Dr Simons had been wonderful, making me feel like I could trust him with anything. He was always there to help me when I needed it. I was glad that I didn’t run into Mr Kemp. I knew that if he found out what happened today on my run, he would be angry with me. He would no doubt lecture me about not taking things seriously and being reckless.
After saying goodnight to Jules, I went straight to James’s room. He wasn’t there yet, which was strange. I contemplated going back to Jules’s room so I wouldn’t be alone, but I had already said goodnight and showing up again at Jules’s room would raise suspicions. So I decided to keep myself occupied by reading until James returned. The only problem was that I didn’t have any of my books in his room, and was feeling too lazy to go back and get one. I decided to search for one in James’s room. He had many books in his office and every week he would bring up two or three books to read and take books that he had read back to his office.
One particular book did catch my eye. It was a book that had always remained in James’s room: a collection of poems by Lord Byron.
Now there’s a romantic hero.
I got into bed and started flicking through the pages. There was one page bent in the corner. It intrigued me so I began to read…
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too welclass="underline"
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met,
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
The poem was pure suffering at its finest. I could identify with Byron’s sorrow. In some way I felt I could be living his words.
Well let’s just hope we don’t have the same ending.
There was a knock at the door. I froze, not wanting to be heard. Then another knock.
“It’s me, Mr Kemp.”
I couldn’t decide if I should keep quiet to avoid seeing him or not. I decided to open the door, just in case it was important. As soon as I opened the door, Mr Kemp barged in and quickly closed it behind him. I think he was taking this secrecy a bit too seriously. The whole escapade has probably been the most excitement he has had in decades.
“Is everything OK?” I asked.
“Well, not really. Mr Barclay wants me to babysit you, until he returns.”
I could see that they were his words, not James’s, so I let them pass.
“Where is he? Will he be long?” I queried.
“He has gone to meet Mr Cartwright this evening. He thought he would be back by now, but the meeting has taken longer than expected, so he called me to come and babysit you.”
“Mr Cartwright? At this hour?” I questioned.
“What are you reading there?” he asked. I don’t think he knows about today at all. He rarely looks at me when we are in the same room, so I guess I could be off the hook.
I didn’t have much patience for Mr Kemp these days, or at any time, so I just handed him the book and hopped into bed.
“Lord Byron, hmmm now there’s a talent. A Harrow old boy, you know. Lord Byron and I went to the same school.”
Probably in the same century, I imagined.
I rolled over and faced the other way. I was frustrated that I had to spend the evening with him and his blatant sarcasm, and that James was with Richard.
“Would you like me to read you a bedtime story dear?” he chuckled.
Stupid man, I think I may have liked him more before.
I tried to fall asleep but it was impossible. Mr Kemp had an annoying voice, especially when he read. His voice went up and down in volume and tone.
His poor students…
An hour had gone by and he was still rambling. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to take this. Finally, there was a rattling of keys at the door, I watched the handle turn. To my delight, James was back. I got out of bed as quickly as my legs would let me and headed for the door. When he came in, I threw my arms around his waist and held onto him tightly.
“Please make it stop!”
James looked at me puzzled and then finally noticed Mr Kemp, who was still reading. James grinned. “Ah… Mr Kemp. Thank you for this evening. I can take it from here,” James said ever so politely.
“Oh… You’re back. Well Cathy, maybe I will continue where I left off the next time I am here.”
Coward!
I knew he would have loved to mention ‘babysitting’ again, but he chickened out. James walked Mr Kemp to the door, said goodnight and shook his hand. He locked the door and came back to me. He looked exhausted as he started to unbuckle the buttons on his shirt in an attempt to get comfortable.
“How is your leg?” he asked, considerately.
“OK… How are you?”
“Ohh-kaay…” he replied, mimicking my accent with a smile.
“I missed you this evening,” he said.
“I am sure not as much as I missed you. I know Mr Kemp was here to more or less protect me, but really, who is going to protect me from Mr Kemp?”
“I will,” he replied quickly as he sat beside me on his bed.
“Why were you with Richard this evening?” I probed.
“Richard? Are you two on a first-name basis now?” he replied slowly.
“Why were you with him?” I asked again, ignoring his question.
“I met with him to request that he refrain from discussing what happened today with anyone.”