea air, being able to go to the beach whenever I liked, the sun on my skin, seeing my plants bloom in the sunlight.

We were all set to move when mum realised I would need to go back to school. I tried to stop her; I’m old enough to get a job now after all. She wouldn’t have it, “Everyone needs a proper education.” So she looked around. Only most schools will not accept students halfway through the year. It’s just approaching the beginning of December now, a time where most schools are beginning to put up Christmas trees and organise Carol services.

I remember when mum first came across Camberley Boarding School. “Oh, look Casey! It’s the answer to everything!” I couldn’t put a damper on her fire. She’d seemed so eager; she dove into it with such zeal, signing all the necessary papers, sending them off, filing more. Before I knew it I was suddenly a student of Camberley.

I’m torn from my thoughts by a sound suddenly filling the silence. Mum is beginning to hum. I start actively trying to ignore it – the sound has always annoyed it.

We’ve been waiting for ten minutes already according to my wristwatch. I was afraid that it had stopped earlier when we first entered the school grounds but it soon started again. It’s ticking is the only thing filling up the stillness apart from mum’s humming which soon trails off. I think the quiet is putting mum on edge; she’s already started to tap her fingers against her knee.

I’m relieved when Mr Kelsby comes back. I’d begun to think he’d become lost or something as ridiculous. He looks at us expectantly and we both stand up, me grabbing my bag and mum reaching down to straighten her skirt, getting rid of a few creases. We follow him down to the end of the entrance hall out into a corridor.

It’s typically dark – there is not much in the way of lights except electric candelabras that stand on mahogany tables intermittently. It makes the corridor more eerie than it should be. Mum and I walk close together. She doesn’t make a comment about it being novel-like now. If it were I have a feeling it would be a scene right out of Dracula or Wuthering Heights. I can hear the wind even here.

At the end of this corridor there are two doors. One straight ahead and one off to the right side, we go through the latter one. Imprinted on the door states that this is the ‘Headmaster’s Office’ and that his name is ‘Walter Camberley’.

I enter after mum, looking around her thin frame at the room of my new Headmaster. It’s much the same as the entrance hall, done up in creams and browns. The desk is mahogany as is the bookcase that stands beside it. There are two French windows behind him showing the depressing weather outside. His curtains are brown, the walls are cream, and it all looks very generic. Even his chair is run-of-the-mill, a leather office chair with brown upholstery.

I don’t know why but I feel slightly disappointed.

“Ah, and you must be Cassandra!” The Headmaster looks like the typical kind of jolly man. A little like Santa Claus. He has a round face, a round body, red cheeks, receding hairline and is wearing a tweed suit. Everything about him is strangely predictable, absolutely normal.

He points to the seats in front of him. There are three. Mum goes first this time, taking the one on the far left. Mr Kelsby takes the one on the right and I’m left with the middle directly in front of the Headmaster.

He stares at me. I try to stare back but look away first. “How do you like the school so far Cassandra?” He asks.

Is he testing me? I look at his face but can only see stark honesty. I shrug. “I haven’t been able to see much yet,” mum makes a sound and I add, “But I like it so far.” It’s an afterthought and we both know it. Mum intercedes.

“I’ve been rather impressed by the cleanliness of everything. And I’m sure I’m leaving Casey in good hands.” She’s smiling widely and the Headmaster nods eagerly in reply.

“Yes, yes. Very good hands! The best of hands I can assure you.” He glances towards the door and mum takes the message. She stands up.

I try to stop her. “Wait! You can’t leave yet – we haven’t even seen my room.” It’s a weak excuse and mum is already shaking her head. I know it’s pathetic, to still be clinging onto my mum. The Headmaster obviously thinks so too because he is already standing, ready to talk to mum outside and then show her out.

“You’ll be fine Casey, the sooner I go the sooner you can start to properly settle down. I’ll come back at Christmas and you can show me your tower then!”

She comes over and hugs me goodbye, patting me on the head like a dog before stepping backwards and allowing the Headmaster to lead her out.

My eyes are still following her when the door shuts, cutting off my vision of her.

And just like that I am alone in this strange place.